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littlemessyjessi · 3 years ago

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Mun Joo: In Depth Profile: BTS 8th Member Series “Dreamy”

BTS Eight Member Character Profile: Pastel "Cute" Version

This will go along with imagines, headcanons and fake social media posts. I have a more punk alt version of this type of thing with a completely different character and story. Her name is Mae Jae and it is a Jimin pairing story. But I had someone message me about doing something with a kawaii theme. So here we go! Btw if you want to read Jae’s story, just scroll to the bottom. The BTS masterlist is always linked there! There you will find the link for Jae’s mini masterlist!

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Name: Mun Joo

Meaning: Mun means Moon and Joo means Gem. So in theory, Gem Moon.

Nicknames: JooJoo, Juju Bean, Princess, Treasure, Gem, Gemstone, Sometimes Princess Moon Gem , Pipsqueak , Lil Nugget, Tiny, Lil Bit, various other names used to poke fun of her height.

Other nicknames/terms of endearment that are more common for lots of people: Babydoll, Doll, Unnie and also Noona (from a lot of the fans who are younger than her), Dongsaeng (From older fans sometimes when referring to her)

BT21 character: A little pink piglet named Pipsqueak.

Some statistics:

Age: 27

Date of Birth: November 14, 1993

Sign: Scorpio

Born in: Seorae Village, Seoul, South Korea Also, known as Korea's Little France, Seorae Village

Height and general body idea: 4'9"-4'11" (Around 124 cm) making her the shortest member of the group . Joo is a very small person in general. Quite petite. She often jokes that she has the figure of a nine year boy. She is flat as a board. President of the itty bitty titty committee. She used to be incredibly insecure about it but she came to love her body. However, she do actually have some booty on that frame of hers. Most of that comes from the rigorous dance routines that is part of her job. She got criticized for being so small, in every sense of the word. The whole 'eat a cheeseburger' thing really caused some major issues for her. Beauty standards are shit and K Beauty standards, thin is in... but only the right kind of thin. Same thing goes for when 'thicc is sexy but only when it's the right kind of thicc.' It's all bullshit honestly. You're perfect the way you are, no ifs, ands or buts.

Anyway, moving on.

Hair: Originally black but it has changed a lot as is common in Kpop. She tends to keep it dark now though as she discovered it is much healthier for it. She does love the instant satisfaction of a wig though. Her signature hair style is space buns.

Eyes: Very dark but she wears colored contacts sometimes which again is common in Kpop . She does have glasses that she wears whenever she's not required to wear contacts for work. Because Joo is blind as a fucking bat. Good god.... not even sure she should be allowed to navigate by herself without her glasses. She was given custom glittery ones for Christmas. She cried.

Marks/Defining features: Probably her most defining feature are her lips. She and Jimin definitely fall into the Bratz Doll lips category. She also has very chubby cheeks and has been compared to a chipmunk or hamster on more than one occasion.

Tattoos/Piercings: Joo doesn't have any tattoos at the moment though she is interested in them and would like one. She loves piercings though and has stacked ear piercings and a nose piercing. She went rogue and got a tongue piercing but unfortunately it did blow up in her face when her body rejected it and her tongue swelled. She had to let that dream die.... for now. To be fair, her friend had done it and she hadn't actually been to a professional piercer.

There is no face claim for her but rather a collage of inspiration pictures. Feel free to use your imagination, loves.

Family:

Mother- Mun Ahnjong *Ahnjong means tranquil Her mother owns a a small bakery in Seoul and is a very talented pastry chef. The bakery is called Batter Up and it has a baseball theme inside because Ahnjong is a massive baseball fan as much as she is one of baking. There is baseball memorabilia everywhere.

Sister- Mun Cho-Hee who is two years younger than her. *Cho-Hee means beautiful joy Her sister is a teacher.

Stepfather- Mun Hye *Hye means wisdom He is a carpenter.

*Her mother relocated the girls to Seorae Village not long after Cho-Hee was born. This was after some rather toxic behavior on their birth father's part. She later met Hye and they married after a while. Hye also officially adopted the girls.

Languages: Korean, obviously. English and French which she learned during her growing up in Seorae Village. Limited Russian and Arabic just enough for a bit of a song. This will be explained further down. Also, broken Japanese which she truthfully only learned from watching countless hours of Japanese anime. She could probably communicate enough to get her point across but it would be chaotic and terrible.

Education:

The French School of Seoul where she spent most of all her schooling

College - Global Cyber University

Degrees : Entertainment and Media. Literature and Language.

Voice Claims/Inspirations: She has a nice range but generally has a high, sweet tone to her voice. Tae's voice is so deep and her's so high. So it was that whole duality that really created excitement. She does have a nice range though, as does Tae, and so she can produce lower notes and has worked to improve it over the years.

There is no one voice claim but rather a mixture of inspiration. There will be song titles through this whole series. Some actual songs that exist. Other just titles for songs that don't exist.

Voice Claim Inspirations:

Anne Marie, Ava Max, Ariana Grande, Zara Larsson, Georgia Merry, Meghan Trainor, Amanda Seyfried, Salem Ilese, Sia, Christina Perri

Discovery story:

She auditioned and competed for Korea Sings (a south Korean singing contest). It was her performance of "Once Upon A December" from the movie Anastasia that really got her noticed. She played into her strengths by singing it in five different languages: Korean, French, English, Russian and Arabic and played piano.

* Bang Si-hyuk (Mr. Hitman Bang himself) happened to be watching the program during her performance. He was very impressed and intrigued and so the company reached out to her to contact her about an audition.

So vaguely similiar in how Jungkook was discovered by audtioning for Superstar K.

She auditioned when she was fifteen and began the training process while she was still attending school.

She trained for a year with the idea that she would either go solo or be with a girl group but an opportunity became available and she eventually began training along since several others, including those who would later go on to become BTS.

She debuted as an official member on June 13, 2013 with everyone else.

There was a lot of criticism in the beginning and truthfully she still deals with her fair share.

There was a lot of talk of her just being the 'token girl' in the group and even for quite a long time accusations of her sleeping with all of them.

Her appearance was also visciously torn apart constantly. Too small, too thin, not the right kind of thin, got called fat because of her chubby cheeks, not sexy enough, too childlike, the list goes on and on.

She quickly reached a point where she wanted to quit so many times. And she almost did when she got attacked once because a crazy saesang accused her of sleeping with Jungkook. Regardless of the fact, that he was like her brother and also very much underage at this point. This incident is what sparked the hashtag "Bunnyguard". It is rare that JK ever leaves her side when they are in public as a group now. He is like her personal body guard and he will glare into anyone's soul who even gets close to her.

They're all very protective of her honestly and Yoongi is like the glaring demon just a few paces behind her but truthfully it scared the shit out of Jungkook to think something could've gone wrong so quickly. So he just sticks by her because it gives him some sense of peace to know that if it did happen again, at least he'd be right there.

Anyway, moving on.

Other Musical Credits:

She has produced some solo content in the form of two albums/mixtapes.

(For the songs that are actual songs I will put it in parenthesis what they are.)

The first one, released in 2015- The "Wanderlust" Album

Album art:

Tracks include:

⦁ Tiger Lily ft. Kim Taehyung ⦁ Wanderlust ⦁ Crown of Daisies ⦁ Whisper ft. Kim Seokjin ⦁ Like I'm Gonna Lose You (this is the Meghan Trainor / John Legend Song) ft. Jeon Jungkook ⦁ Perfect To Me (by Anne Marie) ⦁ Pretty Girl ( by Maggie Lindemann) ⦁ Beautiful (by Anne Marie) ⦁ Ride Away With Me Ft. J-Hope

Her second solo album was released in 2019- The "Skinship" Album

Album art:

Tracks Include:

⦁ Skinship ⦁ Sweater Paws ⦁ Pouty Lips ⦁ Hot Chocolate ft. Kim Taehyung ⦁ Let Me ⦁ Just Hold Me ft. Min Yoongi ⦁ Puppy Dog Eyes ft. Park Jimin ⦁ Fish in the Sea ⦁ I Like You So Much, You'll Know It (By Ysabelle Cuevas) ⦁ Death Bed (by Powfu) ft. Kim Namjoon ⦁ Lakeside ft. Kim Seokjin

The first album was more of her introducing her solo content into the world.

There is some happy stuff on there, some self love stuff, some stuff about how it was to be fresh and new into the entertainment industry. That album was a 'stars in your eyes' kind of album.

The second album, she's older. She's lived more, experienced more. She's also had some heartbreak in her life at this point but she's also fallen in love. There are several songs on there inspired by one person who she's hopeless for but she's terrified to tell him.

Other Singing Credits:

"Ultraluminary" for the movie Over the Moon (By Phillipa Soo)

"Beauty and the Beast" for the live action version of the movie ft. Kim Taehyung (By Ariana Grande and John Legend) Both English and Korean version.

*There are also other various writer and producer credits.

Acting Credits: Obviously music video or BTS related project that requires it.

Additionally, more than willing to be an extra for any of the guys solo stuff in music videos.

Most notably is her silent extra role in Yoongi's "Daechwita" where she had a small appearance as a pouty woman in the background trying to smack someone with a piece of bread.

Voice Acting:

"Zootopia"- Unnamed kitten character singing to herself in the background of a scene between Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps

"Barbie Starlight Adventure" - Characters Sheena and Kareena

"My Little Pony" Series- Spike the dragon's long lost cousin Gemma (just one episode)

"Ever After High"- Kitty Cheshire

Live Action Acting:

Cameo in Disney Descendants as the daughter of the Witch in Hansel and Gretel

Author Credits:

She has a few books published at this point in her life. They are somewhat small works but she is quite proud of them all the same.

"Ukiyo" *which means living in the moment, detached from the bothers of life

This is an interactive coloring book. Each page includes an original drawing from her in black and white so that you can color it as you see fit. On the opposite page each drawing has a little message along with it.

This comes from her love *ahem* obsession with coloring books.

"Meraki" *which means to do something with soul, creativity, or love -- when you put "something of yourself" into what you're doing, whatever it may be

This book is somewhat of a pep talk book. It features words of wisdom in the form of her favorite quotes, things her family told her as a kid, words from management, inspiring song lyrics and even talks with other members.

"Eunoia" *which means beautiful thinking, a well mind

This book was probably the hardest for her to put out and share with the world because she's very candid in it about her struggles with anxiety and depression. In this book, she kind of bares all in a lot of ways talking about real life experiences. However, she also includes things like playlists that put her in a better mood, recipes that make her happy, activities that boost her seratonin, ways that she copes. It's sort of a : Hey, I know that this stuff kinda sucks but you're not alone. I feel it too and these are some things that help me. So I hope they help you do. Which is exactly what she said when she was interviewed about it.

"Quaintrelle" *which means a woman who emphasizes a life of passion expressed through personal style, leisurely pastimes, charm, and cultivation of life's pleasures

This is a book cowritten with her mother and sister. Each of them has a chapter in the book under the title of their name. It includes what that word means to them and how they try to live their life by it.

She is extremely proud of the book and cries whenever someone asks her about it, lol.

"Panda and Piglet" This is a children's book about a mother pig who moves her two piglets to a new village after they've been through something awful and they meet their neighbor, Mr. Panda.

It's a love story about how Mr. Panda and Mama Pig fall in love but it is told through the eyes of the little piglet named Diamond.

It's less of a story between Mama Pig and Mr. Panda and more about how Mr. Panda steps into the lives of the three of them and becomes someone they can trust and depend on. It shows him comforting Diamond and showing her how to do things like a father would and eventually in the story we see how Mr. Panda asks Mama Pig to be his wife. But also how he 'proposes' to Diamond and her baby sister, Quartz, by asking them if they would accept him into their family.

It's a family story, a father daughter story. A story about chosen love which honestly is some of the best kind.

It features Joo's original artwork which is quite colorful and kawaii with heavy focus on exaggerated jewels and gems through out the story as a nod to her name.

Joo gave him the first draft on father's day and it was published on his birthday.

She tries to read it at children's libraries when she can... but she inevitably cries every time. She's very emotional about it, lol.

The book did very well and has sold many copies. It now has it's own set of plushies to go along with the characters. Joo donates a bunch of copies to the school her sister works at every year and signs them all.

Some of Joo's likes and Dislikes:

Likes:

- She is addicted to strawberry milk. While Kookie has banana milk, she has strawberry. It's a thing that fans love to comment amount. There are often posts of strawberry and banana items together with the hashtag #jookie #strawnana #gemkook

- She has a major sweet tooth. Loves anything sweet. She's not excessively picky anyway. She'll eat just about anything. Unless it's brussel sprouts. She'd rather die. But she loves sweets.

There are many fan videos along the lines of.

"Mun Joo's sweet tooth for her Kookie"

"Mun Joo's sweet tooth for her Suga"

She can not be trusted to do the grocery shopping alone. She will only buy snacks.

- She has a very kawaii aesthetic. She loves anything pastel and cute. And loves a good sparkly moment. She also feels the compulsive need to coo at anything that is even remotely adorable. Hence why she does it to Yoongi and he gives her a death stare before he eventually cracks because he's soft for her. (like he is for all for them truthfully) Jimin, however, loves it.

-She loves craft stuff. Anything that she can make cute and glittery. Definitely keeps a scrapbook. Likes to make keychains with pictures and glitter in them. - She loves video games and will play for hours on end if left unchecked. She has the sweetest most dreamy pastel gaming set up and gets scolded often for buying cute gaming stuff when what she has is perfectly fine

- She loves shopping. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it's cute. It can be the Dollar Tree or it can be Gucci. Tae is usually her favorite shopping buddy because they make a day out of it. She also feels very safe with Tae and knows she won't be bothered or hit on when he is with her because the two of them are so cuddly and always have been. And also, let's be real while TaeTae is a precious puppy, Kim Taehyung can be intimidating as fuck.

- She is extremely forgetful. Even to the point of forgetting that she put it in her notes on her phone. She is definitely part of the Planner Group. She is someone who needs to write it down. If she doesn't, it might as well have went in one ear and out the other. Forgets that her glasses are on her head or her pen is stuck in her space bun. Calls a member to ask if they've seen her phone... while she's literally using it to call them. House keys are a joke.

- She is very cold natured and also absolutely hates being this way. She usually has something fluffy and cozy near her at all times to keep her warm. Whether this is a hoodie, or a faux fur blanket or a Jimin to hold her when she's freezing to death. - She loves hygiene, beauty and skincare to a point that it's almost a little concerning. She likes makeup and nails too but she often feels like she ruins it before she can even really enjoy it. Still has a drawer full of lip gloss and lip balm and way too many highlighters to even be considered healthy. Gets it on everything. Not sorry about it at all. -Only paints her nails either silver, gold or a glittery white because she claims that it goes with everything. Same for toes, lol. In reality, it's just b/c she likes how it sparkles. - she loves arcade games and if not supervised she will spend an unspeakable about of time playing with the claw machine because 'Just a little longer, Hobi. I need that little octopus. He needs to come home with me."

- She is very affectionate. Skinship is a big thing with her. She's a cuddle person. Touch is very much her love language. - She does have tiny feet and hands just due to her being very small in general. She used to hate this when she was a teenager because no one took her seriously. But then she discovered that she could buy name brand shoes in the kid sizes for half price and it was a game changer. - She likes fitness but hates the gym. Jungkook tries to get her to go with him and she will but only for him. She'd much prefer to roller skate or something like that. - She loves vintage pastel books. It's one of her favorite activities to hunt down hidden treasures. She loves the idea of being able to pass them on to someone in the future. Whether that's a child of her own, a neice/nephew or a friend's child, that part isn't relevant. - She loves plushies and she has a collection. It's honestly a problem. "But hyung, I need it. Look at her all alone on that shelf. We can't just leave her, Yoongi. That's nonsense. Cruel nonsense and you should be ashamed for ever even thinking of abandoning her. For shame." - She loves collecting magical girl items. Big sailor moon fan - Also loves Jigglypuff. If she sees something Jigglypuff, she can't let it go. "You have that one in your room." "No I dont! This one is different!" "It's literally exactly the same." "How dare you, Jungkook?! How dare you!" -She's also very much into Care Bears, Strawberry Shortcake, Hello Kitty and My Little Pony. Basically, she just loves cute stuff. - She's not great at cooking but she's a decent baker. Give credit to her Mama for that. She doesn't get to see her family a lot just due to her job but she absolute adores being able to bake cookies with her mother when she can. Sometimes they do it over video call when she's really missing her -Is actually a really good pitcher (baseball)with a strong, fast pitch. Her mother loves baseball. There's no way she didn't have some type of skill in that area. She played softball as a kid but it was never really her thing so she quit by the time she was a teenager. -Jimin's pinky. There are many comp videos that literally just consist of her grabbing his hand and sticking it in her pocket. - really loves the Disney character Stich from Lilo and Stitch. Can do the Stitch voice and that's how her and her adoptive father say I love you to one another - it makes her cry

Dislikes:

- she hates brussel sprouts . She thinks it was grown in the gardens of hell. - she strongly dislikes boring ways to work out. She tells Jungkook that the treadmill was created to make her cry - She hates crying but she can't help it because she's sensitive - is actually a crybaby - Won't tolerate anyone being a bully. She just about loses her mind. -especially if someone says something rude to one of the guys - tiny dragon on the loose - She's not a huge fan of heights as she claims she was made this close to the ground for a reason. She has a love/hate relationship rollercoasters because of this. - When Hobi won't share her lollipop with her, lol. "Oh, you can't share with me now? Do I have cooties, Hoseok? Am I not good enough for you?" "I am not licking that." "Joonie, Hobi doesn't love me!" "Not enough to share a sucker with you. You and Jimin are so weird!" - So offended -When Jin won't let her touch his feeiiissss "Not my face." "But Jinnie..." "Quit whining and listen to your hyung." "I'm telling Namjoonie." -Secretly Jin loves when she touches his face and holds his jaw, stroking her thumbs over his cheeks *he's weak for her* But he teases her anyway because he thinks it's cute when she pouts. All chubby cheeks and pouts and furrowed eyebrows over angry little eyes. Like a tiny adorably angry hamster or something. - When Yoongi won't let her cuddle him "Come on, Lil Meow Meow" "Get out." "Yoongi!" "I'm gonna throw something at you." "You would never!" *throws a pillow at her but it never even connects* "Jin!!!" Literally, five seconds later you will find him with his arm around her because he can't actually deny her anything for very long. - When Taehyung won't let her get up to pee when they fall asleep at night "Tae, I have to pee. Let go." *Tae snuggles deeper, crushing her into the mattress.* "Tae, I'm gonna pee all over you." "Do it." "Ewwwwww!!!!!!!" - When Namjoon scolds her, which to be fair, isn't often. "I'm sorry, Joonie.." *cue long suffering sigh from Namjoon before he pulls her into his arms and holds the sensitive little bean. - She's older than him but Joo is honestly like Joon's tiny baby sister. - when Jimin ignores her as a prank You would think she was dying. She tries to give it back to him but she cracks and clings to his leg. Cue Jimin trying to walk around with her stuck to his leg like a koala bear. "I'm sorry, Jiminie. I don't know what I did but I'm sorry. Please love me again." - he cracks because he can't continue when she's looking like that -When Jungkook pushes himself too hard and then refuses to let her baby him "Get off. I'm fine." "Listen to your noona." "Well my noona is almost a foot shorter than me so kinda hard to take you seriously." "I have never been more offended in my life and just for that, you will watch Sailor Moon with me for rest of the night and let me put butterfly clips in your hair." "No the fuck -" "Yoongi!!! Jungkook is being mean to me and he said he doesn't love me anymore!" "You are such a fucking brat." - Yoongi acts tough but he'll murder anyone who upsets her. He will also glare at anyone else until they do what she wants. *she kinda spoiled AF - this is a double edged sword when it comes down to Joo and Koo because we all know how soft Yoongi is for Kookie. So he's like having an internal panic attack and they're both looking at him with puppy eyes. Finally, he just makes them hug it out because there's no way he's choosing. Fuck. that. - she doesn't like cigarettes but she has tried vaping because she heard the nicotine could help with the nerves. -however she liked the lecture she got from Namjoon even less so she just let it go and found other ways of dealing with it. - she absolutely hates how low her alcohol tolerance is. One or two drinks and she's fucked to the point that she can't even enjoy herself. She just orders sugary non alcoholic drinks with Tae now and enjoys watching everyone else turn into fools while she rides her sugar high -and also the evil bliss that comes the next morning when she has no hangover and everyone else (except Tae) is miserable

Ships and Relationships with the Members:

Jin Shipnames: Seokjoo, Seokgem, JinJoo

Ok, so it's kinda half and half with the fandom. Part of the time, they're shipped as a bro/sis bond. The other is very romantic.

She can annoy the ever living hell out of him sometimes but he'd do anything for her. He lets her get away with a lot more than most. He definitely gives her piggy back rides.

Fan videos are usually along the lines of.

"Jin giving Joo piggy back rides for 8 minutes straight."

"Jin feeding tiny chubby hamster for 10 minutes."

Sidenote: Joo ends up crashing EatJin a lot because she can smell the food and Jin can't tell her and her cute hamster cheeks no. Also, he loves the way she eats, so there's that.

"Princess Joo convincing her Jin-hyung to let her do anything."

However, that percent of people who ship them romantically usually fall into the Daddy Dom category. Joo saw a video once and she was tramautized by the edit.

It wasn't that she was upset by the pairing because , ahem, not so much of a secret that Joo literally thinks Jin is Prince Charming and she'd jump at the chance to be with him.

It was just the shocking way the video was edited. It was raunchy as hell and she wasn't expecting it.

The video was something like "Daddy Jin and Babygirl Joo moments 18+ edition"

She never expected that to be what it was.

She had never felt so assaulted by videos of Jin's hip thrusts before in her life.

She had some mixed feelings about it to be honest and didn't touch her computer for like three days after that.

Yoongi Ship names: Joongi, SugaGem, MinMun This is kind of half and half as far as what the fans ship. Some of them seems to really play into this whole opposites attract thing. Tsundere like if you will for Yoongi.

The other half is just the fandom being like:

"Baby Joo running to Yoongi every time she's scared"

Which is accurate. If something frightens her, the first response she has is to locate Yoongi and cling to him.

"SugaGem: A collection of Yoongi unable to say no to his hyperactive piglet"

"Sugar being soft for JuJu Bean for fifteen minutes straight"

It's honestly precious.

JHope: Ship Names: JooHope, Jooseok, GemHope

Again, this is kind of half and half.

One the one hand, you have fans who are hardcore, 'JooHope is real and if you don't believe it, you're stupid'

Many a compiliation video of Hobi's hip thrusts and Joo's iconic shocked face when she gets surprised.

And then the other half is just so soft.

Videos like:

"Hobi and Joo being sunshine babies for 6 minutes"

"Joo dying over Hobi for 9 minutes"

"GemHope Moments that make you want to cry from happiness"

"JooHope pamper legends appreciation"

"Jooseok: A compiliation of Joo and Hobi skateboarding and rollerskating for 12 minutes"

"GemHope making friendship bracelets in tiny"

It's honestly very wholesome and the fandom is extremely well fed.

Namjoon Ship Names: NamJoo, NamGem, RGem, Gemjoon, Joojoon, RMGEM

This is like 3/4 romantic with like a fourth being platonic family for most of the fandom.

The part that views them as family is honestly so sweet.

Videos like:

"Namjoon looking after Baby Joo"

"RM looking at Baby Gem when she's not looking"

"NamGem sibling goals"

But the other half of the fandom. Or should I say 3/4 actually. Namjesus, get the hobi water.

Because while part of them are soft with their-

"NamJoo being the sweetest couple ever for four minutes"

"RM protecting his little lady at all costs"

"Joo giving Namjoon heart eyes for eight minutes straight"

... the other half of them... good god.

For example:

"NamGem: Joon's deep rap and Joo's whistle notes... we see you NamGem."

"RGem: RGem having sexual tension for 7 minutes straight"

"RMGEM: Gemjoon making everyone else uncomfortable with their chemistry for 10 minutes"

It's editing though because there is nothing there but love, friendship and a brother sister bond between Joon and Joo.

Joo does stare at Joon with stars in her eyes but it's because she really looks up to him and is wildly fascinated at how elegantly he handles things all the time when she knows first hand how stressful their life is.

Also, sidenote... Joo is actually a little and Joon is very much a Daddy. And while it's not romantic between them, just him being around does put her at ease. He's very good with her like that. He's also the only one who knows this about her and is very understanding about the whole thing. Yoongi knows but he hasn't told her. Jimin feels like he knows but again, he won't tell her because he feels like it'll upset her. Tae gets a vibe but he's not totally sure if it's anything or if that's just Joo.

Taehyung: Ship Names: TaeJoo, Joohyung, TaeGem, DualityDuo

This ship is mostly platonic/family/BFF because it's always been very obvious that that was all that it was.

There is a small portion of the fandom that secretly wants them to date because they are so close, they cuddle all the time.

It's also a cute pairing with Tae being all tall and lanky and deep voice and Joo being little and cuddly and high voice. It's a juxtaposition and it's cute.

But most of the fandom really ships them as the hyper besties.

Videos like:

"TaeJoo being hyper AF for six minutes"

"TaeGem being cuties"

"TaeJoo cuddling for 9 minutes"

"TaeGem going shopping"

It's honestly very sweet. Very wholesome and pretty cute.

Jimin Ship Names: Gemmin, Joomin, JimGem

Ok, so a lot of the fandom ships these two together to be honest.

There was this whole Tiny King and Queen vibe going around for a while but it eventually tapered off because it became apparent that it was making Jimin feel self conscious about his height.

However, Joo is quite tiny, tiny hands, tiny feet, shit, she's just a smol little person.

And there are so many videos like:

"Gemmin being the most iconic adorable little couple in the world for five minutes straight"

"JimGem being our tiny, precious babies in love for 9 minutes"

"Joomin being clingy AF with each other for 3 minutes"

But then... get the hobi water again.

There are saucy edits where you see the different sides of each of them.

There are a lot 'sexual chemistry' videos and that kind of thing.

But honestly, again, it couldn't be more platonic. There was a brief period in the beginning where Jimin did have a crush on her but she brother zoned him hard.

That wasn't unique to him though. They all got brother zoned. She acknowledges that they're all very handsome fellas but that they are family. Like brothers. Well, except for Jin. Joo was just doing her best not to hyperventilate around him because jesus christ, how could someone be that cute?

And there was a huge stir when there was that whole talk about Jimin's ideal type would be someone smaller than him and very into the whole pastel aesthetic. Joo just happened to fit that bill and people went wild. But it's very much not like that.

Jungkook: Jookie, JooKook, Jungjoo, Gemkook, JungGem, Joo and Koo

So this can go a couple of ways. Even though Joo is actually among the oldest members in the group after Jin and Yoongi, she is often linked with the maknaes. This is no doubt just due to her small stature and youthful appearance, only enhanced by her love of pastels and anything cute.

There are a lot of things like:

"Baby Bunny and Baby Piglet being cute."

"Hyungs unable to say no to Kookie and JuJu Bean for six minutes straight"

"Jookie squabbling like children for 7 minutes"

But it's mostly stuff like:

"GemKook endlessly snacking"

"JungGem stealing each other's food"

"Hyungs spoiling Gemkook for 10 minutes"

It's honestly pretty sweet most of the time.

As well as the crack head videos like:

"Jookie: Milk Friends: A Strawnana Saga"

"Jookie: Baby Piglet and Baby Bunny being competitive over a bowl of noodles"

"Jookie: Joo and Koo chasing each other around stage"

"Jookie: Joo's flying hugs to Jungkook"

#jookie is the hashtag often used for when they are being absolute crackheads.

This crackhead energy was only made worse by the fact that for the longest time those two were roomates. So imagine that chaos. They still try and room together if the members are supposed to be paired up for whatever reason. They usually get separated, lol. And also sneak back to one another.

Which, to be fair, is quite often.

Now, this is not to say at all that their relationships with each other have always been perfect. Because they haven't. They still aren't. Shit, they're human and people have arguments and disaggreements.

That's normal.

But that's just a brief glimpse into it and also an in depth profile for Joo.

I'm very excited to release this series!

I already have one for Mae Jae in the Untamed series but Joo and Jae couldn't be more different, lol. Also... I'm exciting for the new pairing! Yas!

Hey loves!

I love you and I would love to know your thoughts, my loves!

If you’re interested in any of my other BTS works you can find the masterlist HERE

Love,

Mama Kennysaurus

—–————————-@thickemadame@frankie2902@pleasantdreamqueen @becrazy–beyou@littledeadrottinghood @blackirisposts@therealmrshale @woodworthti666@thegreatirene@fanfictionandjunk@angelus320@alanlizzingtonshore@buriednurbckyrd@disneymarina@tubbypeachwriting@sullybot @georgiagrl1990 @whenallsaidanddone@mischiefnevermanaged94 @inumorph@congurl@centerhabit@bubblymusiclover13@qtmeryr@thisismysecrethappyplace@tnupsweetpie@alisoncdariel@hannahloveslife@wormyboi@blackirisposts@maggyme13@amethyst09@ibenkastberg@fanfics1717 @mrscasnovak@thickemadame @babygirl-barnes@theladyofmasks @aengsty@kalliravenne@witchygagirl@gruffle1@writtenbywolfie@kribbydahhufflepuff@leah-halliwell92@thelastwildangel@silent-browser@simplymagical@simplymagicalwritings@lilacflicker@malulucifer@minxyvixen@moncheriemoony@queenlexusloverofbts@criminalyetminimal@plus-size-reader@owenniasstars @adventuresofnight@tuutifruuti@ tb-ctn@halobaby@tacobacoyeet@thickemadame@glassesandthunderthighs@accioxtina@sunnyoongles@valiantobservationkitty@poopypantsmc@memissbee@teenagesublimefan@lyn-g@milkshakelol@rubyroscoe1@abbyvonschweetz@1975weasley@lanoreeblake@rosaline-black@abbott27@aldu-p@sxturn-stars@oliviashea05@emilianamason@reallykosborne@dracosbabymama@ main-feetoffthetablefloatyflowersbumpinbillowinboobieskyralupinfloatyflowersselfhatedmika@thickemadame hermione-grangers-wifezievyimas@gigit712101killerokaylovirbutterfly-o-liesclementines-x@streets-in-paradisestitchattacksofmiceandnita03

dreadwolfxoxo pottahishotasf

glassesandthunderthighs

potter-head-phanatic

——- Also, just a reminder that I am open for commissions! Additionally, the only tag list I have is my permanent tag list but if you ever want to be added all you have to do is just go to the ask box and request to be added! It’s that simple and you’re in! I love you all!

#bts #bts 8th member #bts 8th member ff #bts 8th member imagine #bts 8th member series #bts 8th member series dreamy #dreamy series #mun joo #kim seokjin #kim seokjin x mun joo

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radabadabing-bing · 3 years ago

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Ruling Me

You ever get an idea, and then you realize how good that idea is? I dunno what overcame me, but I remembered an idea I had way back when I started the blog. Didn’t have a single thing written for it, but I sat down and crunched it out in like two or three sessions. However, couldn’t think of a title, so just slapped on a slightly fitting mediocre one haha

Anyways, that particular idea was that Michalis rubbed Niles the wrong way, and honestly you should know what comes next if you are following this blog. It also let me write dialogue for this which I love to do, I’m pretty pleased overrall with how it turned out. Enjoy!

Niles and Michalis were a little less than acquaintances. They were often deployed at the same time, sure, but to imply they were anything more than occasional coworkers was...generous. Neither had a personality that would particularly jell with the other, nor backgrounds that befitted such a thing. It was more or less a strict work relationship. So why Niles felt a need to approach him on that particular day was something of a mystery. Maybe it was just the convenience of the location they had passed by.

Niles had begun with a particularly tame conversation starter, especially by his standards. He had been loitering in a hall as Michalis passed by. “Well well, King Michalis himself. Nice to see you about-”

“Speak when spoken to, cur.” Michalis didn’t even let him finish, before turning to him with a disgusted look. He glared at the archer with a rather unwarranted disdain.

Somewhat flabbergasted, Niles could only say back- “Excuse me?”

“Did I stutter?” Michalis hissed. “I have no need to talk to you. I can barely tolerate your presence on the battlefield. Know your place.” He pointed a gloved finger at Niles, malice exuding from his continued grimace. “I can’t stand the sight of you. Begone.”

When Niles continued to sit where he had been at the first place, surprise still evident on his face, Michalis took his leave first. Storming down the hall, in his dark cloak. Niles was no stranger to such angers, but usually it took him actually doing something first. Sure, there were some haughty nobles in Nohr who would likely see him in the exact same light, but he wasn’t fighting alongside those nobles. Surely he was warranted a chance, a modicum of respect?

And that got under Niles skin. Just a bit.

Now there were perhaps less extreme methods of annoying Michalis he could’ve gotten to, such as planting himself in hallways that the King of Macedon would certainly pass through. Not to mention, Michalis couldn’t exactly just attack Niles outright- The Summoner would have something to say about that. But just annoying Michalis also seemed a tad...Too gradual. After all, he had delved into verbal assault quite quickly. So maybe Niles could also jump to an extreme as well.

It had been three days since that incident. Michalis was walking alone as always. His face stern, like he had a good reason to be grumpy in an empty hallway. Though he would soon not be so alone, as someone grabbed his long red hair. He whipped around to see who it was, only spotting Niles’s face for a moment- Until an odd scent and sensation overcame him. It all went dark.

He awoke in a much different location. Brief sunlight was all that illuminated the room, as Michalis’s eyes darted around. They quickly settled on a particularly smug man, leaning against the wall. “Good, you're awake. Glad to know I didn’t overdo it.”

Michalis wasn’t even about to waste breath on Niles, until he realized that he was bound to a chair. He grunted as he pulled against the ropes binding his hands together, scuffing the chair across the floor a few inches, trying to free himself. Finally, he snarled. “Scoundrel. Release me at once!”

“Oh? And why should I do that?” Niles said back. “I don’t go out of my way to tie you up just so I can let you go. Besides, it’s not like you had anywhere to be fast, considering you spend most of your time brooding alone. We have time to chat.”

Michalis futilely struggled more. “So what do you want? To kill me?”

“No, not at all. I couldn’t get away with that, trust me. Besides, you are far too entertaining to simply kill.” Niles shook his head. “I just want to...how to put it...Knock you down a peg.”

“Humiliate me? Are you just going to leave me here...to waste away, left with you as my only mercy?” Michalis hated that idea. Left to rot in a shady backroom until this...lowly rogue...came to give him food and water.

“Decent guess, but also no. I’m moreso interested in your words...You couldn’t ‘stand’ to see me, right?” The smug look on his face seemed to grow ever more smug, much to the annoyance of Michalis.

“So what?! Are you going to break my legs? Paralyze me?! Stop toying with me! Get to the point!”

Niles decided to humor Michalis. “Yes, yes, fine. Look up.”

Michalis did, finding that there was some sort of jury rigged contraption above him, and also sitting behind him. Barrels, a tube cascading down...What was it?

“I don’t understand.”

“I figured you wouldn’t. I was inspired by a similar machine, made for filling troughs. A time saving machine for farmers, though I’ve made it a bit more...direct. As funny as the image of you eating out of a trough is, I’m rather impatient.” Niles went over, and grabbed the tube.

“What are you even prattling on about-” Michalis was silenced by the tube being shoved in his mouth. “Mmpf!”

“I told you, it was direct.” The proud King tried spitting out the tube, trying to uselessly speak as he did so. Meanwhile, Niles turned a valve, opening the barrels. A brightly colored liquid descended. “I’ll be honest, this stuff wasn’t cheap to get a hold of. So don’t waste it, okay?”

As the liquid got closer, Michalis tried harder and harder to spit out the tube- He wasn’t sure what the hell that stuff was, but he certainly didn’t want it in his body. Though it was for naught. Soon the substance was filling his mouth. It was sickly sweet in taste, nearly overpowering. He could feel it dribbling down his chin as he tried to keep himself from swallowing it, before giving in.

He took a deep gulp of the liquid, feeling it sink to his stomach. He looked to Niles again, looking down at him with his sly grin. Michalis grunted in resistance as Niles ruffled his hair. “See? It’s not that bad. Now, I do have other things to do, so I’ll come back soon to make sure you’re doing well.” And like that, Niles slipped out of the room, leaving the feeding King alone.

Michalis grunted more, struggled more, even after Niles left. He wasn’t sure what this substance was, only that it was...honestly really good. The taste was amazing. Still, Michalis’s prideful mind forced him to keep trying to resist. Not to mention, his stomach would fill up and, and he’d vomit at some point...right?

His stomach certainly felt full. It gurgled and grumbled, feeling bloated. He looked down, surprised to see it actually bulging decently outwards. And further outwards. His regal wear and belt felt tight against it. It...was just bloated, right? Michalis’s angered glare soon softened into one of worry.

His stomach gurgled again, louder this time. He could see his belly begin to push over the belt, like it wasn’t stuffed full, but rather filling out with soft fat. As Michalis took another gulp, he swore he could feel his pants and armor filling out. Fabric and metal joints growing taut. Niles words...Couldn’t stand to see him. Things began to click in Michalis’s head.

He struggled against his restraints once more, but it was still pointless. Not to mention, he couldn’t even start trying to spit out the tube. Not because it was difficult, though that was certainly true, no, it was just too good to do so. And with each gulp, his clothes became tighter, straining further to contain his growing form. Uncomfortably tight, actually.

The first victim of his now burgeoning body was the belt. The sound of leather creaking, cracking, snapping apart. The metal buckle shot across the room, clattering on the floor. Michalis’s belly promptly flopped out, pale flesh laying upon his lap. Whatever muscular frame he had before had given away to his currently chubby one. He let out muffled groans as the seams on the sides of his pants split, more pudge spilling out. The chair slightly creaked under him.

His struggling had ended now, as he was starting to willingly drink the substance. His pride was beginning to lose out, as he slowly got lost in the taste. Unconsciously, he began to suckle at the tube- He wanted- No, he needed more. He wasn’t even watching as his clothes began bursting and tearing all over. How his pecs had turned into blubbery tits. His ass spilling over the sides of the chair, his thighs not far behind, as his pants tore further and further. His gurgling gut grew larger by the second, filling with the concoction, immediately turning it into more blubber to pack on.

His shirt was practically tearing down the middle, as his cravat became shreds. His thick neck and second chin wouldn’t fit it. Buttons popping, metal bits and bobs pinging off onto the floor. The chair’s groaning got louder as he surpassed the weight it was meant for. Truthfully, he had likely surpassed that weight far before the chair had begun to give out.

Before the chair came apart, however, the restraints holding back Michalis’s fatty arms snapped apart. It was only rope, and the growth had managed to pull it far enough. If Michalis was still as bitter as he was the few minutes before, he would’ve certainly pulled the tube out. But that was long gone to this Michalis, who reached for the tube not to pull it out, but to demand even more. Though his arms were a tad too inefficiently large to reach it by now.

A snapping sound briefly brought Michalis back to some of his senses, as he fell to the floor with a slam. He looked down at himself, realizing his freedom- Though ‘freedom’ was a meaningless term when one couldn’t move. An anger welled up in his mind towards Niles- That vicious ne’er do well who was responsible for all this. How dare he do this to the King of Macedon!

But then, another thought- This was incredibly enjoyable. Ugh, how the thought of growing even larger brought him elation. And if he was King, he certainly deserved such a luxury! The thoughts of Niles began to fade once more as he returned to his guzzling, spreading further and further on the floor.

The only clothes that hadn’t ripped completely to shreds was his cloak, which covered very little of his body. The rest was coated in thick fat, spreading further into the room. More and more he encroached upon the room, his frame nearly immobile.

Though soon his growth came to a halt. He suckled the last drops of the potion from the tube. And Michalis definitely tried to get as much as he could out of it, and relaxing his head back. The tube was promptly spat out, a much easier feat now that it wasn’t feeding him the delicious nectar. Another rumble from his stomach, and Michalis let out a belch.

He was likely over six hundred pounds at this point, if not heavier. He sat on his titanic ass, under ripped fabrics and crushed wood. His gut similarly sat flat on the floor, two large rolls encompassing it. His man boobs laid upon it, plump and full. A chunky neck, a few additional chins, an all around chubby face. His long red hair and reforming scowl would be one of the few hints that this man was Michalis.

The sunlight flitting through the thin cracks had turned to the orange shine of twilight. Michalis felt...dissatisfied. With? He wasn’t absolutely sure. Perhaps dissatisfied he was now immobile. That he was unable to flaunt his new form, away in this dank room. Or was it the fact he couldn’t reach down and pleasure himself? Or maybe it was the lack of that liquid elation, and how his form grew ever more expansive…

He had no time to consider that. There were noises. Footsteps. Michalis stood to attention- Well, his head did at least, focused on the sole entrance and exit. The rest of his body nudged and jiggled slightly.

“Is someone here? I heard a-”

Before the massive king stood Corrin, another not quite acquaintance. In more standard circumstances, Michalis would’ve been more neutral on his presence versus Niles. But now? Michalis face once again grimaced, though made less intimidating by his jowls and pillow like cheeks. Fists clenched as he looked down upon the young prince, who looked upon him, shocked at the transformation his teammate had undergone.

“Bring me Niles,” He huffed out.

“N-Niles? Why do you-”

“Because,” Michalis didn’t feel like he had time for this. “I need more.”

#feeder emblem #fire emblem weight gain #male weight gain #male expansion #its funny because niles and michalis are both bitches #but like niles is kinda a fun bitch #and michalis is like...#also vaguely based off my longtime feh team

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harryspet · 4 years ago

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rogue angel [6] bucky barnes

[Warnings] dark bucky barnes x reader, daddy bucky, forced age regression, stockholm syndrome?, dd lg dynamic, praise kink, fingering, handjob, daddy kink, orgasm control/denial, little editing

A/N: this chapter is a little shorter than the others but a lot of fun happens! also, I made the moodboard before I finished the chapter so it doesn’t match but idc lol.

In which you discover the potential of your princess parts.

series masterlist

word count: 2.4k

Bucky’s body looked like it was sculpted by a Greek God. You wondered how he managed to stay in such good shape when he was dealing with you so much. It seemed like you were together 24/7 over the next few weeks and, when you asked about it, he mentioned how he went on runs while you took your midday nap. You had seen him shirtless a few short times but now … now you were taking in his full form.

He only wore a pair of swim trunks, his body glowing under the bright sun. It was one of the rare days when the sun was fully out and Bucky decided that the two of you should take full advantage of it.

The first part of your day started with a make-shift water slide. Bucky laid out a huge black tarp, spraying it with dish soap and then letting the water from the hose run down it. He encouraged you to slide down it and you had a blast. You liked it best when he held you in his lap, sliding down the small hill together.

You couldn’t stop your giggling as you crashed into each other, slipping around and spinning in circles. It was another thing to add to your list of likes.

You spent all day outside with him, basking in your newly found youth.

Now you were watching him water the small garden that decorated the front of the cabin when suddenly the hose turned on you. You were kneeling down, mindlessly stirring a stick around the hole you had dug in the ground. You let out a small yelp, running away from the cold water, as you giggled uncontrollably. The water followed you, soaking your hair and your yellow, one-piece swimsuit.

“Daddy,” You whined, as his assault finally ended. You wiped your eyes to find him grinning at you, “I was making soup!”

Bucky followed your gesture towards the hole in the ground filled with mud and dead flowers. Archie had helped you dig it and now he was covered in mud too. The mud was decorating your swimsuit and your bare legs, “And now my little tomboy is all muddy,” He sprayed you again, chasing you down with the water. You couldn’t help but smile as he finally wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back towards the house, “You and Archie both need a bath.”

He turned you so you front was pressed against his, “I’m not dirty,” You frowned, your hands pressed to his chest, “I’m clean.”

“I beg to differ, little girl,” He stated firmly, “Do you want to help Daddy get Archie clean?”

You nodded eagerly, excited as long as you weren’t the one who had to be scrubbed down. Archie shook out his fur, effectively getting dirt everywhere. Bucky returned to the house to get supplies, leaving you there with Archer.

There were still no days passed where you didn’t think about running away. Before, you promised yourself you’d run the day that your legs were strong. Now that they were, here you were in his arms. Every time you thought about leaving, you thought about the memory that was triggered by the lightning. They kept shocking you over and over until you couldn’t remember your family anymore. You still couldn’t think of any of their faces and you decided not to ask Bucky about it.

You couldn’t face that yet.

There were moments like this when Bucky showed you his trust. Or maybe he was only proving that, no matter fast you ran, he’d be there to catch you. Still, you liked the idea of him trusting you.

The two of you bathed Archer in a small kiddie pool. After Bucky rinsed the husky dog, he allowed you to rub soap into the dog’s fur.

“Good job, angel,” He complimented you, causing your heart flutter. You couldn’t even meet his eyes as you continued your work. It was a feeling you felt in your core, just like when Wanda complimented you. After you were done, Bucky rinsed the dog again. Another yelp a little as Archie shook out his fur before the two of you could cover him in a towel.

You helped Bucky wrestle with the dog, drying him off. After, you both effectively smelt like outside and wet dog. “Would you like a bath now, my darling? Or shall I hose you down too?”

“Shower,” You attempted to bargain, looking into those crystal eyes, “Please?”

Bucky thought about it for a moment, “Okay, shower then. But just for today,” Bucky agreed and your lips tugged into a grinned. Bucky noted how much more of your smile he’d seen lately, “As long as you promise to be a good girl for the rest of the night.”

“I’ll be good. Promise, Daddy.” You nodded, letting him carry you back in the house. He trusted you to keep it and you trusted him in return.

You didn’t expect Bucky to slip into the shower with you. At first, you were still wearing your swimsuit and he was wearing his shorts until you felt him slipping the strap off of your shoulder. He had seen you naked multiple times yet this time was different.

Bucky was even more quiet than usual, observant even. His movements were slow and you wondered why he was taking his sweet time. He let the fabric bunch around your feet before encouraging you to step out of them. Now, you could feel the full force of the hot water cascading over your skin.

You turned around to face him but you heard a, “Look forward, princess.”

You did as he said, trying to focus on the water in front of you. It was a glass shower and, if you looked in the corner of your eyes, you could see him moving. He was slipping down his boxers, his eyes locked on your body.

“Good girl,” You bit down on your lip, his words causing heat to rise in your core. You tried to focus on the water. Keyword: tried, “Stay still for me, princess.”

His body pressed against yours, and you felt him run a soapy cloth over your shoulder and down your arms. He cleaned every inch of your body, not letting you lift a single finger. You felt he was studying every curve of your body as he did. He even leaned down to run the cloth over your legs.

His metal hand held your waist as he finally finished. Your body was frozen with anticipation at that point. He leaned into your ear to say, “Are your princess parts feeling tingly, angel?”

“M-My princess parts?” You questioned hesitantly.

You felt his other hand roam over your stomach and then between your legs. You felt what was in between his legs pressing against your bottom, “That area, right here,” His pointer finger swiped over your folds, “How does it feel?”

A shudder went through your body, “... tingly.”

“Tingly?” You could practically hear him smirking, “Do you want Daddy to take care of that for you?”

His fingers were hovering over the area and you had to stop yourself from grinding yourself into his fingers. Bucky felt you nodding, desperate, “Use your words, angel.”

“Please take care of me, Daddy,” You rushed out your words, not bothering to breathe. His fingers gripped your private area, his metal one still holding your waist in place.

“That’s my girl, using her big girl words. Such a good girl for Daddy,” Bucky noticed how well you responded to praise, making him wanting to keep going and to see how your body reacted. Bucky rubbed all the way up and down your folds before focusing on your sensitive bulb. With each rotation of his fingers, you had to bite down on your lip harder to stop from crying out.

“Don’t hold it in, baby. Moan for Daddy,” You did slowly, the quiet moans passing your lips. Your breathing was heavy as you tried not to squirm around, “Good girl, Y/N. You like it when I call you that, don’t you?”

You nodded quickly, feeling his fingers get even faster, “Y-Yes …” At that point, Bucky didn’t even need the water since your own body was fully lubricating your lower region. He could feel how aroused you were.

“You deserve this, angel. I’m proud of you. You’ve been such a good girl for me all week,” You had been good all week. You’d been compromising and polite. You liked that he was recognizing that very much. Bucky’s metal hand reached to caress your breast, the cold metal tickling your nipples. You yelped at that but you were interrupted by your own moaning.

Your back pressed against his front as you finally reached your climax. You gripped onto his metal arm as it ripped through you, from your head all the way to your curling toes, “Just one for now, angel,” Bucky said.

You were still recovering, breathing heavily when Bucky handed you the washcloth, “Daddy’s turn?” You questioned curiously.

“Turn around, angel,” You obeyed quickly, coming face to face with his chest. As you looked up, you saw the hunger in his eyes. You brought the cloth to his bare chest, wiping and spreading around the suds.

Your face started to heat with embarrassment as you dragged the cloth over his large biceps. Part of you couldn’t believe that you had ever kissed him or let him do those kinds of things to you. That part was getting smaller and smaller by day.

“I think … I think I like a lot of things now,” You spoke from your mind.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky smiled at that, letting your smaller hands wander over him, “What kind of things do you like, princess?”

You spoke as your hands trailed lower, “I like giraffes. I like coloring. I like Archie. I like baking … I like playing in the water with you,” Your hands stopped before they traveled between his legs, the anxiety creeping in.

“I’m glad, Y/N,” Bucky took your chin in his hands, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lips. His hand slowly moved down to your hand, grabbing it and moving it towards his pelvis. As he kissed you, he wrapped your hands around his growing member, “Do you want to know what Daddy likes?”

You felt him harden in your grasp as he moved your hands up and down his length, “W-What?” Your senses were even more overwhelmed than before.

“When you touch me, princess,” Bucky responded huskily, his breathing starting to get heavier just like yours did.

“This feels good?” You asked as he let go of your hand. You took it upon yourself to follow his lead, continuing to stroke his member.

He nodded, grinning, “Yes,” He reassured you, “Just like that, you’re doing good baby.”

“I am?” Your words surprised Bucky. Were you insecure or were you just trying to get him to praise you again? How needy were you for his approval?

“Yes, baby. You make me feel so good,” He grunted and you moved your hands faster. You liked seeing him like this, still strong, but a little bit more vulnerable.

Bucky leaned down to kiss you again as you continued to pump your hand. As he grunted against your lips, you felt that tingling once again. You craved his touch even more and the idea of waiting until later for him to satisfy you was painful.

You’d just be extra good today.

You assumed he met his climax as his head tilted back but the deep groan that left his lips and the liquid that spilled from his member, frightened you, “Did I hurt you Daddy?” You asked, panicked.

“No, baby,” He pecked your lips to reassure you, “You did so good. Now, let’s rinse off before we turn into prunes.”

“Daddy, do my toys talk?” You asked, staring at the projection of Toy Story on your bedroom wall. Bucky had set up the projector as well as the pile of blankets and pillows. All your stuffed animals were surrounding you too because you didn’t want them to miss the movie either.

“If you use your imagination, I’m sure you can talk to them.”

Bucky’s eyes were focused on the movie but he noted the extra suspicious glances you took towards the large bunny rabbit sitting in the corner. Bucky smiled at your cuteness, pulling you closer to him.

Wanda had sent the movie DVD’s in their latest care packages as well as cupcake mix, a few dresses, and new binkie that she heard from her mommy groups were even better for adults. You promised Bucky you’d do a photoshoot for him in your new dresses so he could send them the pictures to Wanda.

You asked about Rory at least daily. Bucky wanted to give you more time to adjust to being with him but he knew he had to start planning another play date soon. He figured it would lift your spirits even further.

Both of you grew tired as the movie came to an end. At least, Bucky though you were tired. He was taken aback when you abruptly climbed into his lap, “I’ve been good all day,” You told him. You’d eaten all your dinner, helped him with the dishes, and you hadn’t complained about the pull-ups once, “Does that mean I can have more touches on my princess parts?”

You were only wearing a mint t-shirt and your pull-up and Bucky noticed the way your fingers teased along the top of the pull-up, “Getting greedy, are we?” Bucky teased you.

“Not greedy,” You frowned, “I’m a good girl.”

“Of course you are but it’s bedtime, angel,” Bucky sighed, lifting you up and carrying you to your bed. Bucky tucked you into the bed with Lucy, crossing the room to turn off the projector. The room flooded with darkness and you gripped Lucy tightly.

Before Bucky left the room, he kneeled beside your bed, and you reached out to hold his hand, “You know, your princess parts are only for Daddy to touch, right?”

“They are?” You questioned curiously.

Bucky nodded, “So you shouldn’t touch them without my permission, understand?”

You weren’t sure why that was a rule but you nodded anyway, “Yes, I-I understand.”

He rubbed a calming circle into your palm before kissing your forehead. He let you hold onto him for a little while longer before he pulled away and whispered a, “Goodnight, princess.”

As the door closed, you stared up at the ceiling. You thought about his words and that seemed to make the feeling between your legs worse. You almost let out a groan of frustration before you realized an important loophole. Bucky said you couldn’t touch them but … maybe your stuffies could and he’d never know.

You didn’t think about it longer as you grabbed an elephant-shaped stuffie and placed it between your legs.

“Good girl,” Bucky’s voice echoed in your head, warming your core, and causing the wetness between your legs.

I think a punishment might be in the reader’s future ... let me know what you think! @stonerosedheart gave me the toy story idea!!

Feel free to message me with your predictions or imagines! Also, send my your darkest fantasies please.

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dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 4 years ago

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Tell Me Everything

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3k Summary: Reader works as a costume designer in Marvel. She's currently working on Endgame, designing the costumes for each superhero (but especially her favorite one), when Chris stops by. Later, he tries it on. Mutal pining goodness and fluff all throughout :) Warnings: None :) A/N: It’s been a while. I’ve written for chris once only, and I already miss it. Here’s some fluff.

Earphones plugged in deep in her ears, blocking every other sound apart from her music. The side of her hand is dirty with pencil lead, leaving occasional smudges on the paper that she forgets to erase. It’s- there’s a lingering fatigue she can’t really shake off. She’s beyond exhausted, working so late in the night, still in her office, but doing this, right here, it feels so damn good. It doesn’t matter that she should be heading home, because all her repressed creativity is bleeding in the paper, flowing as if it’s pouring out of her veins . Finally, finally , doing the thing she’s great at, the thing she loves.

Her music is deep, dark, has a strong but slow beat to it, and she bobs her head along, uncaring of the strands of hair that are furiously escaping her ponytail. She gets lost in the design, vigorously making swooping lines and hard edges, scribbling to her heart’s content, erasing a line and coming back in. The tedious process of adding details makes her settle just a little.

These past few years have been incredible. Working for Marvel was a dream she didn’t even know she’d had, the opportunity of a lifetime, truly. During the time spent working with all these amazing people, she’s learned, she’s grown, she’d developed as an artist and as a person. She can say nothing less than she’s happy, truly happy here. She means, designing and creating costumes for this franchise has been a job she couldn’t have even dreamt of. It may get tiresome, sometimes boring and tedious, but right now, designing… she feels like she’s been born to do this and just this.

It’s been a while since she’d gotten so lost in a design. It may be the fact that this particular one, and the actor that’s supposed to wear it, is her favorite. She may be biased. But she’d had amazing ideas and she was so eager to just make them come to life.

She’s coloring the last of the star in the center of the chest, when fingers tap her shoulder. Having been so lost in her work and music, she feels like someone poured a bucket of water over her without warning, and she jumps, pulling her earbuds out by their wire and swiveling her chair to look at the intruder.

Chris smiles down at her, all teeth and soft eyes. His hands are in the air flamboyantly, It’s me!, dark grey, long sleeved Henley loose on his biceps, and dark wash jeans hugging his thighs tightly. His hair is grown longer, tucked behind his ears, his beard is… new , and very nicely trimmed. Her heart thumps a little louder at the sight of him. If anyone were to ask, she’d blame the jumpscare, but she knows better.

“Chris!” Excitedly getting off her seat and throwing her arms around his shoulders in a friendly hug. His own wrap around her tightly, squeeze her to him, if only for a second, and she exhales.

“Hey!” He tells her, just as excitedly, and she pulls back. “I’m sorry I scared you, I knocked and there was no answer.” She waves a hand to show him it’s okay and plops back on her seat unceremoniously.

“What are you even doing here?! I thought the cast was gonna show up next week, for the fittings?” A strand tucked behind her ear and she’s suddenly kind of self-conscious of her disheveled state. Chris leans his hip on her desk and crosses his arms over his chest casually, looking like one of those bad boys in 2000’s coming-of-age rom-coms. She tries not to stare, but it’s a struggle, and a funny thought crosses her mind. If she were looking at him for the first time, he’d be screaming trouble. He still does, but less because he’s scary and a heartbreaker, and more because she’s hopeless when it comes to being functional around him.

“I had some business up here in New York, and the Russo’s asked me to drop by. Something about paperwork.” He shrugs lightly and she ‘ah’s, accompanied by a nod and a brief eyebrow twitch to show her understanding.

“Well, I’m happy you dropped by. It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it,” she smiles at him, and Chris nods, a bit of an apologetic, regretful almost, look in his eye.

“So,” he says and shifts his weight a little, “whatcha working on?”

“You, actually.” Lead-stained fingers pull the sketchbook under the light a little better, closer to him, and he gets off his hip, places his left hand on the back of her chair, leaning all his weight on his right, on the desk. His chest is suddenly so close to her face, her shoulder brushes his torso and she’s holding her breath , because he smells so good –cologne and aftershave?- she might fucking faint . She can feel her face heat up. She wonders if he’s doing it on purpose, if he knows at all. She watches his expression.

“Waddaya got?” It’s all interest in his voice, and he doesn’t seem to intend to move. Damn.

“Well,” she takes a shaky breath, “I figured, y’know-“ a mindless shrug, and his shirt is exceptionally soft and fairly thin, two layers between their bare skin, and- oh gosh, she's supposed to be explaining things. Focus! “Cap needs a new suit, and he’s a fugitive now, right? He doesn’t really care to get a new one tailored.” Chris exhales a chopped, amused breath and nods sideways, as if saying You have a point there . “So the old one would have to do.

“But it’s different now, because he can’t have the same exact one, completely untouched, and he’s a different man now anyways.” Scooting the chair closer to the desk on instinct- and fucking great , now she’s literally pressing into the bottom of his ribcage lightly with her shoulder. It’s getting harder to breathe. She can feel his exhales on her face, Jesus. “So basically,” a steadying, shaky breath, “I made it dirtier- that’s why the colors are darker. It’s supposed to be aging fabric. But it’s also more comfortable for you.

“The sleeves will end right here-” without giving it much thought, she traces a line under his right elbow, the one on which he’s leaning, and he follows the motion with his gaze intently, “and you’ll wear some fingerless gloves with buckles on them.” He nods, eyes still not off her design, occasionally flicking to glance at her. “But,” she begins.

“The detail I’m most excited for is this,” a tap on the star in the middle of the uniform- or rather lack thereof. The space where the plastic white thing once resided is now dark blue like the rest of the uniform. She grins up at him when his features twitch in interest. “I pitched this to Joe and he really loved it. Basically, my logic is that, as we said, Cap’s a fugitive, yeah?” Chris nods, attentive as ever. “He’s gone against every government official he knows, against a big chunk of his own team. The news have probably said awful things about him and painted him as a superhero gone rogue or something. So what does he do? He rips off the star.

“He no longer fits the Captain America title, in the sense that he doesn’t want to be associated with the government’s lap dog, their dancing monkey. Instead of faithfully following orders as a soldier, he’s his own self, still a Captain, but on his own terms. It’s symbolic! He’s carving his own path, leading like he was always meant to, and he’s dramatic enough to have done this- ripped off the star I mean. The suit should feel more familiar to him now.”

She’s been rambling for a while, her mouth is drier, but she was so excited when the idea manifested in her head. A big sense of pride washed over her, she couldn’t wait to design and implement it in the costume.

And Chris, well… Chris is looking at her with this small little smile that grows the more he considers it. “I…” he shakes his head, a grin stretching his pretty lips, “I fucking love it,” he tells her, with so much genuine warmth in his tone. She’s never heard him this confident and proud , like a parent almost, glowing at her like she’s something brighter than a star. “That’s brilliant , Y/n, holy shit ! The fans will go nuts!” He leans close to inspect the design again with the new parameters in mind, shaking his hand as if disbelieving, smile remaining on his face. “You’re amazing .”

A hot, red blush spreads across her cheeks fiercely, and there’s a lingering urge to sit up straighter, to square her shoulders in pride and happiness, because she’s so happy he liked it¸ but she is now acutely aware of how close he is, still not having moved away from her since she pressed into him accidentally. She resorts to a one shouldered shrug. “Thank you,” her voice is meeker than she’d like it, but Chris doesn’t mention it. Instead, they share a smile.

“Ready?”

“I’m, unf, gimme a sec- I’m coming.” Some shuffling, and then the sound of the curtain being pulled back, and she puts her phone away, swiveling in her chair and- oh Christ.

“Chris… ” she says, eyes racking from the tops of his shoes, up his legs, his thighs, his belt. The way the comfortable material stretches over his fit stomach, up his curved chest, and extends up to the base of his neck- it’s, fuck, he looks so good. His veiny forearms are exposed to the warm lamp light in the room, and he’s not wearing the gloves, seeing as they’re sitting on her desk.

The dark blue of his suit makes his newly dyed hair look golden .

“How do I look?” He says with a grin, striking an exuberant pose just to make her smile, and she grins.

“I’ll give you like,” she pretends to think for a second, “a six out of ten.” A shrug and a bitten back smile, and his hand goes to his chest dramatically, thick eyebrows furrowing and blowing out a breath.

“Damn,” he tells her with a look in his eyes that she can’t really place, something teasing, but like they're sharing an inside joke of some kind. “Harsh critic,” it’s teasing and happy, and she chuckles, because yeah. This is quite perfect. She grabs his gloves off her desk and gets off her chair, going up to him and holding them for him to squeeze his hands in. She tightens some buckles, smooths a hand over the leathery material, making non-existent creases disappear.

A step back, she inspects the way the material hugs his thighs so nicely, but is also still baggy, to give him some freedom of movement. His boots are almost knee high, and- it actually looks like it might be a bit tight in the neck. She steps closer to him, barely tests the two buckles in front of his shoulders, checking that there’s give for him to move in. “It’s good? Comfortable, I mean?” A finger dragged between the collar of his top and his neck, purely professionally she swears, it was a subconscious move to check how much space there is for him to breathe and move his neck. And that’s the moment stupid Chris chooses to hum and she feels it in the exhale hitting her face, the vibration of his throat.

God .

Her lips purse and she squints a little, pulling back her hand. I can make this better , she decides. “Don’t move,” she orders and heads to her desk, grabbing some needle and a thread that matches the color of his suit, along with a small blade. She walks back up to him again and, with a careful hand on his chest and the threaded needle carefully placed between her lips, she makes a few, strategically placed rips near the star with the blade.

“Don’t stab me,” he says, tone low for a reason she can’t understand but makes a shiver run through her.

“Don’t give me ideas,” she counters, and Chris’s stomach shakes a little with a short, contained laugh. Continuing, she distresses the fabric, and patches up the edges so they won’t tear further during filming, allowing a string or two to stick out.

She is absolutely, of course, not ignoring how she can feel every single one of his breaths, and how he’s so good and still, and his hands are only a handful of inches away from her waist, his face hellishly close to hers.

A released exhale and a nod to herself. “Perfect,” she says quietly. She wraps the threaded needle around the handle of the blade so as to not lose it and throws it back on her desk haphazardly, to put away later. Unmoving from her spot near him, she gazes at the rips and decides it was a good addition. For just a second, it seems she forgets exactly how close he is, and now she looks up to him for approval, finding that same intent stare, straight into her soul from only three inches away.

There’s a sudden urge to shrink and disintegrate, confidence gone. Clothes she can handle. Chris she really can’t.

Baby blue eyes are watching her, standing perfectly still for her to do her thing, but there’s a, dare she say , affection of sorts in his gaze, and she’s very much struck with it. “You look great, Cap’n,” breathy and quiet, because she can’t fucking sit in silence when he looks at her like that. Chris smiles.

“All thanks to you.” A grin at the praise, at the lowered tone of his voice, as if he doesn’t want to break the moment with loud words. She should step back, b- but she physically cannot. Her muscles are seriously unwilling to move. This is her being weird, right? She’s crossing a line by taking advantage of his proximity, right? Why- He’s not showing any signs of awkwardness or discomfort though.

She’d like to know how one stretches a moment to eternity, a piece of knowledge she'd most certainly use right now. His cologne is the same as last week, when he visited in her office, comforting and musky, and he’s- he’s just looking at her with his beautiful eyes boring into hers, his warmth just centimeters away.

“You’re very close to me,” what a stupid thing to say , she scolds herself, but she just- she doesn’t know what else to do. Is it normal to feel such heat radiate from his body, or is that her mind playing tricks? She wants to curl into him, into said warmth, bury her nose in his neck and nuzzle there. It’s an urge that hits her like a tidal wave, and it almost makes her stagger on her feet. Her heart beats faster, inflated and full, adrenaline coursing through her veins all of a sudden. Chris swallows a little and nods. “What are you gonna do about it?”

There’s almost no charm in his tone, he looks borderline nervous, but there’s still some confidence in his velvety voice for him to flirt with her, the bastard and- she’s not imagining this, right? She’s not dreaming or anything? Chris actually enjoys this proximity, this closeness, he’s not pulling away. He just- he just sort of gave her consent to do something, anything. The ball is in her court, a challenge, proving she actually can do something about this.

With a shaky hand, she presses her palm flat on his chest.

A mental barrier is broken by that touch and Chris seems to curl closer, if possible. His gloved hand goes to her waist, holding her near him, his head dipping lower, and she’s standing on her tiptoes. Noses brushing together, a challenge, emphasized in the teasing curl of his lips, sharing the same air. Beard tickling her top lip as she inches closer. A small hand on his face, and she licks her lips instinctively, parts them a little- and closes the gap between them.

It’s soft and wet and everything she’s ever dreamt of really, and holy shit , she’s dreamt of this. It’s actually happening, right now. He’s in his dumb Captain America uniform, pulling her close so now their chests are pressed together, moving his lips against hers slowly, and his hands are in leather gloves with buckles on them. The thought makes her smile a little, to the point where now the kiss is all teeth, and he pulls back for a second, as if sensing her amusement.

“What?” he asks. Her forehead leans on his chest, a sad attempt to hide her grin. His arms, one wrapping around her waist, his other hand on her back.

“I’m kissing Captain America,” and Chris lets out a single, incredulous breath, eyes rolling to the back of his head as if to say, you’re unbelievable. She grins up at him, a challenging eyebrow raised. Am I wrong though?

Teeth trap her bottom lip and she worries it for a moment as they quiet again, lost in thought and looking at him absently. She wants to kiss him again. She likes how his hands are warm on her back, how his chest is lean under her. Leaning on her tiptoes again, she smiles softly and brushes her nose on his cheek affectionately, because it’s suddenly okay to do so, the hairs of his beard scratchy against her skin. Chris is not having it though, and he turns his head to capture her lips again.

It feels so good, she thinks, as she instinctively places gentle fingers on his jawline to keep him tilted to her. It’s like the world is blooming. Like her heart is bursting through the seams, chest far too small for it. She kisses him, and he holds her just this much closer.

She’s kissing Captain America. And it’s a damn good fucking kiss.

Tags: @thegetawaywriter

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x fem!reader #chris #chris fanfiction #chris fluff #chris evans fluff #chris evans one shot #mcu #mabel #captain america #steve rogers #ca:tfa #ca:tws #ca:cw #mcu rpf #:)

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dumb-hat · 4 years ago

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Character Sheet - Evander Winsome

—————- Link to blank template!

Rules: Things in brackets are meant only as guidelines, to be erased and your answers written in place of. Things separated by | are for bolding and italicising.

Tagged by: No one! I saw this reblogged by @mooglemeet, so I went ahead and grabbed it directly from @bluespiritfire. Link to the blank template is up above! Tagging: No one specific/anyone who wants to. Feel free to tag me back so I can see it!

Name: Evander Winsome Age: 26 Pronouns: He/him Birthdate: 12th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon

~~PLACE OF ORIGIN~~ Race: Hyur From the First: Interracial heritage:

Hometown/city: Limsa Lominsa Current residence/popular haunt:Ul’dah

~~APPEARANCE~~

Favourite/commonly used clothes:

Any difficulties with magical/physical disciplines? Nothing in particular

~~RELATIONSHIPS~~ Parents/Legal Guardian/Parental Figure: mother | father | aunt and/or uncle | grandparents | adoptive | foster | mentor | family friend/godparents | other Siblings: One older brother; deceased Children: None that he knows of Romantic: single | unrequited | crushing | dating | engaged | married | divorced/separated | widow/widower | recently split | it’s complicated (I mean, not to him. To him, it makes total sense. Well, most of it does.) | other (…) Friends: Evander tends to befriend and trust people fairly easily, though it can take him a bit to really open up. Once you’ve hit that point, you’ve likely got a friend for life. Rivals/Enemies: To the best of his knowledge, he’s left these all behind somewhere or other, thanks largely to his restless need to wander. That said, there’s surely a few lurking in the past and there’s always room for more, of course!

Any special gestures of affection they have with people in their life? He’ll often make complaining noises about paying for drinks and dinner, but he’ll do it every time and would be slightly hurt if people didn’t let him.

How are they dealing with the most prominent of the above? How does it affect their in day-to-day life, if at all? Poorly, typically.

~~ODDS AND ENDS~~ Notable Weapons He doesn’t have any particular bond with any of his weapons, really. He sees them as tools, and ones that he uses only reluctantly. He sometimes enjoys tinkering with the ones he builds, but that’s more of a hobby than anything.

Notable Mounts He has various vehicles and machines he likes to fuss over and drive around, but he’s particularly fond of his SDS Fenrir.

In addition to his chocobo—a particularly stubborn beast named Doreen—he’s also fond of his battlesheep, Doctor One and a colossal crab he’s dubbed St. Barnabus.

Notable Minion/s Besides Doctor One and St. Barnabas, Evander is especially fond of various clockworks, automata, wind-ups and models that he’s put together. His favorite is a drone modeled after a Magitek bit that he’s named Valencia.

Keepsakes/Mementos

A pendant in the shape of a swan, a few too many flasks

Chronic Illnesses or Disabilities Evander lives with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. I’ve written about it a few places, most notably at length here and in brief here. How do they deal with these? Depends on the day, really. This isn’t really a thing he has a name for, so it’s not a thing he can easily address. He’s got a sloppily slapped together set coping mechanisms that work about half the time, if he’s lucky. Other than that, he mostly hopes for good days full of things he can convince himself he’s interested in.

Education Level He likes it when people underestimate him, so he’s not always quick to admit to the formal Ishgardian education afforded to him by the family that took him in when he left Limsa Lominsa. He’ll often try to pass it off as eclectic, self-driven studies... Which, admittedly, also played a big part in shaping him.

Habits There’s a lot of excess in his life. He drinks too much. He eats too much. He stays up too late, too long, and then sleeps too late, too long. He’s almost always got a flask or four on his person, and he often finds that he’s picking up the dinner or drink tab wherever he goes.

Other Nothing immediately springs to mind, but I’m sure there’s like a dozen things I should put here. This thing has been sitting in my drafts for god-knows-how-long, so I’m just glad to finally get it out there.

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medea10 · 3 years ago

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Medea Plays Miitopia...AGAIN: Part II

Yep, the gameplay is much like I remember from four years ago.

After meeting the folks of Neksdor, I gotta deal with a rogue genie. Last time I had Ned Flanders. This time, I went with something more...super.

There’s something funny about Rachel Maddow getting mad at a Saiyan.

Next up, Dark Lard-ass Trump steals the faces of Neksdor.

Oak, no. Stop talking about Ruby’s kisser. I’m only gonna warn you once more.

Pfft. I do enjoy having Lucious and Cookie here.

Having Terrance Howard’s face on a cobra has never made more sense to me than at this very moment.

I’m surprised y’all were together for as long as you have been.

God, I miss this show.

Well, I saved Neksdor.

Dude, I’m going to make a Chris Hansen mii and have him sit you down so you two can “talk”.

I hate having to do this to you Oak, but you leave me no choice. Ruby is at least 15 or 16.

Vegeta would never say that.

Chris Sabat, the man who voices Vegeta would totally say those words.

Well, that’s all for Neksdor. Time to enjoy the peace in the land while it lasts.

Yeah, the bastard came in the middle of the night, stole my friends, and my powers (again).

I feel you little mii. Put on your cat-leotards and get on Bojack.

Just like last time, I added Grell as a flower, Revy as a Tank, and Sweet Polly Purebread as a princess.

Fairy village time.

I do have one complaint and that’s when it comes to fairy village, their original hairdos are shown. I guess the fairies have to wear the hats with no exceptions.

Which is a damn-shame because I worked hard on Piers’s hair.

I am quite pleased with how little Allister turned out though.

And yes, I had Harley, Tucker, and Cilan play the fairy sisters.

They’re the three most flamboyant characters in the whole Pokemon franchise and I see it fitting to have these three continue playing these roles. Because fuck normal gender roles!

And Harley can flaunt it!

Well...time to save more faces. Dark Lord Twittler stole the faces of all the fairies.

With this region, there should come with a few advisories.

Beware of spiders.

Don’t drink the water.

Seriously DO NOT drink the water! Are you a fucking dumbass for doing this twice? And finally...

There is no God if he allows something as a Twerkey to live and breathe.

So I saved the fairies...

And turning Drew into a butterfly with the same color as a Flygon is just perfect timing on my part.

The fairies do their special dance, peace is in the land once more.

Sighs...do I even need to do the “trap” joke anymore?

Okay, time to get the whole gang back together.

Because that glowing orange yam Dark Lord is putting your friends faces on different objects and such.

With the help of the Great Sage, I was able to get my whole crew back together.

This makes me happy having all of them together like this. Let’s keep it that way and have our faces remain on...our faces.

Fuck you Mango Mussolini!

Actually, there’s a greater being that’s eviler and darker than 45 jellyrolls over here. And this Weirdmaggedan entity here has taken over the Great Sage and is now our final boss.

But on a positive note, we saved Dominic the...

No, no, but Pearl-point for you if you got the reference.

Now, we can go to the Traveler’s Hub and help travelers like...

Oh, this is too funny. I love how so many things in my game make sense to me.

Aside from the travels...

Nezuko sells hot dogs.

Zoey actually praises a male.

Anderson Cooper takes blackmail photos and photo-fails.

He catches us at our worst times, but he does fine work.

I caught Marilyn Manson trying to strip.

I wonder if he was going to go through with it if he hadn’t seen me?

Oh that is too funny. Mostly because every time I’ve sent Homer to the ranch, something happens to the sheep.

Grell’s message in a bottle didn’t go as well as he thought.

I unleashed full Bojack (with all of my MP being used).

And I flex my muscles in the kitchen.

It’s been one hell of an adventure so far and I have lots more to do.

But for now, I’m just gonna stare at the stars with Tracey.

Pfft. Like I believe in such a thing.

Okay shooting star, let’s see if you can make any of these impossible dreams of mine come true.

I wish for...

My student debt to be canceled

Trump to be arrested

Those last two episodes of Empire to be filmed

Tracey Sketchit to have a cameo, no matter how small, I’ll take it.

See, these are literally the hardest wishes to fulfill. Good luck shooting star.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Praise the shooting star!

I can die happy!

Do with me as you wish, shooting star-sama!

#miitopia #tracey #homer simpson #ike broflovski #harley #cilan #dento-fruit #grell sutcliff #vegeta #piers #allister #lucious lyon #cookie lyon

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feeling--pink · 4 years ago

Photo

I call it... D&Ducktales!!! :D

I thought that name was funny, anways! As per usual I have explanations for everyone under the cut!

These took me 30 hours this past week to make can you believe???

Anyways explanations here we go!!!

Huey

Wizard

Big red hat is the most important thing about this

Thought about making him a ranger but the idea of the JWD being his spell book is far too good

Let Huey wear more pink cowards!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay but seriously I needed a secondary color and my orange has been finicky recently

Finicky orange still makes an appearance though because heck it

Pink magic because it would blend in with his clothes if I did red and thats no fun

Dewey

Bard

Scarf is based off of his hat in Sky Pirates… In the Sky!

That whole episode is 90% of the reason he’s a bard

Bards can learn healing spells but he probably didn’t for more attack based spells

While I’m here let me explain how much I hate armor

Thats actually kinda it I hate drawing armor

So I don’t and pretend one shoulder pad is the same thing

Moving on… he kinda gives me Sokka vibes for some reason

Light blue magic because I didn’t use the light blue I use for his undershirt normally for anything else

Louie

Rouge

Was kinda opposed to this at first until I read in the quick build that a rogue can choose either Intelligence or Charisma for their second highest

At the beginning with their quick descriptions they only say intelligence so I was like hmmn..

But charisma!! That’s his highest stat for sure!!

Needed the hood, decided instead of a lining I would go for a very weird gradient

Undershirt dark green because we gotta keep as many greens as possible

Khopesh Khopesh Khopesh!!!!!!!!!

Webby

Monk

Almost made her a paladin because lets be honest… Webby deserves to be a tank

But Dexterity needed to be more importiant so monk!!

Plus she’s sometimes the Airbender in those Avatar AUs and they’re monks so it works… obviously

Gave her spats for no reason

If I’m not going to draw Scrooge in this au (which I won’t) she has to have some sort of tie to him anyways

Lena

Warlock

That one seems pretty obvious

Amulet is her arcane focus

Got the same sort of weird quilt-y overcoat as Violet cause they’re siblings so it makes since

I hadn’t given ANYONE any adventuring boots yet and she has shoes in the show so…

Drawing her without the pink in her hair is weird by the way

Violet

Druid

I wasn’t sure whether to put her under ranger or druid

So I asked my friend and they said Druid so I did that!!

THE FIRST HECKING PERSON TO HAVE A GOSH DARN HEALING SPELL

This group is a mess for their lack of healing spells

I made her under dress look like violet petals!!

Get it?? Because her name is Violet?????

Wooden staff arcane focus because there wern’t enough people with staffs yet

Light purple lilac looking magic because yeah!!

Okay I realized I hadn’t been drawing Violet with her freckles which is a crime so EXTRA FRECKLES

Gyro

Artificer!!!!!

THESE GUYS ARE SO COOL HOW DIDN’T I KNOW ABOUT THEM?????

Another stupid big hat because I like big hats

All these guys have steampunk vibes so I tired to go for that look

More adventuring boots!!

Alchemist subtype

Fenton

Paladin!!!

He just makes so much sense as a Paladin

Tried giving him Gizmoduck’s colors instead of his regular

Armor is a little darker than I would have liked but what can you do?

His sheath is his regular colors though!!!

Give this man a BIG SWORD

The only other person in this whole gosh darn party to have any healing spells

That’s all I have!!! I would love to draw Boyd and some other people but I’m having trouble placing them in classes so if you have any ideas help me out!!!

Please help me I love Boyd too much to leave him out I just don’t know what class he should be please-

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shlabam · 4 years ago

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TOP TEN COMICS BOOK VILLAINS WE PROBABLY WON’T SEE IN THE MOVIES

Superhero media is the hottest thing going right now. It was true ten years ago when the MCU was in its adolescence, and it’s even truer now. Even with film production on lockdown, Marvel and DC are still planning on literally dozens of their characters entering their respective cinematic universes. However, for the fans of the source material, things can be contentious. For every memorable Tony Stark quip, there’s Superman destroying an entire city because he’s, frankly, kind of dumb now. A major point of contention is how the various popular villains are utilized. Making an intimidating and potent villain in a comic book is very different than in a film. In comics, you have months to establish motive, powers, and backstory before the villain even makes their first move. In films, that all has to be compressed and spilled out in the scarce few minutes when Captain America and Bucky aren’t making bambi eyes at each other. To be concise, some villains adapt perfectly, and some, no matter how good they are in the comics, just don’t. And to be clear, this list is of popular villains who have the possibility of appearing in a big-budget film, so no, you won’t be seeing Ten Eyed Man or Big Wheel in there. Their powers are, respectively, having ten eyes, and being very good in business. (That’s a lie, he’s just a huge wheel who chases Spider-Man.)

10: Mr. Mxyzptlk:

Cool, let’s get this one out of the way. Despite being one of Superman’s oldest, longest-lasting, and most popular enemies from all the way back in the Golden Age, there’s no way in hell he will be in a movie. For the uninformed. Mr. Mxyzptlk is a 5th dimensional wizard-genie who appears every ninety days to torment Superman with his reality-altering antics, and can only be sent back to his home dimension if Superman tricks him into saying his own name backwards. Yes, it would be very dazzling, as Mr. Mxyzptlk’s powers in a movie would basically look like if Christopher Nolan directed Who Framed Roger Rabbit, but he’s a little too silly to fit in with the current “everything is gloomy and also a bummer” tone of the Superman films. This silly tone has lent itself perfectly to the Supergirl series, where he’s made a handful of appearances. Besides, if we get Mxyzptlk in a Superman movie before Brainiac, I’ll lose my entire freaking mind.

9: Hobgoblin:

There have been eight Spider-Man movies so far, and of those eight, four of them have, in some capacity, featured the Green Goblin. And that makes sense, right? The Green Goblin is easily Spider-Man’s most memorable and reoccurring nemesis, with Doctor Octopus and Venom close behind, and Peter Parker’s link with Norman and Harry Osbourn makes their tragic story perfect for film adaptation. On the other hand, we have the Hobgoblin, who is essentially Green Goblin with all the gimmicks, none of the Parker-adjacent backstory, and an orange and blue color scheme, likely tying him to the Denver Broncos [citation needed]. Still, in those four cinematic attempts at tackling the Goblin, none of them have quite gotten him right, and I can’t imagine this character, who is, even in canon, an intentional Green Goblin rip-off, would fare any better.

8: Starro:

Brave and the Bold #28 from 1960 featured the first story with the Justice League, and this story put them up against a very unique new villain: Starro the Conqueror, a giant telepathic starfish who can release tiny versions of himself. If these tiny starfish latch onto your head, you’re under his control and obey his commands. The Justice League have battled him fairly regularly over the last fifty years, and he’s a distinct and powerful enemy that the fans generally appreciate, leading to him being referenced occasionally in Smallville, Arrow, and Flash. Why won’t he ever be in a movie? Because if you’re a Hollywood producer, you stopped paying attention at “giant telepathic starfish”. Sorry. Maybe Shuma-Gorath will pop up in the next Doctor Strange movie, and he’ll set off a Twilight-esque wave of starfish monster movies! Then again, almost absolutely not.

7: Puppet Master:

Speaking of mind control, what’s scarier than that? For my money, nothing. Having your body and will taken away from you by an unseen force is a terror greater than death. How could you possibly make a villain based around such a chilling concept and have him not be scary? Well, maybe if it’s an old bald man in an apron playing with dolls. The Puppet Master is an ongoing threat for the Fantastic Four who is just that: he makes models of his foes out of radioactive clay, and makes them punch themselves and dance around and kiss each other, because he’s, y’know, a weird old man. Why is he such a consistent threat who hasn’t fallen into obscurity like other dumb gimmick-based villains? His stepdaughter, Alicia Masters, is the Thing’s longtime girlfriend. As long as she keeps appearing in movies (including being played by… Kerry Washington? That can’t be right), there’s always a chance he’ll pop up, but I don’t think any movie studio is that stupid, despite the quality of every Fantastic Four movie blatantly defying that prediction.

6: Bizarro:

Superman has always suffered in the villains department. When you’re essentially a god, what can they throw at you? As it turns out, Lex Luthor, almost always. But why not another Superman? Bizarro is essentially that, an imperfect clone of Superman who speaks in opposite speak - “Bizarro am good! Me not punch you until you live!” - and features the same abilities as the Man of Steel. Sounds great, right? Putting a hero against a villain with their same powers has worked for nearly every Marvel movie (shots fired). So why won’t we see him grace our silver screens any time soon? Because they’ve never really figured him out. Is he funny? Is he lethal? Does Kryptonite work on him? If he does everything the opposite of Superman, why does he wear clothes? Isn’t being naked the opposite of being clothed? Bizarro is a major Superman side-character and has made appearances in Smallville and Supergirl, but the idea of him being the Big Bad going toe-to-toe with Henry Cavill doesn’t sound like it would generate a lot of views.

5: Impossible Man:

You remember what I said about Mr. Mxyzptlk? Remember? So take that bit, but everywhere I say Superman, have it say Fantastic Four instead… yeah, that should do it.

4: The Wrecking Crew:

Thor has a unique quirk of having a very cinematic rogues gallery. Sure, most of the movies have pitted him against Loki, but if they were to run him up against the Enchantress, or the Absorbing Man, or Ulik the Troll, or Kurse, or even the Stone Men from Saturn, that’s not a bad movie! However, in one of the attempts to give Thor more of a mortal nemesis, they put him up against the Wrecker, who has an… enchanted… indestructible… crowbar. Yeah. Incredibly, the Wrecker and his Wrecking Crew have become very present characters throughout the Marvel Universe, essentially serving as “jobbers”, being rolled out to get beaten up by the new top hero or villain, but that may not work in a movie, where villains have to be seen as having some level of potency before being struck down. That means we’d need at least a short scene where it seems like Thor might lose to a guy whose power is “crowbar”, and that’s about as likely as an Edward Norton cameo in the next Avengers. Ho boy, they did NOT part on good terms!

3: Clayface:

When the movie-going public goes to see a Batman movie, they generally want something a bit more grounded than your typical superhero fare. After all, Batman has no powers, and therefore the most supernatural thing that should happen in these movies is a gas that makes you smile, or a different gas that makes you think your dead parents are back and disappointed in you. Might wanna put a mouth covering on that mask, Bruce! The one and only they’ve made a movie where Batman fights people with real, off-the-wall super powers (Batman and Robin), it did not go great. And those guys pale in comparison to Clayface, who is, yes, made of clay. In the comics and cartoons, Clayface looks awesome, turning his limbs into weapons and being very challenging to incapacitate, but in a live-action, realistic Batman adventure, we wouldn’t want to see the Dark Knight fight a poop-colored version of the T-1000, especially if it’s got the same chemical composition of a little dreidel that I made.

2: Red Hood:

A relative newcomer to the Batman universe, Red Hood is the revived body of Jason Todd, the second Robin, who was brutally killed by the Joker in one of the most controversial storylines DC Comics ever produced. Literally, fans called a 900 number to tell the writers to kill him off. A 900 number. That’s how much they hated the little turd. Anyway, Jason Todd, whom Batman and the rest of the world believed was dead, was revived by Ra’s al Ghul and became a ruthless villain. Since then, he’s gravitated more to the side of the hero, though one a bit more willing to spill blood than his mentors. Why won’t we see him in the darker, edgier Batman films? Because… that’s Bucky. It’s the same thing that happened in Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Teen sidekick killed in controversial manner, revived by super villain to be a thorn in said hero’s side, later changes his mind and becomes a good guy again, though with enough PTSD to fill a PTSD super store. The two storylines even occurred in the comics in the same year, 2005, to much fanfare and across-the-board declarations of one company ripping off the other, reminding the world of the great Aquaman-Namor debates of the 1940s. Considering that DC’s films have criminally underperformed compared to Marvel’s, the last thing they want to do is be accused of lazy plagiarism, so Jason Todd will likely remain a permanent fixture in the afterlife, hanging out with Batman’s parents and, at the rate that people are coming back from the dead, literally no one else. (Plus, if they can’t even get Robin right, how are they gonna do this?)

1: Mister Sinister:

Yes, he was teased at the end of X-Men Apocalypse, but ignoring that the film underperformed both critically and commercially, Mister Sinister is never going to be in a movie. It would make sense for him to appear, though, right? He’s one of the most present and potent X-Men villains, he’s played crucial roles in many memorable storylines, he’s got a sick cape, but… something a lot of comic book fans tend to overlook is his murky backstory, powers, and motivations. He was a biologist in Victorian London who did genetic experiments on homeless people in the hopes of finding clues about the oncoming threat of mutants. In this time, he unearthed the long-dormant En Sabah Nur, whom you plebeians may know as Apocalypse, and Apocalypse gifted him with great abilities. What abilities you ask? HA HA, good question! At various times, Sinister has displayed: telepathy, telekinesis, energy projection, shape-shifting, regeneration, and teleportation, but these powers will mysteriously disappear whenever they want him to get sliced up real good by Wolverine. Additionally, it has never been made very clear what Sinister wants. Does he seek perfect mastery of the human genome? Does he live to torment Cyclops? Is he a blind follower of Apocalypse? Is he just running through all the different kinds of goatee? Of course, in adaptation, the writers would pick and choose the aspects they’d want to use, but I doubt they’d want to untangle the Christmas lights mess that is Mister Sinister, especially when they’ve got a perfectly good villain whose power is just “magnets”.

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imaginaryelle · 4 years ago

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Thanks to @morphia-writes for beta help, and to @miyuki4s for all the brainstorming help that went into this chapter!

An excerpt:

There are some things Lan Wangji cannot doubt: Wei Ying’s love for his sister, and her children. His affection for Jiang Wanyin, and the Wens. His dedication to ensuring that Lan Wangji himself does not succumb to the curse he carries.

Every evening, he creates a fresh talisman to replaces the one on Lan Wangji’s arm. He brews one of three different medicinal teas from Wen Qing, in sequence, and serves it, sometimes drinking a portion or two himself. He invites Lan Wangji to play Rest as a duet for the suppressed, resentful souls they carry, and then other, less spiritually charged music, and asks after his core, after their evening meditations.

Every morning, Lan Wangji takes longer than he needs to to comb his hair, and tie it up, and dress. Wei Ying looks younger in the diffused dawnlight inside the tent. Softer, sprawled carelessly under blankets with his sleep robe twisted out of place to reveal the hollow of his elbow and the line of his collar bones.

It’s an indulgence Lan Wangji shouldn’t permit himself. A few moments, watching Wei Ying breathe and concentrating on the steady warmth of the soulbond under his own skin.

Read on tumblr under the cut!

It takes more than one day for a sect leader to prepare for the sort of journey they’re planning. Not because of the journey itself, Wei Ying is quick to point out, but because of all the things he has to make sure are done beforehand.

“Wen Qing is locking me in my study today,” he says over breakfast on the first day, “but Sizhui, Xiuying and Weixin are meeting with a tailor for new clothes and you should go.”

As he has been wearing borrowed or stolen clothes for several days now, Lan Wangji cannot bring himself to protest. He has no desire to wear extra infirmary underlayers while traveling, and the plain black outer layer Wen Qionglin had brought to his door was clearly intended to fit as many people as possible. Commissioning something new, or at least something altered to fit properly, is only reasonable.

Wei Ying insists that he’s already paid for the service, which Lan Wangji can only thank him for; he has no funds of his own, or reputation to call on.

“Get something you like,” Wei Ying tells him, even as Wen Qing looms over his shoulder. “Anything you want is fine.”

Lan Wangji assumes this event will take place within Yiling-Wei’s walls, as was generally the case in Cloud Recesses, but instead he finds himself following Wen Sizhui, Zhou Xiuying and Liu Weixin through a town that looks much more prosperous than the Yiling he visited thirteen years ago, and is almost certainly louder and more crowded than he remembers.

That impression may be influenced by his company. Certainly he had felt there were entirely too many people in the street when he was surrounded by onlookers with a toddler clutching at his leg, but if anything their small group draws even more attention now.

Everyone seems to know Wen Sizhui. There are street hawkers and shop owners who greet him by name, and press freshly steamed baozi and sticks of hawthorn candy into his hands, and it is clear from their comments that the townspeople of Yiling are close to their Sect in a way that is certainly not true of Cloud Recesses and Caiyi, or Jinlingtai and Lanling. One merchant is so insistent on thanking them for some past service that all four of them end up holding packages of lotus root, despite the fact that Lan Wangji can have had nothing to do with solving the woman’s problems.

The pattern continues inside the tailor’s shop—the young Wei cultivators are being fitted with new black outer yi and trousers designed to the Jiang Clan’s specifications for the upcoming archery tournament, but they are all clearly well-known to the staff. And Lan Wangji has come with the Sect Leader’s express instructions. And also the offer of his purse.

“Wei-zongzhu said you might prefer these,” one of the tailor’s assistants says, his hands full of fine-woven cream and blue fabrics, “but we do have other colors, of course.”

None of the fabrics on display are the shining, pure white of Gusu-Lan, but there is sun-bleached silk and cloud-white cotton and pale wool woven thinner than paper. It doesn’t seem to matter what he says, or how he responds: he is fussed over, and measured, and prodded. Silk and wool and brocade are draped over his shoulders and held up to his face for comparisons of shade and texture, and he leaves the shop—it is much later in the afternoon than he expected—with the black robe he arrived in newly altered and a sash of summerweight wool dyed the blue of a pale spring morning tied around his waist. Travel clothes, he is assured, will be delivered in the next few days.

He could not bring himself to commission a forehead ribbon, in any color; he is already quite certain these new robes will exceed any budget or social standing Liang Feihong could expect to claim. Wei Ying seems unconcerned.

“It’s a gift,” he insists after dinner. “Besides, you’re still a cultivator, and you’re traveling with a sect leader. It’d be weird if you looked like a fisherman.”

Lan Wangji is certain there are several measures of difference between the dress of a fisherman, a rogue cultivator, and the fabrics that were held before his face today.

“Look at this map with me,” Wei Ying says, the topic apparently closed. “I’m trying to figure out which roads are least likely to be blocked by mudslides. Wen Qing says if I get on a boat during the spring rains she’ll kill me now to save herself the trouble of burying me later.”

Lan Wangji may not have any formal responsibilities at Yiling-Wei, but Wen Qing makes it clear that she expects marked improvement in his spiritual power before he leaves her area of influence. He is given a list of meditation exercises and a schedule of daily training sessions for sword and unarmed work with her apprentices on hand to monitor his condition.

This is not a hardship. He had already planned to dedicate most of his time to this task, and the Wei cultivators have a unique style—not quite Yunmeng-Jiang, but not Qishan-Wen either. Wei Ying, of course, is the most practiced in it, and his version does not even involve a sword; Suibian is distinctly absent from their training sessions, but this does not seem to affect Wei Ying’s efficacy. Twice Lan Wangji is not fast enough to avoid the touch of a talisman to his shoulder, or his core.

He takes no actual damage from them—Wei Ying is careful in his craft, and these were written specifically for this purpose, but the failure drives him to train harder, even against other sparring opponents, until whatever apprentice is observing him steps in and orders a rest.

He spends this enforced downtime reading theory texts from Wen Qing’s library or at his guqin, picking out simple practice scores and more complex Lan melodies in the hope of re-training both his fingers and his core in the delicate language required for performing Inquiry. He works outside, in the scattered gardens, whenever the weather allows. A few hours spent alone in his shuttered room during a sudden storm proves detrimental to his focus, no matter how many handstands he does, or what other meditation techniques he tries. It is better to be out in the open air, where he can breathe more easily.

“Lan Zhan!” On the afternoon of the third day Wei Ying leans around the mulberry tree on the other side of a plot dedicated largely to cooking herbs. He looks around as if he thinks they’re being watched, and then all but runs over to crouch next to Lan Wangji. “I want to show you something,” he whispers. He tugs on Lan Wangji’s sleeve. “Come on, quick!”

“Something” turns out to be the paddock, where a 2-day-old foal is taking in the outside world for the first time under his mother’s watchful eyes. Wei Ying drapes himself over the fence and watches them both with a rapt expression Lan Wangji has never seen him wear before. Zhou Xiuying is also in attendance, alongside her wife—Feng Xinyi—who he learns is the one of the Wei Sect’s grooms.

“Xiaoying and Heitu are just one pasture over, if you wanted to meet them,” she says, which is how Lan Wangji learns that Wei Ying intends to travel by mule.

“Do you know how hard it is to feed a horse?” he says as they walk through tall grass flushed green with the rains. “Have you ever tried to train a horse for night hunting? In a Yunmeng summer? The heat is terrible for them. I think the only reason Jiang Cheng still has horses is his grandmother sent a whole caravan of grooms and breeding stock from Meishan when the war ended.” He produces two apples from his sleeve and holds one out to the nearest mule and the other to Lan Wangji. “Mules are better,” he says, his tone flippant as he pets Xiaoying’s long nose. “And almost as impressive.”

Xiaoying and Heitu are undeniably beautiful animals; good conformation, clearly healthy, and their dark bay coats shine red in the sunlight. And Lan Wangji knows that he will not be able to travel by sword for some time yet. Not alone. He cannot expect Wei Ying to transport them both, and walking will be too slow. Riding makes sense.

“Little Shadow?” he asks, of Wei Ying’s mount. “And … Black Rabbit?” They are hardly the sorts of names he is accustomed to hearing for a cultivator’s steed. There is little sense of speed, or power, or even luck in these names. Wei Ying shrugs.

“Xiaoying used to lie in the grass and pretend to be dead. Sizhui tripped over her all the time, and then she’d follow him for hours. And Heitu likes to jump, she hopped all over the place as a filly--ah! Lan Zhan!” He grins, gleeful, mischief in his face. “Do you remember the rabbits I gave you, all those years ago? And now I can give you another one! A bigger one!” Wei Ying laughs, just as he had laughed in Cloud Recesses, depositing two rabbits on the floor of the library, some sort of gift and joke and torment all in one, Lan Wangji had been sure.

Lan Wangji hadn’t known what to do then, with the boy who refused to leave him alone, who insisted on teasing him at every opportunity. Now, he stares at Wei Ying’s hands, at long sleeves pulled back to reveal his wrists, at his lips, and he knows what he wants to do.

He steps closer to Heitu, offers her his hands in a bowl instead of reaching out beyond her.

“I remember,” he says. It’s possible that his brother allowed his pets to stay, after his death.

Unlikely. But possible.

Heitu snuffles at his hands, all warm breath and soft nose in a way that is, in some small semblance, reminiscent of the soft warmth of his rabbits. She bears nothing like their fragility, but she takes the apple he offers delicately, and he keeps his fingers well clear of her teeth. Wei Ying strokes Xiaoying’s face and talks sweetly at her until she takes his sleeve in her mouth, at which point he switches over to annoyed admonishments. Lan Wangji has just stepped nearer to help him when Wen Qionglin appears at Wei Ying’s shoulder.

“Qing-jie wants to know if you finished that letter to Ouyang-zongzhu yet,” he says.

Wei Ying jerks, and there’s a sound of tearing cloth. He sighs.

“Feng-shimei told you to stop keeping food in your sleeves,” Wen Qionglin notes, even as he distracts Xiaoying with a hand on her neck. She drops Wei Ying’s sleeve and nudges her nose into Wen Qionglin’s chest. Both animals seem accustomed to his presence.

“I took it out as soon as we got here,” Wei Ying grumbles. “I wouldn’t have torn anything if I wasn’t surprised.” He sticks his fingers through the tear in his sleeve and wiggles them. The look on his face can only be described as a pout.

“I can fix it for you—” Wen Qionglin actually looks worried. Wei Ying just sighs and flaps his sleeve.

“I’ll fix it,” he says. “Why should you fix it? It’s fine.” He frowns at Xiaoying for a moment, then leans into Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

“I really can’t recommend becoming a sect leader,” he says, low-voiced, as if this will affect Wen Qionglin’s hearing. “The number of letters you have to respond to is too much work. I don’t think Ouyang-zongzhu even reads them, he just sends some new complaint every few weeks, as if I can control the weather, or the river, or how sleepy his cultivators get when they’re on tower duty.”

Lan Wangji has never heard his brother or his uncle make similar complaints, but they are Lans; they would not say such a thing even if it were true.

“Did you not choose the position?” he asks.

Wei Ying’s face scrunches up with displeasure. He shakes his head, though whether it is denial or dismissal is impossible to determine.

“I better get back to it,” he says instead of answering the question. “Before Wen Qing tells the kitchens to put radish in my food again.”

He sighs, and waves aside Lan Wangji’s bow. “I’ll see you both at dinner,” he says, and Wen Qionglin nods. Lan Wangji watches Wei Ying walk back up the hill towards the main compound until Heitu seems to take offense to his distraction and knocks her head against his shoulder, huffing at him.

“Does Liang-gongzi know how to ride?” Wen Qionglin asks. It’s a fair question: Lan Wangji does not actually know if Liang Feihong was trained in riding. He prevaricates. What is true for him is just as likely to be true for Liang Feihong as not.

“It has been a long time.”

“Would you like to practice?” Wen Qionglin asks, and Lan Wangji agrees without hesitation. Practice, and especially practice in caring for his mount without servants to help, can only improve the upcoming journey.

Wen Qionglin shows him to the tack room, and he manages to brush and saddle Heitu with a minimum of fuss. The main difference between outfitting a horse and a mule, he finds, is that Heitu’s tack includes two belly cinches, there is an extra strap that goes under her tail to stop the saddle moving too far forward, and he has to be especially gentle with her long ears while placing the bridle. Xiaoying is the more mischievous of the pair, Wen Qionglin tells him, and has to be watched carefully so she doesn’t puff out her stomach and make the cinches too loose.

Riding is initially awkward, but after a few slow circuits of the paddock he finds his seat and is able to push Heitu faster without losing his balance too badly. She takes direction well, has a steady, comfortable gait, and doesn’t startle as easily as some horses he’s ridden. He will almost certainly be sore later, especially without a dependable supply of spiritual power to speed healing, but the wind in his face and the simple pleasures of riding are more than worth that discomfort. He turns back toward the stables when they have both worked up a light sweat and sees Feng Xinyi speaking with Wen Qionglin. She smiles as he approaches, but doesn’t stay.

“I should get back to the little one,” she says. “But I’m glad to know Heitu will have a rider who knows what he’s doing.”

Wen Qionglin leads Heitu to a water trough and pets her cheek until Feng Xinyi is out of earshot.

“Wei-zongzhu trusts you,” he says. As if this is a fact.

Lan Wangji stares back at him. Wen Qionglin does not breathe, and he does not blink. He stands perfectly, unnaturally still, and waits. Apparently some response is required.

He settles on, “I trust him, also.”

Wen Qionglin watches him for a moment longer, and then nods. Then he says, “If he truly needs help, I will know. No matter where he is. And I am very fast.”

Oh.

This is probably intended as a threat.

Lan Wangji slides off Heitu’s back, so that they are eye to eye.

“I mean him no harm,” he says. In his current state of spiritual power it’s almost reassuring to know that someone else is concerned for Wei Ying's welfare. It should not be at all surprising, but he finds he is often surprised by Wen Qionglin, who has continued to move and talk and physically reside with his family for over a decade when everything Lan Wangji has been taught says he should not even exist.

Those same teachings would object to his own new existence as well; they are, both of them, supposed to be long dead.

“I will not let him come to harm,” he says, “if I can help it.”

He worries for a moment that this will be too revealing, but Wen Qionglin does not question him further. Perhaps he doesn’t need to. They are both well aware of the loyalty Wei Ying can inspire, under the right circumstances.

“I will show you where to find the saddle bags and travel rations,” Wen Qionglin decides, and he doesn’t speak of anything but Xiaoying and Heitu’s care and habits for the rest of the afternoon.

The evening before their planned departure, Wen Qing summons Lan Wangji once more to her study. Wei Ying arrives partway through her examination of his meridians and, surprisingly, sits quietly beside her desk until she’s finished. When she nods he joins them both behind the privacy screen and produces two cloth-wrapped packages—in one, two coiled lengths of red silk string, and in the other a pale jade carving of an endless panchang knot.

“Our hope is to give your spiritual power a new path through your meridians,” Wen Qing tells him as she inspects the strings. “One that minimizes the curse’s influence.” She blocks the meridians at his shoulder with her needles, and then ties one string to his arm, above the curse mark, and the other below it, each secured with a cloverleaf knot and sealed with a touch of spiritual power.

Wei Ying leans in close and presses two fingers to the talisman over the curse mark, but doesn’t touch either the silk or the jade. He keeps his silence. Lan Wangji watches his face and cannot read his thoughts.

“Just making sure this doesn’t interrupt us,” he says when he sees Lan Wangji watching. He holds up a second talisman in his other hand. “Wouldn’t want to have to start over in the middle.”

It’s a reasonable precaution: Tying the new charm is a long process, a progression of knots that covers most of his forearm. The jade panchang knot is tied in just above the curse mark, and another panchang knot of red silk tied below the wound. Wen Qing and Wei Ying both study it closely, and then she removes her needles and takes his wrist again, walking him through a slow meditation, cycling spiritual power through his body.

The flow of power is smoother, though it does perhaps take a little more time than he expects.

Wei Ying removes his fingers with a nod and a sigh. Wen Qing smiles, satisfied.

“The talisman will still need to be reapplied regularly,” she says, “but these charms together should be enough to minimize the curse’s effect on your meridians, so your core can begin to heal.”

It has already begun. He can feel the difference.

“Thank you.” The words seem inadequate, but he has little else to offer. Even this, she waves aside.

“I’m sure you don’t need my guidance for the proper exercises, but I do have many more theory texts, if you wish to read them.”

“We can bring some along,” Wei Ying promises. “Most of the best ones, we have more than one copy.”

Lan Wangji thinks of the library—of the many books that bear the same hand. Some copied by Wen Qing. Some by Wei Ying. Others in a clear, steady hand he doesn’t recognize. Of the single bound copy of the Lan Clan rules he’d found next to a copy of the Wen principles, and the books that he doubts his brother knows exist, copies of texts that were available to guest disciples studying at Cloud Recesses.

He wonders if his brother knew, when he was rebuilding the Library Pavilion, just how exact Wei Ying’s memory can be.

“Thank you,” he says again.

“Get some sleep,” Wen Qing says. “Both of you.” She stares hard at Wei Ying. “I’m not going to be the one dragging you out of your rooms in the morning. It’s no matter to me if you miss traveling during the coolest part of the day.”

Traveling with Wei Ying, and only with Wei Ying, is different from traveling alone, or with other Lan disciples, and different again from his memories of travel during the Sunshot Campaign. Then, Wei Ying had shifted through moods like ripples in water, sometimes predictable but more often not. A laugh like a clash of swords, a glare that pierced like needles. More than once Lan Wangji had found him alone but for the poor company the dead might provide, brooding under a shadow that seemed to cling to him even on the clearest of days. And then he would turn and ask if Lan Wangji knew this or that song, or if he wanted to spar, or if he’d eaten because surely it must be time for the next meal by now, and Lan Wangji would push aside his concern until hours later, when Wei Ying was just as likely to pull a prank as get in a fight with an ally. A fight with Lan Wangji himself, more often than not.

But that was the war. Decades ago, now, for everyone but Lan Wangji himself.

Now, Wei Ying laughs with more humor, and the cant of his eyes is merely sly rather than cutting. He grumbles through his breakfast and morning tea. He bickers with Xiaoying while saddling her and slouches through the morning hours until some unknown precondition is met, and then he begins talking aloud about whatever is on his mind at the moment: the weather, which continues to be wet, with cool mornings and steamy afternoons, or theories on their two investigations, or tales of past night hunts, which quickly shift into stories of Wen Sizhui, or Jiang Wanyin and Jin Rulan, and from there to the other members of Yiling-Wei, and Yunmeng-Jiang, and Lanling-Jin. Once, when they stop and take shelter under a half-repaired watchtower to wait out a storm, Wei Ying says, “Ah, Lan Zhan, do you remember that week we had rain every day, in Gusu?” and he speaks of Lan Xichen, and the Lan Sect, and what little he knows of its current status.

Cloud Recesses has been rebuilt, reportedly exactly as it was before the Wens attacked. Lan Qiren still teaches, and Lan Wangji feels a swell of relief to know his uncle still breathes. The Sect still hosts a year-long seminar for young disciples of any sect, every few years. Wen Sizhui, Liu Weixin and Zhou Xiuying have attended it, and returned with reports of young Lan cultivators who Wen Sizhui described as friendly, Liu Weixin called unbearably rigid, and Zhou Xiuying pronounced worthy sparring opponents. Lan Xichen has, unsurprisingly, built a widely-spoken reputation for even-mindedness that Lan Wangji knows he himself could never hope to match.

There is no bitterness to any of Wei Ying’s tales. No mention of hardship or enmity, over a span of more than a decade that Lan Wangji knows cannot have been easy, especially near its start. But then, Lan Wangji has long known that Wei Ying lies more easily than he tells the truth, omits more than he ever says openly. Even when he was living among the Mass Graves, quite obviously short on food, the only hardship Wei Ying would admit to was a lack of visitors, and news.

Still, there are some things he cannot doubt: Wei Ying’s love for his sister, and her children. His affection for Jiang Wanyin, and the Wens. His dedication to ensuring that Lan Wangji himself does not succumb to the curse he carries.

It’s an indulgence Lan Wangji shouldn’t permit himself. A few moments, watching Wei Ying breathe and concentrating on the steady warmth of the soulbond under his own skin.

He turns away. Steps outside. Rekindles the fire for breakfast.

During the long afternoon of the fourth day, after they have shared a quick lunch beside a clear-flowing stream and are letting Xiaoying and Heitu forage their own meal, Wei Ying draws out Chenqing and plays songs that seem to be purely for personal entertainment; there is no spiritual power behind them at all. Some, Lan Wangji recognizes as common to drinking houses and inns. Others he doesn’t recognize at all. He is considering unwrapping the guqin when Wei Ying’s somewhat random little melodies turn suddenly familiar.

Not just familiar.

Every note is etched into Lan Wangji’s soul.

Wei Ying catches him staring. He’s not certain what expression his own face is making, but Wei Ying looks suddenly defensive. His hands drop to his lap, wrapping around Chenqing as if Lan Wangji will try to tear the flute away from him.

“What?”

“You remember.” Lan Wangji shouldn’t be surprised—Wei Ying has remembered enough of his brief time at Cloud Recesses to reproduce the Lan Sect’s rules and three different treatises, and that’s only what Lan Wangji found. But it had been only once, in the Xuanwu’s cave. That song has only ever had an audience of one.

Wei Ying frowns at him.

“What ...” his eyebrows rise high on his forehead, his mouth forming a perfect circle. “Lan Zhan.” He leans forward, suddenly eager. “Lan Zhan, you know this song?”

Of course he knows it. How could he not?

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying continues. “No one knows this song. How do you know it? Is it a Lan Clan song? What’s its name?”

Words stick in Lan Wangji’s throat. Wei Ying doesn’t remember. Not really. He looks away. At the play of light on water. The swirl of shadowy fish, underneath.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says again, moving closer. “I can never remember where I heard it, and no one ever recognizes it. How do you know it?”

No one ever recognizes it, he says. Which means Wei Ying has been playing it. For other people. For thirteen years. And he doesn’t know.

Lan Wangji swallows back his foolish hopes. The words he might have said.

“I wrote it,” he admits, to the low rush of the spring and the whisper of reeds in the light breeze.

“What?”

When he risks a glance back, Wei Ying is staring. He looks utterly shocked.

“What do you mean, you wrote it?”

Lan Wangji does not want to have this conversation. Not now. Not if Wei Ying doesn’t remember something so important.

At least, it had been important to Lan Wangji.

“We should keep moving,” he says, and stands. Heitu is drinking from the stream, but she only flicks her ears when he touches her shoulder, and doesn’t offer any more protest than a shift of her weight as he unties her hobble and mounts.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying is frowning at him.

“We are wasting daylight,” Lan Wangji tells him. It’s true enough. This break is no shorter than any other.

Wei Ying grumbles. Retrieves his things.

“What’s its name?” he asks as he settles on Xiaoying.

I have already told you. Lan Wangji locks the words behind his teeth. Wei Ying does not speak of the soul bond, never broaches the topic of their battle with the Xuanwu or anything else from their lives that occurred after he left Cloud Recesses months before any other disciple, does not remember this, despite Lan Wangji telling him, despite his clear memory of the music itself and his perfect recall of texts long burnt to ashes.

“Think about it.” He says instead, and urges Heitu into a quicker pace, too fast for easy conversation.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying calls after him, but Lan Wangji does not look back.

When Wei Ying catches up he speaks of other things, and does not mention the song again.

Notes:

For the curious, Xiaoying and Heitu are named as references to famous horses from Romance of the Three Kingdoms. 絶影 (sometimes translated as "Suppressing Shadow" or "Shadow Runner") was one of the horses of Cao Cao, head of the state of Wei. He famously kept running despite taking three arrows, and thus saved his rider from enemies. 赤兔 (Red Hare) was described as "the best of horses" and within the tale people considered him to be too good for his original master. After that master died he was given to a new, more virtuous hero (Guan Yu, sometimes described as an ideal incarnation of loyalty and righteousness), who he was extremely loyal to.

(on to part 11)

#wangxian #mo dao zu shi #lan wangji #wei wuxian #mdzs #mdzs fic #wangxian fic #role reversal soulmate au #turnabout verse #alex writes #the yearning goes on #as ever

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buffyversefanfiction · 3 years ago

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Slayer of Slayers

Warnings: I do not own, nor do I claim to own any of the copyright or characters within the Buffyverse which includes but is not limited to the television shows Buffy and Angel, as well as the Darkhorse comics series’ continuation. 15+ Strong to moderate violence, Graphic to mild descriptions of gore, and torture, sexually charged scenes, sexual innuendos, mild to strong language, and practices of witchcraft. M/M, F/F, M/F, GEN, OTHER +

Part One: City of No Angel

After being away from Los Angeles for several years the brooding vampire Angel had been convinced to return to his former city under the advice of vampire slayer Faith Lehane who herself had been sent back to L.A. due to the witch Willow Rosenberg’s concern about a growing number of vampire slayers going missing within the troubled city that once had the evil law firm, Wolfram and Hart, pulling its strings. Angel, Faith, and old one Illyria arranged to meet at Angel’s old, haunted grounds The Hyperion Hotel which had once again become abandoned like it was when he first set up home in there with his friends who became like family, most of which were long gone now. After the unlikely trio consisting of a vampire with a soul, a former goddess in a human’s body, and a redeemed former rogue slayer, met up they soon discussed the facts of the mission which had brought them all together. “So, Willow’s big plan is for me to play the role I play best, the rogue slayer, thinking that whoever’s killing slayers is probably going to like the idea of teaming up with a slayer who kills humans or used to, obviously hoping they do not know any stories of all the things I’ve done while seeking some kind of redemption.” Faith informed Angel and Illyria. “I did the covert rogue slayer thing a while back for Giles and shit got pretty messy hence why I was not doing this one solo.” “If slayers are killing out other slayers, then maybe we should not interfere I mean after all there was only ever supposed to be one at a time whereas now you throw a rock and you have yourself some superpowered woman thinking themselves as something like a god insulting actual gods like myself,” Illyria complained while making it clear she was far from happy about the rise in the quantity over slayers over recent years. Both Angel and Faith did not bother to reply to Illyria’s choice of words having both got used to the way she speaks by now and how she viewed the world and despite her literal tough outer shell, the old one was always on their side without question having somehow become her friends. The three of them were determined to get to the bottom of the mysterious case of the slayer of slayers not realizing that this mission would change everything forever…

Elsewhere, in the city of Los Angeles, the slayer of slayers was eying their next target a Knight-haired vampire slayer looking something like Faith herself, as the girl believed she had the upper hand as she ran down a dark alleyway with a male vampire running after her, believing she was luring this monster into a trap not realizing that this vampire was luring her into one as part of his master’s own devious plan, to eradicate all slayers. “Unluckily for you, you seem to have no idea that I am not your average girl!” The young vampire slayer bravely stated as the male vampire closed in towards her with his full vampire face on display. The slayer wasted no time in charging towards her undead opponent as she pulled a wooden stake out of her black leather jacket during mid-run as she launched herself into the air, throwing her body into the night sky before launching her right clenched fist down towards the vampire, punching him with force across the face as her feet fell back onto the cold hard ground. The slayer continued to fight with the vampire each of them getting several good hits on the other before the young slayer eventually got the better of the vampire, kicking his body so hard the vampire fell to the ground as the slayer launched the wooden stake into the vampire’s chest causing the vampire to explode into nothing more than a big pile of dust. “They just keep bringing slayers to my city it’s like the big man no longer cares about his chosen daughters.” An unbelievably handsome man with short jet black said to the slayer as he too appeared from out of the shadows wearing a black fishnet t-shirt flaunting his chiseled abs with skin-tight black leather jeans that clung perfectly to his impressive body making this stranger look as sinister as he did sexily. The young slayer knew instantly whoever this stranger was, he was most definitely an enemy working alongside the forces of evil and so the Knight haired woman ran towards her next opponent not realizing that this opponent would be her last as it did not take long for the handsome stranger to quickly get the better of the slayer, punching her several times across the face before kicking her in the stomach with such force the slayer fell into some nearby bins amusing the man before her as she quickly began rustling through the rubbish as she pulled herself back up onto her feet defiantly. “You do not scare me, vampire!” She lied before charging towards this mysterious man once again, as she refused to allow her growing fear to get the better of her. “Not a vampire.” The man replied as he punched her once again before grabbing the slayer by her throat and lifting her up into the air into a chokehold. “You may know me as the slayer of slayers.” Before the slayer could muster any words while under the surprisingly strong stranger’s stronghold on her neck, he threw her across the street, her head hitting off a nearby wall before her body crashed onto the ground knocking the slayer unconscious in the process. “I swear you get sexier with every slayer you slaughter!” A short dirty blonde haired male vampire said as he appeared from out of the shadows eagerly making it clear to the two men knew each other very well. “Who would think little Theo will grow up to be the ruthless slayer of slayers?” “If only mummy dearest could see me now,” Theo replied as he walked over to the vampire with a seductive smirk on his face. “Killing slayers and sleeping with vampires.” The vampire, otherwise known as Tobias, pulled the slayer of slayers, otherwise known as Theo, in towards him until the two men’s bodies were grinding against each other’s as they began kissing passionately getting off on the carnage that Theo had just created.

After a rather successful night of Tobias hunting humans and Theo capturing a vampire slayer, the dangerous duo had retreated to a demonic dive bar that they owned together and often used as their headquarters for all their hellish operations, while their demonic and monstrous clients continued to drink and often join in when they were asked of by Theo and Tobias, fearing the two too much to even consider saying no to them. “I heard you’ve got yourself another slayer, is she on the menu tonight?” Asked one of the vampires that stood at the counter breaking up Theo’s kiss with his vampire lover as the two put their focus back on their customers. “This one’s going through a little processing right now before she gets served to our public no point drinking her blood while it's still poisoned now is there?” Theo replied with a sense of casualism that could only occur from doing what he did far too often. “Pretty messed up the things you do to your own kind Theo.” A demon with snake-like skin-colored red and a lizard-like tongue said to his bartender, laughing away in respect for the monster within the man in front of him. “I’m no vampire slayer, I am a slayer of slayers it's my destiny to eradicate them all and plunge this pathetic excuse of a world into pure and utter darkness it is just a bonus I get so much pleasure in killing each and every one of them,” Theo replied to the demon. “Besides slayer’s blood sells very well and who does not love money?” “My beloved Theo is unlike any before him, he not only lives in the darkness he thrives in it, and with him, on our side, the slayers will soon be nothing more than unfond memories.” Tobias chimed in while showing genuine affection for his lover. “My only fear of course is the one slayer who always defies the odds that perky blonde one who changed everything for her kind.” “Buffy Summers is more myth than truth Tobias, I have told you that before,” Theo said to the vampire, trying to reassure him that Buffy was nowhere near as much of a threat as she was in stories they had been told. “I would not underestimate the girl who killed Angelus and The Master not to mention that goddess who almost ended the world one time.” Another vampire at the counter said, adding to the conversation within the bar. “I have the upper hand when it comes to Buffy whether she is as fearful as they say she is still a woman, a woman who had seen love and loss in her time and will no doubt be thrown back to meet her only son.” Theo declared, revealing his identity as Buffy’s son to the shocked crowd within the bar, everyone except Tobias being stunned by the slayer of slayers’ admission.

The very next day Faith found herself riding on her motorbike down a somewhat quiet road on the outskirts of Los Angeles before pulling up on the middle of the road, climbing off her motorbike, and beginning to walk further and further into the hot desert, as she pulled out her phone from her jean pocket and dialed Willow’s number before putting her on loudspeaker while continuing to walk through the desert. “I know when you think dead bodies you reckon, I am the expert, but I was better at deserting them not looking for them in a bloody desert.” Faith said with her signature sense of sarcasm after hearing Willow answer her call. “This slayer got into L.A. not long before you did Faith, we’re not sure why any slayer would be rushing to Los Angeles these days but if we failed to safe her at the very least, we should try to find answers from her death to stop it happening again,” Willow replied to her. “I get it Willow, and I’m all for helping with the bigger picture but searching for a fellow slayer’s dead body before having breakfast is not all it’s cracked up to be.” Faith complained to the red-headed witch. “I will make you all the eggs on toast if you sort out the L.A. problem. You know you’re the main girl in action with Buffy being all M.I.A. since the incident.” Willow told her while trying to butter her up, only for Faith to be left silenced by finding the body of the young slayer who looked a little too much like her for Faith’s liking. “Looks like your right once again Will.” Faith admitted as she stood over the young slayer’s lifeless body all bloodied and wounded with injuries that told a tragic tale of torture. “Whatever’s killing us slayers seem to be taking real pleasure in it…I cannot wait to kill those bastards.” “Oh, goddess, this is far from good thank the heavens you’re not going solo on this one Faith,” Willow told the former rogue slayer. “I’ll call this in to the local authorities once you have got yourself a good distance from the crime scene, you should probably report back to Angel before going in undercover on this one… the last slayer we need showing up dead next is you.” “Thanks for the sentiment Will but this is even more reason for me to get my spy mode rolling!” Faith replied to the witch before hanging up the call to her. “Rather not wait around to examine the next dead slayer who happens to look far too much like me!”

Tobias walked into the bedroom of the apartment above the dive bar which he shared with Theo, shirtless and wearing a tight boxer brief as he willingly flaunted his tanned skin, muscular frame, and handsome body while walking over to Theo who was sat on the edge of their shared bed. “You know you anger me when you question my strength in front of the customers.” Theo, who was wearing just a pair of tight white boxer briefs himself, with the rest of his own impressive body fully on show, complained to his lover. “I am mainly looking out for you, fearing for you, worrying about you, like anyone who truly loved you would,” Tobias replied as he began softly kissing Theo’s neck. “I know you are capable of anything, but I cannot help but fear that we may lose everything we have worked so hard for.” “I love you too Tobias, but you have got to have more faith in the grand plan the last thing we want is for Drusilla to learn of your doubts,” Theo said through panted breath as Tobias began working his way down Theo’s chest, kissing lower and lower, slower, and slower, as he pushed Theo back onto the bed. “I would challenge the devil himself if his plans risked your safety!” Tobias promised the man he loved before he pulled Theo’s boxers down to his ankles, proceeding to take off his own boxers and climbing onto Theo’s naked body, their two bodies crashing against each other’s, kissing passionately, as they made love to each other.

The very next night Theo had taken himself just outside of the demonic dive bar he ran with his undead partner, to enjoy a quick smoke break as he stood in the dark alleyways smoking a cigarette only to be left stunned to find a Knight haired beauty appear from around the corner, clearly walking towards him, as Theo began to wonder if he had met this woman before, noting the similarity she had to the slayer he had recently murdered. “Don’t suppose I can steal a smoke from you?” Faith asked him, knowing damn fine that this man was the man she was looking for, determined to find out more about him so she could shut down his entire operation. “Here’s the thing love, humans do not normally come around this neighborhood unless they got a death wish that is,” Theo replied to her as he suspected this woman to be another slayer, another potential victim. “I’m not fully human, I’m a vampire slayer and even then, I’m much more than just any slayer I mean I do not mean to brag but I’m probably the most famous rogue slayer to ever live the original good girl gone bad although I was never that good.” Faith revealed herself, knowing no good girls made it out of this alleyway alive. “The name’s Faith, in case you did not already work that one out.” “Rumour has it you went back to the good side even helped Buffy herself destroy a Hellmouth along with her hometown,” Theo responded, clearly knowing a little something about the vampire slayer before him. “I hate rumors I’d like to get the guy spreading that lie and cut his tongue out!” Faith lied, ready to convince this man she was as evil now as she was back when she was evil. “Heard your part of this mission about killing all slayers and I’ve been trying that one long before you, in fact, I got pretty close to killing B until the bitch gutted me that is. However, a team-up could be just what I need to take her down once and for all.” “Well then Faith,” Theo answered with a smile on his face as he threw his cigarette to the ground eagerly. “How about a drink to discuss this potential partnership?” Faith had Theo exactly where she wanted him and he had her too, Faith being determined to take down his entire operation, and Theo wanted to test the theory of whether or not Faith was really the ruthless slayer she was claiming to be, neither of them liking the answers that would follow.

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twitchesandstitches · 5 years ago

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Commission for @alt-hammer, who asked for a story centering around a fantasty-themed AU where the major troll families are nobles, and focusing on Cronus seeing his long time girlfriend Porrim in person, along with her family of fellow gravid vampires!

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The land was scarred by ancient wars long since forgotten, but the land still remembered. Sometimes the memories were bad, with some bright spots.

This was the understanding according to the sages of the Leijon tribes in the dark forests, and the blind seers of Pyrope lands rarely liked to venture out there for fear of what their mystic gaze might reveal, and the great desert was the worst of it all. A terrible scar upon the world, it lay in a region where rain should have fallen, with no mountains for a great distance, and the climate was fairC. There should have been no deserts at all.

But their land was one with a dark and troubled history; war had touched it often, no less than the recent conflicts that had produced the modern noble houses of the troll lands and their human allies, and those wars had left terrible scars. Most of the points of civilization were islands of light in a dark sea, and there monsters in the dark places inbetween. Horrors arose, seemingly from the magical miasma that pooled out from the seas, vast and terrible monsters that required great heroes to slay them, and of course some weird wizard might decided to craft some abominations for the fun of it, completely forget about them, and be inadvertently responsible for a village disappearing when his Exploding Slime Tesseract wandered there.

Cronus Ampora, scion of the wizard-kings and hopeful master of the fleets that connected them to other lands, had a duty to hunt down such dastardly fiends when he wasn’t skipping very close to being one of them. This wasn’t a bad thing, per se, in the Amporan lands. Violet tradition held that a nobleborn prince, or bard like he had become, who didn’t periodically cause some manner of wacky catastrophe was going to be too unimaginative to make a very good successor. Archmage Dualscar, father to Cronus, tried to encourage his children to do more of that.

Periodically scouring the continent to put down rogue monsters and arrest wizards of inappropriate conduct was a task assigned to the Orphaners; so named as they killed evil wizards, orphaning their creations, at which point the Big Dad energy of the Amporas would take over and they’d adopt them all. As a result, the Amporas had a truly massive army of militarized constructs, thousands of caretaker monsters of all kinds of descriptions, and many more strange beings peacefully integrated into their society. Being used to such diversity also made an Orphaner uniquely suited for diplomacy; they dealt with ‘Things Not Like Me’ on a nearly daily basis, and it helped to expand the mind.

Cronus spent a lot of time on land, therefore. He hated it. Violetbloods like him were adapted for the sea, and individuals varied on whether they were land walkers who could live underwater, or sea beings who could stand to walk on dry land for a while. Cronus was the latter. But his duties, interests, and deep fascination with land walkers of all kinds drew him to the world above, even if it was the people there he liked and the world itself was just the worst.

And the desert was the worst of all. The horror of the place clawed at him with the memory of ancient atrocities, leeching vitality out of him like the sun drying his flesh. They moved on the landships favored by the Nitram feudal lords, an assortment of their mounted knights as protection and a little bit of showing off, and even though it was comfortable and he had a big tank of water to recline in, the whole land felt wrong. He was convinced that some ancient magical catastrophe had scarred the land so badly it had burned, searing it with the energies of undeath. The hordes of the walking dead currently reduced to several tons of ash flying in the air now was proof to that.

But now, the character of the sand was changing; it was harder for the knights at their side to articulate why, though they were notably calmer, the tension loosening from their armored forms. They weren’t magic users, and weren’t able to perceive the subtle details in the sand now. Cronus didn’t doubt that they knew that something had changed, though. The threat upon the wind felt less oppressive. The teeming hordes of the undead, hoarded in this deadly place over eons and mummified by the burning sun, shied away like magical constructs warded away. By now, they had passed one of several enormous towers, of dark marbled stone and brighter patterns of magic-infused metals that all glowed like a torch against the sand, visible for many miles, and Cronus saw the wall of magic flowing through it. It was a relay point, and seen from above, perhaps on a Pyrope airship, he might have looked directly down and seen the network of barricade towers, standing guard against the sea of death.

And they were new. There were many wonders in the world, that was true. But most were ancient relics, reactivated and barely operational, their masters struggling to keep them just working consistently. Very few of them were completely new.

There was a reason the Maryam Clan of rainbow drinkers and vampires, despite being the smallest noble family, commanded so much respect. In a single generation, they were tearing the bloody heart of undeath out of their homeland, and restoring it to life again.

The caravan journeyed onwards, as as they did, Cronus noted the move of magical essence around them took on a drastically different character. The hostile desert behind them, shielded away by the mystic barrier, stank of death where it had any nature of all. Mostly it was a hollow emptiness, yawning behind them like someone physically standing behind with obvious ill intentions. But the sands blew with the hints of life beyond them. Birds flew upon the wind, flitting up to the towers to attend their nests. As they journeyed further, they saw small oasis here and there, clusters of animals standing there.

Cronus watched them. They had to be imported. Surely they couldn’t have revived the beasts that had lived here so long ago… could they? The long-legged creatures, antlers growing out into swirling patterns, stared placidly at him and continued to drink, judging him no threat. They did not look like desert dwellers, but like creatures who ran through heavily wooded forests. Just as this land must have once been.

Despite himself, as the caravan journeyed to the very center of the desert, he felt a sudden sense of joy come over him. The desert had not always been a desert. It was healing.

What wonders were the Maryams making? He was never more excited to be able to study there.

Soon enough, the distant sounds of water grew closer, and a city appeared on the horizon, even taller than the towers, hardy shrubbery cut into fanciful shapes surrounding it. “My lord!” said the cheerful voice of a bronzeblood named Chixie, cheerfully. “We are nearly there!”

She rode before him, a troll significantly shorter than average and nearly twice as wide as she was tall, praticularly at the hips and bust; they all wore light clothing for this heat, but hers had to be especially roomy for her voloptuous body. She was in a prime position to be lookout, as it were, and Cronus honestly wasn’t sure if she should be there; she wasn’t an actual knight but an honorary one, a bard inserted into the ranks to get an insider’s view.

Sure enough, they soon acquired an escort. Several human women, unusually curvaceous and beefy, bearing the flowering robes and veiled attire of the Maryam clan, though their dark skin showed no signs of vampirization; they were not inducted into the clan in particular, it seemed. They did bear the signature saw-swords of the Maryams, and these rested in a relaxed way indicating they still could be drawn if need be. “Bard of the Amporas,” one said primly. “Follow me, if you please.”

The caravan did so, and they came to the great city of the Maryams.

They came through the high gates of the city, towering doorways open wide as if to welcome all visitors. Before the shining colored stone of the domed architecture, before the staggering array of fabrics fluttering upon the thousands bartering their wares at a bazaar their path took them through, the thing Cronus was drawn to was the oasis. The city itself, he understood, had been build upon that oasis. He didn’t know if it had already existed, some remnant of bygone days, or created through a work of grand and exhausting magics. Even now, as the city grew, the oasis grew, its surface shining brightly. To his magical senses, it was incandescent, painful to look on directly. Life streamed through it, so much raw vitality that it seemed magic distilled into a liquid form, flowing its life-giving energies into the land around it, gradually wearing away the corrosion of death resonance.

The oasis was almost an inland sea; a vast and improbably deep pool of water, replenished by mysterious means, threaded throughout this whole region and emanating magic with a very specific flavor. There were a lot of resonances it split into, but the big one was… well, fertile.

It seemed to have an effect on the women, Chixie noted bluntly, as they walked through in search of their secondary escort, who had gotten a bit lost.

Those women (not all of them, but enough to be notable) were very large indeed; the average breast size began at ‘larger than your head’, and they stood notably taller than average. Even the humans were reasonably close to the heights of some of the trolls from his home fleet. And, yes, there. He could see rainbow drinkers in the crowd, shining with an eerie light as they moved, an alien grace in their robes. And human vampires as well, sheltering themselves from the harsh desert light, though it was largely unnecessary. One quirk of the oasis’ architecture was buildings were designed to bridge together, creating overhangs, walkways, balconies, launch points and other similar features. The end result was a ground level that was almost permanently shaded most hours of the day, as well as upper levels that suited trolls fond of leaping and climbing.

For a time, they wandered through the great desert city of the oasis. There was much to see, and one after another, the knights peeled away from the group. Their task, as delivered by their own lords, had been to securely bring Cronus to the city of the Maryams. True, when his business was completed here (perhaps months from now, or weeks if you were to be cynical), they were to bring him to his next destination. Perhaps to home, if need be. But for now, their task was done.

They meandered to their next destination, and this eventually took them to the markets. One by one, the knights departed, to secure their own entertainment and housing. Both would be easy to find; temporary homes had been provided for them in the fabulous hotels of the minor clans, and the oasis city was a wonder of art from all over the continent, scrolls and tomes of all matter of disciplines, and its scholars among the most learned. Whether it was art, lore or simple dialogue one craved, the oasis would provide.

Cronus, his violet courtiers, several servants attending to the more bureaucratic concerns, and a few knights who insisted on attending his person continued through the city, to where they were intended to meet up with a representative of the Maryams. They walked over canals, and admired the beautifully carved pueblo bricks set into the bridges. These canals webbed over the entire city, flowing beneath the streets that blossomed over them like forests of mushrooms, so that everywhere you went, the oasis flowed beneath. The architecture, Cronus noted, was specifically designed to make that magic flow.

As they crossed a particularly large bridge, close to the central regions of the great city, he saw that the buildings rose up at certain geomantic angles. He suspected it was to channel the magic most efficiently towards the sky, and project certainly spells into the air and wind. He said as much.

Chixie looked fascinated. “That’s very interesting, lord. What are they doing with it all?”

Cronus shrugged. “Heck if I know, dame. Part of whatever it does that’s making the desert fix itself from whatever our dumbass ancestors did here? Hell, could just be making a ward to block out whatever it is in sunlight that hurts human vampires.”

Chixie blinked. “...Okay, yeah, I can see them wanting to do that. I, uh. I DID see the human-looking vampires carrying those cute little parasols to keep the sun off. Why bother if they can’t get hurt here anyway?”

“We find that it helps to get people into the habit if they opt to leave!” said a peppy voice. It sounded perfect for a den mother, a caretaker of children, and a consort protector. It was the sort of voice you had a mental image for; probably someone quite short, wearing a lot of fluffy fabrics in warm colors, and built like the more generously fluffy plush toys.

They followed it. The voice didn’t entirely fit the mental image at first glance; the speaker was an outrageously gorgeous and stupendously stacked rainbow drinker; a jadeblood troll, who stood easily a couple feet tall than even the largest of their ground. Cronus doubted he was even as high as her broad biceps.

The escorts who had brought them bowed deferentially, and departed, symbolically passing them to her. It felt like a very big deal, indeed.

She approached, and the jade veils of the Maryam clan fluttered around her mouth, the elaborate robes of office about her body. It revealed little of her face; jewelry of high station hanging in chains off her delicately carved horns, both curving gently upwards, one zig-zagging in a brief series of sharp edges. She didn’t so much walk, honestly, as sashay dramatically, as her hips were far too wide to walk normally. It was a distinctive walk, her broad thighs swinging wide beneath a secondary dress worn over her main one, brighter shades of jade against its pale colors to indicate her social status.

Her skin, though at least the nominal black of a grown troll woman, also shimmered with the eerie light of a rainbow drinker. Long hair, with a streak of green, flowed behind to an enormously large backside shifting the flow of her dress. Swirling tattoos traced around what skin was visible, but most significantly, she was also pregnant. Extremely pregnant; her belly was a monstrously huge, distended orb projecting out so much, with so much weight, that it was more oblong. Not exactly a gut; her thick and fit body type wasn’t quite the right shape for the more extreme of big belly builds, and Cronus could see the weight of something humanoid resting there. Pregnant, in the special Maryam definition.

Her dress, as was custom for the Maryams, was cut to show off her belly, all the way to where it joined her body. Massive breasts, larger than her head and suspended over that belly, were supported by brighter bands of soft fabric, and the overall impression was of competent power, seductive appeal, and raw motherly power. It was a strange thing to have coupled with a voice that sounded more at home gently lecturing small children on the fine points of not smacking each other on the head over a toy.

Chixie swallowed nervously, gazing up at the towering jadeblood. She wasn’t the tallest of her kin Cronus had ever seen, but she was taller than most they had seen going around. “Um. Hello, ma’am. We were, ah. I was told to expect someone fitting your description…?”

Bronya clapped her gloved hands. “Ah! You must be the Ampora delegation, then?” Cronus nodded to her. “Bronya Ursama, I am. Of the Maryam Clan. I’ve been sent to bring you to the matriarchs, if you please!”

Cronus nodded, smoothly shifting into the manners Dualscar had sternly taught to them. He bowed low. “It would be my pleasure, Lady Ursama. I am Cronus Ampore, of the Ampora fleets, and I apologize for not finding you sooner.” He smiled, winningly. “We simply could not resist a bit of sightseeing.”

Chixie and the others introduced themselves to the towering vampire, increasingly awkwardly and with their faces heavily blushed at how… sexy she was. Bronya smiled sweetly, greeting them in turn, praising their lords for producing such fine stewards of honor (Chixie nearly stumbling in sheer shyness from that), and the only significant surprise was that Bronya’s belly lurched.

A human-sized figure inside her stomach turned, like a baby shifting in the womb, and a hand briefly moved against the surface of her belly.

Cronus blinked, fascinated; the knights were less calm. Chixie actually clapped her hands to her mouth: “There’s someone in you!”

Bronya nodded, looking nonplussed. “Oh yes. A charming young scholar, I actually tutored her during my residence in the ancestral library. I believe she intends to go on pilgrimage after her stay with me.” The knights stared at her, bafflement written on them. She looked bewildered. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Cronus coughed. “Eh, sorry, but these knights… eh. I don’t think they know about the particularities of the Maryam transformation. The process, I mean.” Inwardly, he cursed; he should have given them a primer on that!

Bronya inclined her head, understandingly. “Ah! Of course! Well, never fear. Come along, I shall explain.”

They moved along, the knights shying a bit away from Bronya now save Chixie, perhaps dreading visions of themselves being pulled into that belly as well. Cronus walked behind her without fear, following the slow wobble of her broad backside, and she took them across the bridge.

They came to a large castle, of sorts; it was clearly not meant for sieges, and was so open to the sky and walls, but for some fortifications, that it had only a hazy notion of ‘outside’ to begin with. It was older by far, and Cronus recognized the same kind of geomantic designs on the walls, and it was a simple thing to gaze up and see the magic in the air, vibrating around the elegant carvings on the walls.

Bronya spoke a password to the guards, who were women built on largely the same look as her though not pregnant with someone, and they passed through without incident.

Inside, it was much cooler; so much so that it had to be a work of magic, or at least very skillful air conditioning construction. Great woven tapestries hung from the walls, detailing both beautiful artworks and stylized portraits, and many doorways lined the halls. Bronya led them down a staircase carved into the floor, going underground, and as she did, she spoke at length.

First, she asked: how did they think new rainbow drinkers, or vampires, came to be? When Chixie awkwardly said that she thought their blood was drunk first, she laughed.

“It’s certainly part of the process,” Bronya said. “But it’s not the important one.”

To become a vampire was a very serious thing; it was a magical ritual of great importance, derived from some quirks of jadeblood physiology, and while it worked on non-jades and humans and some other beings, it had to be very carefully down. It took a vampire mother to make another, her fertile body literally reshape them into a new form, bringing them into the clan and giving them new life.

Vampire literature spoke often of living a new life, of being reborn, of gestation and being remade by one’s sire. Bronya assured them, there was no metaphor there.

Vampires like her literally absorbed another being (in a ritual she implied she certainly was not allowed to discuss with them at length), and contained them in their womb. The strongest could hold many; Bronya was inexperienced, and one was all she could manage for now. And for a time, perhaps years, the fledgling vampire was infused with magical energies unique to the Maryam Clan, slowly changed into another vampire with all its perks, and all the very extensive physical alterations. A vampire wasn’t just an immortal that drank blood, they were an entirely different sort of being.

Bronya paused, and for a moment looked quite tired. Her belly swelled, the figure within visibly shifting, and then stopped. She panted, her glow dimming. “It’s not something you enter into lightly, either,” She said, perhaps glad for this emphasis. “For either of us.”

Cronus nodded solemnly. The knights looked shaken, or thoughtful; with so much effort put into the transformation, no wonder the Maryam Clan was small by the standards of nobility, and so very tight knit. Plenty of them still looked uneasy at effectively being reborn in such an intimate way, and were baffled at the idea of willingly being inside a troll’s womb like that. Cronus, poker-faced, gave no indication of his feelings one way or another.

Soon, they came to a sanctuary deep underground, where once the ancestors of the Maryams had held sacred rituals. Here, it was still a private place, and when Bronya paused, giving the knights an awkward look, Cronus coughed. “I’m thinking I’m the only one technically allowed to go from here. Is that right, Lady Ursama?”

Bronya nodded, regretfully. “I apologize, dear knights. But entering here is a rather important matter. I assure you, Lord Ampora is quite safe in the grip of the matriarchs!”

Chixie winced. “You could put that a little less ominously but.” She nodded. “We understand.” She glanced aside. “Yes?” The knights nodded.

Bronya looked relieved. “Well then! If you will come with me, I shall find something diverting for you all. Lord Ampora?” She pulled on a small statue, and the vast door before them opened enough for him to pass through. “The matriarchs await you.”

Cronus entered, as the knights and Bronya departed. The door closed behind him, and considering that he was entering the lair of the most powerful vampires in the world, it was surprising he felt no particular anxiety. But then, there were few he trusted as much, and none he trusted more, than the namesake leaders of the desert nobility, the Maryam Coven.

-------

The outer chamber was as spooky as deserved for a vampire coven, the carved walls high, and torches held on the mouths of fearsome sculptures. The whole edifice looked… not fearsome exactly, but in that general area. It was certainly impressive, and would put any ancient sacrifice to vampire hungers in the appropriately awed mindset before the big moment and then the sexy, sexy recuperation afterwards.

As he approached the inner chamber, though, he heard some muttered arguing that rather spoiled the mood. “Hurry, hurry! Just, oh, mother, please! Just sit down!” That voice was very familiar to him, admittedly usually through translocational images as they spoke through magical devices. He swallowed, standing up straighter and trying to look cool.

The next voice was very similar, but deepened by age, with a cool and wry amusement at the antics of the first. “Calm yourself, dear. I am absolutely not going to hurry, not with this much weight to move.”

“Mother!” the first almost wailed. “Bronya made the signal, he’s here! I’ve put so much effort into this meeting, please, do not spoil the drama!”

The second chuckled with the distinctive sound of someone who is good natured but still used to a child being unflappable and calm, and was absolutely going to milk this for all it was worth. “Oh? Don’t want to scare him with a preview of yourself in years to come, I suppose? Imagine him coming in here, seeing all this, and immediately fleeing!”

There was a scandalized gasp. “Please don’t, you might jinx it!”

A third voice sighed, a perturbed air to it. She sounded younger than the other two, but with that distinctive Maryam accent, a lilt to the words. “Porrim… please, don’t make this so serious. I was calm when Rose was here…”

“And I’ve no idea why!” The first voice said, with an air of petulance that Cronus, intimately familiar with that voice, found truly surreal. “First in-person impressions are so important! If this goes wrong, or if one of you frightens him, I’ll… I’ll…”

There was a long pause. Cronus leaned in towards the door, fascinated despite himself for the juicy gossip.

“...Yes?” the eldest-sounding voice said, with a hint of mocking encouragement.

“...I’ll give the tailors the most abhorrent designs for your outfits, right when you’re so big it will take weeks for you to get new ones made!” The first said triumphantly.

From the sound of it, this threat wasn’t being taken too seriously. “How cruel of you, dear sister,” the younger said dryly.

Cronus leaned a little too hard on the doorway. First it creaked loud, no doubt causing those inside to turn, and then-

It opened inwards, too fast for him to stand back up. He overbalanced, having leaned on it so much, and as it turned out his first proper introduction to the love of his life and her coven was flopping into their sacred chamber in an undignified heap, his ropes splayed over him.

“Ow,” he said meekly.

Someone rushed towards him, with an outraged cry, perhaps at his loss of dignity. A genteel chuckling, from the same older voice, greeted him, and the first one scoffed indignantly; Cronus looked up into the first speaker, into the eyes of Porrim Maryam.

Quite a lot up, in fact, and fortunately she was standing at an angle that her considerable assets didn’t block his sight.

She looked gigantic as she approached him; a towering motherly titan that would have loomed over even Bronya. She could have carried Chixie about like luggage; no, she could have towed Cronus like that! The impression was reinforced by her powerful build; her shoulders were broad, packed with muscle, her arms wide from years of training with sawblades. Her body had an hourglass curviness, her small waist making her shoulders look even bigger, and her hips even larger. And her hips were massive, making Bronya’s look smaller. In every respect, she was bigger than Bronya, not just taller than her, but wider. Bronya had big hips, yes, but Porrim would have serious difficulty getting through doorways; they were almost three feet around, at least.

And then, there was her belly.

It was so large, Porrim moved with an awkward, limping gait, her body clearly not adjusted to its sheer bulk. The vast, shining orb projected out before her body almost as much as she was tall, its lower slope descending gracefully to the ground, and she wasn’t burdened with just one new vampire in there. Cronus saw several arms moving against each other, the dimple of multiple bodies seated, a bulge of several torsos…

The question blurted out before he could contain it. “How many do you have in there!?”

Porrim blinked, but at this angle it was hard to tell; her breasts were so monstrously huge they got in the way of his sight, almost individually as big as her belly, and even with the supportive bands of her bodice, there was only so much that could be done to keep them pressing down on on her stomach. Cronus could have slept between them, and the thought was badly tempting. She laughed, putting a hand to her veiled mouth, and giggled helplessly. Her whole body shook; her big belly, her massive hips, her powerful thighs. Her great mane of hair, fluttering down past her hips like a luxurious mantle, shook with her laughter.. Even the new vampires in her body trembled with laughs, though he doubted they were even aware of what was going on.

“She has rather more than was wise,” the eldest voice said dryly.

“Probably six,” said the youngest. “Porrim gets attached too easily.”

Porrim went ‘hmph,” with the lazy dignity he expected of her, and helped Cronus up. The impression of towering height didn’t end even when he was stood up; his head was still barely level with her elbows, and given just how much mass she had, he felt stick thin next to her, and when she swooped down to hug him and straighten up his robes, he was lost between her breasts, and in her arms.

“I am so, so sorry about this!” She whispered furiously. “I intended for this to be so much more, ah, inspiring, but no, Mother and Kanaya just had to spoil the mood.”

Cronus made a squeaking noise. Her breasts and belly weren’t so much pressing against him as carrying him up, pinning him, and holding him still with a delicious sort of pressure.

Porrim paused. Much as her sense of drama had been spoiled, she could still appreciate a good moment. She leaned forward, and for a moment, Cronus was in a position to appreciate the coven tattoos winding across her body in the ancient patterns of fertility, motherhood and predation; swoops and curls, winding on the arms, the legs, over her breasts and belly…

Her veil was lifted up as she pulled him close to her face. Her lips brushed against his mouth, and long fangs against his lips.

“Not to be a hypocrite, but please do control yourself, Porrim,” said the eldest voice again, a hint of dry amusement in it.

Porrim dropped Cronus, with a squeak of mingled dismay and frustration. She turned aside, almost knocking Cronus over with a belly he could have fit into (and now he wondered what it was like, whether it was warm or cool, how her belly might feel hospitable or if you would be rewired to adjust to it), and a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

“Now,” said the voice, with an air of command different from her jovial tone earlier. “Let me see this saltdweller you have spoken so fondly of.”

Cronus was brought forward, a glimpse of extremely large chairs around him, perhaps intended to seat women that were very big indeed, and he had an impression of size before him, and a hand fell upon his face. Long claws moved against his gills, though not painfully so, and then moved his face up and down with a delicate but irresistible firm touch.

“Ah. The Ampora profile, for certain. You look very much like your ancestors; do tell me, how is your father doing these days?”

Cronus looked up into a face that was suddenly smiling, and even through the veil he saw the fangs, and the vibrant lipstick, the calm and assured competence so charismatic that she could have conquered the continent diplomatically, and more to the point-

She was nearly twice as big as Porrim, while sitting down.

The Dolorosa. The head matriarch of the Maryam Coven, mother of all living true vampires; one of the few to have successfully fought the mad pirate queen Mindfang to a standstill, to have brokered peace with the Pyropes during the years of fiery vengeance from the mountains. The first of the troll nobility on the plains to open her city gates to the carapacians, it was said, and from her wisdom great riches and discoveries had flown.

It was a little surprising that the stories about her said much about her wisdom, said a great deal about her honor, and said very little about how terrifyingly, attractively BIG she was.

Sitting on a chair that could have been designed for giants was a troll so large Cronus did not even come up to her waist now, and so outrageously curvaceous that just as Porrim’s thickness made Bronya look slender, the Dolorosa made Porrim look malnourished. Hips nearly as wide as she was tall, with a monstrously huge backside rising as high as her waist, the wides merging with her thighs evenly.

Her hair was cut short, and her horns elaborately carved; jewelry of religious significance were strung between them, green cloth shining onto her. Her face was more severe than Porrim’s, though kindly, and her tattooing was even more extreme than Porrim’s, with the curling inks brought to her face, her horns, and extremely intricate patterns on her shoulders and breasts. Cronus didn’t doubt that her entire body was a mosaic of art, though he was unclear on the meaning of the tattoos.

Her shoulders, broad and slabbed with muscle, heaved beneath her robes. She smiled indulgently. “Come, young man. Don’t tell me you left your tongue with Porrim.”

Cronus swallowed. Porrim went ‘hmph!’ again. The Dolorosa was an intimidating figure, not so much amazonian as she was an apex of the concept; her arms alone were bigger than he was, though she wasn’t at all toned. She was built like a strongwoman, really. Her robes were not especially revealing, but they still showed quite a lot of breasts that were… well. So incredibly huge, so wide and so bulky, that they were larger than a good portion of Porrim herself. Perhaps five feet high each, and wider across than that by far, they rested upon an incredibly huge and round belly that flowed over her throne onto a specially arranged dish set before her, over a dozen moving inside her stomach in expectation of vampirism.

That belly towered over Cronus, just as the rest of the imposing woman. The tattoos swirled over it, lovingly outlining its bulk. It looked bigger than a hut, or some boats he’d seen, bigger even that the Dolorosa’s entire body. How did she manage so many!?

Cronus found his voice, even as her smile grew increasingly more mischievous beneath her veil. “My father… he does well. He, erm. He asked, that…” he struggled to recall it, and found it hard to recount the unsual wistfulness that had come over his father then. “He thinks a lot about you.”

For a moment, the Dolorosa’s gaze went distant, thoughtful, wandering into the past. “I should hope so, the dear man…” She smiled fondly. She returned from whatever thoughts were on her mind, focusing on Cronus again. She raised a hand, and he flinched instinctively, but her intent was not hostile; her hand ruffled his hair, rather affectionately. “Please, do say hello, Kanaya!”

“I apologize, mother,” said the third speaker, who had been sitting to the side, on one of the smaller chairs, with an air of watching an amusement. Kanaya Maryam, youngest of the coven, and she looked a lot like a much smaller version of her mother.

Much smaller, in fact. After the overwhelming size of Porrim and her mother, Cronus was a little alarmed to see that Kanaya was much smaller than either. She was larger than him, though. Later, he would see that she was a little taller than Bronya, though not significantly so; as vampire fostering went, he learned, Kanaya was a lot more cautious. Much more than, say, Porrim was, and as a result she was a lot smaller for the moment. The growth that came with power, for the Maryams, was tied to this fostering ritual.

Kanaya’s tattoos were subtle, graceful curls at the edges of her robes. Her carved horns were obscured by fine rings that, Cronus noted smugly, came from the lands overseen by the Lalondes and had the distinctive unsettling artistry; her hair was short like her mothers, but her face rounder than either Porrim or the Dolorosa. She wasn’t quite as broad as her mother either, but was more powerfully built than Porrim, and definitely more heavy set at the waist. Her breasts were unusually large for a troll, bigger than her head, and rested on a belly containing a single vampire, though a fairly fierce one judging from how much her belly was wriggling. She didn’t seem to notice.

Kanaya bowed. “A pleasure to meet you at last.” she smiled faintly. “Porrim has been eager to bring you here, into our fearsome clutches.”

Porrim scoffed. “Kanaya, stop trying to convince people we are up to no good!”

The Dolorosa chuckled. “Oh, Porrim, don’t spoil the joke! After all, it’s not as if we’re going to keep him here and do terrbile things to this poor, handsome man!” She chuckled, and winked in an openly flirtatious way.

“Eep,” Cronus squeaked, blushing bright violet.

“Mother!” Porrim said, scandalized, though she’d said sentiments very much like that to Cronus before.

The Dolorosa chuckled. “Now, now. Sit him down, will you?”

Grumbling to herself, Porrim effortlessly picked him off the ground and returned to her seat, and it was specially designed so that there was enough space for him to sit comfortably on her thigh between herself and the seat, though sandwiched by her belly and one breast. He did not mind.

Porrim put one arm around him, and Cronus did the same, relaxing into her embrace as if he’d spent his life in her company. He relaxed against her, and she into him. “Awww,” Kanaya crooned mockingly.

Porrim raised an eyebrow.

Cronus said, as if to himself, “Ah, that may put me in mind of some interesting stories I heard from a certain Rose Lalonde, during her own time here?”

The Dolorosa laughed. “Oh, do tell!”

Kanaya blinked, and looked impressed. “...Hmph, not a bad move…”

In time, of course, the teasing faded, and later on, they held a proper official ceremony of presentation, as was traditional for the noble families. It cemented ties, and given that they had recently been at war, also put all their cards on the table. Officially that sort of thing wasn’t needed, but the gesture of trust was important.

Cronus felt it was more important to make it official why he was there; to learn. About their unique magic, to spread learning from his own fleets (and presenting them with a vast storehouse of scrolls, rediscovered magical artifacts, and tomes that made some of the scholarly inclined vampires at the ceremony gasp in delight, and talk ensued of entire new wings that would be built for them all), and to foster understanding between their realms.

‘Understanding’, in this case, having significant romantic undertones, as was now traditional in the other noble families, or at least the parts of them their age.

The Dolorosa smirked at that in a way that rather spoiled the whole game for Cronus, but given that he could finally have the days with Porrim he always wanted, he couldn’t complain too much.

#queued #fics #my writing #commissions #/#//#///#twitchy!homestuck #twitchy!hiveswap #twitchy!cronus #twitchy!porrim #twitchy!kanaya #twitchy!dolorosa #twitchy!chixie

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gotgifsandmusings · 5 years ago

Note

Now that the Skywalker Saga is over (until Disney dicides to introduce us another Death Star) can you come up with a ranking yet? I know Solo is the worst for you (which is quite a feat since you really hate the prequels) and I think you've said before Empire is your favorite. I have to say, I prefer the prequels over the sequels. I won't ignore the prequels's issues but I felt more invested in their overarching story. They had purpose, something the sequels failed to, imo. TLJ is a gem, though.

I have a tough time engaging with the prequels at all to be completely honest. They’re joyless slogs other than Attack of the Clones, which is just purely hilarious in all the ways it wasn’t supposed to be. I get where people come from with it, because it had a single story that it tried to tell, and it just told it badly. But even that story itself was colored by Lucas’s weird sexism (a woman is canonically what tempted Anakin to the dark side), and a complete lack of imagination about how to actually expand in this universe (all jedi have to be trained by wearing a blast-shield down and blocking attacks from a pokey ball as example prime). Plus people didn’t talk like people, and we were gifted racist caricature aliens.

Even the “it depicted the rise of fascism so it’s good and relevant” argument falls 100% flat for me, since it’s not like it armed us in any particular way to recognized signs or to fight. Evil space wizard was evil, and the lethargic “peacekeepers” all took their stupid pills to allow the plot to advance.

Very light TROS spoilers ahead so I’ll put a “read more” here.

I really, really liked what the sequels set up and deconstructed, and the destabilization that TLJ introduced that also made the franchise feel relevant. TFA was a safe soft reboot in a lot of ways, but one I’ll never begrudge because of the new cast, and because a palate cleanser totally was needed after the prequels. Then TLJ tapped into all the potential that was there, in imperfect ways, yes, but in a way where I’ll always defend its core.

With TROS…this wasn’t what the movie could have or should have been at all. I knew that from the second Disney told us they’d never ever recast Carrie Fischer, even more when the title was unveiled, possibly the most when they brought out Ian McDiarmid, and the early reviews that bemoaned Rose getting shoved to the site, and made it clear this was a movie to give people their Star Wars back.

That said, sitting in the theater already armed with every spoiler, I actually enjoyed the experience of watching it far more than I thought I could. But it was a momentary thing. I can’t imagine seeking it out to rewatch, and the implications of this being the note they chose to end it on is just…it’s rotten and cowardly. It’s like I’m mad it at way more in this philosophical way than how I felt sitting there, if that makes sense.

But my god I hate how fucking dynastical it became.

So it’s very hard for me to directly compare the Sequel Trilogy and the Prequel Trilogy as wholes against each other, because I still have this feeling about TROS that it’s disconnected. I don’t think it cheapens TLJ, but it frustrates. It’s also still a better movie than any of the prequels, and I’ll happily argue that. But I think the fact that it could frustrate and let me down is more of a mark of my engagement with the ST, than say…Revenge of the Sith, where I went in just happy it was finally ending.

So yeah, here’s my hot-take ranking, and yes…every single movie in this franchise has unfortunate implications in places, plot holes, silly contrivances, and issues.

The Last Jedi

Empire Strikes Back

A New Hope

The Force Awakens

Return of the Jedi

Rise of Skywalker

Rogue One

Attack of the Clones

Revenge of the Sith

Phantom Menace

Solo

#tros spoilers #Anonymous #asks

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wilwywaylan · 5 years ago

Text

Third time’s a charm

Fandom : It (mostly It-book with It-movie looks and cellphones (oops))

Fix fic (spoilers ahead), Richie x Eddie, 4079 words

For @rolls-of-the-tongue-nicely who contaminated me to Reddie and is not evilly laughing in her lair.

Beta-ed by the amazing @kujaku-myoo

Also on AO3 !

--------

It had all started like a joke, as it always did between them, and it quickly escalated to serious levels. As it always did between them.

- Come on, Richie. What are you scared of ? It's just a movie !

Yes, it was a movie. No, it wasn't just a movie. It was the spookiest, scariest movie Richie had ever seen. That... thing had haunted his dreams for weeks after he had watched it, and even just thinking about it gave him goosebumps. Of course he had opened up to Eddie about it, and of course, Eddie had jumped on it like some overgrown puppy who didn't want to let go of the slipper he was chewing on.

- Let's go, it's going to start !

And now, Eddie was pulling by the arm. Or rather pulling on his arm and trying to make him move, but since he weighed 50 pounds soaking wet, it didn't work very well. But still, Richie followed, because he may protest and bicker with him, but he'd follow Eddie to the end of the Earth. As long as Eddie wasn’t aware of this, of course.

He swallowed when he saw the marquise. "The Crawling Eye", it said in large, red letters, and just reading them, his stomach churned and curled on himself. But Eddie dragged him to the counter of the Aladdin, put a few coins on it and grabbed the two tickets. Still holding on Richie's wrist, he went inside, in the hall, far from the comforting warmth of the summer sunlight. It was dark inside, and cool, shadows hiding in the corners, moving around as they did. Eddie, apparently oblivious of the whole atmosphere, pushed the little piece of cardboard in Richie's hand.

- Go and find us some seats, I'll be right back.

And he disappeared towards the concession stand at the other side of the hall. Richie would have very much liked to follow him, hoping that whatever was lurking in the darkness (oh but you know what's hiding in the darkness, Richie, you do know) would be scared enough of them being a group (but he knew that what was hiding there wasn't afraid of them at all) to attack. But he'd never, ever, ever confess it to anyone. So he did as he was told, walked inside the theatre itself. As usual, he opted for the balcony, making sure that the exit was near and free. They were almost alone up there. Good. At least there would be less witnesses to his inevitable freak-out.

The news reel had already started to roll when Eddie came to sit with him, carrying a bucket of popcorn bigger than his head, or that what it seemed to Richie. He sat beside him, put the bucket on his lap, making sure that it was balanced before offering it to Richie. It was tempting, but it would certainly be a waste, spitting it out as soon as the movie would start. He ate two kernels, to look like he was enjoying it, and focused very hard on the curtain above the screen, like he was fascinated by Eisenhower signing the Space Act.

At first, it went well. The first victim came and went, the heroins tried to investigate in the what passed for the Alps, they ran and screamed as they were chased by the killer. Nothing new, and it was as bad as he remembered. And still, he couldn't even relax and enjoy the wooden acting and the bad special effects. His whole body was tensed in anticipation. Soon, too soon, it would jump out of the fog, at him, and....

He was reaching in the popcorn to grab some, more to get something to do than because he really wanted it, when his hand brushed against something, and he almost screamed. Hey, anyone would have done the same when faced with something one wasn't expecting in a popcorn bucket, especially something that was warm, soft and squishy.

It took him four entire seconds spent hyperventilating and frantically searching for a way out to realize that was Eddie's hand. Eddie who was looking at him like he had grown a second head. Richie composed himself a smile and spouted :

- Nice chick, Anne, no ? Reminds me of your mom.... well a third of your mom.

Eddie punched him, dropping a few kernels of popcorn on the floor, but he turned to face the screen again with a muttered "idiot". He hadn't noticed anything weird in Richie's behaviour. Well weirder, of course. Richie tried to sit back and look at the screen, but his train of thought has definitely derailed, instead landing square at "I just touched Eddie's hand in the popcorn" station. What happened on the screen didn't matter anymore, it was just all colours and shapes moving around, sounds blasting through the loudspeakers, a background on which his feelings were dancing, unbridled. He was now extremely aware of Eddie's presence beside him, with his stupid fanny pack full of he didn't know what, and his stupid shorts that looked insanely stupid, and his stupid.... face....

He was feeling hot, now, especially around the cheeks and his ears. It was always so hot in that theatre, would it kill them to open a window ? Except that his feet were strangely cold, and he could feel a cool draft around his legs. So what was happening ? Was he suffering from a fever ? Had he fallen sick ? He had to hide it ; if Eddie learnt that he was sick, he would first gloat about it for two seconds because he always told him to be careful, put socks on and not play everywhere, then run away because what if he was contagious ? His mind played a bit with Eddie visiting him while he was laying in his bed, all pale and wan, slowly holding out ta hand that Eddie stepped forwards to take, his face marred by worry...

Eddie moved, and the fantasy shattered. He was going for popcorn. Richie immediately did the same. Once again, their hands brushed against each other, sending the same jolt of electricity as first time. It danced through his nerves, climbed to his brain and sent it into overdrive, so hard that he felt he was going to be punted out of his seat and directly in the alley. He glanced at Eddie. Who looked so unaffected it was almost unbelievable. As if they didn't just share a shock hard enough to light up all the lights in the room. But maybe Eddie didn't feel it ? Maybe Eddie was the one electrically charged and Richie just happened to give him an outlet. There was just one way to figure it.

He missed the whole last part of the movie, more focused as he was on trying to touch Eddie's hand again, feel if the jolt happened again. When they got out, he blinked like an owl, surprised to be out of the darkness and into the light again. His legs felt like they were made of jelly, and it seemed as he had spent hours in this movie theatre. Or maybe just seconds, he didn't know.

They parted at the end of Eddie's street, as usual, with nothing more than a wave and a half-heartfelt joke. That night, Richie spent long, torturous, delicious hours replaying every minute in his mind.

I should have kissed him, he thought. Even on the cheek. Maybe I will. Next time. That's right, next time.

~*~

It's a new dawn It's a new day It's a new life for me, ooh And I'm feeling good

Richie stretches, turns off the phone and throws it haphazardly on the night-stand. But it crashes on the ground with a noise that doesn't bode well for it. He opens his eyes, blinking against both the sun pouring by the window and the myopia. The wall is not the color it should be. The nightstand is not where it should be either. Nothing is as he should. It takes him several seconds to remember where he is now : in a small, one-star motel in the suburbs of Portland, and his phone just crashed from a one-star night-stand typical of a one-star motel.

He turns, careful not to move too hastily because the beds in one-star motels are typically one-person too... and his skull promptly hits something solid. He grabs his head, swearing profusely. Are they making their fucking pillows out of concrete ?

- Is that how they say good morning in the strange language they speak in your country, Trashmouth ?

Wait. He knows that voice. But what is that voice doing in his bed ? And more than that, what is its owner doing in his head ? He squints as much as he can, trying to make sense of what's in front of him. It's a person, alright. With brown eyes and mussed dark hair, and a thin, long face. It looks like Eddie, talks like Eddie....

- You look really funny when you squint.

Richie holds out his hand, pats him in the face, earning himself a "what the fuck, Trashmouth ?". He's solid. He's real. He's in his bed right now, it's not a dream. He dives forwards, embraces him, squeezes him tight, as he's dreamed countless times. But in his dreams, Eddie has never hit him in the chest and squirmed while screaming :

- Stop that, Richie, it hurts !

Richie backs down, bewildered. He looks - squints - at Eddie's face, then lower, where the shirt collar is gaping. The shirt is gaping because it's his, he notices. Eddie is wearing his shirt as pajamas. Is it his birthday come early ? Did a good fairy decide to realize all his wishes ? Is he still asleep ? He pinches himself and swears. No, he's not sleeping. Also there are bandages visible under the shirt, through the too large collar. This explains the pushing away. He remembers, of course, how Eddie was hurt, and everything that followed. He just can't believe it. It happened.

He rolls out of bed and finally retrieves his glasses, which have followed the same way than his phone. The world come back in focus. Richie almost regrets it. The room is exactly as depressing as he thought without glasses, with peeling wallpaper, dollar store furniture, and the remote chained to the wall. A perfect little nest.

He looks to his side, and lo and behold, Eddie is still there. He looks tired, shadows underlining his eyes, new lines on his face. He hasn't shaved, and his cheeks are eaten by a rogue beard, one of them hidden under a large, white piece of gauze. Eddie with a beard, it's not something that he expected to see one day. It fits him, he thinks. He looks good like that. But he doesn't say it. Instead, he says :

- Come on, loser, get up. We don't have all time in the world.

They don't, he knows, and they almost didn't even get the time they have now. It will be over soon, when he drops Eddie in Manhattan, or as close of Manhattan as he can without getting crazy with the traffic. But they still have time, they'll still have some, and it almost didn't happen.

Eddie straightens up, slowly, groans. Richie wants to rush at his side and hold him close, but he doesn't.

- What's wrong, grampa ? Need your walker ?

- Fuck off, Richie. You're not the one who got skewered.

I was, he thinks, but he doesn't say it because it would be way too sappy, and Eddie doesn't know, he doesn't need to know. It's still his secret.

- Yeah, of course. Do you want breakfast, or are you not waterproof anymore ? Food-proof ?

- At least I'm idiot-proof.

Eddie throws his legs off the bed, but he doesn't get up. His hands are closed tightly on the edge of the mattress, knuckles almost white. Richie walks a little closer, looks at him. His face is still pale, but everyone's would, after what he went through. The clammy part, the sweat on his forehead, that is bad news.

- Eds ? he asks. Are you alright ?

- What do you think, Richie ? Do I look alright ?

- No. You look like shit.

- Thank you for your comfort.

Richie fills a glass with water at the tiny sink, brings it to him with two of the pills they gave him at the hospital. Eddie grabs them avidly, but still stops to demand the leaflet first, and reads it from start to fiinish before finally taking them.

- Better ? Richie asks.

- They need time to act, and you know it.

- Yeah. So... food ? Do you feel like getting food ?

- Only if you find me something better than motel food, because I certainly won't eat it. I don't want another hole in my stomach.

Richie snorts, more just because he's still able to do it than because it's fun. He grabs his pants, his wallet and his jacket, puts them on and in his pocket, and leaves the room with a "don't miss me too much !" thrown over his shoulder. He closes the door on Eddie's half-shouted answer, but it sounds a lot like "fuck you". Things never change.

It takes him a bit of effort to find something pleasant and simple enough that Eddie will both accept and be able to eat. Not that Portland is lacking in the bakery department, but subpar confection just won't cut it. He finally opts for some coffee (sugar and cream on the side), cupcakes that look light and airy enough for Eddie, without peanut butter (remember the allergens !), and some good, greasy donuts for him. Eddie will scream that he only eats bad stuff and it's dangerous for him, but he loves them, and he needs a little pick-me-up.

As he comes back to the hostel, he suddenly feels scared. What if It still had one more trick up its sleeve ? What if they sent another ghost, or zombie, or lunatic after Eddie, and this time, finished the job ? It probably waited for Richie to left, just to be sure no one would stop It this time. Maybe Eddie is dying as he frets over donuts, and he'll find only his body in the room, and he'll surely lose his mind at the sight of Eddie's body, devoid of life...

He almost kicks the door down, and Eddie (is lying on the floor, dead) jumps. He got dressed in his absence, getting rid of the too large shirt for... another too large shirt, but it makes sense with his wound, he doesn't want to be too constricted. He's typing something on his phone, and he glares at Richie when the door hits the wall behind.

- What the fuck ? Are you crazy ? You almost gave me a heart attack !

Richie looks around, but it's still the same shitty motel room. No balloons near the ceiling, no voices in the bathroom, no stupid clown hiding under the bed. Just a very ugly wallpaper, furniture that's falling apart, and sheets that he hopes have seen a washing machine not too long ago. No otherworldly menace here, just the usual ones.

He sits down on the bed, near Eddie, hands him the coffee and the cupcakes.

- I thought... he starts.

I thought you were dead, he thinks. I thought you were going to leave me forever instead of just living a few hours from me. I thought It won. He doesn't say it, because he doesn't want to scare Eddie, and he now realizes that it was stupid. It is dead, they killed It, and now they are going to live happily ever after, in one way or another.

- I thought you wouldn't settle for any cupcakes, since you're so fussy, that's all.

Eddie grabs the pillow to hit him in the face. Then promptly doubles over, holding his side. Richie tries to help him up, but he bats his hands away, and sits up a little better.

They manage to get through breakfast without any other incident, but Eddie is definitely paler than before, which is a feat.

- Man, you look like shit, Richie finely remarks once more.

- I feel like shit, is Eddie's only answer.

- I suppose you don't feel up to a few hours locked in a car.

Eddie doesn't even answer, just rolls his eyes.

- Okay. So what do you want to do ?

And that's how they find themselves in the street a few hours later. They'd spent two hours watching the home improvement channel because that's the only one the TV could get, played stupid games on their phones, and took a nap. But after a while, it becomes just too much to stay locked inside this tiny room, and they decide to get some fresh air.

To be fair, there's not much to get themselves busy outside either, but at least they don't feel confined anymore. They're just walking aimlessly, Richie glancing at Eddie from time to time to make sure he's not fainting or bleeding out or having an asthma attack or... But no, he's still holding up.

They are crossing the street, when Eddie suddenly stops and points. Richie has to grab him by the arm to make him go the rest of the way under the threats of two drivers, before following his gesture. Then he shakes his head.

- Oh no. Oh no, Eds, no way, I'm not going, you can't make me and fuck you.

- We're going.

He goes inside the theatre, and of course, Richie follows. He'd like to say he's totally forgotten that movie, pushed it at the back of his mind, but it would be a lie. That... thing has never left him, still giving him goosebumps even years later each time his eyes land on the poster. Of course, he once mentioned it once during an interview (to his defence, he wasn't that sober when it came up), and of course, one of his asshole fans decided to ironically gift him a beautiful copy of the poster, framed and all. He almost vomited all over it when he opened it. It's really sad that the thing mysteriously disappeared during his next move.

A piece of cardboard appears in front of him. When he makes no move to take it, Eddie sticks it behind his glasses.

- Be careful, idiot, you're going to smudge them.

- Stop whining, Richie. Let's go.

He all but drags him to the seats. There's no more balconies in those modern theatres, so they grab two in a row in the middle. Richie still measures the distance between him and the door, but it's way, way longer than in the past. The screen is bigger too, without the heavy curtains that adorned the Aladdin's. But when the darkness falls, and the pictures start moving on the silver screen, it's the same apprehension that catches him around the throat at the first wobbly vision of the fake Alps he remembers so well. It's still the same. The movie quality may be a little better, but it's still the same bad special effects, the same wooden acting that made him laugh so much the first time, the same attempts at drama that fall flat on his face. It even still smells like popcorn.

Richie glances at Eddie, and of course, he has bought some popcorn, that he's munching on, without even offering him some, that ass. Richie proceeds to overtake some of that popcorn. He's going to endure The Crawling Eye again, he deserves some, dammit ! Eddie doesn't resist. But he reaches into the bucket at the same time as him.

The jolt when their arms touch is as strong as it was twenty-seven years ago. It may not be as strong or pure as a first time, but it's been magnified by all those years of refraining his feelings for Eddie. It's a spark of electricity that jumps up his arm and sets his brain on fire. He doesn't jump away, because he's a grown-ass man and he doesn't react like a kid anymore, but barely.

He tries to compose himself and will the beat of his heart slower, when he realizes that Eddie is looking at him. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck with a cherry on top. Fuck him sideways with a rusty fencepost. Eddie is looking at him. Their hands touched, he reacted as strongly as ever, and Eddie is looking at him. And he may be a hypochondriac, a loser and a fussy idiot, but he's not a *real* idiot.

- Richie ? Why are you jumping like that ?

When Richie doesn't answer immediately, he insists.

- It's the movie ? Ah sorry. I didn't think it would be that.... let's go, okay ? I'm sorry.

He goes to get up, but Richie catches him by the arm.

- Stay down.

- Are you sure ? Because you're...

Ah, fuck it. Might as well do it now. He's fucked anyway, better get done with it.

- I'm okay. Sit down. I... need to tell you something.

On the screen, the mysterious man is stalking the heroine, but none of them is paying them any attention.

- What ?

Okay, what is he supposed to tell ? I love you ? Too dry. I've loved you since I was like eight and you sat beside me and laughed at my jokes ? I haven't stopped loving you even if I have to confess that I have forgotten you for like twenty years but you were still at the back of my mind and I've probably dated a lot of men that looked a lot like you ? Too long. And will probably earn himself a punch or a kick. But he needs to do something, and quick, because Eddie will probably not wait until the end of time (or the movie) for him to blurt out something.

Finally, since the words don't come, he goes to the next step. Not a logical step, but with his fried brain, he does his best. Which is grab Eddie by the shoulders, then by his face, bend down and kiss him. It's probably the most awful kiss in his life. Eddie wasn't ready and tensed immediately, his glasses are squished between them, and it tastes like popcorn. Scratch that, it's the most awesome kiss in his life. Because Eddie.

He lets go after just a few seconds, sits back in his seat. Of course, Eddie is gaping at him. Absent-mindedly, he reaches out to straighten Richie's glasses.

- I'm sorry, Richie blurts. I mean.... forget it. Forget it, okay ? I just... I'm not myself.

- You didn't mean to kiss me ?

- Yes. I... oh gods yes. I've meant it for, like, forever.

- Oh.

Just that. Oh. And a quieter "oh". Then Eddie goes back to watching the screen.

- We're going to have a lot of things to unpack.

- Tell me about it.

- At the motel room okay ? We finish the movie, and we talk about it.

- Sounds fine.

It's not really fine, of course, Richie would have loved for Eddie to throw himself at him and do lots of unspeakable things to him. But he hasn't ran away or invoked his wife's name, so it's not all bad. Still, he's reconsidering his choices in life and maybe planning a trek in Tibet to find himself and spirituality, when a hand takes his and holds it, squeezing all the air out of his lungs. Eddie doesn't look at him, but he's smiling, slightly. Richie goes back to the movie too, with the biggest grin on his face. They'll need to talk things out, and maybe it won't work out at all, because Eddie has a life and a wife and may not love him back. But for a few more minutes, he's twelve again, and the happiest boy in the world.

It's a new dawn It's a new day It's a new life for me, ooh And I'm feeling good

#it (stephen king)#it (book)#richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #I've been caught #they are adorable #so dorky #also denial and river blah blah #I'm in denial #fix fic #so much fix fic #also I had to do RESEARCH #about events in 1958 #and that movie #I need to watch that movie #okay stop rambling now

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video-killed-the-radio-host · 5 years ago

Text

Nurture and Nature 2

It has been three moon rises and Kevin still hasn't woken up. It put Earl on edge. There's no telling how long it's been since the man ate. There's also no telling how much iron was in his system. The shackles had obviously been iron. the blade used to cut Kevin's chest had to either enchanted or iron.

Earl uses the time Kevin is asleep to research the Fae. There are multiple Fae that live in the palace but Earl wasn't close to any of them. He knew the captain of the King's Guard is a Fae. Cecil and Carlos seemed friendly with him. The human ambassador that they were hosting….Nyx, Earl believes his name is…..seemed fairly knowledgeable about the Fae as well. Maybe he could ask? But what would he even say?

Earl is pulled from his thoughts as the door opens. Cecil enters and shuts the door behind him. "Still asleep?"

Earl sits his notes aside and nods. "Yeah. I think his body needs it but I'm worried he might not wake up."

"I wouldn't lose hope just yet. He seems stubborn." Cecil looks at Kevin, as if trying to learn his story fro

m his face. He looks back at Earl. "What're you doing?" He asks, moving closer and leaning over Earl' shoulder.

“Research mostly. I don’t want to be left in the dark when he does wake up. I want to be able to help.” Earl looks up at Cecil. “I just don’t understand. Why take the priest? Priests are docile. Pacifist. It doesn’t make sense.”

Maybe they thought he would be easiest to break.” Cecil frowns. “Though I’ve found that the ones that are the most soft spoken are the strongest.” He looks over at Kevin, “We don’t know his story but we need to be careful. Something happened to him and we don’t want to risk triggering a bad memory.”

Earl nods. “I do have a favor to ask of you, while you’re here.”

Cecil stands upright and looks curious. Earl almost never asked for favors. “Okay?”

“Can you fix this?” Earl holds up what was left of Kevin’s now bloodstained , tattered white cloak. “I think it’s important to him.” He had moved it when he carefully changed the bed clothes earlier.

Cecil takes ahold of the cloak and inspects it. He runs his slightly webbed fingers over the soft fabric. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you Cecil."

Cecil carefully folds the cloak and tucks it under his arm. "It's the least I can do." He lets his touch linger on Earl's shoulder. "Carlos wants to call a meeting with the nobles about the camp we raided. Where we found Kevin. Where to go from here."

"Does he have any leads?"

"I'm not sure. I think he's thinking poachers or maybe even a rogue faction. Whoever they are, they may be looking to start a war."

Earl sighs and sits back in his chair. Oíche could easily win a war but Carlos tends to do his best to stray from fighting. "What does Magnus or Rochelle think?"

"I assume we'll find out at this meeting."

"Right." Earl nods. "When is this meeting?"

"In half an hour. We have to wait for the nobles who don't live at court to get here." Cecil brushes a few stray hairs from his face. “I honestly have no idea how this meeting is going to go. The private council isn’t big on outsiders.”

“I’m well aware.” Earl sighs before looking back over at Kevin. Would Carlos risk war over a man he didn’t know? He did when Cecil came here….

“We will figure it out.” Cecil puts a hand on Earl’s head. “We will. You know we will.”

-----.-----

Earl looks around the room. Carlos sits at the head of the table. Cecil sits to his left, not really paying attention as he worked on Kevin’s cloak. His hands had a soft purple glow as he mends the delicate fabric. Carlos’s King’s Deputy, Rochelle, sits on his right side, sharp eyes scanning the room. Between Cecil and Earl was Nyx, the human ambassador that both Cecil and Carlos have grown rather fond of. Across from Cecil, on Carlos’s right, sits Rochelle, the King’s Deputy. Next to her is Magnus, the captain of the King’s Guard. Rochelle is a Xaela, a tall proud woman with fiery red curls pulled into a long tight braid that hung heavily down her back. Black colored scales speckled her skin and tail, shimmering a rainbow of colors in the candle light. Strong but elegant horns curl delicately on either side of her head. Magnus was a little shorter than Rochelle. He was slightly tanner than most of the citizens of Oíche Vale. He has shoulder length dark brown hair worn in a ponytail. His ears and short and pointed like Kevin’s, while large gold colored wings fold neatly behind him so he doesn’t hit someone by mistake.

Various nobles sit around the table, talking amongst themselves until an older woman with a kind face and long white hair speaks up. “Your Highness, what is this about?”

The woman is Josefina Ortiz, a dutchess that lives near the seaside. Her gentle face showed her age and wisdom. She wears her Selkie’s pelt proudly and despite living in a male dominated society, she never married. Instead, she runs an orphanage and holds the respect of nearly everyone.

Carlos sits forward and raises a hand to silence the room. “As you know, just over half a week ago, we raided the camp. We were only able to recover one surviving prisoner. We have reason to believe this group may be poachers.” There is a ripple of murmurs throughout the room.

“What reasons do we have to believe that?” Another noble asks, an Elf named Tyler Brooks.

“The man we rescued has blatant proof that he was held by poachers or hunters.” Carlos speaks calmly.

“What proof?”

Earl groans inwardly. He really didn’t want everyone to know about Kevin’s wounds. Not without Kevin being here. He prays that Carlos keeps it quiet.

“Enough proof to convince both me and a medical professional.”

“Can you present this proof?”

“He isn’t awake yet.” Earl finally speaks. “I’m not taking the lot of you to gape at a sleeping man without his consent. But I recognize the wounds and they are most definitely from a hunter’s knife.”

Tyler rounds on Earl. Earl groans inwardly. Here we go.

“How do we know that the wounds aren’t self inflicted?”

Earl glares at Tyler’s smirk, He was trying to force out more information about Kevin and Earl could feel himself backed into a corner. A soft whistling catches Earl’s attention. He looks at Cecil. The blonde was staring at Tyler, his purple eyes were glowing slightly brighter than usual. It had taken a while for Cecil to learn how to control his song but now he can use it freely and openly and have it affect only one person. Tyler squirms from the effects of the song but kept his glare. After several minutes, Cecil stops and goes back to his work on the cloak.

“You stupid whore!” Tyler lunges at Cecil.

Earl isn’t sure who reacts first. Carlos, himself and even Mangus stands but before any of them can react, there's a soft twang and a net flies across the room. It wraps around Tyler and causes him to fall to the floor. The room erupts into chaos as Carlos stands. The comotion had caused Cecil to jump back and tear the cloak more. He curses softly under his breath and sighs.

Earl looks around and grins when he looks at the door. “Dave. Nice to see you again.”

Carlos moves to the door to greet the Nymph holding a compact bow. “It’s been far too long.”

"Aw you missed me?" Dave teases, slinging the bow over his shoulder before putting his fist over his heart and bowing. Carlos smiles.

"Of course. Things were too quiet. How is your wife?"

"Very….very pregnant. She wants to raise our child at court. If you approve of course."

Carlos chuckles. "We can discuss this later. Of course I approve."

Dave looks around the room. "So ....what's going on?"

"Before or after you showed up?"

"Uh…..both?"

Carlos turns and addresses his council. "We will finish this later. When things have calmed down. You are dismissed."

It takes several minutes for the nobles to file out of the room and Tyler is freed from the net. He narrowed his eyes at Carlos.

"Are you really ready to risk war over one person?"

"Brooks." Carlos says slowly, voice deadly calm but threatening. "Take a walk and wait until I address you again."

Tyler looks as if he wants to protest but instead chooses to scowl and turn on his heel. Carlos watches him go before closing the door and looks at the small group remaining. Cecil, Earl, Rochelle, Nyx-who had been quiet the whole time-, Magnus and Dave.

Carlos approaches Cecil first. He puts a hand on the mage's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Cecil smiles softly. "I'm fine. Don't worry."

Earl watches Cecil, Carlos and Nyx have a quiet conversation before Cecil and Nyx stand. Nyx slips an arm around Cecil's waist and guides him from the room. Carlos beckons Dave to the table and he joins the others.

"So what's going on?" Dave asks again, sitting in Cecil's now empty seat.

"We raided a rogue camp because we were sent an SOS and we found a number of prisoners. Only one survived."

Earl sits forward. "And he shows obvious signs of being held by poachers or hunters. I wasn't able to look at the other prisoners because I was trying to keep the one that survived from bleeding out."

Dave nods slowly. "So what are we doing about it?"

"We are still working to figure that out." Carlos sighs.

"Maybe we should check out the camp again." Rochelle offers. "See if we can find anything."

Magnus nods. "It's worth a try." He looks at Carlos.

"It could also be extremely dangerous." Carlos rubs his temple, just under the gold circlet on his head.

"I want to go with you." Earl stands. He feels everyone else look at him.

"That's a terrible idea!" Rochelle protests. "You could get hurt."

"Please…. I want to go. At least look around. I need more information. Please?"

Carlos sighs, knowing that Earl won't relent. "Alright. But you aren't going anywhere on your own. That's an order."

Earl inclines his head. "Thank you."

-----.-----

Cecil had finally gotten the cloak mended and slips into the Infirmary. He folds the cloak neatly and lays it on the bed. It looks like Kevin is still sleeping and for a moment, Cecil just looks at him. His face is smooth and innocent in his sleep. Cecil had started to leave when he heard shifting on the bed. He slowly turns, panicked. Earl had left with the others at dawn and the only medical personnel left at court was Earl's apprentice Roger, whom Earl loved like a son. At the moment, Roger was attending classes.

Cecil turns and looks at Kevin, who was sitting up and staring at him. Large amber eyes train on Cecil's face. Cecil rests his staff beside the door and puts his hands up.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

#wtnv #wtnv cecil #wtnv carlos #wtnv earl #original male character #nyx #magnus #wtnv rochelle #wtnv dave #old woman josie #Oíche Vale #au #wip

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