#like legit i do a stretch and my world goes dark and i feel like collapsing but then i recover and im ok

[fraternum-momentum]

ok idk how bad this is but whenever i lock in and draw for hours and then stand up after and do a biiig stretch, i always get super lightheaded and feel like im on the verge of passing out ?????

[lantur]

I've read lately about the value of doing a 10-minute journaling session on most days to help relieve stress and clear your mind, so here goes. Things I've been thinking about:

I love brushing Westin in the morning. He loves when I brush his face and he purrs so much when I do that. I feel like mornings are our special time together - I give him breakfast and the scraps of milk left from my tea, and he sits with me while I stretch on the rug before I go to the gym. Starting every day with him is great.

How lonely it can be to be a student. I spent most of today catching up on work at my job and at school. I didn't get to hang out with David for playing board games and watching our show until the evening, and I missed him. I've been feeling a bit lonely lately. I think it's because of all the time I now spend doing my readings and writing papers, on my own. It needs to be done, but it's still an adjustment.

I've been feeling more anxious lately, and it may be because of how short the days feel.

Long-term goals. It's been a year and three months since I got back into weightlifting. I'm proud of how my routine has paid off, but it's taken a lot of consistency. There are some goals where the progress is measured in months or years, and I'm right in the middle of that with learning Spanish and with school. The path ahead feels so long. I'm trying to encourage myself by reminding myself to take one day at a time, rather than thinking of the ~3 years that are ahead for Spanish and the ~1.5 years that are ahead for school.

It seems surreal that I'm scheduling meetings for December and already thinking about things that will happen in January - March of 2025. Where did this year go?

the final thought - trigger warning for pandemic-related matters,

The news is stressing me out -- bird flu news, recalls for e.coli in ground beef and carrots. The truth is that this time of year brings up frightening and unpleasant memories for me. I didn't even realize that until last Monday, when I was in line at Target and happened to read an article about bird flu on The Guardian.

It was late November/December of 2019 when I first started to see posts on Reddit about Covid in Wuhan. I remember seeing the speculation in Reddit comments about what would happen to the world if this coronavirus could experience widespread transmission outside of the localized region where it was identified. I remember asking David if the stuff I was seeing on reddit was legit and if this would be a problem for us. He said no, don't worry.

I remember the way things unfolded from November to March, and how deeply scary and uncertain things were in March. It's November again, I've seen articles about bird flu crossing my path on The Guardian and CNN again, and it scares me. I never want to go through a repeat of 2020.

I've started gradually building up on cat food for Westin, canned beans and tomatoes, cooking oil, and planning on doing some other shopping, just in case. All this has been on my mind for days but I haven't told anyone besides David or my in-laws or written about it on here because I don't want to be a crazy person or paranoid or frighten others. But I would be dishonest to myself and my friends if I didn't admit that was a big cause of my anxiety lately.

I will breathe easier when we make it through the end of March.

I am trying to give myself grace because as I write about it now, I know that 2020 was a legitimately traumatizing event for the world, and that applies to me too as someone who lived through it. Winter is dark and cold, and things have felt frightening and uncertain in the United States due to the political situation since earlier this month. It's sort of the perfect storm for anxiety in a person who has a long history of anxiety.

I think I can try to cope with this by again, focusing on taking things one day at a time.

[benefits1986]

Carpenters PL Revisited x Mother Dragon's Hello, Love, Au Revoir

Bakit kasi nag-stick 'yung mga super basic phrases in French from grade school? Ayan tuloy. Ang aga-aga na naman.

Went to restock my pantry with healthier options because though I don't like to admit it, the virus is still in my system. I was legit tired even when I just filled a cart. Or is it the universe telling me to compartmentalize my work and life, before I indulge in workaholism dressed to the nines? I'm on the cusp, to be honest. It looks more than gold, it's like titanium encrusted with diamonds. Or is it time to put my work ultra-smart hat mode on so we'd have a character development? Sinabi ng I won't think about work in this WL e. Sinabi ng tigilan muna e kasi kahit anong work naman hindi mauubos, laging may kulang, laging may sobra. I don't know if it's just me, but I can still feel mother dragon's presence. Perhaps it's her version of Are You Afraid of the Dark: Magandang Gabi Bayan x KJMS. And this morning, I revisited her go-to PL which is The Carpenters. I used to abhor this group because they're not as popping as her other vibes --Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, Madonna and The Beatles.

She loved Karen Carpenter and was devastated to know that she lost her anorexia battle. She watched me carefully during the time when bulimia and anorexia looked cool. She reassured me that being big-boned and plus size is NEVER a liability. My stretch marks are my tigress stripes. My ample hips, thighs and legs are part of my being and doing.

She taught me to embrace my flaws, like my dyslexia. She never believed that I am a slow reader. LOL. She felt that my poor grammar skills can be neutralized by writing and speaking. JUSQ. While I usually get a line of 9 in English, the truth is, I struggled so badly with every timed Phoenix comprehension worksheets. While I misread, mispronounce and misspell a lot, mom felt that I am but making an alibi. She branded me as careless and distracted easily. LOLOLOLLOLL. Mother dragon for three, always! She told me to that while I keep skipping lines when I read out loud, I can use my pointer finger to guide my handicap. Of course, she used verbatim that's too graphic, it's traumatic, because her Tagalog is tumatagos hindi lang sa buto pati sa kaibuturan aka verbal abuse minus the cursing; because she is a classy bitch looking after her kanal daughter.

Reading out loud was always an internal shit show until she instructed me to join declamation contests in English and Filipino. Later on, she egged me to give extemporaneous speeches and debates their precious chances. The struggle escalated because I can barely organize my thoughts, but she told me: It's not about winning. It's about how you play the game AND what you learn from it. She was RBF when I bring home a few medals during my years in school. You see, I am so poor in Math. I guess, the science and history subjects actually keep me up and giddy. However, mom said, that of course, science and history make sense because they're part of the obvious world. LOL. Hindi po talaga siya nagpapatalo. She's poor in math herself so, she can't teach me a lot. We can't afford a math tutor and my grades won't make it to remedial classes, as they're barely hanging.

In mother dragon speak, barely hanging grades meant anything that's lower than 89. May sarili siyang grading system sa utak niya. :D Though I had a few merit cards and was generally part of the Top 10, I was never an honor student. She didn't push for the top of the batch, but she has her own way of grading me. Because I am generally moody, whenever there's something off about my conduct and homeroom grades, mhie, mas lagot ako sa kanya. She has this belief that while grades matter, it's the decorum that goes with it that matters most. Hindi ko na alam saan ako lulugar because I noticed that most of the high achievers in my hood have a seeming social withdrawal and may come off as outlandish and worse, anti-social or socially awkward.

I remember asking her one time if I could try out for the swimming team because the coach is Eric Buhain. Also, I wanted a Speedo duffel bag, too! Iba 'yung feeling 'pag nasa diving board tapos nakakasabay ako in my thicc frame and lampa sa larangan ng sports. Also, I love the water. Iba 'yung effect niya sa akin. Nakakalma ako kahit overthinking pa rin ako. Most importantly, 'pag nasa swimming ako, wala akong ibang iniisip kung 'di 'yung hindi ako lumubog and makatawid sa other end ng pool. The Olympic size pool is like my ice skating rink. Though punggok ako, may advantage naman since bouyant ako saka generally, I can take a deep, deep breath and hold it kahit malimit akong may URTI growing up. The tanned and lean build is just sooooo appealing to me. I can imagine that my shoulders will be broader and my clavicles would pop. I can also shape my wide hips and thicccc thighs and legs. She told me to forget it even when I excel in swimming. She told me that I won't be getting a Speedo duffel bag, swimsuit and swimming cap because we can't afford the expenses that go with it. Ayaw daw niya akong maging kawawa and that while co-curricular activities are good, these don't fit my schedule especially when my brother is still recovering from meningitis. And knowing me daw, for sure, mapapabayaan ko 'yung school stuff because swimming makes me forget the world. Baka raw malihis pa ako ng landas. Syempre, I was beyond heartbroken when I heard this. Sabi ko, okay, wala ng Speedo. I can go with department store stuff (our suking Landmark or SM) and that I won't forget my duties as a forced dutiful ate to my brother. I even told her that I'd do better in math. HAHAHAHAHA. Lahat na po nilagay natin sa table pero, mother dragon put her claws down. She breathed fire to the pawn me. Ashes. Ashes everywhere. Super sama talaga ng loob ko sa kanya noon. She told me that since my skin usually gets fucked when I swim in a pool of chlorine, I might just end up more fucked. She didn't use the word "fucked" ha. That's me hearing what she meant lang talaga. HUHUHUHUHU. I honestly felt like I was treated unfairly even borderline inhumane. At a tender age, I felt like mother dragon wanted to force things in my system instead of allowing me to blossom through adversity. Aywaw. Naisip ko talaga 'yun because we always fight, fight, fight. Siya naman laging nagso-sorry kahit ako mali, as our Taurus-Cancer game is always up and running.

Para kaming may scoreboard kung sinong nananlo at natalo. She told me that she doesn't care about that scoreboard because para daw sa kapakanan ko 'yun. LUL. 'Yan na naman siya. Akala mo alam lahat. E siya nga, ending is housewife when she could have been a legit career woman on her way to the top of her game. :p Bawing-bawi ako 'pag ganito comeback ko sa kanya. Hahahahahaha. Syempre, she'd whack me back saying that: Kaya nga, ako ang nanay. Ako ang masusunod. Kung gusto mo, palit tayo. Ikaw na 'yung nanay, ako na 'yung anak. Me: OK. Fine. Bye. Bukas ulit. Or mamaya.

I think it took me ages to let go this angst go. Actually, iyak-tawa na naman ako writing this out. The Carpenters PL made me bleed e. So, okay. Go lang. Andito na rin e. Speaking of this PL, it hits different AND it hits home. Mas na-appreciate ko and... love ko na PL na 'to. Currently hunting down a good vinyl for this nga, preferably 'yung vintage. I noticed that the quality of the new vinyls are MEH and BLECH. Kakabadtrip though the aesthetics are better. Hindi pixelated or malabo lang talaga kuha. Bangkal, Makati Cinema Square, or Cubao X na siguro ito 'pag mas oks na pakiramdam ko. Sana bukas na 'yun please. UGH.

While I can definitely score a good item in Amazon or Ebay, iba pa rin 'pag nahahawakan mo, naamoy, nilalagay mo sa player. Iba pa rin 'pag pumipili ka sa vintage piles. May kakaibang euphoria siya as a mababaw person. Today is the day to remember the dead. I find this absurd to be honest. Why so? Because we don't really need to have this day of commemoration, to be honest. We always remember. Sometimes, we choose to forget. Most of the time, we the dead people become so alive in micro-moments and even zero moments of truth. Today, I'm thinking of lighting my Nasugbu candle for mom. I never believe in traditions, but let this be a curious day. Let this be day of remembering her life and her lessons as I make sense of my limited time across this universe, this lifetime. And yes, I'll play her PLs throughout the day. Maiba naman. Try natin if I won't spiral or be triggered. May this day be a day filled with glimmers as her au revoir non-horror keeps coming. Humanda siya. Mature na ako. LOL. Ready na ako to face my demons and hers, too. LUH. Labas ko na ulit 'yung dusty and rusty scoreboard namin.

[alj4890]

All Through The Night

A Choices: The Royal Romance Dark AU fanfiction. 

A/N Other than my few Bloodbound shorts, I’ve never written anything with supernatural overtones before. After receiving requests to see Liam and Riley’s story if he was a vampire, this storyline was born. Since it is set in one of my favorite books from Pixelberry, I had to include as many of the main and supporting characters as I could. The following chapters will explain more where they and what our main characters are. Not going to lie, I am very anxious to step out of my comfort zone for this, but I’m also super excited to see how it goes. Along with The Royal Romance, I will be referencing and altering both The Crown and The Flame and The Royal Masquerade.

@gkittylove99​​ @krsnlove​ @kingliam2019​ @texaskitten30​ @yourmajesty09​ @mom2000aggie​ @ofpixelsandscribbles​ @twinkleallnight​ @lodberg​ @twinkleallnight​ @amandablink​ @neotericthemis​  @mm2305​ @sfb123​ @iufilms​​ ​ ​

Masterlist

Prologue

Once upon a time...

"Father!" Zenobia rushed down the stairwell. "Kenna is at the gates!"

King Luthor's frown deepened as he studied the places his troops had been destroyed. His hope to unite the five kingdoms and wipe off the abomination was for naught.

Kenna would not stop until he and his surviving offspring's heads were on pikes.

...until their blood filled the crystal goblets of the Dark Queen.

"What do we do?" His son, Diavolos, asked.

Luthor knew it was only himself Kenna wanted. After he had killed her mother, hoping to stop the monsters once and for all, Kenna would have her revenge.

If only he had known that she was a vampire...just like her mother.

"Listen carefully." His voice trembled at this possibly being the last time he was able to speak to his son and daughter. "A Nevarkis must always be ready to fight the creatures that prey on the weak and vulnerable."

"But..." Zenobia sniffed. "How? How can we possibly kill the unkillable?"

"She can be killed just like her mother before her." Luthor snapped. "Sunlight. A dagger to the heart. Cutting the head off." His features hardened with resolve. "Know that those are our true allies. Continue your training with daggers. Never stop being vigilant. Educate your children. And remember: where there's one vampire, many more lie in wait in the shadows."

Diavolos stepped forward and gripped his father's shoulder. "We will fight for you."

"No." Luthor corrected. "Fight for our people. The innocent. Fight for a chance to live without fear of monsters."

He cleared his throat. "If I should die--"

"Don't say that!" Zenobia screeched. "We'll be--"

"Kenna is coming for me." Luthor interrupted. "I know I must face the consequences of my actions."

"But--" Divalos lowered his head. "What are we to do?"

"Kill her." Luthor ordered. "Let your emotion be your strength." He took their hands. "And remember that a vampire is nature's evil incarnate. They will do whatever they want and kill anyone who they think is in their way." His voice turned to pleading. "Kill Kenna before she has a chance to kill you."

Zenobia nodded in a jerky manner. Diavolos swallowed with tears in his eyes.

"Good. Now prepare yourselves." Luthor pulled his sword from its sheath. "The devil herself is here."

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

Two years later...

Kenna cuddled her infant son, humming a lullaby.

Dom came in, a soft smile gracing his lips at the sight of his family.

"How are we this evening?" He asked, placing a kiss first on her lips then one on his son's forehead.

"A little fussy." Kenna explained. "But otherwise perfect."

"Good." Dom stretched then went to stoke the fire. "I will be going out later tonight."

Kenna's head jerked up. "Why? Are there more rumors?"

He nodded, a determined frown formed on his lips. "The Nevarkis brats refuse to let us live in peace." He moved to stand before the window that looked out toward the kingdom he had once lived in.

High in the mountains, the couple and those like them had found sanctuary. They built a kingdom, one of darkness and shadow that allowed them to live freely. He and Kenna were crowned the rulers, chosen by their people...those that were cursed as monsters.

"Si and I will be standing guard." He explained. "I will not risk you or our child."

"Dom..." Kenna pulled him close, capturing his lips in a long tender kiss. "This must end. I was foolish to let my need for revenge take over." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "Luthor might have left us alone if I had given him a chance."

Dom's face contorted into furious hatred. "A Nevarkis can never be trusted!" He gripped her waist, hands heating as he lost his temper. "He would have plunged a dagger into your heart the first chance he had."

"Dom." She said softly when he singed her clothes.

He wrenched his hands from her with a grimace. "I didn't burn you, did I?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine." She tried to lighten the mood. "Just a little overheated."

He took deep breaths to get himself under control. "Stay here where it is safe." His eyes searched hers. "Have you fed recently?"

"No, but I should be fine until you return." Kenna lifted a bottle with blood for their son. "I can call on one of the servants to help me if I need to."

"Promise me you won't go outside." He pleaded.

"Only if you promise to come back to me." She responded.

His lips quirked in that cocky smile she has always adored.

"Always, my queen." He kissed her once more, then slipped out the door to search out their enemies.

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

Present Day New York...

"Cordonia...land of both beauty and mystery." Riley wrinkled her nose. "Boring."

"No, it isn't." Hana argued. "I think that is the perfect beginning."

"Look at the comments from our last video." Riley swiveled her laptop so her friend could see. "People love our walkthroughs and all but hate my narration."

"Well..." Hana's brow furrowed. "Maybe we should try to add more to it than just narration." She pulled out some sketches. "We could add some animation of the history before showing our footage of the country."

"That might work." Riley mumbled, tapping her pen against her notebook.

The two set to work planning their next project.

After years of trying, they had finally achieved their dream of traveling for a living. The two college friends had taken every class they could on how to make their hopes into a reality. With Riley's love of history and business and Hana's talent with art and fashion, the pair had created a successful travel channel that showcased rarely visited countries and cities around the world.

Hana took care of all the shopping and dining found at their chosen destinations. Her "day trips" were hailed as must see for anyone planning a vacation. Riley took over for what could be found at night. Myths and legends blended in with what could be discovered once the sun set. A place's nightlife was thoroughly researched and reached a wide variety of their audience, causing many to plan a vacation just on her recommendations alone.

"Did your mom suggest where we should go first?" Riley asked, after skimming the same few articles about the elusive country.

"Not really." Hana hedged.

Riley glanced up. "Is she giving you a hard time again?"

"Yes." Hana slumped in her chair. "She told me to call when I was done playing tour guide."

"Geez." Riley grumbled. "Does she not realize that we have created a legit business?"

"Ladies shouldn't be involved in anything that does not pertain to their husband and family." Hana quoted. "I was supposed to have my debut to Cordonian society last year." Angry tears filled her eyes. "She still hasn't forgiven me for missing out on the Masquerade Ball."

Riley wrapped her in a comforting hug. "I'm sorry."

Hana patted her back. "Don't be. I finally feel like I can accomplish anything."

"That's because you can." Riley sat back with a grin. "Especially with planning out what we should focus on first."

Hana giggled as she went to search out some of her old books she had inherited from her grandparents. "These might help you with your part."

Riley's eyebrows lifted over the titles. "The Crown, the Flame, and The Night Queen."

"That is the earliest recorded story of vampires and monsters in Cordonia." Hana explained. "Queen Kenna Rhys and King Luthor Nevarkis both fought over uniting the kingdoms that make up Cordonia." She shook her head in disbelief. "There is a legend that Queen Kenna was a vampire that married a man who could transform into a dragon."

"For real?" Riley eagerly opened the book. "What happened?"

"Luthor died." Hana reached for another history book. "Some say it was a sword fight while others say she ripped his throat out with her fangs."

"Whoa. Either way, she sounds pretty epic."

"His son got revenge though." Hana flipped to another chapter. "He sneaked in one day and supposedly dragged Kenna into the sunlight. Before her husband could save her, she burned to ash."

"Brutal." Riley shivered. "What did the dragon do?"

Hana shrugged. "Supposedly he left with their child to protect him." She pointed at some drawings rendered from the Dark Ages. "Kenna's son came back to extract revenge. He eliminated one entire side of the Nevarkis family tree."

"And let me guess," Riley picked up another book. "The remaining Nevarkis's struck back?"

"It's supposedly been a feud for centuries between the Nevarkis and the Rhys' families." Hana pulled up an image on her phone. "Though one is currently ruling Cordonia."

Riley studied the image. "Queen Olivia Nevarkis. Looks like the Rhys lost the throne."

Hana shrugged. "There's a myth that they still rule Cordonia from the shadows."

"Mythical royal vampires, huh?" Riley laughed at the thought. "I hope I bump into one just so I can figure out who's really in charge."

Hana giggled at the thought. "You would be the only person to ask a logical, government question instead of the usual, whoa you're a real live vampire!"

Riley threw a pillow at her. "Hey! I can be calm and collected when faced with the unknown."

Hana threw the pillow back. "Tell that to the supposed haunted house we visited on our last trip." She broke out into laughter with Riley's defense that squeaking doors were the true villains. "On that note, I'm going to start packing. Our flight leaves first thing in the morning."

"I'll be ready." Riley promised.

Once alone, she flipped to a more current timeline of the supposed Dark Kingdom.

King Constantine Rhys the Third rules over what is his rightful kingdom. Rumors swirl that he is simply biding his time until he can eliminate the usurper, Queen Olivia Nevarkis, First of Her Name. The people know that one day, a Rhys will sit upon the throne, uniting the Dark Kingdom and Cordonia once and for all.

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

Cordonia's Royal Palace, 2 a.m.

"Heeeerah! Olivia threw her daggers as hard as she could while doing a roundhouse kick.

The blades struck into the chest, head, and groin of the makeshift dummy.

She brushed the few strands of red hair that had escaped her hair clip out of her eyes. With a great deal of scrutiny, she studied her dagger placement.

"The one to the head needs to go deeper."

She spun around with a start at that all too familiar voice.

"You're late." She folded her arms and tapped her foot.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. Had to stop off for a quick bite."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That's not funny."

"Not that kind of bite." He teased, holding up a styrofoam box.

"Oh." She blinked in surprise. "I forget that you enjoy normal food too."

He chuckled at that. "There are certain foods that I don't think any man could ever give up."

Olivia decided to ignore that as she wiped the sweat from her face and neck. "Now that you're here, let's get the formalities over with."

"Very well." Liam gestured toward her. "You may go first."

She sat down on a bench lining one side of the palace gym. She motioned for him to join her.

"Not you!" She hissed when she saw his all too familiar guard.

Drake Walker bristled at her tone. His brown eyes clashed with her green.

"Give us a moment, please." Liam asked him.

"Don't let your guard down." Drake warned. "Remember, she's a Nevarkis."

Olivia tensed. "Perhaps you should remember what happened the last time you said something like that."

She quirked one eyebrow at the man and felt a sense of glee when he winced in memory.

His hand automatically drifted to his side where one of her daggers had once struck true.

With a quick bow to Liam, Drake stepped back out into the hallway.

Liam shook his head. "Are you two ever going to get along?"

"Stop talking stupid." Olivia snapped. "Now then, as you know...I must have my revenge."

"I know." Liam folded his arms and leaned casually against a column.

She eyed him for any sign of hatred.

It drove her crazy how unvampiric he could be.

He seemed almost human.

He seemed...kind.

A vampire is nature's evil incarnate. You can never trust a Rhys.

Those words had been drummed into her skull by her parents and then her aunt after their deaths by Constantine's hand.

And yet...Liam had done the unthinkable.

He had actually been a friend to Olivia.

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

The night after her parents' funeral, five year old Olivia had been sitting alone before the fireplace, weeping over them.

Her aunt had left her to deal with her own grief and to plan the next attack upon Constantine.

As she searched for a tissue, Olivia jumped back with a shriek at the little blonde haired boy that held the Kleenex box.

His eyes were filled with unshed tears as he handed her a tissue.

"Who are you?" She asked, remembering that a Nevarkis must always be brave.

"I'm Liam." He explained. "I wanted to...I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about your parents." He sniffed and took a tissue for himself. "My mom died too."

Olivia blinked and took a cautious step forward. "Are you...are you a vampire?!"

He nodded.

She whipped out the dagger her mother had given her and rushed at him.

Liam moved faster than she could comprehend, gently keeping her hand above her head.

"Let go of me, monster!" She ordered. "You're why I'm all alone!"

"I didn't do anything." He told her, anguish taking over his handsome features. "I don't want to hurt you or anyone."

"Liar!" She snapped. "That's what you do. Lie and kill." Her tears ran faster down her cheeks. "And now you'll kill me."

"I won't." He promised. "I swear I won't hurt you." He ignored his own tears trickling down his cheeks. His blue eyes burned with resolve. "My mother made me promise never to hurt a human."

Olivia shook her head. It had to be lies. Isn't that what vampires and monsters do? Lull you into letting your guard down so that they could have an easy kill.

"Your father will pay for what he did." She said, hoping to see his true, evil nature. "He must die!"

"I know." Liam slowly released her and took a step back.

Olivia watched in surprise as he sat down before her fireplace and pulled out a silk blue ribbon from his pocket.

He motioned for her to join him.

She slowly lowered herself down, dagger poised in her little fist in case he made a move.

"May I have your hand, please?" He asked.

He patiently waited on her to decide whether or not to give it to him.

She tentatively placed her hand in his.

His lips turned up into a relieved smile as he wrapped the ribbon over their joined hands.

"What are you doing?" She asked, lowering her dagger.

"Making a bond." He explained. "I, Liam Rhys, Crown Prince of the Dark Kingdom, promise to never seek out revenge and to end all vendettas against the Nevarkis family." His blue eyes held her green. "Just as my mother, Queen Eleanor wanted me to."

Oliva's lips parted. "You mean it?"

"I do." Liam's voice held a great deal of sincerity. "I would rather walk into the sun than not do as she asked."

"Oh." Olivia sniffed. She could understand that kind of devotion.

"Do you," Liam's cheeks colored. "Do you think we can be allies?"

"A Nevarkis will never be friends with a monster." She repeated the rhetoric that she knew by heart.

"But," Liam's shoulders slumped. "We're not all bad."

"All monsters are bad at heart."

"I'm not." He pouted. "I don't want to be."

"You're so weird." She muttered.

"Am not." Liam grumbled. "I hope I'm not."

Olivia looked down at their hands still bound together. "I guess since you promised something, I should too."

He didn't bother to hide his surprise.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I, Olivia Nevarkis, The Crown Princess of Cordonia, swear that after I kill Constantine Rhys, I will lay down my weapons." Her brow furrowed. "I'll pick them back up though if you or any other monster tries anything."

Liam's smile grew. Before she could react, he tugged her into a quick hug.

"Now we can be friends!" He cheered.

"Friends?" She shook her head. "I'm a Nevarkis and you're a Rhys. We can't be friends."

"We will be." He vowed, jumping to his feet. "I have to go before Father finds out I've sneaked out. I'll try to come back in a few nights."

Olivia didn't have a chance to tell him whether or not she wanted him to. In the blink of an eye, he had jumped from her balcony and was already out the palace gates.

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

That had been the beginning of Liam's visits. Through the years, he had remained true to his promise. He did all he could to befriend her and never tried to sway her from seeking vengeance.

Olivia had once asked him how he could take her threat against his father so easily.

He had merely shrugged, explaining that he knew it was the way of things. His father had killed both her parents, while he had only lost one. He hoped she didn't since he did not wish to see his father or her dead.

Olivia had then told him again how weird he was, bringing another smile to his lips.

And now here he was again, calmly taking her promised vengeance well.

"So what business brings you here tonight?" She asked.

"Father thinks it is time I chose a wife." Liam responded. "I thought you should know that I will be spending more time in your kingdom to find one."

Olivia shot up off the bench. "What? But you promised to never hurt a human!"

"And I will keep true to that." He explained.

"But..." Olivia's brow furrowed. "You'll turn her into a vampire."

"Only if she wishes it." Liam explained. "I won't force her to make such a decision."

"I see." She began to pace while thinking. "You'll have vampire children."

"Only if she's a vampire." He reminded her. "Remember my brother."

Olivia paused. She had forgotten about Leo Rhys, The Great Disappointment of the Dark Kingdom. His mother had begged Constantine not to turn her. It had never been asked before, and in his mercy he had agreed. That was when they all discovered that a monster and a human could only produce a human child. In order for the heir to the Dark Kingdom to be a vampire, both parents had to be the same being.

"And you'll be fine having human children?" She asked. "If you're chosen bride refuses the Vampire's Kiss?"

"Of course." He responded.

"Lord, you're so weird." She muttered.

His smirk flashed. "Let's hope the woman I choose doesn't think so."

"Are there no women in your kingdom you can choose from?" She asked.

"I've looked." He shook his head. "It's hard to explain, but if one doesn't have an arranged marriage, then we must search until we see the one meant for us."

"And you somehow got weirder." She brushed her hands down her pants and held one out to him. "Good luck, I suppose."

"Thank you." He grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I'll keep you updated on my progress."

"There's no need."

"Of course there is." He winked at her on his way out. "We're friends."

Her lips parted to once again remind him that they couldn't be. For some reason, she decided not to say it.

Liam had somehow wormed his way into her life and had become the closest friend she had ever had.

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

The Lee Residence, Shanghai, China...

Lorelei paled as she reread the report. 

It can’t be. Not Now!

Of all the times for this to happen, it would be when her stubborn, foolish daughter decided to visit. 

Given the nature of her relationship with Hana, she knew that there was no way she could convince her to postpone her trip to Cordonia. 

There was only one course of action left to take. She would have to call the one man who was capable of protecting her daughter. She would promise hiim anything as long as he kept Hana out of Liam’s clutches. As much as wanted her to give up this ridiculous hobby she called a job and settled down with the right sort of man, she would never put her in the path of becoming the next vampire queen. 

Setting down the packet of information from one of her informants, she checked to make certain no servant was out in the hallway and then searched for the needed phone number.

Taking a deep breath, she placed the call.

Her trepidation grew when he didn’t immediately answer.

"Hello."

"Lord Beaumont?" 

"Yes." She could hear a door closing in the background. "Who is this?"

"Lorelei Lee." She replied.

"Lady Lorelei." He responded with a recognition. "How can I help you?"

"My daughter and her friend have got it in their heads to come visit Cordonia." She began. "I'm not certain how long they intend to stay, but I was hoping that I could retain your services."

"For what exactly?" Lord Beaumont asked.

"Protection." She replied. "I have heard through certain channels that the dark prince is beginning to search for a bride." She took a deep breath. "We do NOT want our daughter anywhere near that vile creature."

"I understand." He replied. "I usually don't do personal security. With my brother, Bertrand, retired," he hesitated, "it is left up to me to help protect Cordonia's borders."

"My husband and I would be in your debt if you could watch over her in the evenings." Lorelei cajoled. "I've heard that your brother is planning on extending his vineyards. We would be more than happy to invest in the production and distribution of his sparkling wine. Perhaps even let it be the only sparkling wine we serve in our hotels."

"Send me her information and picture. Call her and tell her that since our family is an old friend of yours, that I've volunteered to show them around. Find out where she's staying and when she plans on arriving."

"Oh thank you, my lord. We--"

"I'll also need a contract prepared and signed for all that you offered." He added.

"Yes of course. I'll get everything to you at once." She promised.

Once he ended the call, she sank back down onto her chair. 

She bowed her head and began to pray that her daughter came to no harm these next few weeks. To lose Hana to one of the many creatures that roamed the night in Cordonia was too horrible to even contemplate.

If anyone could keep her daughter safe then it was none other than Lord Maxwell Beaumont.

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

(sees another fandom that I can ask you about and cheers) Orphan Black! Thoughts? I don't know Dr Who but Tatiana is one of my favorite actors period.

Anon you are so sweet! I'm always happy to chat about fandoms and characters and whatnot, and I will never not appreciate the majesty of Tatiana's acting. That is one of the greatest parts of the show hands down.

Orphan Black, to me, is a show that had incredible potential, but didn't really live up to the excitement it created. (Loooong post ahead.)

The thing is, Orphan Black builds a chilling mystery and background, the world it gradually creates as it goes for about the first two seasons, got be very invested and made me wonder a lot about where it was going to go and what the answers were. The setup is brilliant, right from the start with that iconic cold open of Beth's suicide. The unknown is what really helped this show get as thrilling as it was, because the actual answers behind the unknown were kind of hit and miss, and it seemed like far too often, the show just wasn't interested in telling it's story. Hijinks where the clones impersonate each other in slice of life events? That's fun at first and it really works well as they're still getting to know each other. But after a while, it gets tedious, and it seems like the show would rather fuck around and have dance parties (seriously, that scene was such a #BigLippedAlligatorMoment) than focus on the story and the threat that the sisters are facing. Virtually all of Allison's plotlines are like this, they feel like they belong in a different show, and for some reason the writers insisted on giving her one of these storylines like, every season. After Allison passively murders her own friend out of suspecting that she's spying on her, I just don't feel like an arc about her running for some PTA office position even matters. It doesn't feel right.

Speaking of that, here's another example: Donnie. Why did the end of the first season suggest that he was this secret mastermind working for Leekie? The whole idea just deflates in Season 2 and doesn't really go anywhere. He just goes back to being the bumbling sweetheart he was before. Why even have him be the spy? Maybe it should have been Ainsley. Do you want to know the exact moment that I think Orphan Black went wrong? Like, the specific scene? When Leekie was killed off. The character who had thus far been the Big Bad, gets taken out in the stupidest possible way, a literal accident on Donnie's part, and it's even played for laughs. After that point, the show really struggled to regain it's footing, though I don't think it completely went off the rails until about Season 4, and it was still generally hit or miss. Like, some stuff was really good. The introduction of the Castor clones, the development of Rachel's character (I'll get to her, trust me.) and the reveal of Kendall Malone. But it seemed like so much else was just forgotten or otherwise not resolved. Whatever happened to Cal? Sure, the show wanted to focus on the sisters...but Kira deserves to know her father if she wants to. That's just one example. It's a crying shame because this show is sometimes incredible. The metaphor that I always use for situations like this, is a card game. The show has all the right cards in its hand, they're just not being played.

The two strongest characters, at least to me, were Rachel and Helena. One of these characters was superbly written and went through a devastating arc. The other was Helena. We need to talk about her. In Season 1, she really cemented herself as a memorable presence with her trademark accent, her scars, her whole damn personality (again, hats off to Tatiana) and of course, that iconic screechy theme music that accompanied her. Which at first made us jump, but eventually made us cheer. I adored Helena, and I loved the development of her relationship with Sarah. Who went from shooting her in Season 1, to being deadset on rescuring her in Season 3, being furious with Siobhan for betraying her. (This is unrelated but Siobhan has the same " twist villain fakeout" at the end of Season 1 that Donnie does, and it's quite frustrating.) And yet, I swear, the writers just didn't know what to do with Helena half the time. They put her on a bus for long stretches, including one point where she just up and leaves Allison's house in Season 4, for no given reason. And the characters just kind of...don't care. The same thing happens when she gets arrested. No one cares to try and find Helena, even though she's unstable and often a danger to those around her. Even though she's by herself with no real ability to function in society. Even though she's pregnant. There is no excuse for this, and no Sarah, that "I'm sorry, I avoided you" scene in Season 5 is not going to cut it. It's such an afterthought.

I'm being rather critical, but I hope you can tell that this is from a point of passion. I genuinely enjoyed this show and getting to watch it. Just that sometimes it didn't feel like the show cared that I was watching. However, this was not true whenever Rachel was onscreen. Look, I'm a Merula Snyde stan, so you can probably already guess how I feel about Rachel. Despite her crimes, despite her constant slipping back the dark side, I felt so bad for Rachel at the end of it all. That scene with Kira really sums it up. "Who hurt you?" "All of them." And no scene is more intense than when she stabs out the eye cam. Like, I'm sorry, I pitied Rachel pretty much from Season 2 on. Her parents were horrible to her, and I'm supposed to think Ethan is the good guy here? He kills himself in front of his own daughter, telling her that she doesn't deserve him. And then Sarah shoots a pencil through her eye, causing brain damage and requiring a long recovery. I'm not saying that Sarah was wrong to do what she did, just that if I were in her shoes, I'd still feel a degree of guilt for Rachel's condition. In the end, I'm devastated that she was barred from Clone Club, when she made the right decision at the point it mattered. But there's just too much history there, and Sarah won't ever forgive her. (Though again, I do feel as though there's blame to share.) Rachel is my favorite character and I never expected her to be. But she's just so complex. Side note: "Enjoy your oophorectomy" is so damn quotable. I don't know why but I love that line.

So, Rachel's my favorite. Who's my least favorite? It might surprise you. It's Delphine. I'm sorry, but I just...I couldn't get on board with C*phine. Not after Season 3. I was waiting for the point that the show would push to finally redeem Delphine for her turncoat role, for all of the hell that she put Cosima through. By Season 5 though? I realized that as far as the writers were concerned? She already was redeemed. Even though she did nothing to earn it, except be presumed dead by Cosima. The way she treats Cosima in Season 3 is actually disgusting. Her reasoning for breaking up with Cosima is circular. She has to love "all the clones" in order to be with Cosima, and the way to do that is to take over Rachel's job, which means they can't date anymore? I'm not the only one who thought that didn't make sense, right? Oh and let's talk about how she stalks Cosima's date, breaks into her house, and threatens her life. Red. Flags. Cosima even says the line, "If you're not going to be with me, just let me go." I'm sorry, that should not be something she has to beg for. Delphine's behavior made me want her to stay far, far away from Cosima. Who is, incidentally, a sweetie and I absolutely adore her. I legit have trouble remembering that Tatiana's playing her because she just looks and acts so different. That said, even though I immensely disliked Delphine, I am so very glad that they made one of the clones gay. Just like I'm glad that they made one of them trans. (Though...Tony wasn't handled especially well.)

In general, I do think the earlier seasons were stronger. The Brightborn arc, while interesting, didn't really contribute much to the overarching narrative. We got the backstory on Beth's suicide and finally learned the truth about her, I suppose. Still, even though Beth is one of my favorite of the clones, and I never expected her to be either...I feel like the actual reason given for why she took her own life was rather illogical. She apparently did it because the investigation was putting the clones in danger of another Helsinki. Okay, but just because Evie Cho says you should off yourself, doesn't mean you have to. You could just, like...stop investigating. And if you die under mysterious circumstances without explaining anything to the sisters, they're not going to be put off from the investigation. They're going to look into this even more, because they don't know why they're not supposed to. The reveal that she and Art fell in love toward the end adds an extra gut punch, but it also doesn't make sense because wouldn't Art have referenced it during the period that he thought Sarah was Beth? On the other hand, Season 4 also introduced MK. And I have such a soft spot for her. I adore that sheep-masked sweetie. Everyone always asks "Which clone would you date" (because fandoms can think of nothing else I guess) and I never see anyone give any love to MK. Her death absolutely tore me apart. I am glad Siobhan avenged her even if she went down at the same time. Side note, her last word being the affectionate "Chickens..." Broke me.

Season 5 was a strange beast. In general, it seemed like we were finally getting some answers to the questions that were hanging over us. Exploring the deep mythos. But then they kind of turned it around and made it just be a Wizard of Oz style fraud twist. Westmoreland isn't really inhumanly old, he's a charlatan. I don't know why that was necessary in a science fictional show. I've seen the interviews and I get what they were going for, it just feels like it would have been cooler and far creepier if he was actually that old. The puppet master pulling the strings the whole time. We also finally get some answers for Kira's superhuman healing abilities (though we never learn how she's telepathically connected to the clones) and I'm loving it, but the trouble is, it's inconsistent. Ethan "Why is this guy so popular, he's an asshole" Duncan told Rachel specifically that Sarah being able to have children was a fluke, that the clones were "barren by design." I don't know, the whole concept of Revival and of the "magical island" was really foreboding and tied in with the earlier references to The Island of Doctor Moreau. Especially that song about "Revival's Children" just...the shudders, man. But just having it be a regular old scam is...a letdown. I know it may be more realistic, but I don't always need realism in my scifi. The finale is interesting, in that it's mostly an epilogue. I'm glad the clones (sans Rachel) got to live happily ever after, but there are two gut punches right at the end that are total nitpicks but they bother me. Helena naming her kids after Art and Donnie? And writing a memoir that she names "Orphan Black?" Those two tropes can go die in a hole. They can enjoy an oophorectomy, because I'm so sick of them.

The potential of Orphan Black was practically infinite. The results of Orphan Black fell frustratingly short.

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

THAT’S RIGHT BITCH! It’s October and I am still watching and inexplicably blogging about Supernatural - a dinosaur of a television show that’s been on the air longer than most children I know have been alive. 

I know I’m An Old because I don’t think kids these days understand the struggle it was watching television before streaming. We had to wait for episodes. Hell, I don’t think kids these days even really have to wait for seasons. I mean, Voltron premiered on Netflix in 2016, capped off their seasons at 13 episodes a piece and, oh yeah - aired seasons 5 - 8  all in 2018. Was I mad about that? No of course not. Do I also say phrases like “kids these days? Yes, so who even knows if what I think is relevant anymore. 

Alright, so speaking of seasons, last time I looked at pilots and pilot seasons and how the streaming era is changing everything we know about starting a TV show. But once you’ve got your pilot down, now what? 

Not this kind of pilot. Also, based on the prerequisites for demon possession, we’re all agreed this co-pilot’s like, an alcoholic, right?

There’s a rule in TV (sort of) that the first six episodes (some might argue the first season entirely) should be a kind of rehash of the pilot. The pilot sets up your premise and once you’ve got your pilot down, your job as a TV writer is to re-establish that premise over and over again. You’re building your world, you’re writing it’s rules. You’re setting up a template, a formula for how your episodes are gonna play out. This helps your audience get to know the characters, get familiar with your world, get comfortable spending time with them. Essentially, you’re getting your audience to trust the show that they’re going to be tuning in to for at least the next 20-some-odd episodes. 

I’d also argue that this is important so that later, you can break that format later. I’m not saying you should break the trust your audience puts in you, and that’s probably a real fine line of distinction. But if you break your rules right, it can hit the audience with a big emotional sucker punch. Or, it can stand out as a real breakout, tentpole of an episode - I’m thinking specifically about Ghostfacers! In season 3, or Once More, With Feeling, from Buffy. Those episodes work, really work, because they deviate from the formula, but they only work because we know the formula so well.  And these aren’t big changes to the way episodes are done, they’re just shifted ever so slightly that they felt new again.. 

So what is the premise of the first four episodes Supernatural? What’s the formula they set up for the rest of the series? 

Brothers. I said it in my last post, I’ll say it again, Sam and Dean/Jensen Ackles and Jared Jared Padalecki are what makes this show. Full stop. I think we could have gotten 5 seasons out of a show starring two other dudes. I do not think this show could have gotten 15 seasons with two other dudes. So from the pilot through Phantom Traveler, we learn that Sam and Dean have a sh*tty home life - their mother was killed by some mysterious evil thing and their father raised them to be little demon-hunting child soldiers while they look for the killer. Oh yeah, and Sam’s girlfriend died the exact same way which we will never forget because Sam’s gonna have a dream about it almost every episode from here on out. We set up the tension between the brothers - that Sam got to go to college while Dean stayed with their dad like a good boi. We learn that everybody hates each other probably because they are deeply and unhealthily codependent love each other so damn much. 

Next we get the basic rundown of the season arc: 

Dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days. The Winchester brothers are looking for him and by extension, looking for answers as to what killed their mom/Sam’s girlfriend. We also get the basic rundown of every episode: dad is a mysterious and elusive sonuvuabitch, so every episode they go about, say it with me now:

“The family business.” I would also accept “Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can,” but why can’t I find a gif for it?!? 

Backtracking on this but you know what else gets hecking established with the Winchesters? Sam is the cute one with the people skills and the puppy dog face, so you’d naturally assume that he’s the soft one. No. Not the case. Dean is the Sofffft Boi. The SOFTest boi. Dean wants Sam to talk about his feelings, Dean wants Sam to not keep things bottled up, Dean is the one who desperately wants to keep a hold of his family and also is just deeply broken and traumatized on the inside and oh no, I told myself I wouldn’t do this but I did it anyway. Sorry not sorry. This watch, I’m really picking up on the fact that Dean is, weirdly, the Mom Friend in this first season. Like, he’s basically a Trailer-Trash-Teen-Pregnancy Mom who’ll give you spaghettios five nights a week and a shot of whiskey so you’ll quit yer bitchin’ and go to sleep faster, but he’s the Mom nonetheless. Later in this season and in other seasons, I think you even see him do his dumb-baby-best filling in as the Mom when John went off the deep end. Anyway, I have a lot of feelings and we don’t have time to unpack all of that so I’ll just move on.

RUDE.

Next we set up our Supernatural Bag of Holding - what’s in it? What are the mystical artifacts they use to kill those evil sons of bitches? First up is The Car. Damn, I am not a cars girl, but that 67 Chevy, it does things to me. 

This car has some weird pavlovian trigger for me, it’s not NATURAL. 

The journal. 

John Winchester, you journal the way I imagine a psycho killer journals and I would just really appreciate it if you could be ANY MORE ORGANIZED THAN THIS.

The Trunk Full of Weapons - I love that in these first few episodes (and possibly the rest of the series???) they give this HELLA conspicuous look every time they open the trunk full of weapons. It’s hilarious EVERY TIME.

No, you’re not being obvious at ALL, guys.

The Fake ID’s - from credit cards to impersonating feds, these boys are not afraid to break the law to save some lives and I feel like that’s...that’s the theme of the show maybe? They’re here to save people and they’ll do what they have to to do that? In a world that clearly establishes a dark vs. light/good vs. evil dichotomy, the Winchester make it their job to live in a world of grey? Basically? 

Next on the checklist for this first season of Supernatural - it’s spoopy. *Spoop mileage may vary.* I said it last time, but I’ll say it again: this first season aired at 9:00pm at night. That means it’s primetime stuff for the 18 - 25 year old crowd, but they don’t want to risk some 13 year old watching it and getting too scared before bed. 9:00pm is X Files time slots, Fringe time slots. 9:00pm says you’re gonna get something a little more gruesome and gory and shocking than at 8pm. 8pm is for Friends. Vampire Diaries aired at 8pm its first season. 9pm is for the real adult content (but not too adult because the audience is still mostly children). 

SPOOP!

But yeah, let’s look at the real horror vibe that you get off of these first four episodes. We talked about La Llorona from the first episode - this is a legit ghost that they fight. The kids at the end that literally drag their mom to hell? Pretty spooky stuff. The Wendigo in episode 2 is a literal monster of the week and so for me personally, it’s not that scary, but it is a cannibal monster that eats human flesh. Dead in the Water has vibes from both Jaws and Friday the 13th. Everything from the lighting to the sound design let’s you know this is a horror show, or as horror as you can get on network television. Listen to the scenes just before somebody dies and you get a nice creepy “Come play with me” whisper coming out of the water. I’m a little spooked just thinking about it now. Yes I know I’m a chicken, and I’m OK WITH THAT. And if we go past my season 1 disc 1 into episode 5, Bloody Mary is STILL terrifying and I STILL watched that episode with half my face covered. That’s where I am these days. It’s 2020 and the world is a nightmare but imagining Bloody Mary creepin’ out in my mirror does not need to be a part of it. 

SHE F*CKIN CLIMBS OUT OF THE MIRROR GUYS! I DIDN’T KNOW SHE COULD DO THAT!!!

Then we get Phantom Traveler and our very first case of black-eyed-demonic possession. Watching this episode now, it’s like watching someone’s home movie of their first steps as a baby. They’ve never even done an exorcism before guys! They have to read the exorcism rite out of the journal! It’s so cute!!! Let’s not think too hard about how they got that full sized bottle of holy water past TSA in a post-9/11 world. And try to ignore how poorly these special effects have aged - the smoke from the demon possession?? OMG! THIS EFFECT! I’m pretty sure I could make that effect with my first ever graphic design software on my, like, 2009 mac book pro. So cute and soooo good! I’m gonna leave that CG plane alone, they’re doing their best. 

SO cute and SOOO good!

You want to know what my favorite established staple of Supernatural season 1 is? The extras. LOOKIT these guys - 

Wendigo you have Cory Monteith who later goes on to star in Glee. 

You have Alden Ehrenreich, Debatable Han Solo, doing a lot of face work with very little dialogue. 

You have Gina Holden who is in SO. MANY. Spooky-type things! My personal favs are Blood Ties and Harper’s Island, but she’s in Fringe, she’s in the SAW franchise, she’s in the Final Destination franchise, she was in some deleted scenes on an episode of Teen Wolf! I LOVE seeing Gina Holden, anywhere she pops up. 

And speaking of Harper’s Island, you’ve also got Callum Keith Rennie who played John Wakefield in Harper’s Island, a show that was A+ Great and I highly recommend if you like Agatha Christie and/or murder mysteries. 

Honestly, Rennie looks like he’s about to murder a bitch in this episode of Supernatural, it is not a stretch to believe he’s a psycho killer.

Dead in the Water you’ve got Amy Acker, a regular in Joss Whedon and Whedon-adjacent type shows.

Good LORD, this wardrobe was SO 2000′s WB and it PAINED me.

And finally in Phantom Traveler, you have Jaime Ray Newman who also shows up in a lot of the shows that I like to watch. She was in Eureka, she was in Midnight Texas, both kind of terrible shows that I love because they are terrible, but she was ALSO in Bates Motel and Veronica Mars, which are generally considered to be more quality, so there’s that. 

This still implies that they actually LIT scenes, which is a SURPRISE TO ME. 

Point is, seeing these actors in Supernatural back in the early 2000’s felt like I was seeing the start of their careers. That may or may not have been the case, but as a viewer it was exciting to see them pop up again in other things.

So what about TV now? Do we still use those first 6 (sometimes more) episodes to re-establish the premise? Well, it certainly hasn’t gone away. Look at any network show that still produces 22 - 24 episodes a season and you’ll still see that the pilot season just keeps re-iterating the premise established in the pilot episode, specifically in anything that’s procedural - that’s you’re monster/problem-of-the-week shows. Think sitcoms like Brooklyn 99 or Superstore or dramedies like Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist. The reason being that these shows play in the traditional model of television - on a network, once a week. They are not releasing episodes all at one time or relying on their audiences to stream a whole season in one sitting. These are shows that still assume that someone out there is going to tune in or stumble across their show one night while they’re surfing channels (lol) and need to be told, no matter what episode they’ve just turned on, what the premise of the show is. They need to be formulaic so that people can pick it up anywhere at any time.

But what about shows that don’t follow this traditional model? I mentioned in my last post that seasons are getting shorter and shorter, so when you’re writing a show that only has (8) episodes instead of 22, how much time do you really want to spend establishing the premise? Because of these short seasons, you’re also dealing with shows that are more serialized and less procedural than their predecessors - meaning, you’re dealing with a show that focuses on a season long story (think Game of Thrones or Stranger Things where each episode is an important chapter that you can’t skip) vs. a procedural (think the shows I mentioned above or any cop drama really) where each episode is it’s own contained story, neatly wrapped up at the end. These are shows where you can skip an episode and still know where you are in the show no matter where you start or stop watching. Supernatural is a little bit of both - procedural with their monsters of the week AND serialized with a season long arc. We’ll talk more on that in a later post. 

Not only are we getting shorter seasons, but we’re also dealing with shows that are not released over long periods of time. A few streaming channels, like Disney+ and HBO Max, make a deliberate point to slow-drip their seasons, but most streaming channels will release entire seasons in one shot. You don’t need to worry about your audience missing an episode because they have 24/7 access to all the episodes all at once. And for the most part, they’re designed to be binged. They start at full speed and they don’t slow down to keep driving you to the finale. 

Do I think the procedural is ever going to go away? No. As much talk as there is about dropping the cop drama from TV all together, I think audiences still love a good mystery series. And you can’t just think of procedurals as cop dramas either - a procedural also covers most if not all sitcoms. New Girl, Letterkenny, Parks and Rec, Superstore - these all have a premise that doesn't change from week to week. They may make tiny shifts away from what they set up in the pilot, but by and large, you know what you’re getting into any time you turn on an episode. I think we as an audience still like that kind of familiarity. We may be seeing a bigger swing towards more serialized content, but that doesn't mean that the procedural is dead and gone. 

So that’s what we’ve got for Supernatural - two dudes, driving around in a car full of spears and hand guns, killing bad guys. Some day, they may even find that father that’s missing. What could possibly go wrong? A lot. Stay tuned. 

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

Swallowed Pride

Summary: You and Natasha Romanoff go way back.  Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader Warning(s): Smut 18+, Cheating, Lying, Secret relationship, Bisexual reader Word Count: 1,577 Notes: This is my first fic with all female smut. Definitely a work in progress. Cheating is bad, I don’t condone it. This song just always had that sort of tone and mood for me when I listened to it. Sorry Laur (@fvckingavengers​) for this being like uber uber late. Your challenge said no deadlines and I legit just didn’t even put a note on my document of when I started this. It got lost in the shuffle. Please ignore the poorly translated Russian. Любимая моя= my love, не останавливайся = don’t stop Prompt: “The lies that tied your tongue in knots – Are the words that grew to hit my spots – So filthy, dialed desire – Swallowed pride but spit out fire – Liars turn me on” (Bounce - The Cab) Moodboard Image Credit: Photo credit for the moodboard goes in the following order left to right. All photos acquired from Unsplash. Maëliss Demaison, Aleksander Borzenets, Nihal Demirci , Leonardo Sanches, Richard Brutyo

St. Petersburg:

The first time it happens is in a shitty flat on the south bank of the Moyka River. The two of you had run there; stilettos clicking on the night washed cobblestones. You smirk remembering the chorus of screams and sirens behind the redhead and her accomplice. The next morning the papers would describe a silent assassination at the St. Petersburg's Mariinsky ballet; so perfectly coordinated it shocked the world. The two of you would have already left the country before ink hits paper.

In the dingy flat, she hushed your brazen giggles. Back then you always got drunk off a job well done, before honest work had slapped some humbleness and morals into you. You’d always gotten drunk as well. She preferred vodka while you guzzled bourbon. The honey sweet burn of the alcohol and then high of bloodshed fueling you.

The safehouse apartment had a crap bed and worse heat. That’s what you tell yourself now. More catalysts pushing you to an inevitable conclusion; out of your hands.

The two of you slipped off jewels, emeralds for you and rubies for her. The fine silk dresses now thrown unceremoniously across a chair in the corner; only panties and brassieres left separating skin. Such delicate little things. Watching Natasha disrobe set you aflame. Each click of her gun’s safeties seemed to ramp you closer to danger. You loved watching the dangerous woman disarming herself. A one woman militia. She did it with meticulous precision, the blood red nail polish clicking on cold metal weapons.

“Come to bed, Любимая моя. We have an early morning.”

You never went to sleep that night. Years later it was easier to blame the drinking or the cold, but it was a lie. It was more accurate to blame on the milky curve of her collar bone or the way she wears a knife strapped to her ankle… even to bed.

You remember the cold steel pressing into your vulnerable skin as you came; rutting against her ginger curls, cursing some Russian she taught you with your shoulder length opera gloves still on.

Berlin:

Over the course of the next few years the two of you fucking became part of the friendship. Some missions finished in girl talk; drinking wine and painting your nails a similar shade as the vintage. Others finished with you acting as wingwomen for each other in some crowded nightclub in whatever seedy corner of the world your work had taken you to. She’d smirk at you knowingly while you took a cab one direction and she did the same in another. But always, you’d bounce back to one another.

You loved her.

You remember Berlin, after nearly a year apart, the longest spanse of time between seeing her. She’d been different. Marked. Mentally and physically. You press your fingers deeper into flesh, tracing long memorized but deeply missed softness and feel the raised skin over her left hip bone. You knew how she got it. It was one of so many scars she’d acquired without you there to watch her back.

“Not soft all over anymore.” Her vulnerable eyes found yours in the dark before you thumb gentle circles on her clit. She sets her jaw; ever so stubborn and refuses to close her eyes.

“Still feels soft to me.”

Instead of words she responds by slipping two deadly fingers into your wet heat, pushing and pressing at the spots that make you keen.

That night you’d fallen asleep to her tracing all yours scars, gentle opera played in the background.

You loved her.

New York:

You loved your boyfriend (in a way).

Nearly a decade later the two of you had gone straight, joining up with the Avengers. It took her months to convince you to leave your old life behind. You wouldn’t have done it for anyone but her.

You remember telling her, “Honest work doesn’t suit me.”

The boyfriend knew about your line of work… vaguely. He knew you traveled a lot (for business). He knew if he asked you questions about your work besides what you’d already labeled as “safe” it’d start a fight. He thought you lived together. After dating a year, he’d presented you with a shiny freshly cut silver key. What he didn’t know was you’d kept your loft across town; the one two blocks down the street from Nat’s.

You can't bring yourself to feel horrible. A life of deceit and mistrust had warped you like a book left in the rain; only the most trained of eyes capable of deciphering it.

“Honesty doesn’t suit me,” you mutter to yourself.

The relationship wasn’t worthless. With him, for the first time in a long time, you had a place to come home to that didn’t feel like a glorified suitcase. He helped you learn to survive on more than takeout and boxed mac n’ cheese. You actually enjoyed cooking when your hips pressed against his at the cutting board. You felt like honest work felt a little less like work when you were trying to go on the straight and narrow for him.

You saw Natasha less since he’d come into your life. She was an anchor back into that old life even if she’d been the one to pull you into the present. You wondered if she had any new scars. You wondered if she still kept her favorite knife on her ankle as she undressed for bed. You wonder what your boyfriend would say if he knew you kept your favorite pistol under the mattress and at least one perfectly sharp blade in the bedside table.

Old habits die hard.

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

The warm glow of candlelight makes his eyes sparkle. It’s your anniversary and he’s twitching and flushed. You’re focusing on taking the next bite of your steak wellington; ignoring it’s turned to sawdust in your mouth and no amount of unseemly gulps of wine can push it past  the welling lump in your throat.

“Darling! Любимая моя!” a familiar voice calls across the restaurant.

There she is; all silk and black leather accented with a flash of her flame red hair. She exchanges pleasantries with him.

You stand awkwardly only able to mutter a pathetic, “Bathroom.”

You brace your hands on the cool tile of the sink. Your two worlds were never supposed to collide. The room is twirling, and you can’t catch your breath. You search for an exit; perhaps some window when the door opens.

“There’s no exit.” She stares at you like a cat who’s caught a mouse. “Closest exit is out the kitchen to the alley. You should know that, Любимая моя.”

“Why are you here, Nat?”

“A better question could be why is he about to propose to someone with the last name Miller.”

“Fuck.” The curse is almost silent, muttered into the back of your hand your rage swirls fast and burning below the surface.

“He doesn’t know your last name! He doesn’t know what you do! What we do!” The double meaning doesn’t fail to hit home. “Were you ever going to tell him, or just let to poor bastard propose to a stranger?”

“Why are you here!?” you challenge her again.

“The lies that tied your tongue in knots – Are the words that grew to hit my spot. It burned away at me. I can’t let you live this secret fucked up lie. We gave that up when we joined the Avengers.”

“No. You did.”

You click the lock closed before pouncing on her. It’s so filthy; dialed desire pent up after how long of trying to fake a normal life.

“Let me taste you, Natalia. I’ve missed you.”

She sinks her teeth into your neck; already devouring your feeble attempt at domination. The black widow was in charge. She pushes you back onto the sink, yanking your dress up around your middle. Her manicured nails don’t bother to take your panties off, opting to rip them to the side before her soft mouth is on your core.

“не останавливайся! You pant and writhe as she forces your legs further apart. She drinks you down like vodka.

With your release sparkling on her lips and chin, the two of you run through the kitchen and out the backdoor.

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

“You don’t need him,” she says cool and calm between drags off her cigarette.

You’ve spent the past ten minutes toying with the cardboard box containing the rest of them. It’s some Russian brand with red and yellow packaging. The heady tobacco smoke mixes with telltale musk soaked into the black cotton sheets in Natasha’s bedroom.

“Why are we here, Nat?”

“Liars turn me on.”

She still manages to hold the smoldering stick while you chase her across the bed and dive once more into her fiery curls; soaked and creamy from her last release.

That’s how the night continues.

She doesn’t dress. Neither do you. The two of you keep your skin out in the open, on show for one another. It’s a constantly tussle of bodies in motion fighting to give pleasure because otherwise you have to stop and fight to deliver pain onto one another. Swallowed pride only to spit out fire. It’s as if each lie the two of you have told over the years for one another fuels you both; turns you on.

After her last shuddering release, muscles stretching like a tawny cat, she asks you, “Let’s go to the opera tomorrow?”

[bloodfcst-a]

alright, so. i beat remake last weekend, but i didn’t want to come out with my newfound yufi information + meta right off the bat. i think this is an appropriate time to do so now, though. naturally, i’ll tag as spoilers, but if you need anything else, let me know.

also, my verdict? i am so glad i went into this blind, without any hype or expectations or people from fandom whining about it. yet again, i am so happy + i had an incredibly joyous experience.  this game fed me + also took over my life in a way i’ve not been possessed in some time so like......... good for it.

also no, i truly don’t miss hearing everyone’s hullabaloo +  i don’t wanna hear ur complaints of “ it didn’t say when part 2 is ” so like miss me with that. 

also warning: if u didn’t know already, fandom is WILD towards y.uffie for some reason and i also addressed that, so like if you’re from vii fandom u might seriously wanna read this bc... it’ll be pertinent to u understanding my feelings behind it.  i did address some questionable topics like the underaged oversexual portrayal + beastality that’s popular for her and i am NOT HERE FOR IT so if u came for that................. issa no from me dawg. when i say unbearable.... i mean it. fandom grossed me out. y’all wild.

anyway. thoughts below !

some things that were CONFIRMED for me were:

> midgar is lax around its anti-wutai rhetoric in its most important parts ( namely, hq, wall market, and avalanche ). for propaganda’s sake among the common people, it stands to create a united front. but in consumerism & in strength, they consider the wutai equals just as anyone else. 

see: tseng in the turks; madam m in wall market; the supplier for avalanche.

i would even argue that sector 5 / wall market is the safest place in midgar for wutaians, given don corneo’s obvious fetishism ( and that really............. isn’t saying a lot ).

i’m not going to entertain that it’s an “ admiration for culture and architecture ” in true weeaboo fashion given that of all positions he could give madam m to hold, her duties are to screen women that would be appealing to his aesthetic and to run a massage parlor where the highest bidder gets to have a happy ending. she is literally the “ asian parlors are actually fronts for brothels ” stereotype except in this sex trade, all women go to don corneo. i will have no apologists in this house. 

i have more developing thoughts on madam m like how she might be doing the sex trafficking part in her own self-interest / as a type of self-preservation, like the don might say “ well if u don’t want to be a wife then u better find some for me ” but... 1) this isn’t the post for that and 2) that logic does not explain why chocobo sam and andrea rhodea are also apart of the ring. but in my opinion, you can tell she’s not crazy about it bc as soon as aerith mentions it to her she becomes so wildly upset that she breaks character. i don’t think she’s a sell out. i think she’s an exploited and fetishized woman in a tough place, and i feel for her.

despite this, it’s clear that because of his obvious ‘ preference ’ they’re [ wutaians ] held at a higher standard ( i.e., he doesn’t dispose of madam m immediately like he does with every other woman who is unfortunate enough to meet him ), so i’m willing to go out on a limb and say despite the high amount of shinra foot traffic that goes through wall market ( and we know this bc everybody who is everybody from SOLDIERS to Turks go to honeybee inn ), a wutaian would probably be fine there.

> wutai is the strongest world power by natural means. without SOLDIER s & g programs, midgar’s biggest claim to fame is to reach first-world status as a metropolis by siphoning mako via its reactors. without its reactors, the whole town would either be: 1) slums, like below the plate; or 2) as common as every other area in the nearby vicinity ( i.e., kalm, costa del sol, nibelheim ). by siphoning mako energy, midgar truly is unnatural, so... hm... 

corel could have been a contender ‘cause they use fossil fuels ( and look at how successful gold saucer is! ), but the failed reactor really threw them out the loop. costa del sol + icicle inn are both partially shin-ra owned / managed, so i’m not counting them.

> infiltrating midgar / shinra isn’t difficult. nor is navigating throughout the sectors. while there is the mention of the ID scan on the trains, we see this is not applicable on foot ( freely able to walk through sectors 5, 6, 7, and 8 as party; jessie + co are able to go above the plate to go to her parents’ house despite already being listed as AVALANCHE and that their fake IDs had already expired ). given that yufi entirely travels on foot because of her airsickness / motion sickness, she’d be undetectable. also note that the first 59 floors of shinra hq by stairwell are not monitored... and neither was the front door, so she could easily sneak in whenever the need called for it.

> established multiple points of contact between rufus + yufi ( and by extension, the turks + yufi ). i’m really going into this in the next section ‘cause... their dynamic became so much more interesting. but we already know that at minimum, there was contact bc she had the phs rufus had provided to godo + was using it to communicate with zack for treasure.... but let me hold off on this bc there’s one more thing i want to add here.

regarding the turks: it’s established that even if a person is someone of interest to shin-ra, they won’t necessarily act on attacking or abducting immediately ( see: aerith ). we already know they’ve known yufi since she was a child, and if they’re working with rufus they’d know what she looked like as she aged, so the excuse of “ she looks different than when they worked with her in wutai ” is out the window. it’s more than likely that they’re enabling her to continue her business with rufus + have probably assisted her with not being caught. 

> yufi’s clothes are absolutely normal for her age. it always annoyed me that somehow tifa’s clothing was like considered “ impractical but acceptable ” because she’s a legal adult and because cishet men were too drawn to the boobies to complain. but then yufi was either like HELLA sexualized as a minor ( the amount of ecchi / hentai that exists of underage y.uffie despite there being of-age content [ i.e., her portrayals in advent children + dirge of cerberus ] is.......................................... ridonk ) OR she was like hella slut-shamed and i’m out here like.... hello??? what kinda anti-wutai rhetoric is this? anyway. i’d like to call attention to kyrie, who looks like she’s wearing like 60% of y.uffie’s dirge of cerberus outfit. if anything, this only reinforces that yufi’s fashion choices are.......... legit normal, age appropriate, and anyone who wants to argue otherwise can shut the fuck up.

if you’re really gonna ask “ how come her shorts are unbuttoned ” like go check your privilege. the short answer is probably that rufus stole all of her damn belts to make into his coat. the long answer is that a youth traveling the world SOLO she is probably slim on money to be frequently shopping for clothes ? and the clothes that are available in the slums vs on the plate are probably not great quality ( idk if y’all have ever shopped at a freesized open market before but like... buttons pop off INSTANTLY sometimes and those seams will tear if u stretch the wrong way. like fast fashion but like........ hella wild ). she could find better clothes above the plate, but given the anti-wutai rhetoric up there... probably not a wise choice. 

since you’re looking at her outfit anyway.. can i bring your attention to her sweater, and have you note that it’s made of the same material as cloud’s? i.e., she’s wearing shin-ra/SOLDIER brand quality? ( need further proof that it’s SOLDIER? zack and angeal wear the same one ) probably gotten from either a trip to hq or........ someone on the inside............ but obviously cropped to fit her. she might’ve even had it for some time. now let’s keep looking.... i’m willing to bet the latter, and here’s why! ( prepare for galaxy brain time )

now for standard SOLDIERS, they’re assigned colors. we know third class / infantrymen are blue; second class are burgundy / red ( think kunsel ); and black / dark blue for first class. don’t nobody wear green.... in this whole damn universe.... as a main character.... except child y.uffie. HMMMMM. here’s the sweater again to compare. 

i’m just saying.

now, the ideas INTRODUCED to me were:

> there is only one AVALANCHE, but it is splintered into different factions.

now i always wondered like, how come they just picked up the name AVALANCHE when it was established already. like idk i don’t think people would be like “ ah yes we’re the n.azis and we’re different than the other ones, but we wanna evoke the same fear ” u know what i mean?? usually u would carry the same ideology... but it was always so apparent that barret held different views and goals than elfe, so i was always so confused.

but not anymore. now it’s established that they’re the same group, begun in midgar + just carrying out different methods of “ fuckin’ shit up for the shin-ra ” over the last 10 years, spreading the word about the danger of reactors + it’s suckin’ up the lifeblood of the planet to anyone who would hear. now that makes sense. in the same chapter that this is established, however, they also claim...

> yufi as a benefactor to AVALANCHE.

now this shit had me like AAAAAAAAH. now there is no damn way you and i played the same game if u didn’t see this. they literally say “ AVALANCHE is being provided weapons by someone to fuck shit up, in return for all the materia in midgar. ”

who would want all the materia in midgar? HMMMMMMMMM.

> with that point established, let’s go back to rufus + yufi having multiple points of contact. so i already introduced the idea that rufus clearly has to have contact with yufi bc he’s the one spouting all the secrets to shinra treasure via the PHS. and yufi has claimed ownership of the phone by literally labeling it as “ treasure princess ” so there is no question that he thinks he’s talking to godo versus yufi. 

but we also know that rufus is the person behind AVALANCHE. my man has TIME on house arrest, obviously. we also know that he’s on house arrest in junon, not midgar. now, if he’s out here giving them logistics like places to go to spout their rhetoric, and yufi is providing weapons ( remember, wutai is the strongest power by natural means, and apparently hq is free real estate to explore, so she’s got multiple ways to provide gear without it being an inconvenience to her ), so it’s.........pretty obvious to say that the way she would go in connection to AVALANCHE would be through rufus. also, remember she has bad blood with AVALANCHE because of their actions in wutai, so... she’s not gonna be keen about them anyway. it seems much more practical for someone who already views them ( and tbh, lots of people ) as tools ( rufus vc: “ i own you ” ) to accomplish one’s tasks to help her connect with meeting her own goals ( “ all the materia in midgar ” ).

this would also explain why yufi is found hanging outside junon.

if you opted to grab her outside nibelheim... you might argue that it’s because nibelheim is obviously suspicious + truly the evidence at how shady shin-ra is, given the whole place was rebuilt + is filled with actors to hide the fact that the whole place burned to the ground + was once the site of jenova + currently remains the site as hojo’s secondary lab + other secret, vincent valentine with the protomateria slumbering. she could have been tipped off by rufus as “ there’s another treasure here ” but like... there’s no way she would have known it was vincent. even zack is like “ idk wtf is happening here so i’mma leave this alone. ”

also, i love that rufus uses “ heir to the throne ” verbage, which is so akin to yufi also being “ heir to the throne ” & look at them: spiteful children rebelling against their useless ass dads to create new world order + to destroy the old shin-ra company.  i love that for them.

so in conclusion........ this game FED ME. god i wanna play it again and again. i beat it on normal and got everything except 1 treasure and 1 task from chadley. i also need to do all the combat simulators. but given i did what i could in.... 3.5 days, i’m not too upset by it. this game has so much replay value and... i can say i’m glad i bought it twice.

g.amestop give me my freaking shinra badge i’ve damn well earned it.

oh and two more things going forward:

> nanaki continues to sound old as hell. which duh, given advent children. but u know how they established him as a young teen in the og + so it made sense for y.uffie and nanaki to be friends ‘cause they were mentally the same age? i don’t...... see how that works now. 

also.....y’all could have missed me with this shit already but STOP SHIPPING HIM WITH YUFI. NOW UR ONLY ARGUMENT IS GONE. STOP. i saw some art of nanaki & y.uffie fucking in the tags + floating around google and i was like....... WHY!!! and then there’s also weird hybrid art like what if they had a kid or something and i just........  STOP.

i have flashbacks of when i first started writing on tumblr + how i was bombarded by furries wanting to fuck bc of this. like deadass king dedede from kirby. later on i also saw sonic & even alligators ( not an alligator man.... tho i did see king k. rool + donkey kong as well........ i hated y’all for a hot minute ). it’s not even “ monster fucking ” it’s bestiality and I’M BEGGING YOU TO STOP. y’all can truly MISS ME WITH THIS.

however, u know, bigby wolf + everyone from castlevania could easily get it. stardust platinum where ya at. if i had to pick it would be....... more humanoid than a penguin or a “ lab rat dog ” u feel? 

> i am not crazy about y.uffentine. look. i know it exists. i know it was big bc fandom was like “ optional character ship ftw! ” + then dirge of cerberus came out and y’all went wild ( to be fair, i get it, it was the only ship outside of NANAKI and BEING KIDNAPPED/ASSAULTED BY SHINRA SOLDIERS AS A CHILD that people could feasibly comprehend for y.uffie for some reason............................................................... it was an actually “ NORMAL ” person........ ) but like. i’m sorry. it’s not doin it for me. i’ve seen like two other y.uffie blogs out here that actually stick to canon so like if u want your y.uffentine that bad, like maybe ask them. but please don’t ask me. 

ok i’m done for real now! thanks for reading !

[anthonyed]

soulmate au: where your soulmate’s name is written on your skin [part 2]

[part 1]

Wordlessly, he tugs at the collar of his shirt and lean a little into Stark’s space.  

He anticipated the sharp inhale. But what he didn’t anticipate is the brush of trembling finger tips over his skin.

He whips his head so quickly to face the man that he hears the resonant crick of his stiff tendons grating at his veins.

Stark though, he looks like he’s in his own world. 

Eyes singularly focused in the way he always is when he’s in front of one of his creations. Or the blue light shows that dance to his rhythm.

“The first thing I learnt about you was that you were dead.” Stark whispers into the space between them. “It was a whirlwind from then forth.” He chuckles humourlessly, now surer in his contact with his imprinted name.

“Can’t say I wasn’t mad at you for dying on me. The only sure thing I got at being loved, and it was robbed even before the day I was born. Fuelled over a decade of angsty feel, that thought did. So when I got this,” He taps lightly over the blue glow that’s emitted from his chest, “I thought finally. Maybe this is the answer to all my questions.” Stark – Tony? Anthony? His soulmate. - smiles up at him.

It’s the still present light pressure over his shoulder that braves him to reach for that bright glow. 

The tip of his middle finger connecting first and he keeps his eyes fixed on his soulmate’s as he lets the rest follow – until half of that blue orb is beneath his fingers and he shudders.

“I thought of removing your name.”

The blunt confession rips something violently within him making him hunch over, and press harder at the blue light.

Stark’s fingers leave his skin then, and they circle his wrist instead. Giving a small pull. “Sorry, I’m sensitive about the reactor.”

He follows Stark’s lead, skin to skin, wrist within a set of fingers and he’s guided under the soaked fabric, into heat and more skin and when Stark lifts up the shirt, he can see his own name across the left side of his chest. 

Written in a swirl of bold cursive, in what must once have been his own handwriting.

Right over where the heart should be.

He drags his thumb across James then Buchanan and lastly Barnes; rinse, repeat, over and over. The rest of his flesh hand, splayed beneath the imprint. 

Stark watches him in weighted silence, never intruding, simply letting him. Even when he covers James and presses over it gently. Staying there. Then he says, in the darkness that poured drizzle over both of them, “I imagined calling you James. It was kind of a self-indulging masochism thing I did - Do. Well, even now. Sometimes. Not so often,” He wavers, embarrassed with himself. 

Then he adds hurriedly, “Didn’t mean to be creepy. Cause I legit thought you were dead up until the whole SHIELD fiasco and then – 43 years of being alone sort of convinced me to give you some space? I don’t know. I don’t know if I should have reached for you sooner but something told me that leaving you be until you find your own way – I mean, it wasn’t like I didn’t know if you were safe or not. I kept track. I mean – I just -,” He seems to tire after that.

Brown eyes wide and begging for him to understand.

Which doesn’t make sense because there was nothing wrong with what he did.

None at all.

“Call me James.” He says after an aching beat of silence. 

Stark’s chest caves inward with a deep sigh under his hand and he covers his name with his palm securely before he looks up at the man, wet hem of t-shirt pooling around his wrist. 

“Didn’t know who you even were until three months ago. Think you made the right call, leaving me on my own.”

Stark nods shakily at that, Adams’ apple bobbing in his throat and there’s something in his eyes, like a request, before he reaches out.

He follows the hand. Follows it’s tentative course ‘til it reaches for his left hand.

Warm skin brushing against cold metal and he watches in gripping curiosity and fear as Stark touches what had been designed to be his weapon with careful tenderness.

His entire body goes stock still. 

Afraid to move, terrified if he’ll lash out without control and cause harm to the one person who’s inexplicably tangled with delicate yet, unyielding intricacies with his life and soul - or what’s left of them, at least.

“This is alright right?” His soulmate asks. 

“James?” He calls softly when he doesn’t receive an answer.

And maybe it’s the skin over his metal. Or maybe it’s the way his first name rolls out of his soulmate’s tongue.

Because, Stevie calls him Bucky. Something familiar and sure to him.

Everyone else calls him Barnes.

Until now, he’s never heard what Stark refers to him as.

Now that he has, it summons him with the same power Zemo had when he recited those set of words. Perhaps even stronger than that.

Except James makes him want to comply willingly. 

Go to his soulmate because he wants to and stay with him because he wants to be.

It also makes him yearn for the same power over Stark - Anthony, Tony, his soulmate. To make Stark come to him when he calls his name. Make him want to stay. 

Keep him forever.

To love him unconditionally.

So, he asks, “What do I call you?” letting the metal plates slide and click into places as he twists his wrist and instinctively intertwines their fingers together.

“I always imagined… Anthony.” Comes the answer, whisper soft and hot on his cheek. Closer than the distant he counted a minute ago.

He looks away from their connected fingers to find his soulmate barely an inch from his face. 

Beads of water clinging to his skin. Dark eyelashes framing questioning eyes. 

The hand he has over his name - on his soulmate’s exposed chest - slides up north, over long stretch of warm skin, the rain soaked fabric catching sharply at the inside of his forearm but he persists until he has his fingers curled around a sharp jaw, thumbing over stubbles - his own blood thrilling in their vessels.

“I want to be what we’re meant to be.” He murmurs, bringing their foreheads together.

Anthony, shivers in his hold. His flesh fingers around metal ones giving a shaky squeeze as he asks faintly, “Soulmates?”

And James nods. “And everything, if you’ll have me.”

Something seems to tickle Anthony about that answer as he breathes out a choked laughter. James cups his jaw and thumbs over his cheekbone fondly.

“I’ll always want to have you, James.” Anthony says surely.

And the sigh that leaves James’ chest spoke for both of them as they clung to each other that night, dawn breaking in the sky above them as the rain drenched them from head to toe. But all the care they have in the world is only for one another. 

United, finally, after decades apart, just like it’s written in their fate.  

[long-bodyswap]

Mine

by vchris1989

Chapter 1

Look at that son of a bitch!  My douche of a colleague, Manny, is putting like some sort of dipshit teen while I’m getting our boss’s order.  Mr. Flint asked us both to pick up his new clubs, but I’m the only one who gives a shit.  And I guarantee that when we get back Manny is going to take full credit.  He’s such a fucking ass hole, but I get even more frustrated with myself because I still can’t shake my lust and desire for him.  Not for him or his personality, but for his body.  It’s weird and hard to explain.  I don’t get hard thinking about his body grinding all over me; I get hot about using his body for my own plans and desires.  

“Hey, did you talk to the guy yet?” Manny asks impatiently.  

“Manny, we’d be out of here faster if you’d help me.”

“Listen, you queer.  You find that guy so we can get out of this dump.  I don’t have time to listen to you bitch about not doing your job!  Don’t see me complaining!”

I just scoff at him.  You freaking son of a bitch.  I’ve never seen you do your god damn job a single time.  Always bullying me and extorting me to carry him through life.  Fuck, as much as he pisses me off I just can’t deny this hunger within myself.  I get so fucking horny thinking of what it would be like to own some of his swagger and confidence, to be the one coasting through life and preying on the week.  My dick gets so hard thinking about owning him and all that he is- to enter his body and wrestle control away from his mind and soul and wake up as the new Manny.  But that’s just a fantasy I suppose.  I’ll have to-

“DUDE!” Manny yells.

Shit!  I did that thing again where I spaced out on the job.  These damn daydreams are getting more powerful and more prevalent.  Fuck I’m hard right now.  Gotta hide this before Manny-

“Oh for fuck’s sake, dude.  Really?  A hard-on on the job?  That’s for me isn’t it?  You sick queer, at least you have good taste,” Manny says with a swaggery scoff as he ditches the putter he was using and walks over to a different putting green away from me, shaking his head and laughing at my misfortune.  

I fucking hate you so much, Manny.  My face is burning red with my burning hot rage that anyone could be this much of a douchbag, but damnit fuck!  My dick is so hard.  Just the thought of entering Manny and making him a better person is making me leak precum.  Oh shit, please not now- it’s never been this bad at work.  I gotta-I gotta- shit I gotta find a bathroom to blow my load.  But fuck I might miss the guy I’m waiting on.  Fuck me I think my precum just leaked through my workpants!  This isn’t going to end well…

6 hours later

Fuck today and fuck Manny!  Just bullshit all of it!  He doesn’t do shit and he has to go run his mouth to our boss about my little incident earlier.  Our boss fired me and promoted Manny- made him a fucking regional manager!  That should be me!  God, if there was a way I could slide inside Manny I could have everything I want.  

3 weeks later

So most people would be content with holding a grudge and going through a self-destroying cycle of hating Manny, jerking off at the thought of possessing Manny, self-hatred, and repeat…but not me.  Unemployment has given me the time I need to research Manny’s end and my new beginning.  My severance package was enough to fund the purchase of an original edition European witchcraft classic, Blackest Magic.  For all I know, Manny has already forgotten I exist, but I’ve had plenty of time to remember him and the life and body he doesn’t deserve.  With me inside him, he would be a real man, not some spoiled brat bitch ruining everyone else’s lives for his own gain.  I can’t believe how much Blackest Magic cost me, but that means it must be legit, right?  I’m all in, because I won’t have anything left if this doesn’t work.  I- *DING* Holy shit!  That’s the Fed Ex guy!  It’s here!  I sprint to the door, signing and taking my package in such a quick whirlwind that the Fed Ex guy is almost left transfixed as if I had been The Flash or something.  I still make sure to thank him profusely as I close the door and scurry to my living room, giddy with anticipation as I gently break the bindings on this meticulously packaged volume.  Opening the cardboard I am met by an unusually thorough layer of package stuffing.  Careful…Careful…This is so bizarre…I can almost feel the air vibrating around the book the closer I get to it.  Finally, I see the book- A pitch black volume in the classical style.  It must be over 400 years old, but there is not a single sign of age or damage on it.  This almost feels like a scam until I reach down and grab the book for the first time.  The moment I make contact the book releases a breathy almost hiss, as if it is alive and conscious of my presence, perhaps assessing my worthiness.

Worthy or not, I am desperate.  Surely the powers that be can sense my desperation and hunger to enter Manny, to control him…to be him.  Please!  Dark forces, light forces, I don’t care who!  Just someone answer my call!!!!!

With that the book flies out of my hands and lands with an echoing thud on the table in front of me.  I freeze in terror as the books pages begin flipping in an endless cyclone of magic energy until finally it halts on a page towards the back.  Nervous, but curious, I lean forward until I see the answer to my prayers-Astrus Possessum…Manny doesn’t stand a chance…That night I made all the necessary preparations.  It was really basic actually- If anything, I feel like these simple objects like candles and rose petals are just necessary to focus and redirect the book’s self-generated power.  Everything is set and now I just mediate and focus.  I focus harder and with more intent than I ever have.  I think about filling Manny, overpowering him, and assuming full control of him.  I think about laughing in his body and rubbing his hands all over his stocky, but strong form.  I think about grabbing his man meat and pumping his cock until his balls are churning out the biggest load of his life.  Fuck, my cock is leaking the biggest flow of pre-cum I’ve ever had.  I know it’s the perfect time for the words!  “Astrus Possessum!”“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY FUCKINGAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” I scream as I feel like every cell of my body is being burned to ash.  This agony is too much for any mortal to comprehend, but somehow I know that it is necessary.  The pain doesn’t feel like actual fire, more like the burning hot combustion of…Oh shit- I think my soul just separated from my body.  I look down at my whispy hands, practically invisible.  And now I’m floating over what appears to be my lifeless and already pale old body.  I try to enter my old form in a panic, but I am repelled, utterly and absolutely.  Fucking shit!  I guess there’s no going back since I’m dead as a doornail…Not that I would ever want to go back…

I float over to Manny’s house-confident in my sense of direction since I devoted much time to knowing the route between his house and mine.  Without even a second thought, I float through his front door calling out his name even though he likely couldn’t hear me.  Oh will you look at that.  Manny seems to have made some sort of makeshift bed on the floor of his living room so he could take a nice mid-day nap.  Just look at you, you lazy fuck.  Someone like you could rule the world if you’d give a damn every now and then.  Enough of all this shit- all the frustration and resentment and guilt and shame.  It ends now!

I fly directly at Manny, roughly flipping him fully onto his back.  His eyes shoot wide open in shock, but before he can shout out I shove my ghostly hand into his mouth, filling him up all the way to the esophagus as he gags and tries to grab at me to absolutely no avail.  I see terror in his eyes as he half-screams, already convulsing as I slide my ghostly arm down to the elbow.  

“Oh we can make this even more fun,” I say to myself.  Smirking with my invisible face, I withdraw my arm from his throat, making him gasp in relief before I place a hand to hold him down as I reach my other hand into his shorts and grab onto his meat hard, making him squeal like a horny piglet as I begin pumping and milking his meaty cock.  “No no no PLEASE! NO LEAVE ME ALONE!  WHAT ARE YOU- UnnNNnnnnngggggggggg Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Manny exclaims as I ruthlessly abuse what will soon be my thick cock.  And from what I can tell he’s got nice length too- at least 7 inches.  Fuck that makes me pump his meat even faster.  Manny’s breathing begins reaching new peaks as sweat dribbles down from all over his meaty body.  He’s given up fighting me, knowing that I have him pinned down and that trying to get up is a futile waste of energy.  

“Please stop!  I-I-I have a girlfrienddddddddddmmmmmmmmmmmmmoohhhhhhhh.”

It’s kind of funny how he’s trying to negotiate with a ghost that’s molesting him.  Alas, I can see his pelvis starting to tighten and his breathing is really picking up.  

“Ohhhhhhh SHIT!!!  I’m gonna- I’M GONNA!”

Oh no you don’t.  I let go of his meat, leaving Manny absolutely tortured with sexual lust as I leave him so close to a forced molestation induced orgasm.  That’s going to be my orgasm, Manny.  Thanks for getting it so hot and ready for me though.  Manny is distracted now, desperately moaning out and whining from the horniness and lack of satisfaction.  Oh don’t worry you pain in my ass, it’s time for me to return the favor!  I rip his shorts all the way down to his ankles, eliciting a yelp of surprise from Manny as I dive directly for his virgin asshole, my head morphing like a gelatinous balloon as I begin flowing inside his body.  

“MOTHERFUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!” Manny screams as he arches his back and begins kicking his legs out, curling his toes and hyperventilating as his face goes red from contorting his face from all the pain and pleasure.  My assault continues, making Manny yelp as I force my shoulder blades inside his hole, stretching him beyond what should be humanly possible for a virgin hole to accept as I continue a forceful and steady invasion.  Manny yells out, shouting, “NO NO!!!!! PLEEEASSSSSEEEEEE!!!! GET OUT OF THERE!!  GET OUT OF ME!!!! PLEASE NOOOOO!!!! UNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!”  He grabs at the blanket on the ground, gripping and pulling it so hard that the veins on his meaty arms threaten to burst.  I love how his legs keep squirming like his nervous system doesn’t know what to do or who to obey.  Manny begins convulsing as the last of me enters his hole, the last of me sliding in with a slosh.  Now fully inside him, I begin rearranging, sliding each limb into his.  My legs travel and fill his.  I make sure my spiritual cock enters his.  My smaller frame aligns and fills his beefy and meaty chest.  And finally, my head enters his brain and locks into place, giving me full control of his body and access to his memories and personality.  Manny continues to convulse, his hips thrusting hard into the air as his back arches and he screams one last shriek of defiance before collapsing onto the ground, breathing deeply with his eyes closed before the world around me starts to come into focus.  

“Did it- Holy Fuck it worked!” I shout with my new voice.  “My name is Manny.  Fuck I love this.  Manny, I don’t know if you can hear me in there, but this is what you get you son of a bitch!  Now I get to do this!”  

I reach down and grab his still rock hard cock and begin stroking it with his own hands.  “Ohhhhhh FUCK YEAH” I shout as I begin uncontrollably thrusting Manny’s strong hips into this grip.  “Your meat feels so good, Manny!  MmmmmmmmmmmYEAHHHHH!”  I use my other hand to rub all over my beefy torso, feeling the weight of his strong torso and chest, grabbing all that meat with Manny’s own hands and almost yelping like a little girl when I twist his sensitive nipples.  

“Holy fuck, Manny!  Your nips feel so good!  Your body is amazing and just want I dreamed it would be!  Fuck, you love how it feels when I pump your cock.  And you love it when I thrust your cock into my grip like THIS-OOOOHHHHH FUCK YEAH!!!   YEAH take it you queer!  You fucking love getting your cock milked by me!  Feels too damn good not too.  Oh fuck you’re close!  I mean oh fuck I’m CLOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!”

I begin thrusting and pumping like never before, grunting and moaning endlessly as the pressure builds to impossible extremes.  I close Manny’s eyes and squeeze his face into one of pleasure as I breathe deeply and bask in the odor of his sweaty body, finally reaching the point of no return as Manny’s cock can take no more.  

“OHHHHHHH MYYYYYYY FFUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!   FUCKING FUCK YEAHHHHHHH!!!!”  I scream as I thrash my head uncontrollably, moaning in joy as each thrust and pump launches volley after volley of Manny’s hot cum all over his robust chest.  The warmth of his cream on my new chest gets me so hot that I swear to God it must have triggered a consecutive orgasm as I literally cringe from sensation as I feel another round of cum begin to launch, sending more ropes of cum, literally making puddles across Manny’s body before his cock finally settles and my arches back relaxes gently back to the floor.  

“Oh. My. Fuck,” I pant between breaths as I look down at the masterpiece beneath me.  

Unable to contain my curiosity, I reach Manny’s beefy fingers down and scoop up a big puddle of his cream, smelling it and inhaling the aroma before taking it into his mouth.  My eyes open wide in shock and then delight as I look down and begin scooping more cum and instantly devouring it.  

“oh my *slurp* God.  Manny, your cum is so *slurp* fucking delicious!” I exclaim as I slurp up every single drop off of his chest, sighing in contented afterglow as I resume his nap.  I’ll shower your body later, Manny.  I want you to be filthy for a while.  And starting tomorrow I think the world will be meeting a new and improved Manny!

Chapter 2

I wake up at the crack of dawn on Saturday, stretching and yawning, and moaning in the pleasured joy of being inside Manny.  “Good Morning, new friend,” I say with a giggle as I reach down and grab Manny’s hard morning wood.  Mmmmmmm that’s nice.  I can’t help but just grind Manny’s hips into these soft blankets, making his dick feel so warm as it slides against the soft and velvety fabric.  “Fuck, this will never get old,” I exclaim as I cup Manny’s strong chest in my hands and use his thumbs to rub Manny’s nipples as I keep grinding his hips slowly and sensually into the soft and welcoming fabric.  Shit this feels nice.  Manny-like grunts leave my mouth, making my new cock throb with desire and sensation as a dark idea creeps into my mind.  Immediately I stop this grinding and flip over onto my back, putting Manny’s legs in the air as I suck on one of his fingers, cooing and moaning as I get that thick digit warm and wet.   “Mmmmmmmmmm, Manny I fucking love your body,” I whisper as I close my eyes and begin reaching that thick and wet digit down to Manny’s brutally straight hole.   “ahhhhhhhhhhh That’s nice,” I coo as I rub the wet digit around Manny’s perky and tight hole, excited by the involuntary clenching reactions this body has whenever my finger actually touches the hole.  I get Manny’s body relaxed by gently rubbing circles around that tight fuck chute.  Fuck, Manny’s cock is so hard right now.  Shit, Manny’s cock is leaking precum.  Maybe that straight son of a bitch wasn’t 100 percent straight after all…This makes me chuckle as I place a thick finger directly on Manny’s hole, ready to begin breaking new ground.  Before I can even apply any pressure though I feel a particularly strange sensation.  It’s not uncomfortable, but I feel like there’s a lot of pressure inside, like that feeling when you drive up a mountain or a big hill.   “Wait what am I?  What the FUCK?!” I hear Manny’s soul shriek inside his mind.   That must be the pressure.  My soon-to-be abuse of his hole must have awakened his spunky fighting spirit.  Too bad though he’s just wasting his energies.   “Who are you?!  How are you doing this?!” Manny demands. “Oh I think you know who I am.  And I’m doing all this because I’m inside you.  I am you now,” I say with a sinister edge to my tone that sounds so sexy coming from Manny’s throat.  “You pushed me too far.  You took everything you had for granted and treated everything and everyone in your life like shit, so I’m here to repo your life basically.” “What the fuck are you talking about?!  And why can’t I talk?!  Why are you talking with my body?  Why the fuck can’t I move?  What did you do?!” I spit into my hand and rub all that slick spit over Manny’s hole and begin pressing a thick digit against his hole, making me cringe and squirm as I force that thick digit down to the second knuckle, amazed by how tight Manny’s hole is and by the fact that I was even able to enter his tight straight man ass.   “NOOO PLEASE!!!! STOP YOU FREAKING PERVERT!” “Oh Manny, I know this hurts, but trust me.  It’ll feel so gooOOOOOOODDDDD  Oh WOW you are tight!” I exclaim as I ram the last of the digit inside Manny’s hole, my mouth in a circular O of surprise as Manny’s back arches and I squirm on my back, leaving that thick finger buried fully inside me as I swirl that digit in all directions, activating an endless sea of nerve endings that even Manny is forced to succumb to.   “NO!  PLEASE STOAAAAHHHHHHHHHPPPPPPP!  Ohhhhhhhhhhh,” Manny begs in his mind.   “Oh Come on, Manny.  It doesn’t feel good when I do THIS?!” I say as I pull his finger out of his hole and ram its full length back inside. “Ahhhhh my FUCKKK!!! Fucking GOD!  NO! WAIT!  YOU CAN’T!  I’M not a queer!” “That’s not what your hole is telling me, Manny,” I taunt as I begin swirling the digit inside him again, slowly entering a finger fucking rhythm as I get this hole nice and stretched- well on the way to making room for a second finger.   “I swear to God!  Pleaseeeeunnnnnnnnnggggggggggg oh FUCK!  Wait no what are you- OHHHHHHH FUCCCCKKKKK NO PLEASE PLEASE STOOOPPPPPPPPAHHHHHHHHH JESUS!!!  GET THE FUCK OUT OF ME YOU QUEEERRRRRR-UNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” Manny screams as I, without warning, slide a second finger in his tight hole, shrieking myself as I force both thick fingers inside all the way.  Holy fuck!  I think I swear to God I almost just passed out, but now- Oh my God this is amazing!  I try to swirl and pull and stretch those two fingers inside Manny’s hole, making me yelp in little noises of pure blissful ecstasy as my breathing deepens and I work my way to a fucking motion with these two fuck sticks.   “PLEASEAHHHHHHH!  NO! YOU CAN’T- UNGGGGGGGGGG- TOO MUCH TOO MUCH TOO FUCKING MUCH!  CAN’T!  OH GOD!!!!” Manny yells in his mind as he tries to deny the surges of pleasure crashing through his mind.  I double up my efforts, grunting and shrieking from the force as I ram and slam my new hole, growling with Manny’s voice as I get caught up in a sexual rage.  Fuck you and your hole, Manny.  It’s my hole now!  And I’m gonna abuse the shit out of it and get it nice and stretched out! Just to tease Manny I remove the two fingers and see what Manny’s reaction will be as I focus all of my energy and attention on Manny’s throbbing cock and the feeling of emptiness inside his hole.  Pretty soon my energies seem to have an interesting effect on Manny.   He tries to remain silent in his mind, but I can feel his trapped soul almost quivering with desire and emptiness as he tries to process both the sensation he felt in his hole as well as my influence.   “What the wait no!  Can’t be-fucking damnit I want it.  Do it again please!  Wait no!  Not a queer!  Not a fag!  But fuck!  Why did it feel so good?!  Do all fags get to feel that good?  Shit man I don’t care just please make me feel that good again!” Holy shot that’s such a turn on for me!  I see a glob of precum dribble down Manny’s throbbing cock just from hearing Manny beg me to finger fuck his hole.   “You’re going to have to earn the privilege.  Beg me,” I respond with a hint of satisfied domination. “Please!  Please fill my tight hole again!  Make me feel what fags feel, I don’t care just please make me feel good!” Good enough I think to myself as I smirk and scoop up all of Manny’s gooping precum and spread it over three fingers.  Without warning, I take those three thick precum lubed digits and shove them all the way inside me in one rough and swift motion.  I’m paralyzed by quakes of pleasure as I scream and gasp, a bug eyes expression of overwhelming amazement on my face as I feel Manny’s hole stretched to its limits.  Manny’s legs are trembling now as I begin fucking Manny’s hole with all three digits, making his toes curl against my will and his whole body convulse as I benefit from the pleasure.  But if I thought I was having an interesting reaction…well fuck- I checked and Manny’s soul was just erupting with one constant shriek of conflicting ecstasy and disgust.  Oh I can’t take this anymore!   “Holy fucking JESUUSSSS FUUUUCCCCKKKKK UNNNGGGGGYEAH DUDE FUCK YEAH!” I shout as Manny’s cock begins dumping a hot and steamy load all over Manny’s robust chest.  Fuck, this cock didn’t even get touched, but I just quiver as quakes of pleasure erupt from Manny’s sweet ass and travel into my new cock and balls and make my entire body shake and vibrate with pure fucking joy.  I enjoy the feeling as each rope of Manny’s cum erupts and lands with a splash on his solid torso.  And when the shots finally subside, I scoop up all of that cum and try to slide as much as possible into Manny’s stretched hole.   “Do you fucking feel that Manny?!  I’m gonna finger fuck this load of your cum so deep inside your hole it’ll never come out.” “Oh fuck man I don’t care just please make me feel good!” “Tell me what you want!” “Please make me feel good!  Do whatever you need, just please make me feel so good!” “Be specific or I’ll quit now.” “No!!!!  Please!!!  Please shove my fingers inside me!  I need three fingers!  Two isn’t enough anymore!  Use my hot cum as lube and fucking bury my hot jizz inside me, just please make me feel good!” Manny and I both coo in relief and satisfaction as we feel me slide all three fingers back inside, filling him up and pushing his warm man juices deep inside, making me feel a warmth and comfort as his cum literally oozes all over the inside of his hole.   “Oh Manny, your hot cum feels so good.  I bet this’ll feel so nice for your girl when I fuck a bunch of your loads inside her tight cunt!” This seems to bring Manny back to reality slightly as he tells me not to lay a hand on her and he suddenly begins reverting to his straight boy mentality, telling me to stop finger fucking him and calling me a fag and pervert and junk.  Whatever, I’m starting to get the hang of this.  I shut Manny up for the time being before I shove those three digits back in as hard as I can, pummeling Manny’s prostate and making me convulse and yell as an unexpected additional shot of cum randomly shoots out of Manny’s thick cock.   “Mmmmmmm yeah.  Manny, your girlfriend is gonna be seeing a new side of you.  Fuck yeah, gonna fill up that tight cunt and then find some hot twink ass looking for a Latino Daddy Bear to fill them up and give them what they need.  Thank God it’s just Saturday morning.  I’ve got a whole weekend to use your body before I fully take over your life and show up to work on Monday and begin “my” new promotion.  For the moment, I throw a purple shirt on and begin familiarizing myself with the basics of Manny’s life, logging into his computer as if it had been second nature and using this chance to recover.   Mmmmm you see those three fingers I’m using on the trackpad?  Fuck yeah all three of those thick sausages were pumping Manny’s hole and abusing his virgin prostate.  Let’s see…Oh fucking perfect.  Manny’s girlfriend emailed him and she’s arriving early from her trip…tonight. Oh Mannnny, finger fucking your hole was just divine.  No joke, I can still hardly even feel your legs.  I’m glad you recover quickly though because I already feel ready to pump a load inside your girlfriend’s tight cunt.  Your manly nuts must be supercharged cum factories because I can almost feel them vibrating as they churn out more juices and loads for me to blow.   I lift Manny’s arm and check his watch.  Great.  About forty minutes until Manny’s girl shows up.  I collapse back onto the bed and bask in my possession of Manny.  What a great day.  Before I can even think another thought I realize I have to take a massive leak with Manny’s thick and robust cock.  Ohhhhhh I can’t help but moan as I feel the cascade of fluid surge from Manny’s meat, making a commanding echo that bounces endlessly around his bathroom.  I take a deep breath as the flow slows down, smirking as I do a few more than two shakes.  Manny has a full length mirror in his bathroom, so I grin at the full length reflection of Manny, twisting his face into one of ownership and cockiness while I keep shaking drops of piss out of his cock.   “Nothing you can do about this, right Manny?  Can’t even stop me from shaking the piss out of your cock.  You’re weak, Manny.  All these years of you thinking you had some sort of edge over me, but now look at you!” I grab Manny’s balls and begin gently squeezing them and pulling on them, my back arching just slightly from pleasure as I gaze back into the mirror and grunt, “You don’t have the balls to mess with someone like me, Manny.  That’s right, these are my balls now!  All your delicious man cream belongs to me and I’m gonna taste it with your tongue and fuck it into your girlfriend’s tight cunt whenever the fuck I want.  Oh, I forgot, how could I be selfish and keep a meaty, hairy, Daddy bear like you from all the tight twinks just dying to milk the cum out of you with their hungry holes.  Mmmmmmmm yeah, Manny are you awake?  I can’t hear you, but I hope you feel the way I’m massaging your balls, getting your cum nice and ready to flood your girlfriend’s pussy.  It’s gonna feel so good for her when I make that last thrust, grunting forcefully as your warm creamy fluids surge inside her, making her feel a warmth that spreads from the inside out, satisfying her in unimaginable ways and making her beg you- I mean ME- for more.  Oh I just fucking love your balls Manny- nice and big, but still cute and sensitive enough that it drives me wild when I cup one ball and just roll it around, tugging on your ball sac right up to the point I feel a chill rush up your back and through your dick.  I’m still making direct eye contact with Manny’s reflection, hell bent on making sure he can experience this on some level no matter how dormant he may be.  I squeeze his balls one last time, grunting out, “Your body is MINE,” before strutting up to the mirror and spitting on the reflection in front of me.   “Yeah, you like that because you’re a fucking slave whore who can’t resist.  You’re too weak to resist.” I get up real close, so close that Manny’s soft cock squishes up against the mirror as I stretch out Manny’s tongue and begin licking his spit off the mirror, making sure to gaze directly into those eyes, burning this image into Manny’s dormant consciousness.   I lick my way up. “You sick slave whore.  You’ll do anything I say” *Lick* “Because you’re nothing” *Lick* “Me forcing inside your body completed you” *Lick* “Made you a real man!” *Lick* “Just look at you, you fucking queer.  The way your hole lights up when I force all those fingers inside you.  Deep down YOU LOVED IT” *Lick* “Good job cleaning that mirror, whore.  Now time to give Jenna what she’s been waiting for” I wink at Manny’s reflection one last time, giggling a bit as I notice a stream of Manny’s precum dribbling down the mirror from my little Role Playing scenario.  Shooting a devious look across Manny’s face I drop down onto his knees and begin ravenously devouring his juices, speaking for him, pretending it’s Manny saying, “Oh shit yeah so delicious!  I can’t get enough of those manly juices.  Fucking love it ‘cause I’m a weak-minded whore who just loves being filled.  IT FEELS SO GOOD BEING FULL OF YOUR ESSENCE!  MAKING ME DO SICK AND TWISTED THINGS!  I love it when you play with my cock and finger fuck my hole with my beefy fingers.  Make me a real man!”  I giggle and shiver at the same time, humored by Manny’s vocal cords producing such phrases, but also devilishly turned on.  I think I have a new game for later, after Jenna leaves.  *Knock Knock* I rush to the door, having just finished putting some clothes on and prepping for this meeting with Manny’s girl, Jenna.  I try my best to mix the best of Manny with the best of me- in other words, I’m gonna mix Manny’s confidence with my ability to choose not to be a complete asshole around other people.  Might actually be tough, but it’s too late because I’m already opening the door-“Hey, Manny.  Been a while since you called,” Jenna says meekly, with a hint of both resentment and sadness. “I’ve been busy lately, babe.  But I think you’ll notice I’m a new man.  I’ll be here for you when you need me.  So why don’t you step inside and let me prove it to you,” I say as I lean forward, ready to lock my lips over hers and pull her inside for a Manny-style power bang. “Woah there, sailor,” she says, placing her hand over my lips and blocking my advance.  “Why don’t you get me a drink first?  We have some unfinished business to hash out.” I oblige. Nodding my head and welcoming her in, following her into the kitchen as she sits at her favorite bar stool.   “So…ermmm…What can I get for you?” I ask awkwardly, not prepared for Jenna to suddenly be so pensive.  I’m unprepared, but still up for the challenge though.  I mean just look at this selfie I took earlier: I got Manny a clean haircut and dressed him up to look adorable and fuckable.  I quickly flash through Manny’s memories though and in a flash see that he had been really wrong to Jenna, having girls on the side, making her feel worthless, using a condom!, banging her so quick she never even got warmed up by the time Manny had cum!   No wonder she wants to talk.  I mean, hot twink ass on the side is one thing, but you never have other girls on the side!  I’m flashed back to the moment by Jenna’s response- “Wow, Classic Manny.  Can’t even remember my usual.” I scan Manny’s brain real fast. “Oh no, babe.  A Tom Collins with a splash of 7-up.  I just wanted to know if you wanted anything different to kick off our fresh start,” I say in the most sincere and caring tone I can possibly muster.  Coming out of Manny’s gruff at times voice, it makes Jenna instantly blush a little, no matter how hard she tries to hide it. Bingo. Turning her head to try to hide her involuntary half smile, she says, “you know, what the hell.  I’ll have a vodka and cranberry.” “Anything for you, babe,” I say gently and lovingly as I walk up to her, leaning in and gently placing a tender kiss on her cheek, stroking the back of her neck and hearing her lightly gasp.  Jenna turns her head slowly, almost by instinct positioning her lips to meet mine before I pull back and give her another loving smile. “Better get that drink,” I say with a blend of Manny’s suave confidence and my own capacity for love and affection.  I instantly notice a shift in Jenna’s body language.  Instead of having rigid walls and emotional distance, I can almost feel her energy drawing me in, attracted to the new Manny.   Mixing her drink, we make casual talk about work and friends and I have her trying not to snort as she laughs from my warm and sharp sense of humor.  This drink took over ten minutes to make because of all my stories that have her on the edge of her seat, cackling until tears of laughter emerge, but I don’t think she minds too much.   “Sorry it took so long,” I chuckle as I hand Jenna her drink, giggling again as I see her smacking the table in hysteria from my last goofy story, still trying to get her composure together.  Finally calm, she smiles at me and begins asking: “Where was this side of you the first time we dated?  I haven’t laughed like that since high school, Manny.  I-I-I have to be honest.  I lied earlier about the sex.  I didn’t think you would even want to see me unless there was some pervy sexual benefit for you.  I really wanted to talk about the past.  How you hurt me.  How lonely I was.  How in the bedroom you-“ I grab her hand tenderly and begin stroking it, looking into her eyes with a solemn look of remorse. “But, Manny.  Just these past couple minutes- I- It’s like I don’t even recognize you, and I never thought I’d be so glad to say that.  You made me feel loved and special, and like I mattered-“ I lean in and hug her deeply, bringing her in close and letting her feel Manny’s tight grip and the warmth of his body.  “You will always matter to me,” I whisper into her ear, slowly sliding my face until I’m looking directly into her eyes.  Those eyes are like open doors now, bearing no resistance as Jenna sheds a single tear, smiles, and then throws herself at me, hugging me so tightly as she tells me how much she loves me and how I’ve just told her everything she always wanted to hear.   I grab her face and bring her lips to mine, gently meeting Manny’s lips to hers as we begin a gentle embrace.  The taste of her lips is so sweet.  I close my eyes and begin rubbing my hands up and down her back, reaching down and playfully grabbing her supple ass with Manny’s strong hands, making her moan and open her mouth enough for me to glide some of Manny’s tongue into her mouth.  Her moans are blissful as our tongues wrestle in a lovers’ dance, entangling gently as if exploring new territory before becoming more and more agile and energetic as our body heat rises.  I pick Jenna up in Manny’s strong arms and bring her over to the bed, gently laying her down as I pull her shirt off, showing off her trim body and perky breasts.  I take Manny’s shirt off, revealing my meatier body.  But I think Jenna has a thing for bigger guys; it must make her feel more secure.  Regardless, I begin crawling towards her until I’m laying myself on top of her, feeling her lean legs pulling my mass into her as I lean down and we begin kissing again.  Our tongues are ravenous for each other by this point as I shift and begin sniffing and kissing my way down her neck, cupping one of her supple breasts in Manny’s authorative grip, massaging and rubbing and squeezing until Jenna is groaning in ecstasy.   I know she loves this because every time I grab her perfect tits she grinds her hips against the hard on tenting through Manny’s jeans, making me gasp as my pre-cum leaking cock gets more and more insatiable.  I can’t take it anymore- I grunt as I rip Jenna’s bra in half, tearing it clean off before I make a dive for her exposed breasts, wrapping my lips around one of her perky nipples and beginning a barrage of gentle sucking and licking.   “OHHHH Mannnnnyyyyy- You’ve never- oh that’s niceeeeee- Oh Mannyyyyyyy”Jenna says as I swirl Manny’s tongue around her sensitive tit, sending shivers from her nipples through her entire body as I grab her other exposed breast and continue massaging that soft skin, tweaking that nipple gently between Manny’s thumb and index finger.   Jenna eggs me on as her back arches and she uses her legs to pull me closer and harder against her.  If she loves this then just wait until she sees what’s next.  I pull back, her nipple exiting my mouth with a gentle pop as she shivers and looks up at me longingly.  Without a word, I grab her skirt and carefully pull it off her legs before moving in again and gently massaging and caressing my way up her legs and inner thighs, becoming almost certain she’s wet and hot for me right now as I begin pulling down her panties and see an undeniably moist cunt just begging to be filled.   “Manny, you’ve never been this good before.  I mean, it’s not that I wasn’t attracted to you before, but right now- OHHHHHH MANNNNYYYYYY!!!!!   OH MYYYY—–UNNNNNGGGG—YOU’VE NEVER- OH YES MANNY!!  YES YES YES!!!!” Jenna screams with ecstasy laced joy as I lean in and begin gently sliding Manny’s tongue inside her wet cunt, feeling the walls of her pussy clamp down on me in shock as I wiggle and set off a torrent of nerve endings.  Fuck yeah, Jenna’s cunt tastes so good!  I dig my tongue deeper, wiggling, sucking, rubbing her insides in all the right places, taking cues from when her legs twitch or when her back arches.  I pull out and find her clit, giving that special attention as I playfully lick her most sensitive bundle of nerves, daring to even gently nibble on it before kissing that fireball of nerves and migrating my tongue back inside her cunt.  I’m taking special care to massage and caress her squirming body, rubbing her lean core and feeling her back as it arches.  She especially loves it when I hoist her legs over my shoulders and caress my down her thighs before grabbing a firm hold of her ass and hips and pulling her cunt towards my lapping and thrusting tongue.   “ohhhhhhh Mannyyyyyy- I-I-I OH GOD!!!  SO—Ungggg-GooooooOOOODDDDD!  SO GOOD-OH YES YES YES YES” I go into turbo, swirling Manny’s long tongue inside her at unprecedented speeds and in all directions, setting off cascade after cascade of sensation inside her.  I start sucking with gusto, trying to taste as much of her pussy juices as I can, making her whole body literally wretch as I try to hold her squirming form down as I thrust my wiggling tongue inside her.   “Mannnnnnyyyyy- YOU-OH GOD- I CAN’T-I- OH PLEASE DON’T STOP!  I’M SO CLOSE I-“ I release her writhing hips just long enough to quickly slide Manny’s thick index finger inside her soaking wet cunt, along with Manny’s thrashing tongue as I begin finger fucking her, squirming that finger around and stretching her pussy ever so slightly as I pull my tongue out and latch on to her clit and begin wiggling Manny’s tongue and sucking that nerve bundle.   “MANNY!!!!!!!!!   I LOVE YOU MANNY!!!!!! OH YESSSSSS MANNY!!!!” Jenna screams with joy as her cunt starts bursting with the best orgasm of her life.  I can feel the walls of her cunt tightening so much it’s a struggle just to pull out my thrusting finger!  And her cunt starts leaking so many juices that a trickle starts oozing out, forcing me to quickly maneuver down and start sucking her delicious juices out of her, forcing my tongue back inside as I try to devour every last drop, extending her orgasm indefinitely as her back remains arched and it looks like she’s trying to scream but no sound is coming out.  I lap up the torrent of juices for at least 30 straight seconds, keeping her orgasm going on and on, making her body tremble with appreciation as she surprises me and grabs the back of my head, pulling me even deeper into the tight explosion of pleasure that is her cunt.  I devour this feast until her trembling slows to a halt and the fountain of juices dies down, finally pulling out after several minutes of non-stop orgasms for Jenna.  I look into her eyes, now aflame with absolute adoration and passion.  Her supple body is drenched in sweat and her breathing is so heavy I worry for her safety.  But underneath it all is a smile that lets me know I’ve given her what no one else ever has and what no one else ever will.   “Manny!” She exclaims between gasps, “That was- I’ve never- Oh my God, Manny that was incredible!  I-I-I love you, Manny!  I believe you, Manny.  Every word!  This is a new chapter for us, and I want to start it off right, so baby how about you take those pants off and fill me up.  Make me yours.  I want you inside me, use your cock and make me feel good,” Jenna says seductively as she begins rubbing my pre-cum leaking cock through the tent of Manny’s stained jeans.  I moan in approval as she unbuttons that denim and pulls down until Manny’s throbbing and leaking meat springs out right in front of her longing eyes. “mmmmmmm Baby I need it!  Please, Manny!  God you’ve changed!  Where did you learn that?!” Jenna moans between squealy gasps as she squeezes and curls her toes.  Those smooth legs are draped over my shoulders as I swirl Manny’s powerful tongue deep inside her cunt, slurping those juices that Manny, the fucking misogynistic prude,  would never even go near.  Fuck Manny, Jenna needs a real lover.  Jenna needs-“Your dick!  Please Manny!”I pull my tongue out of her pussy and just grin, still smack dab up against those pussy lips and licking all around.  She closes her eyes and tosses her head back as I just keep licking outside her cunt, also reaching up and grabbing her perfect boobs, squeezing not too hard that it hurts, but not too gently that she doesn’t feel absolutely and completely safe with me here to protect her and to fuck her.  “Are you sure you’re ready for this Jenna? Are you sure this is what you want?”“Yes!! Manny! I’ve never wanted anything more than this!”I retract away from her cunt and roll over to the side of the bed with Manny’s nightstand, sifting around and looking for a condom. I search around, finally finding that sealed latex when out of nowhere I feel Jenna’s hand resting firmly on mine.“No… Manny… You are not the man you used to be. I don’t know what happened to you, but I have never in my life felt the way I do right now. I can’t believe that I came here to end things for good because right now in this moment in time I honestly don’t want anything more than to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to feel you Manny… All of you. I want to feel you filling me up… Completing me in a way that only you can,” she says as she pushes my hand back down into the drawer, making me leave the condom in there as she guides me back to the bed.No!! What the fuck are you about to do?! Fuck man! You’re already using my body and shit! At least use some fucking protection! I’m not ready to be a dad! That’s not how I roll! Manny screams in his head as I pump his meat and get him fully hard while Jenna smiles adoringly at me as she gets on her back and spreads her legs, giving me full access to that tight pussy.Yeah, Manny. Well this is how I roll. Because I am Manny now. No one ever loved you! But now look! With me inside you, Jenna is utterly and madly in love. You’re a better person with me in here, a better man. You better accept your fate, and I really hope you enjoy this – because I plan on fucking conceiving your baby tonight.Manny is a mass of screams and resistance on the inside, but I’m able to silence them effortlessly. The forcefulness of his resistance is more than it’s ever been, but I’m already so deeply rooted inside his body that it now views me as the alpha consciousness. His body’s loyalty has permanently switched, and Manny will never again be anything more than a silent passenger who I occasionally allow to speak for the entertainment value.Damn, the waves of resistance crashing through my body actually feel pretty good.Oh Manny! Keep doing whatever you’re doing! Your pathetic attempts at fighting me are sending chills down my spine. Oh man – each time you try to take control I feel a little push coming from the inside that makes my cock twitch. Fuck! It’s turning me on so much! Manny, you’re just making me more and more turned on! It’s like you want me to fuck your load into Jenna’s pussy!I’m a little sad when the resistance stops because I stop feeling those waves of pressure surging through me from the inside, traveling down my spinal cord and ricocheting throughout Manny’s meaty body for converging on his throbbing cock which is dripping with pre-cum as I crawl onto the bed on all fours and begin moving myself on top of Jenna who is now squirming in anticipation.Her eyes shoot open as I start stretching that cunt and sliding the head in.“Nnnnnnnnggggggggggg , MANNY!”“You alright Babe?!”“I’m still just so sensitive from when you-nnngggggg- you know.  How much is left?”“I’m about halfway,” I tell her as I lean down and caress her face.  I pull her into a passionate kiss, relaxing her as we taste each other’s mouths.  When the moment is just right, I slam the last couple of inches into her, making her convulse from sensory overload as that sensitive cunt sends shockwaves crashing through her pussy and up her whole body.  “Agggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!! MANNY!!!!” Jenna screams as she digs her nails into my back, making me growl as we both writhe together, joined in the most intimate way as I feel Jenna’s cunt trembling and squeezing my meat.“You’re so great babe!” I gasp as I start pulling out, feeling her cunt automatically tightening trying to keep me inside.  “NNNGGGG FUCCCKKKKK!!!!” I grunt as I drive my dick all the way back inside.  Jenna just gasps, a smile plastered across her face, lips in a wide open “O” with her toes curling wildly.  While I build up my rhythm, sliding in and out, grinding and using Manny’s powerful body to give Jenna what she needs, I feel Manny again.  I get shivers from the futile resistance.  This is too good!  I chuckle silently as I decide to let him speak.  P-p-please!!!!  You can’t!  This is wrong!  Get out of my fucking body!!!!!! The normally strong and confident Manny sobs in his mind.Face it Manny!  You dickhead fucker!  I’m a better Manny than you EVER were! I taunt him.  Have you ever seen Jenna this happy?!  Look how good I’m making her feel with your cock!  She has a REAL lover now.  Someone who can appreciate her and send her over the edge.  I growl back at the ever hopeless Manny.  B-b-but!I’m better than you!  Just give in!  You don’t have to fight it.  Just agree that I’m the real Manny and your life will be better than it ever was.  Manny went quiet for several moments, finally relenting: You’re right…I grin as I shut him up again, huffing and growling as I feel Manny’s robust nuts churning and pumping- getting this load ready to blow.  “I’m close!” I exclaim as I keep pumping Jenna full, kissing her tasty lips and squeezing those tender breasts.  “MANNY!  I- aaaagggghhhhhhHH!!!!!   I’m close too baby!  I- OH GOD!   Oh my GOD!!!!!” Jenna howls as the waves hit her sooner than expected.  Her whole body tenses up as I feel her cunt quivering, trembling as the orgasm builds up.  I thrust and pump into her faster and harder, driving this cock into her so she can have the orgasm she deserves.  “nnnnnnngggggggggggggggg MANNY!” Jenna screams as her eyes shoot wide open and she begins gasping for breath, trying to yell but no sound comes out.  The pressure building inside me reaches its limits as Jenna’s cunt starts vibrating with tension, squeezing me tight and milking me for all its worth.  I go into a frenzy, slamming into her- pumping her full as I feel Manny’s baby cream flowing through into Manny’s cock before I thrust all the way back inside, howling wildly as the first load rockets out of me deep into Jenna’s hungry pussy.  We both howl unintelligibly, grinding and thrusting against each other as we have the best orgasms of our lives.  Our sweaty bodies glisten with pure joy as we calm down, my mass comfortably pinning her down to the bed as our breathing slows back to normal.  Jenna stares at me in amazement for a blissful second before pulling me into a gentle kiss.  “That was amazing, Manny.”I shut her up with my mouth while we cuddle away into the night.  As we go to sleep I feel a warmth deep inside as I prepare to live Manny’s life to the fullest- Because I am Manny now.  

[fanficimagery]

Imagine feeling a power shift months after Thor has gone off-world. Feeling the need to follow your gut instinct, you find what’s left of Mjölnir and soon realize it’s switched ownership. To you (Part 2 of 2).

Author’s Note: Remember that this is completely AU. Civil War and Infinity War never happened, but Thor did seek out another weapon after the destruction of his hammer in Ragnarok. Also the remains of the hammer were found in the City rather than on the cliff-side in some other Country.

Gen Fic X Reader

After having been deemed worthy by Mjölnir himself, Thor took it upon himself to train you in the art of how to wield the hammer. He took it easy it on you, of course, but all gloves were off when Mjölnir was in your hand. Summoning lightning was quite a trip, as was flinging lightning towards the target of your choice, but flying was really not your forte. Sure you could do it, but you and heights never really got along and you avoided it when you could.

And all the while, you still kept Pepper in the dark. It was bad enough that everyone who knew already started treating you differently, so the last thing you wanted was your favorite aunt to do the same. But just as you were starting to become comfortable with Mjölnir and all your newfound abilities, Thor felt the sudden urge to return home.

With him went Mjölnir, so you didn't think it was necessary to speak of 'Lady Thor' until he came back. Unfortunately for you, no amount of hair dye would turn your hair back to it's original color.

You're sitting in the Common Room, back against the arm rest of the couch and legs stretched out so your feet are in Bucky's lap. As he catches up on movies you've recommended on Netflix, you're plugged into your laptop and writing an essay that's due before term ends.

The tips of your fingers start tingling out of the blue, but you figure it's because you've been typing for over a couple of hours and have yet to get up and move. So when the tingling moves to your legs and feet, you set aside your laptop and stand up to walk around.

"You okay?" Bucky asks as he pauses his movie.

"Yeah. I'm good. Just need to move around a bit and grab a snack."

"I was wondering when you'd take a break," he grins. "I was going to give you ten more minutes before I tattled to Miss Potts."

Chuckling softly, you walk towards the windows to peer out over the city. "I'm related to Pepper, not Tony. I know when to call it quits for a bit, Barnes."

"Mhm. As long as you're good, I'm going to get back to my movie."

"Yeah. Go ahead. Then after you finish this one, try Bird Box. It's new, but it's interesting."

"Alright."

As Bucky goes back to watching his movie, you let your gaze settle over the city. It's a calm, cloudy day and nothing seems out of the norm. At least not from what you can see being so far up.

The tingling in your limbs amp up and you try shaking them out to make the feeling go away. Only in doing so, it spreads all over your body and then centers in your chest. This feeling, it suddenly becomes familiar, but it's something you haven't felt in months. Not since Thor had been on-world.

Realization quickly dawns and your eyes widen when off in the distance you see the bi-frost activate. Thor's just landed somewhere in the city and you feel your whole body zing with the knowledge that Mjölnir is somewhere near. Remaining by the window, you inhale and exhale deeply, re-familiarizing yourself with the rush of power.

One moment everything is fine and the next.. the power within you just disappears. Knowing that that's not a good thing, your gaze darts all over the city until you see a blue source of power of some type explode outward. You gasp and stumble back, and then grab at your chest when you feel a low pulse of power return within you.

"Y/N? What’s wrong?"

You turn around, eyes wide as your hand rubs at your chest. "I don't- I don't know," you mumble. "I think something happened to Thor. I feel- I don't feel right."

Bucky stands up and makes his way towards you. "What are you talking about? Thor's been gone-"

"For months, I know. But like a minute or so ago the bi-frost dumped him off somewhere in the city," you tell him distractedly. "There was some sort of power explosion out there. I felt it." Frowning, you then meet his gaze with the sudden urge to seek something out. "I need to go."

"No. You need to sit down and we need to gather everyone."

"There's not enough time." Dodging Bucky's grasp, you find your shoes behind the couch and slip your feet into them. "If you want to alert the others, do it. But I'm leaving right now whether you come with me or not."

Bucky groans and hurries after you. "You're just like Stevie, I swear."

"That's a compliment in my book, you know."

"Of course it is." You smile faintly as he joins you in the elevator, you then pressing the button for the main floor. Apparently you seem so impatient that when the doors open to the lobby, Bucky yanks you back in and presses the button for the building's private garage. "We'll take a bike. I'll drive and you just point me where to go."

"Oh. Okay."

Once the both of you are sporting black helmets and you're settled behind Bucky on a motorcycle of his, he pulls out of the garage and starts driving in the direction you point him in. You're not sure how you know where you're going, but the pulsing within you is kind of acting like a GPS and leading you where you need to be.

After many turns and dodging through traffic, you lead Bucky down an alley that’s apparently seen better days. You tap him on the shoulder and he slows to a stop, he then killing the engine and pulling off his helmet. You hop off the bike before pulling off your own helmet, you then setting it on the seat before stumbling forward.

"What are we doing here, Y/N?"

You shrug. "I'm not sure, but there's something here. Something calling me."

"Christ, kid, you're going to get me in so much trouble."

As you listen to Bucky's steps slowly follow after you, you're amazed at the fact that your feet are leading you as if they had a mind of their own. Up ahead on the ground towards the middle of the alley, there's what appears to be a stick surrounded by crumbled pieces of asphalt. Only as you get closer and the pulsing within you gets stronger and faster, you know it's anything but.

The shaft of Mjölnir lays surrounded by broken pieces of the metal Mjölnir is made up of and there's not an Asgardian in sight.

"Oh Thor, what happened here?"

"You find something?"

"Yeah." Kneeling down, your hand hovers over the metal and you're shocked when little lightning zaps between the tips of your fingers and the broken hammer. "Uhh.. stay back." You hold your hand over it, your eyes squinting when a glow starts to emanate between your palm and the broken hammer. Something, or rather someone, is whispering in your ear in a language you don't know.. but then it suddenly changes and you understand it completely.

"Y/N? Did you just fix Thor's hammer?"

Blinking in surprise, you yank back your hand and are shocked when Mjölnir sits there as if he were never broken. The whispering starts again and something overcomes you that puts you in a trance-like state. Grasping the shaft, you grip Mjölnir in hand and turn towards Bucky. His eyes widen and he takes a step back. 

"Whosoever holds this hammer, if she be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor."

"..okay?"

You thrust the hammer in the air and lightning strikes. Your senses seem to clear as you come back yourself, and dread fills you as you take in Bucky's startled expression. Glancing down at yourself, you groan when you see the Asgardian garb you're now wearing. "I'm totally Lady Thor. Like legit this time."

"What?" Bucky asks.

"The hammer," you mumble. "It was broken with Thor and I.. I somehow fixed it. Mjölnir is mine now. It's switched allegiances."

Bucky gulps. "So where's Thor?"

"That's a pretty damn good question, Barnes." Glancing around, you let your senses spread outward and concentrate on finding any familiar magicks lingering around. "I think he's gone off-world again. I don't sense him."

"Okay. We'll figure that out later. Right now we need to get back to the Tower, so change back to your normal clothes."

Suddenly blushing, you're grateful for the mask that covers your cheeks. "Uhh.." You chuckle nervously. "I don't know how."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I can fly though," you muse, "even though I hate it. But I'm pretty sure riding on the back of your bike looking like this," you then say while gesturing to yourself, “is not a good idea.”

"Fine. Get back to the Tower and I'll meet you there."

"Okay." You start twirling Mjölnir in hand, calling out one last time to Bucky before you lift off. "One last thing, don't tell Pepper!"

For the next week you, Tony, Doctor Foster, and Doctor Banner work on trying to find any lead on Thor. After explaining to them what had happened, along with Bucky to offer any other details you skipped over, Bruce and Jane were quick to pull up readings from their computers to confirm that the bi-frost had indeed dropped someone off on Earth. And then picked them back up minutes later.

They were shocked to learn of the destruction of Mjölnir and then even more shocked when you told them the hammer was now yours after fixing it somehow. You couldn't exactly explain it to them, but they believed you when Bucky told them of what he saw with his own two eyes.

"You need to tell Pepper, kid. You can't hide this from her forever," Tony had told you once left alone.

"I know," you mumbled sadly. "Just.. give me a bit of time."

That bit of time ended up lasting yet another week, you being forced to come clean on the one day Pepper had off and the two of you had gone to your favorite pizzeria to enjoy some good grub.

Yet another alien invasion popped up in the city, but this time they were working alongside a group of humans. While Tony had called ahead to make sure you and Pepper were safe, he also told you to hunker down wherever you were at. Pepper had no problem listening to him, as did you, but you couldn't help the anxiety you felt at keeping out of the fight when you knew full well you could lend them a great helping hand.

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately for you, the group of humans working with the aliens shot up the pizzeria. There were screams and cries of anguish, and then your heart lodged in your throat when someone recognized Pepper. Crowing victoriously, they grabbed her by her hair and dragged her to her feet.

"Pepper!"

"Y/N, don't."

You’re pushed back as the men taunt Pepper, making promises to make Iron Man hurt over his lady love. Struggling against the men to get to your aunt, you're quickly backhanded and sent stumbling back.

"Y/N!"

Cupping the side of your face, you glare at the culprit who dared lay a hand on you before glaring at the man who has a grip on Pepper's shoulder and a rifle in the other hand to keep her in line. "You're going to pay for that," you seethe. Holding your right hand out to your side as inconspicuously as possible, you summon Mjölnir. You can feel his answering pull and then meet your aunt's worried gaze. "It's going to be okay. I'll make sure of it."

"Y/N, please don't do anything stupid," she pleads.

Hearing Mjölnir as he nears, you smirk. "Too late."

There's a deafening crash from where Mjölnir bursts through the wall and the moment he's gripped tight in hand you swing him at the man closest to you. The man holding Pepper gapes and you don't waste another second as you swing Mjölnir in a wide arc which then sends a bolt of lightning directly at the suspect's chest.

Pepper yelps as she scurries out of the way and you concentrate on clearing the intruders out of the pizzeria. As you're doing this, you don't see Pepper tap something on her watch nor the blue and silver Iron Man suit that envelops her body. It's only as you’re working on a small group of aliens that have decided to join the fight that several energy blasts finish off the aliens for you.

Whirling around, your eyebrows raise in surprise at the blue and silver feminine Iron Man. And then your eyes widen in shock as the face mask disappears thanks to Tony's new nano-tech and Pepper stares at you in wonder.

"Pepper?!"

"Y/N?!"

"Uhh.. I can explain."

"You better, young lady. But first, what do you say we help our boys and Nat take care of the city?"

Your wary expression suddenly turns confident. "I can do that." Then gripping the shaft of Mjölnir, you grin as he starts to glow and shoot off sparks of electricity. As you walk towards your aunt, you watch her eyes widen as your own outfit changes for battle. "So," you drawl as you near her, your cape fluttering about your body. "Apparently I'm Lady Thor now."

"I can see that. And you can call me Rescue when I'm dressed like this just so you know."

Iron Man lands in front of you, his own face mask disappearing as he stares in awe. "Okay," he gulps. "I can see you ladies can take care of yourselves."

"Damn right we can," you muse, grinning. "Need some help out there, Tones?"

"As a matter of fact," he says, leering at Pepper. "We can use the extra hands. So what do you say, Lady Thor and Rescue? Ready to have some fun?"

Pepper's face mask reappears over her face. "I thought you'd never stop talking."

Pepper zooms off into the sky and Tony chuckles as he watches her disappear. When he then looks to you, you start twirling Mjölnir in preparation for lift off. "Well the cat's out of the bag. See you after the fight."

Hovering in mid-air, you spot Bucky and Steve back to back as they fend off a horde of aliens. Gathering the lightning, you prepare to barrel back towards Earth and give your friends a helping hand.

After today, you know there's no going back. From now until you're suddenly deemed unworthy, you have a status to uphold as Lady Thor.

[ghoulboyboos]

For they Shyan prompts thing, demon!shane constantly getting stuck in situations that would get him found out (idk like someone spilling a bunch of salt or smth)and Ryan has to keep coming to his rescue? Plz & thx, ly

Shaneispretty sure he isn’tbad at hiding his identity. Sure,he isn’tthe greatest, stealthiest demon to ever walk the earth but he isn’tterrible.

Fine,sometimes the cameras makehim look a little too much like his true self when heand Ryan arefilming episodes, but everyone lookskind of weird in night vision cameras. His eyes aren’teven black. If hereally wanted toshow his true eyes to anyone,they would get treated toeyes with barely any whites, true,but also no full black scleras.Just large, yellowish irises and stretched, horizontal pupils. Goateyes, funnily enough. Not quite like Steve’s. Shane’s don’tglow in the dark. He never did show off his eyes to anyone though. Atleast not until now.

Actuallyhe used to keephis demon self very well hidden. It really isn’this fault that he hasterrible luck.

-

Itstarts one Wednesday when he’s helping out in the Tasty kitchen.They need some additional camera work and Shane is taking care of thehand-held camera trained on Rie’s face. Everythinggoes just as planned until the momentwhen one of the interns knocks over one of the big jars in the back.Shane originally thought the things are just for decoration, but hefreezes when the jar smasheson the ground and salt – a lot of salt –suddenly spills out from the destroyedcontainer. Luckily, nothing actually hits his bodyand he’s spared from uncomfortable burns, but the stuffspills right between Shane and Rie. Sheis standing at a counter and the salt forms a completeand effectiveline that stretches from wallto counter and when she moves aside, Shane can’t follow her, sohe’s slowly moving to round the counter and keep the camera on herface.

“Hangon, Shane.” The director interrupts him. “Just step over it andget closer to Rie. We’ll clean it up once the segment is filmed.”

Shanebreaks out in a cold sweat. He can’t cross the line between thecounter and the wall. He is physically incapable of doing so. Even ifsomeone pushed him, Shane would hit an impenetrable wall. He couldeven get hurt over this.

Apologiesmanifest in his brain, each more ridiculous than the last and at theglare of the director, Shane shuffles back, carefully inching closerto the dreaded line of salt. He’s thinking, panicking, unsure ofwhat to do and what to say. He has to find an excuse. Somehow, he hasto save himself from being exposed.

Butthen, by sheer luck and coincidence, Ryan comes in with a dustpan andbroom and the second he dives and drags the broom through the salt,Shane feels a weight drop off his shoulders. He hides it with a coughand a shuffle to the side to give Ryan space to work and since theline is broken, he steps over the rest of the salt without anytroubles. The director iscool with Ryan cleaning up, Ryan has no problem doing it – he’shere to wait for Shane anyway so they can grab lunch together – andthe show can continue. Shane thanks whoever is having an eye on himthat Ryan’s urge to clean the set popped up at just the rightmoment.

Atleast, he thinks, there’ssomeone down there who has an eye on him. It’swhat he settles on as an explanation.

Atfirst.

-

“Don’ttry it, demon!” Ryan snaps, drawing the ridiculous water gun withsurprising speed and Shane staggers backwards on instinct.

“Wow!”He says, trying to sound joyful. “That’s spooky.”

Ryanis smiling, maybe even laughing as he holsters the gun again. Hedoesn’t “shoot” Shane with it like Shane feared and part of himexhales in relief.

Sure,holy water isn’t the worse that could be done to him. It would burnhis body a little and sure, it would hurt, but that’s not why Shaneis afraid. He can handle the little burns the water would leave onhim. He can handle the time and energy it takes to heal his body. (Itis his body after all, he had it commissioned. If he was possessingsomeone, ducking out was always an option but if you had your ownbody, you were sort of reliant on it and he really didn’t wantShane Madej to have burn scars everywhere because his friend laughedat the idea of squirting him with holy water.

Butthankfully, Ryan doesn’t shoot the water gun at him and Shane canrelax. He’s not exactly calm,because he can see that the plastic toy isn’t entirely leak-proof.While Ryan walks around on location, the water gun dropsoccasionally. Shane is far away enough to be safe, but it still makeshim uncomfortable.

The day after theshoot, TJ finds the plastic gun on top of Ryan’s bag and makes abig show out of having the one tool to destroy demons. Shane gets it,TJ doesn’t believe and Mark, who is the first to get shot with atiny stream of holy water doesn’t either. The cameraman is justlaughing as he ducks away from any more shots and before Shane canreally prepare, TJ has turned and is pointing the gun at him. Heinstinctively flinches and ducks. Of course, it won’t do anything.If TJ hits his clothing, the water will soak into it and burn Shaneanyways. It will hurt. It will burn. Butworse than anything, it will show the team what Shane really is.

Shane didn’t useto be so attached to people, but he likes Buzzfeed. It’s just theright place to cause the right amount of chaos and disgruntlement.People get irritated at videos and articles and it’s all Shaneneeds. Internet trolling is the future of demons, he just knows that.But now, TJ is pointing a water gun filled with holy water at him andeverything is going to get out. Except that the moment TJ pulls thetrigger, Ryan accidentally walks past Shane to get to his bag.

There is a surprisedsquawk and then a lot of enraged yelling mixed with Tjs apologiesthrough laughter and the sounds that Devon and Mark make in thebackground while they try not to openly laugh at Ryan. Shane onlyallows himself a snicker, a lot less than what he would usually leaveRyan with. Instead, he offers Ryan one of his sweaters while Ryan’sown dries and he’s surprised when is friend actually accepts.

The whole ride backhome, Ryan is wearing Shane’s sweaters and Shane tries to ignorethe feelings that leaves him with. If Ryan knew what he really was,he would never speak to him again. Better not set himself up forheartbreak, Shane thinks while he glances at the dozing Ryan.

He looksindescribably adorable in Shane’s too-long clothes.

-

It’s really nothow he imagined to be exposed.

Shane thinks thatnearly all of the seances, rituals and other little tricks Ryan trieson location are nonsense. Ghosts are so incredibly rare that evenShane with his true sight has only seen a few on location. On top ofthat, they usually aren’t active or powerful enough to interactwith them. Ryan tends to get himself too worked up and panicky aboutnothing and Shane’s rolling eyes and exasperated sighs are verygenuine in these situations. Of course, he wants Ryan to be okay andhappy. It’s not like he wants the little guy to have a heartattack.

If Shane iscompletely honest with himself, he will have to admit that there isno human he wants to be happier than Ryan. Still, he wishes the whole“tell Ryan you’re not human thing” could have happened outsideof Unsolved.

But Ryan has somehowmanaged to find a ritual that is actually a legit ritual to exposedemonic power. And Shane even helped him, being the idiot that he is,because he thought the thing is not going to work.

And yet, here he is.A red aura pulsing around him, the candles around the circle theyused for the ritual are flickering but not going out, no matter howhard Shane tries to snuff them with his powers. Ryan’s hand-heldcamera and the go pro on his chest are trained on Shane who hasstarted to lose control over his humanoid form. Ryan will be rich andfamous for exposing Shane. It somehow lessens the pain of having toleave this man and Unsolved and probably the world.

“I knew it.”Ryan says, smug expression on his face as he turns off first thehand-held cam and then the one on his chest. “I knew you were…like that.” He snorts as Shane can only stare at him with wideeyes.

“I figured youneeded some assistance with keeping… you know. On the down low.You’re not really the most subtle person, with all the talk ofeating pickles out of ponds and enjoying the work of the torsomurderer and that stuff. But… you’re still my best friend. And Itrust that you won’t eat my heart when I help you, okay?”

Shane watches asRyan shows him the footage he managed to capture of Shane’s trueform before deleting it. Shane still has a heart in this form andit’s beating hard and unrelenting in his chest as he stares down atRyan.

“But… what?Why?”

Ryan smiles andreaches out to take Shane’s hands. The nails have grown, but skinand bones and fingers are still the same shape.

“I figured out awhile ago that you weren’t human, but when I kept an eye on you,you never seemed to harm anybody. So… I figured since you wantedthis to be a secret, I would help.”

“Oh.” Shane saysdumbly. He blinks. “Does… does that mean that it’s okay for meto tell you that I like you?”

Ryan chuckles.

“As long as demonsaren’t somehow murdered by affection, I’m cool with that.”

Shane chuckles abit. His cheeks warm as embarrassment takes him over.

“We’re…not. But I guess you knew already. You seem to know whenever I neededyour help.”

Ryan chuckles andbrings Shane’s hands up to brush a kiss over the knuckles.

“And you seem toknow whenever I need your words or presence on location. So. Whateveryou saw and kept from hurting me or whenever you got me to leave adangerous room… thank you.”

He smiles up atShane and Shane has to swallow and clear his throat a couple oftimes.

“Of course.” Heleans his forehead against Ryan.

“Thank you aswell. For keeping me safe.”

[lichlover]

For your prompts: Maybe a TAZ arcs crossover fic? Aubrey meets Lup and sparks fly (literally and/or figuratively)

here’s the thing: i took a few liberties with this one. you can thank @sparkledragons for legit one of the coolest concepts i’ve ever heard regarding crossovers—i’m usually not a fan, but this was too amazing to resist.

please consider donating to my ko-fi!

There’s a woman sitting in the lobby of Amnesty Lodge, and Aubrey’s never seen her before.

She has her feet up on an ottoman and she’s sipping from a steaming mug, which Aubrey knows from experience may or may not be alcoholic. Her hair falls long and loose around her shoulders, but she’s casually dressed, with a dark red flannel slung lazily over a darker undershirt. Compared to everyone else’s footwear, caked in mud and God knows what else, as Ned would put it, her boots are pristine. That’s the first thing that sets her apart from the others. The second thing is that Aubrey’s never seen her before, and after a month or so taking up residence under Amnesty’s roof, she knows everyone like the back of her hand. This woman is different. She’s a new arrival.

Even as a relative newcomer to this whole monster world business, Aubrey knows there aren’t supposed to be any of those.

So she turns to the sentiment she’d embroidered on a patch, now firmly ironed onto her jacket: WWMD? (What Would Mama Do?) She straightens her t-shirt—PYROKINETICS FOR BEGINNERS, it says, which she’d bought when Dani told her it was cute—and heads over to the woman, who’s just started to lift her mug again.

“Uh, hi!” she says, and the woman looks up. ���Mind if I sit?”

Aubrey’s never been a fan of those silent moments of consideration that determine whether a conversation is about to go well. Thankfully, her companion doesn’t take long to break the silence. “Pull up a chair, babe,” she says, and her voice is low and lilting over the rim of her mug.

Step one has been a success.

Step two is, evidently, to pull up a chair, so Aubrey does. She sits and crosses her legs, then her ankles, then gives it up altogether and folds them underneath her. When she’s finally situated herself, she says, “I didn’t mean to—uh, I didn’t mean to intrude or anything like that, I just haven’t noticed you around before. So I wanted to say hello, and, uh… maybe get your story? If you’ve got one?”

The woman’s lips twitch up into a small, sharp smile. “Cool, cool. Ikelu’shra Perixys,” she says, and snorts when Aubrey’s face drops. “But you can call me Lup.”

“Oh, thank God,” Aubrey blurts, and then, “Oh, sorry, just—”

“It’s a weird name. I getcha.” She sips idly from her mug again. “What’s yours?”

“A magician has many names! But—you can call me Aubrey. Or Lady Flame. Whatever strikes your fancy.”

Lup arches an eyebrow. “You’re a magician?”

Aubrey tips a noncommittal hand, even though right then she’s painfully aware of the extremely on-the-nose slogan splashed across her chest. “That’s my craft, yeah!”

“Interesting,” says Lup. “But not a monster, huh?”

Somehow, that’s a question she’ll never get used to. Aubrey glances around the lobby, to the different patrons milling about, some distinctly un-glamoured and some not. She turns back and says, “Nah. All human over here.”

“Mm,” is Lup’s reply. “And you were gonna ask me what my deal is, right?”

Her words make Aubrey feel a little like she’s being pinned to the back of her chair. “I don’t—I don’t need to know,” she says, hastily. “It’s just a little weird to have newcomers around here. You understand.”

She realizes only then that Lup’s cadence has never changed. She looks as casual as ever as she stretches her arms back over her head and says, “Well, don’t worry yourself, alright? I’m just stopping by, seeing what all the talk’s about. This place has some fuckin’ good tea.”

“Oh, which kind are you having? The chamomile’s my favorite by far.”

“Nah, black all the way. It’s more robust, y’know?”

Aubrey shrugs. “Fair, fair. Um—so, how long were you thinking of staying? Because the Gate doesn’t—”

Lup holds up an elegant hand. As laid-back as she and her ensemble are, there’s something regal about her that Aubrey can’t quite put her finger on. “I’m gonna stop you right there, hon. Sylvain and I don’t mix. I’m not quite their type, if you catch my drift.”

She does not, in fact, catch Lup’s drift. “But that doesn’t…”

“Doesn’t make sense?” Lup takes another sip of tea. “You’ve been around these woods, right? You know some weird shit goes down in there. Has been for a long, long time.”

Her companion looks up, and at first Aubrey thinks it’s a trick of the light. She should know better, but there’s something about her brain that refuses to process what she sees, like it’s an instinct of the human race to ignore what’s right in front of her. But sure enough, Lup’s pupils are dark and slitted. Lengthy, tapered ears twitch from underneath her mass of hair, and when she smiles, her teeth gleam unnaturally under the soft light.

“Monsters didn’t just come from Sylvain,” she says.

[builder051]

hi there! You by no means have to do this, just thought it was a cute prompt: Peter is on his way to spend the weekend at stark tower while it’s raining, and because he’s a Rebellious Teen®️ he didn’t take a jacket like aunt May told him to, so he’s soaked by the time he gets there. He makes it a couple hours before he gets all feverish and chilly and such, and by the middle of the night it’s a full on flu! And tony lectures him about listening to his aunt from now on (:

Hey!  That is a cute prompt; in fact it’s a little bit too cute for me.  

This is absolutely nothing against you, but I just can’t hang with the ‘character gets a cold after being out in the rain’ trope.  

I have written a Spider-Man fic featuring the rain and sick/hurt Peter and caring Tony, which I will paste below for you.  I hope that sort of satisfies??  

If anyone else wants to pick up the original prompt, please go for it!

_____

Running (Spiderman: Homecoming)

This was a prompt from AO3.  Warnings for a little angst and a little emeto.

_____

When they get out of the car in front of the Avengers compound, all Peter wants is to take the elevator up to his room and collapse across the bed.  Or maybe he’ll take the stairs.  He’s not sure he trusts the throb in his head to stay out of the realm of nausea if he’s closed up in another moving vehicle.

But he doesn’t even get a step through the front door when Mr. Stark’s hand crashes down on his shoulder.

“No,” Tony says.  “You’re not going anywhere until we’ve talked about this.”

Peter sighs.  His suit feels too hot and too tight, but it’s doing nothing for the prickling of cold goosebumps on his arms.  “There’s nothing to talk about.”  He continues to shuffle across the entryway.  “I said I was sorry.”

“That doesn’t cut it, kid,” Tony says.  He steps around Peter, blocking him from escaping upstairs.  “Sorry doesn’t matter.  I don’t think you understand how serious this is.”

Peter lets out another breath and shrugs.  “I was just doing my job.  Same as you.”  He’s too tired to arrange his face into anything but exasperated and serious.

“If you still think we have the same job…”  Tony breaks off shaking his head.  “That’s the problem.”

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to save people?”  Peter internally cringes at the whininess seeping through his voice.  Mr. Stark obviously thinks of him as a child, someone irresponsible and too naïve to handle responsibilities.  His tone isn’t helping, and there’s no way to explain that it’s born more of exhaustion than an actual attitude.

“Of course you’re allowed to save people,” Tony replies, as if this is obvious.  “You help me.  Together, we save people.

“But I’m not, like, legit enough on my own.”  The level of irritation start to rise.  “Better not let me physically drag anybody out of harm’s way.  Then Ironman won’t get the credit.”

“Fuck, kid, it’s not about credit.  You are not allowed to take risks like that.  You could’ve been killed.”  Tony’s hands are balled into fists. “So, excuse me for caring about your safety.”

“If I hadn’t been there, that little girl would’ve died!” Peter explodes.  The image of her tear-streaked rosy cheeks still shows in his mind’s eye.  “I have to be allowed to keep a little kid from dying.”

“You can’t sacrifice yourself!” Tony shoots back.  “Not in front of me.”

“But isn’t that what you were going to do?”

“No.  I jumped in front of you and incinerated the bastard.  And the bullet.”

“Big difference.”

“It is a big fucking difference.”  Tony jams a finger into the spider logo on Petr’s chest.  “My life wasn’t on the line.”

“So give me bigger weapons!  Better armor!” Peter comes back.  He takes a step backward away from Tony’s reach.  His suit is starting to feel like a Halloween costume compared to Tony’s plain clothes and serious expression, his Ironman suit stowed away in a briefcase like the high-and-mighty businessman he is.

“That’ll just fuel your risk-taking.  That’s the last thing I’m gonna do.”  Tony gives a derisive laugh.  “I’m not turning you into me.”

Peter changes his tact.  “If I die saving someone, I don’t care.  That’s what I do.  I save people on the ground.”  He swallows hard and clasps his cold, clammy hands behind his back.  “If I put that much value on my own life…maybe I am too much like you.”

“Yeah, alright,” Tony spits.  “So I’ll just say goodbye to all hopes you’re gonna go on to discover a cure for cancer, or get a PhD by the time your 25, or be the governor of New York, or president of Stark industries.  I’ll go flush your college fund down the toilet while I’m at it.  Or maybe bust it on booze, since you’re not opposed to people fucking themselves up.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Yeah, you did,” Tony say.  “You’re gonna throw it all away.  Just like you did last time I offered you something.”

Peter’s chest fills with guilt, which mixes with his anger like baking soda and vinegar.  The throb in his head increases to skull-splitting.  He needs to get out of here, but Tony’s still blocking all paths upstairs.  “You know what.  I can’t do this right now.  Fuck you,” he says, with as much force as he can while keeping his volume under control.  He turns on his heel and shoves back through the compound’s front door.

A light rain has started to fall, and it quickly cools Peter’s rage.  He feels bad the moment he’s on the other side of the heavy glass that fronts the building.  The adrenaline fueling him is waning, and within seconds he goes from frustrated to emotionally limp.

He should turn around and apologize.  Go up to his room and take a painkiller and a nap and let things blow over.  But…he can’t. Something’s keeping him standing under the low-hanging clouds, hating Mr. Stark.  And possibly hating himself more.

Maybe it’s pride.  Or maybe masochism.  But whatever it is, it leads Peter to point his boots away from the compound, toward a misty tree-lined ridge.  He walks maybe half a football field before he starts feeling downright cold, shivering slightly beneath the fabric of his suit.  By the time he reaches the tree line, his teeth are chattering.  

The walk helps clear his head a little, but it does nothing for the pain in it.  Earlier Peter had assumed it was just a post-mission crash, a little low blood sugar, a little dehydration, a little hormonally burnt out.  But now that the throb has roughly timed itself up with the cold tremors wracking his limbs, he feels barely a step from feverish.

He weaves between trees in various states of leaflessness.  Damp twigs and natural mulch crunch beneath his thin-soled boots.  The softness of the forest floor feels uncanny, a sharp contrast from the hard tile and wood floors back at the compound.  It’s almost like the little stand of trees wants to make him comfortable more than Mr. Stark does.

“What did I do?” Peter mutters under his breath.  He backs up against a tree and leans into it, pressing his slightly damp gloved hands over his face.  The pressure of tears is built up behind his eye sockets like water balloons about to burst.  Mr. Stark’s probably going to fire him.  Take away the suit again, for good this time.  All because he can’t listen.  He’s a hardheaded teenager with a lack of respect for authority.  It sounds like a bad report card.

But all of it stems from a maddening desire to change the world for the better.  What on earth is wrong with saving a little girl’s life?  If he died doing it, there’d probably be a statue raised in his honor.  Which is honestly a lot more recognition than he’s getting right now as Mr. Stark’s kid sidekick.  Peter’s head gives a particularly strong throb, and he slides down the roughness of tree bark until he’s seated on the forest floor with his head pressed into his knees.

He doesn’t really mean to shut his eyes in the first place, but when Peter opens them, it’s downright dark out.  The rain’s picked up, falling harder and colder through the network of branches over his head.  He unwinds from the ball he’s been curled into and almost falls over.  Vertigo takes over all fumbling thoughts, and Peter’s left to scramble for a hold on the tree trunk to keep from face-planting.

Peter painfully shakes his head and tries to remember where the fuck he is.  It clunks into place along with why the fuck he’s there, and a fresh wave of guilt flows down to his stomach while quiet nausea works in the other direction.  He’s only a few minutes’ walk from the compound.  He needs to go back, if only because he’s freezing and wet and not feeling well.  It hardly matters if he still doesn’t completely forgive Tony.  He needs to think of himself, his health, and put attitude aside…  So maybe Mr. Stark does have a point after all.

Peter finishes hauling himself to his feet, the roughness of tree bark pulling the spandex of his gloves.  He starts back down the hill in what he hopes is the direction of the compound.  It’s a little disconcerting that he doesn’t completely remember.  And also that he’s having a hard time walking in a straight line.

When he breaks through the trees, rain starts hitting him hard.  It’s turning to mixed sleet, and the moisture cuts through his suit instantaneously.  Peter can’t control the chattering of his teeth, and his throat is so tight he’s going to fall over retching at any moment.

He walks forward, looking down so the icy droplets don’t cut against his cheeks.  So when the sunny beam of headlights cuts into his visual field, Peter isn’t quite sure what he’s looking at.  He blinks against the sudden brightness, trying to make out the outline of the car. It’s low-profile and red, inching along atop wet grass, though it’s obviously meant for stretches of highway.  Or racetracks.

“Oh my god,” Someone shouts.  The car’s driver door opens, and Mr. Stark emerges, looking frantic.  He’s wearing the same clothes he had on under is Ironman suit, and no jacket to protect from the weather.  He sprints up to Peter and grabs him in an embrace that seems to catch them both off guard.

“What the fuck, kid?” Tony asks.  “I didn’t know if you’d gone back to the city, or into town, or… I definitely didn’t think you’d gone hiking…”

“Huh.”  Peter’s too cold, and his jaw’s too tightly wired to say much of anything.  But he feels his face crumple, and warm, salty tears join the droplets of cold rain streaming down his face.

“It’s ok,” Tony comforts him, patting him on the back with a touch too much force.

“S-sorry,” Peter chokes out.  He means sorry for crying, sorry for leaving, sorry for yelling, sorry for everything.

“I’m not mad,” Tony murmurs.  “Jesus, you‘re freezing.  Get in the car.  I’ll get you someplace warm.”

Peter means to say ok, but his body’s had enough of talking and shivering and pent up emotion.  When he opens his mouth, he ends up pitching forward in a body-wracking dry retch.

“Or, ok, throw up a little bit first,” Tony says with what sounds like the verbal equivalent of a shrug.  Peter heaves again, bringing up bile and not much else.

When he’s able to semi-straighten up, coughing, Tony maneuvers him over to the sports car, practically picking him up to stick him in the passenger seat.  Then he walks around to his own side and sees to pointing every vent at Peter and blasting the heater.

“I’m gonna make sure you’re taken care of, ok?” Mr. Stark says.  He pats Peter’s shoulder a little more gently this time.  Peter has an idea he’s not just talking about right now.

He shakily nods.  “Ok.”

[leapwriter]

Prompt courtesy of @corvidprompts. I hope you don’t mind I tweaked it a bit to fit the set up.

This got longer than I planned, and ends a bit abruptly, but I think I’m going to leave it here anyway.

-- 

“I want to be a creator. I — I want to do things, make things, bring joy,” says the witch — the self-proclaimed necromancer, so she’s informed me, without so much as a how-do-you-do, half a second after storming into my shop. 

“But what I am won’t allow me. I want to be good.” She swallows audibly and tears roll unchecked down her face. “Please, ma’am, I — I need your help. I don’t know what else to do.”

She looks so sad, standing there like her world is falling apart, that I can almost forgive her for interrupting my lunch. 

Sighing, I set the remains of my sandwich back on the paper bag I’d packed it in this morning. I hate emotional conniptions almost as much as I hate ill informed people who run around half-cocked, and it seems the universe has gifted me with both, rolled up into one, sobbing package. 

Lovely.

So much for a quiet lunch break.

I fix the semi-hysterical teenager with a firm look. I can be more than a little intimidating when I want to be (and I usually do), and I have enough years and legit power to back it up. Still, I have to give her some credit. Her lower lip wobbles, and a few more tears spill down her cheeks, dragging black trails of makeup behind them, but she doesn’t run. She just fidgets self consciously and runs her fingers over a lock of poorly dyed black hair.

“Look, uh —,” I trail off, realizing that despite bursting into my shop and unloading her emotional baggage on a total stranger, the girl hasn’t actually given me her name. She continues to stare mutely until I gesture towards her expectantly and she catches my drift.

“Oh,” she says, more of a hiccup than a proclamation. A faint blush creeps across freckle dusted cheeks. “Right. You can call me Raven.”

Swallowing a sigh, I lean forward, propping my elbows on the counter top. The flannel shirt I’m wearing is rolled up to the elbows, giving her a nice view of the full sleeve tattoos running up both arms and disappearing under my shirt. Ink like that catches most people’s attention, but I have to wonder if she knows what it really is, considering her claim.

I study her, gauging the reaction. Or, apparently, lack of; other than the typical few-seconds-longer-than-polite stare, she seems to brush them off as just another decoration on a colorful character.

God, she has no idea. This kid really has no clue.

I mentally wave goodbye to the half eaten ham and swiss resting on the counter, and take a closer look at what’s really standing in front of me: a naive, frightened child who may or may not be in way, way over her head. It’s that hint of indecision about which it is that tips me over the edge.

The three legged stool squeals as I shove it back, standing.

The girl — Raven — flinches, and takes a step back.

Stalking around the counter, I step past her, gesturing sharply for her to follow. “C’mon, we need to go around back for a minute.” 

I cup my hands around my mouth and shout loud enough to carry across the spacious room, “Hey, Lorelei! Can you watch the register ‘til I get back? I got something I gotta deal with for a bit.”

A dark hand raises a few aisles over, it’s owner tall enough for it to be visible over the shelves. Lorelei gives an airy wave that I take for a yes, before I shoot a sharp glance towards the girl. “Well, are you coming or not?”

“Oh!” Raven bites her lip, but nods. “Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.”

I don’t wait for further banter or second guessing before I turn on my heel and stalk off towards my office.

The shop Lorelei and I own is...big. Bigger than it looks on the outside, definitely, and the shelves of books, occult paraphernalia, crystals, and countless other odds and ends of the craft stretch back for what feels like several blocks. 

The shelves and display cabinets get less organized and taller the further back we go. By the time we’re at the office, they’re scraping the ceiling, and the collections they house have gotten decidedly more…eclectic.

The tame stuff goes in the front, the serious — and more expensive — stuff goes in the back. The really serious stuff goes in the very back, where it’s kept under lock, key, and several layers of nasty wards and curses to dissuade sticky fingers.

I don’t look back to check on the girl, but I can hear her, heavy boots stomping on the wood floors. There’s still the occasional sniffle too, but that’s mostly died out, given way to shock or curiosity. 

I don’t care. It shut her up, at any rate.

We come to a halt in front of a sturdy, oak door set into the back wall. Bookshelves flank it, crammed with dusty tomes and a few cloudy bottles of various, unlabeled substances. Reaching into the left pocket of my jeans, I pull out a small ring of keys and flip through until I find the one I want.

After unlocking the office door, I push it open and gesture for Raven to step inside. She does, with less hesitation that I’d have figured judging by her owl eyed stare. 

Once inside, I shut the door behind us and toss the keys on the massive wooden desk occupying most of the room. It’s covered in papers, books, knickknacks, a few sentimental photos of Lorelei and me, and a small herd of dirty teacups.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Raven wrinkling her nose at them in distaste.

“Alright,” I say, moving around the kid and the desk, and flopping down into the ancient desk chair sitting behind it. “So. Let’s start at the beginning.” I incline my head towards Raven. “You’re name is Raven. I’m guessing you’re what, sixteen, seventeen — ?”

“Eighteen,” she corrects quietly. “I just had my birthday last month.”

“Eighteen, then.” I nod to myself. “And you said you’re a...necromancer?”

“Yes.”

She doesn’t clarify further, so I shake my head and continue on.

“Right. OK. So what can you tell me about your family lineage? Do you get your talent from your mother or your father’s side? Who trained you, and,” I sat up straight in the chair, eliciting a squeal from the un-oiled metal. “More importantly, who the fuck told you that being a necromancer meant you were evil? Necromancy’s not evil — no magic is. It can be used for harm, sure, same as a knife can be used to kill someone or cut up a nice salad for lunch. But there isn’t any inherent darkness in the craft.”

I tipped my head to the side, thoughtful. “It’s what you do with it that defines what kind of person you are. So, Raven, tell me: what kind of person are you?”

[butiaintgonnaloveem]

One for the Tropey Case

Characters: Sam, Dean, The Reader, others - just go with it

Warnings: SNARK, language

Word Count: Approx. 3k

A/N: Friends, I write this with nothing but love. I’ve been inspired by my dear friend (and Tumblr Wife - it’s legit) @seenashwrite and her Nope saga. You should also read this one. My mind just kind of went off the rails, won’t you come with me? I hope this jump starts me back into writing, I’ve been feeling pretty out of it lately. This is also hopefully acceptable for @kathaswings Lina’s Chiliad Challenge. Thanks for the bonus time. Love me some feedback and all that constructive criticism, too!

A hole would be something, but this was nothing...

“I think we’re good to hide out in here for a while. Man, I needed a break, I’m telling you all this Valentine’s Day stuff is killing me. I’ve been Mr. Right Now more than my body can handle, I’m getting dehydrated…” The deep voice echoes off the ragged rock walls.

“Dean, shut up. You hear that? Hello?”

I glance around in the near darkness trying to locate the source before I call back, “Hello?”

Footfalls tap along the damp floor, growing louder as they move closer. “Yo! Someone there?”

A gentle light illuminates the area as they move closer. I recognize them immediately, a nervous grin making my lips twitch as I lean against the car.

They glare at me, eyes scanning for anything suspicious.

“It’s not my fault,” I defend, throwing my hands up in the air. “I don’t know what this is either.”

“The Upsidedown?” Sam suggests.

“Don’t be stupid, Sam.” Dean sneers, eyes scanning the shadows around us.

“Is that...you?” I direct them to look at a rough painting on the wall.

It’s primitive, but still clear - the two of them stretched out across the seats of the Impala. Dean’s eyes dart over the details for only a moment until he’s pulled away to another part of the wall with another painting - the two of them standing before a funeral pyre. I follow his movements as he takes in all the walls around them, each covered in another painted moment from their lives, some tragic, some triumphant. It makes me spin, pointing out each memory as I recall them, stopping once I realize their eyes are focused on something behind me. Only when I hear the low growl do I finally go quiet. Sam and Dean both shrug, Dean’s face flexes between alarmed, and confused until he finally takes a chance and speaks to the creature.

“Who are you?”

Glowing eyes appear, smooth pale skin flashes in the light. “I am G’mork.” It growls back, shockingly clear for a creature that doesn’t appear to have lips.

“Um okay, well...nanu nanu? G’mork? Sorry for the interruption, but, we’re just heading on out. So, if you wanna send us in the right direction, we’ll just...go.” Dean points and spins around him.

“You cannot go.” It growls.

“The hell we can’t.” Dean growls back.

“There are no boundaries, no doorways, no portals here. There is nowhere for you to go.”

“Then how did we get here?”

“Foolish giants. Don’t you you know anything about Fanfiction? It’s the world of human fantasy. Every road, every cheap motel, every half empty bottle of whiskey in it, is a piece of the dreams and desires of fanfiction writers. Therefore, it has no boundaries.”

“So where is everything then? Where’s the cheap motel? The crappy, run-down bar? Hell, the bunker? This? This is….it’s nothing.” Dean gestures vaguely.

“Exactly.” Thunder booms in the darkness, the ground shakes beneath us.

“What’s going on?”

“The Nothing is growing stronger.”

“The Nothing? What’s that?” I ask as I step closer to stand between the broad shoulders of the towering Winchesters.

The creature inches forward slightly, revealing itself more in the light and alarming me with the lack of features on its face, “It’s the emptiness that’s left. It’s like a despair, destroying this world, and I have been trying to help it.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Dean asks, pleadingly, his face etched with crinkles of disbelief, “I’ve seen the shit they come up with. I’ve been there. In all of it. How I’ve not exploded from pie, I don’t know, but there’s like new shit they’re pulling us into - All. The. Time.”

“Yeah, I mean,” Sam pauses to huff a little bit, annoyed with the creature, “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve managed to graduate from law school, or tied girls to my bed to-”

He trails off at Dean’s double-chin look of ‘whatwasthatnow?’

“Point is,” he throws a hand up at Dean to tell him ‘not now’ before addressing the creature again, “there’s plenty there. What emptiness are you talking about?”

“Exactly!” G’Mork hisses, “How many times have you gone gooey from meeting your soulmate, or shown up drunk and bloody on a doorstep and comforted with sex and stitches? How many times have you hate-fucked after a fight or cried when your hunter/girlfriend died while trying to protect you and made you promise to let her go? How many times? It’s the tropes, the repetitiveness, the predictability of it all.”

We all glare at the monster, angry at it for its honesty.

“The writers - because they’ve begun to lose their creative energy, they’ve used the same tropes over and over. They’re losing their hopes, forgetting their dreams. And so, The Nothing grows stronger.”

The ground shakes and rocks crumble from the walls around us. “But why?” I cry out.

“Because people who have no hopes are easy to control, and whoever has control has the power!”

The paintings crack as another rumble shakes the ground, lightning streaks across the sky. We all lose our balance for a moment until the earth settles. I glare at the creature, anger burning through my veins.

“Who are you, really?”

It offers a sinister chuckle, then sighs as the Winchesters join in the glaring, “I am the servant of the power behind The Nothing. I am sent to kill the motivation of those who could destroy The Nothing. I lost one of them in the Inbox Full of Chain Messages, her name was Nash.”

“Nash?!” The three of us ask in unison. Sam and Dean continue with a synchronised, “Shit.” while I mumble out a “Thank Chuck.”

They both tilt their heads in a silent “Really?”

“What? If she’s not stuck in the Swamp of Eternal Writer’s Block, then we’re probably okay.”

“But...but - no. She’s not the hero, she is a pain in the-”

“Dean, she’s probably gonna find out about whatever you’re about to say, so speak carefully,” Sam reminds him.

Dean puckers his lips, biting back whatever he was about to blurt and drawing a deep breath through his nose. “Fine. Let’s deal with this douchebag and move on.”

“Douchebag? That’s the best you’ve got? No wonder no one likes you.”

“Wh - I - huh?” Dean splutters.

I narrow my eyes at the shadows around the beast. “Well, if this is the end, I’d rather go out fighting. Show yourself, stop hiding.”

“If you insist.” It groans as it crawls out from the darkness, the grotesque troll body illuminated and off-putting, but nothing quite prepares me for the stark contrast of the face, white and round - no mouth, no nose, only a pair of glasses to indicate where the actual face might be.

“Oh god, what the hell is that?” Sam turns his face away, covering his mouth and nose with his hand in disgust.

“It’s an Anon.” I answer flatly. “If we ignore it, it loses its power. Turn around.” I grab their shoulders and face them away. “Don’t talk about it, don’t respond to it, don’t look at it. Especially you, Dean, I know about that McDonald’s pie incident.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I can pretty much punch my way through anything.”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve never even seen Lore on this thing. How do you know?”

“I just know. I’ve seen things. Now shut up.”

It goes quicker than I could have imagined. The creature tries every trick possible to regain our attention, but the attempts grow weaker with each dismissal until finally, it crawls back into the hole it came out of, withered, weak, whimpering.

“See? Toldya.”

“Nice one. Okay, so now what?”

We search around us, still not seeing any way out, any change in the scenery, nothing else appears to assist us. Instead, the ground crumbles even more and part it of falls away into a void of black.

“Sonofabitch! I thought we beat it!”

“I don’t know!” I reply, panic making my voice high and squeaky.

The walls begin to shake apart, rocks and dust falling everywhere before getting sucked away, leaving nothing but blackness. Dean’s hands reach for Baby, her paint gleaming in sourceless light. “No, not Baby. Not my car!”

He holds the door as tight as he can, but there’s nothing he can do as the paint flakes away, the metal shifts and breaks apart beneath his palms, and it disappears. He turns to me, a single tear rolling down his cheek, eyes glassy. His shoulders slump in defeat while he stares at the smears of dirt left on his skin.

“I tried. I couldn’t hold onto her. The Nothing pulled her right out of my hands. I failed.” Sam and I stare blankly at him. “They look like big, good, strong hands, don’t they?”

“Uhh, yeah, they sure do, Dean.” I turn to Sam with wide eyes, silently begging him to help his brother get a grip.

“I’ll just sit here and let it take me away too.” He whines. At that, Sam finally steps in, hugging his brother and holding him upright.

It’s all gone, blackness surrounds us except for the mysterious light the somehow illuminates us. There’s nowhere to go, nothing to work with, it’s just…

“The Void!” I shout.

“Huh?” they return with the Winsync.

“Oh, maybe you don’t know about that yet. Okay, well, it’s just what it sounds like, but we can get out of it. Sam, leave Dean alone.”

“Why? He’s my brother!” He clenches his jaw, eyes narrowed at me with anger and suspicion.

“Because, we need to annoy our way out of here, and there’s not much more annoying than a man whining and upset like a spoiled brat. I mean,” I suck in a hiss through my teeth, preparing for the backlash, “It’s just a car.”

Sam jumps away to avoid the swing of Dean’s arms as he whirls around on me. “Just a? How dare you! That car is the most important object in the history of the universe…”

He goes on and on, animated by anger and pride, his voice going deeper and louder as he details every repair he lovingly made, about all the grease stains in his clothing, about how he discovered how much he enjoyed washing her in a tiny pair of cut-offs. “...I mean, I’m pretty damn sure I was conceived in that car. The errant bodily fluids soaked in there must be-”

He gets hushed by a figure appearing from nowhere, a finger over his plump mouth, “Do NOT finish that thought,” she orders. He squints at her, but obeys.

“And you aaarre?” I ask.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m a Plot Device. What’s more important, is who you are.”

“Huh?” Our trio of voices sound out.

“What’s it matter? We failed. Even without the Anon, The Nothing still took everything,” Dean points out.

“That’s not true,” her sugar-sweet voice croons. She pulls a laptop out from behind her back, the screen blaringly bright from the open blank document. “A single blank document. This is all that remains of my vast empire.”

“So now what? We gotta write some of that fanfiction crap?” Dean whines out, an uneasy look on his face.

“Sam? I know that look - I’ve never been able to figure out how your mind works, but I know when it works.”

I can practically hear the whirring of wheels in Sam’s mind, “Okay. That’s not so bad. I remember what we learned from those high schoolers. There’s ah, Destiel, Sam-no Sastiel? I don’t know which is right. Uh..”

“No. None of that will do. You’ve had the solution with you the whole time.” Her smug little smile makes us all shift.

“What does that mean?”

“You brought her here. The Reader Insert. She was with you when you slept in the Impala. She was with you when you hustled that game of pool, just as she’s been with you this whole time.”

“But thats. Not. Possible. If there was someone else with us, we’d know it.”

I smack them both on the shoulder as I clear my throat. “Hello? What am I, invisible?”

They both scrunch up their faces in confusion, looking like they’re not sure if I’m certifiable or some kind group hallucination.

“That. That doesn’t make any sense,” Sam argues, “If she’s been with us this whole time, then why did all this happen? Why’s it all falling apart?”

“The Anon wasn’t lying. The tropes,” she rolls her eyes to display her exasperation, “I just can’t. You know? It’s like ‘Oh no. Another vampire or witch.’ Been there, done that. Things gotta get amped up a bit. So, here we are. We must rebuild Fanfiction.”

“But how? I don’t know what you need me to do!” I cry, the flood of emotion and nerves causing my voice to waver.

“You don’t need to do anything.”

“Then what? Tell us!” Sam roars at the woman emitting an ethereal, soft-lens glow.

The rumble returns, the laptop screen goes black for a split second, “Oh no, you have to hurry!”

“What do we have to do?” Sam’s voice softens again, concern lacing the low gravel sound of it.

“You have to give her a name! You’ve already chosen it, you just need to call it out!”

“But she’s the Reader Insert! For the sake of inclusiveness, we don’t know her name!”

Dean shakes his head and slices a hand through the air, “You know what? NO! None of this is real. This is all fanfiction bullshit.”

The world shakes around us again.

“Please, Dean! Sam! DO it! Do what you dream! Call. Out. My. Name!” I plead through tears.

When the laptop screen glitches again, the Empress of the Plot Device begins to beg on my behalf as well, “Call out her name, it can be anything! Call her Mary if you need to.”

“Ew! No,” Dean looks as though he’s been burned.

“Chanticlellenora!”

“What? What the fuck kind of name is that?”

“I don’t know, I’m giving you options, maybe you wanted something unique?”

Even though we’re surrounded by a void, it seems to be growing smaller around us, making panic rush through us all.

“Come on guys! Just say a fucking name!”

They turn to each other, giving the look I recognize at the “silent Winchester conversation” and a sense of relief eases my muscles. It’s clear by the look of determination they both wear as they turn to me.

“We got this.” Sam assures.

“Hell yes.” Dean agrees, a smirk picking up the corner of his mouth before he parts his lips to speak again.

“Yyuuuhhhnnnnuuhhhh.” He groans slowly, eyes wide.

“Dean! What the hell?” Sam scolds. “That’s not what we agreed on.” He pushes him out of the way.

“Yuhhnuhh.” He blurts, his shoulders twitching with shock at himself.

The Empress and I stare at them, unimpressed. “Seriously guys? You’re just vocalizing the y slash n thing.”

“Yuh-” Sam stops himself, “Look, I don’t think we can help it.”

“Try something else. Let’s loophole this.” I try to encourage them.

Sam and Dean confer, I hear them mumble places like Austin and Paris, then other spots like Brooklyn and India until they nod in agreement, Dean steps forward again.

“We got it.” He claps his hands together then opens them, palms up for the delivery. “Yyyyyyeeuhnuh.”

He rubs at his throat with a look on his face as though it betrayed him. “Why could we say it to each other, but not to her?”

“That’s because it’s not related to a place.”

“So no geographical names, I guess.”

Sam starts to call out random words Dean suggests that could pass as names - Lily, Sandy, Chandelier.

“Try Arrow!” Dean shouts.

The Empress and I do our best Winsync impression, sharing a stare of confusion. Sam tries every suggestion, but continues to spew out the same sound, just with different intonations.

“This isn’t working! What else can we do?”

I breathe out a heavy sigh, closing my eyes as I prepare myself for what I’m about to say. “You guys aren’t gonna like it.”

“Oh no. Nope nonono no.”

“But I think we should-”

“Don’t bring her into this,” Dean warns.

“-try to summon Nash.” I finish despite his warning. We end up caught in a staring contest as we will each other to give in. I suck in a breath, ready to call her, “Na-”

“Wait!” Sam interrupts.

“What now, Sam? We don’t have time for you to pore over the Lore!”

He looks to Plot Device, “What if we don’t give her a name?”

“You mean,” she gulps, “Not write it in second person?”

“Yeah,” he jumps at her like an excited puppy, “Exactly! We could give her a nickname or just be general when calling her name. It can be glossed over, can’t it?”

Plot Device scrunches her face in thought, bringing a perfectly manicured nail to tap on her lips as she does so. “I guess that could work. Is that what you wish?” She looks at me.

“Will fanfiction survive? Can it be rebuilt?”

“It can be anything you wish, though you still lack a name, you are without limits.”

“My limit does not exist,” I mumble. “That’s grool.”

“So grool,” she smiles.The ground stops shaking, the darkness begins to lighten, the gleaming paint of Baby shines in the distance and Dean swoons in relief. “Now, off with you. Go on and create new adventures. Subvert those tropes, surprise me. Surprise us all!” She waves us away like a parade float queen.

“We will,” we assure her, and turn to walk to the Impala, Dean drapes his arm over me. “Well, where do we go from here?”

“The only bar in town?” Sam suggests.

“That sounds about right. But after that...we’re changing things up.”

Dean squeezes my shoulder, “You got it. Now about that nickname, a lot of people seem to like it when I call them ‘Swee-’” I silence him with a slap to the face.

“I will call Nash, you know better.”

“Message received.” He lowers his head as he heads to open the creaky driver’s side door. “Is Yuhnnuh really that bad? It almost works…”

I death glare him. “Was the last time not enough for you? Who knows what else she could come up with. Oh, maybe you’ll willingly trade Baby for a minivan, or, no I got it, a Fiat. I should make notes…”

Random narrator that suddenly appears: The reader made many other requests and had many other amazing adventures before finally returning to the ordinary world. But that’s...another story.

Tags:

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