#queen of answering a question with a question

[deathofacupid]

do you mind making a fic related to “i would burn the whole world for you”?

hi, anon! i'm not sure what character, or even fandom, you wanted this for, so, i'll go with jjk, given that i don't get many asks for anything else. i thought this was cute, which is why i just ended up doing it for all the characters, but in the future, please specify!

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gojo wouldn't simply burn the world; he'd sculpt it anew from stardust and shattered constellations, a celestial monument to your glory. he's the strongest, a god among mortals, but his power is a sun orbiting your vibrant, life-giving planet.

his existence is a question mark until you become the answer, the reason his limitless strength finds purpose. he'd pluck nebulae from the cosmos to weave you a gown, command galaxies to compose your symphony. the world is clay in his hands - you are both the artist and his muse.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ geto is the fire, a consuming blaze fueled by his love for you. the world he knew is already crumbling, its foundations weakened by his choices, each one a sacrifice on the altar of your shared future. you are the dawn he envisions, a world bathed in the golden light of your happiness.

he'd navigate through storms of blood and tears, his path illuminated by the unwavering star of your love. he'd offer you the moon and the stars, but more importantly, he'd offer you a world where you could finally see them in peace.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ nanami's devotion is a controlled burn, a precise and unwavering flame. he's a man of unwavering morals, yet you are the exception, the one principle that transcends all others.

he wouldn't ignite the world in a blaze of passion; he'd dismantle it brick by logical brick, until only a sanctuary for you remains. his love is a quiet promise, a steady hand that will shield you from every storm. he wouldn't need to be asked; your unspoken desires are etched into his soul.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ choso's love is a wildfire, untamed and consuming. he doesn't comprehend the nuances of right and wrong, but he understands the language of your heart.

if you whispered that the world needed cleansing fire, he'd become the inferno, a force of nature driven by his pure, unadulterated love. he'd paint the night sky with the smoke of burning empires, all to see the light of your smile.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ toji's affection is a smoldering ember, hidden beneath a stoic exterior. he might not possess worldly riches, but his loyalty is a treasure beyond measure.

he'd raze the world not with fire, but with the cold, calculated precision of a master assassin, silencing any threat to your well-being. his love is a silent vow, etched in the steel of his gaze. you are his purpose, the reason he draws breath.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sukuna wouldn't burn the world for you, but with you, a king and queen reigning over the ashes. your wish is his decree, not out of servitude, but out of a shared hunger for power and dominion.

he sees a reflection of his own ambition in your eyes, and he'd gladly watch the world crumble beneath your feet. his love is a dark, intoxicating symphony, a dance of destruction and rebirth.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

And Action!

Fandom: Marvel (Actor AU)

Pairing: Movie Star!Bucky x Journalist!Reader fic.

Summary: The chemistry between you, a journalist, and Bucky, a movie star, is undeniable. After dancing around each other for the past year, Bucky’s ready for the game to end.

“Y/N!” your break out into a wide grin as Bucky exclaims your name. He approaches you with a big smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

You’ve been waiting with the other journalists along the red carpet, chatting with the cast and crew of the new movie The Queen’s Shadow.

The main stars are Yelena Belova and Bucky Barnes. You’d just finished interviewing Yelena and now Bucky is headed your way.

“Hi, Bucky. It’s good to see you again!”

He chuckles, “You as well and,” he turns to his assistant and accepts the thermos, “Hot chocolate like I promised.”

You can’t help but cackle, “I was hoping you’d remember.”

He shrugs, a grin on his lips, “Of course. I promised you, didn’t I?”

You take a moment to open the thermos and take a little sip of the beverage. Your body instantly warms from the hot drink but as well as the sweet comforting taste of the chocolate, “You were right. You make a mean hot chocolate.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Bucky responds with a chuckle.

You then set the thermos to the side, “Okay. So congrats on the movie. Everyone’s prayers have been answered because you’ve finally gone back to your roots being in rom-coms. How does it feel?”

“So fun. Don’t get me wrong. The action movies I’ve done recently are fun too, but rom-coms are a different kind of fun. I can be a little goofy, be a complete dork while also be charming-“

“Basically be more of yourself?” You ask with a smirk.

He snorts, “Yes! Basically! And to work alongside Yelena, who’s, ya know, one of my best friend’s sister, was really a treat because this is her big debut. I was able to watch and guide her. Even though sometimes we’d get into arguments here and there because we’re like siblings. But yeah, it was fun.”

“Was it a little weird to play love interests since you two are like siblings?”

“At first, yeah. But we discussed it and, ya know, this is our job as actors. Whatever our personal relationship is, it doesn’t matter when we’re on set. We’ve got a job to do so we went and did it.”

“Did Nat threaten you at all when she heard you and Yelena would be working with each other?”

Bucky scoffs, “Of course, Nat did. But I get it. She’s just protective of her sister. I’m like that with my sister so I can’t fault her for that.”

You nod in understanding. You always enjoyed talking with Bucky because conversations with him were so easy and he was always so passionate about the projects he’s worked on.

“Alright, now for the hard hitting question.”

Bucky nods and rubs his hands together, “Okay, watcha got for me?”

You take a deep breath and lean closer, “Who would win in a fight: Mason Rhodes or Jayce Ryder?” Mason Rhodes is his character in The Queen’s Shadow and Jayce Ryder is his character in his previous action movie franchise.

Bucky chuckles, “Oh that’s a hard one…probably Mason.”

“Really?” You ask him in surprise.

He shrugs, “Well not to spoil too much, Mason was trained to fight and know how to protect the Queen. Jayce, while he does know how to fight, he’s self-trained and a little sloppy. Kinda fights more with his heart while Mason fights with his brain, you know?”

You nod, “Makes sense!” You see Bucky’s assistant pull on his sleeve to let him know he needs to move on, “Well, I’ll let you continue down the line. It was great speaking with you! And thanks again for the hot chocolate!”

“Of course! It was great seeing you. See you next time!” He gives you a wink and a wave and follows where his publicist guides him next.

—————-

Not many journalists are invited to after parties. However, your friend, Joaquin, a PA who worked on the film, invited you as his plus one.

You’re chatting with him by the hors d’oeuvres table when Bucky approaches, “Hi,” he’s a little more shy this time. He turns to Joaquin, giving him a nod, “Torres.”

“Bucky,” Joaquin says with a big smile, “Movie was great, man!”

“Oh, thanks! Yeah, it-it was fun.” Bucky looks back at you, “Did you enjoy it?”

You nod, “Your performance was great, but I enjoyed Yelena’s a little bit more.”

He chuckles, “I understand. She was amazing.”

“Oh! I see Sam. I’ll be right back!” Joaquin excused himself to talk to the other actor.

Bucky clears his throat, “So, uh, you drink all the hot chocolate?”

You shake your head, “It’s in my car. Saving the rest for later. But did you really come here to talk to me about hot chocolate, Bucky?” You ask with a smirk.

You and Bucky have been dancing around each other for the past year. You’ve worked with him a lot over the last few years but it wasn’t until recently that your interviews with him started getting a little more playful and flirty.

Sometimes it was you that really upped the playful, flirty vibes. Other times, it was Bucky. Neither of you were put off by it. It was all in good fun and definitely gave Bucky a lot of publicity.

“Not really. I actually wanted to ask if you were tired.”

Your brows furrow and your head tilts to side in confusion, “Tired?”

“Of this game we’ve been doing lately?” That shy demeanor is replaced with that teasing, playfulness you’ve encountered before.

“I don’t know, Barnes. Are you?”

“I am.”

“So,” you step closer to him, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Bucky glances at your lips and then licks his own, “Well, I was thinking we can finally exchange numbers and I take you on a date.”

“That right? Where do you plan to take me?”

“I have a place in mind.”

You pout, “You’re not gonna tell me?”

“You’ll find out if you say yes.”

You sigh, “You really wanna date me? I’m a journalist. I could spill all your dirty secrets.”

He cocks a brow at you, “That what you plan to do?”

You scoff, “Fuck no. I’d never.”

“And that’s why I wanna date you, among other things.”

“Tell me,” you step even closer to him.

He smirks, “I will,” he leans in, lips hovering over yours, “on our date.”

He steps back and you realize your phone is now in his hands, “Hey!” You exclaim with a laugh, and he laughs with you.

“I may have learned a thing or two from my action movies,” he hands you your phone so you can unlock it. You hand it back to him when you do and he inputs his number.

He hands you his own phone and you enter in your number.

“I’ll be busy this week for premiere stuff but afterwards, I have some down time before I start my next project. I’ll call you when I’m free to hash out the details?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Perfect. I gotta continue making my rounds, but enjoy the rest of your night,” he leaves you again with another wink and a fluttering in your chest.

[a-d-nox]

pac/pap: a letter from your future spouse

take what resonates leave what doesn't - nothing is 100% for you because these aren't personalized so please no angry comments or dms about what i am saying not being a good fit for you or that you "don't claim" just keep scrolling if that is the case. be kind, self reflect, and have fun.

last pac/pap: a love life check-up

return to the masterlist of pap/pac posts

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pile 1

i wonder what you’re doing right now. are you chasing a dream you’ve started to question? laughing with friends who see only parts of the real you? or are you like me - reflecting on the strange twists life keeps throwing your way, trying to make sense of how it all fits together?

i don’t have all the answers, but i know this: our story is unfolding exactly as it should. the setbacks, the detours, the heartbreak - it’s all shaping us, preparing us for the moment our lives finally align. even in the moments when you doubt that there is light ahead, know that i see it clearly. you’re the hope i keep reaching for, even in the dark.

i often imagine meeting you for the first time. maybe it’s ordinary - a passing glance, a casual conversation. but there will be something unshakable about it. something in the way your smile catches me off guard or the way your voice pulls me in. i’ll know it’s you. and even if i don’t say it right away, you’ll feel it too.

right now, i’m still figuring things out. life’s been throwing me in every direction, and i’m just holding on, trying to steer clear of what i can. the funny thing about fate is how it works even when you don’t see it coming. every choice i’ve made, every chance i’ve taken, has brought me closer to you.

when the time is right, i’ll be ready to step up for you, for us. i’m not the person i was yesterday, and i’m still becoming the person i want to be. there is one thing i know for sure: when we meet, i’ll choose you - again and again, every day, through every celebration and every challenge.

yes - there will be celebrations. i want to laugh with you until we can’t breathe, to celebrate to our wins, big and small, and to hold you close when the night winds down. i want to share your joy, your dreams, and every quiet moment in between. you’re the person i want standing next to me through it all.

until then, i’ll keep working on myself, learning from the lessons life throws my way, and holding space for you in my heart. when fate turns in our favor and our paths finally cross, i’ll be ready to give you my love, my devotion, and my whole damn soul.

yours,

future spouse

pile 2

i’ve been lost before. trapped in my own cycles, chasing goals that felt hollow or moving too fast to notice what i was really missing. there were times i poured my energy into the wrong things, thinking that success or control could fill the void. but life has a way of humbling you, of forcing you to stop, slow down, and face the truth: none of it matters without you.

you’re the one who will make me want to be better - not out of obligation, but because i’ll see in you everything i’ve been searching for. you’re my anchor and the softness in need in my life, the one who shows me that love isn’t about perfection or performance, but about presence. when i look at you, i’ll see everything i didn’t know i needed - warmth, patience, and a kind of beauty that radiates from the inside out.

i know i’ve taken the long road to get to you. sometimes i’ve been stuck, unsure of what to do next, afraid to leave what felt comfortable, even when i knew it wasn’t enough. but you’ll be the one who changes that. with you, there will be no fear, no hesitation - only a deep, undeniable pull that i can’t resist.

you have this power, don’t you? to nurture and create, to transform whatever you touch into something extraordinary. you’re a queen in every sense of the word - abundant, radiant, and endlessly giving. i want you to know this: you don’t always have to give. you don’t always have to hold everything together. with me, you can let go. you'll be able to lean on me. i’ll be the one to carry the weight when you’re tired, to remind you how much you’re worth, even when the world forgets.

i know i’ll mess up sometimes. i’ll stumble, i’ll falter, and i’ll get caught in my own head. but i promise i’ll never stop trying. i’ll never stop choosing you. even in the moments when it feels like we’re standing still, i’ll be there, holding your hand, reminding you that we’re exactly where we’re meant to be.

there’s no moving on from you. no walking away, no running from the love i know we’ll have. you’re the one i’ll keep coming back to, again and again, because you’re home. and when we’re together, i’ll spend the rest of my days showing you just how much you mean to me.

my heart is your's,

future spouse

pile 3

if you’ve felt a restless pull in your heart, know that i feel it too. i’m not the kind of man who sits still for long - i’ve always chased what makes me feel alive, even when i didn’t fully understand what i was after. somewhere along the way, i realized what i’ve been searching for is you.

you’re the spark in the distance, the promise of something more. i can feel your energy even now, calling me to move, to grow, to become the man you deserve. i’m not perfect—sometimes i charge ahead too fast, speak before i think, or get caught up in chasing every wild idea that crosses my mind. but one thing i know for sure: when i meet you, everything will fall into focus.

you’re the kind of person who could make a man rethink everything. your passion, your curiosity, your fire - i want to match it and watch us both burn brighter together. with you, every day will feel like an adventure, every moment full of discovery. i want to know your mind, your dreams, and your wildest ideas. i want to be the one who makes you laugh so hard you forget to breathe and who listens when you need to share the thoughts you’ve never spoken aloud.

but i also want you to know this: i’ll be the one who gives you space when you need it. life isn’t always about the chase; sometimes, it’s about the stillness. when the world gets too loud, when the fire feels like it’s burning too hot, i’ll be there to remind you to rest. i’ll be your calm in the chaos, your quiet in the storm.

i know we’ll make mistakes - together and apart. we’ll say the wrong things, take the wrong steps, and sometimes, we’ll need time to figure it all out. but isn’t that part of the beauty? love isn’t about perfection; it’s about showing up, learning, and growing side by side.

i can’t wait to see where life takes us, to chase the wild unknown with you by my side. you make me want to dream bigger, run faster, and still, somehow, savor every single moment. i’m ready to throw myself into this with you, no hesitation, no regrets.

until we meet, i’ll keep searching, learning, and preparing for the day when i get to call you mine.

yours always,

your future spouse

[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Fourteen -> Next Chapter

Taglist: @jsprien213 @toast-on-dandelioms @plsfckmedxddy @lilyalone @sydneyyyya @yandere-wishes @cxcilla @nemesis-writer @sadslasher13

“Master Bruce, Mr. Oliver Queen, and Ms. Dinah Lance are here to see you.” The voice of Alfred spoke out to your father who was sitting in his office, staring at the photographs you left behind that started this whole spiral he was in that your disappearance only added to. “Your wife is currently in the lounge with them, but I believe they would like to speak to you about your daughter.”

“Right… I will be there in a second.” Your father stood up from his leather desk chair, pushing it back into the desk before he grabbed the photos from the desk and shoved them into his suit jacket as he walked out of his office, following after his butler. It has been a day and a half since your disappearance and there was still nothing, well barely nothing besides the signs of struggle that was left on the rooftop you were last seen on. Most of everyone else was at the clocktower with Barbara, looking over any footage they could find that could potentially follow the path of where you might have been taken, Duke was at the GCPD headquarters talking to Commissioner Gordon and Detective Montoya if they knew anything about where you may be, then Tim and a few of your friends, Nettle and Foxglove to be specific, were going to meet with Mark Austen, your benefactor, to see if he could place any exact location of where you may be, then Dick and Damian as Nightwing and Robin were going to investigate Arkham Asslyum per Bruce’s request after he saw that letter his wife received from a certain former District Attorney, Bruce would have gone himself but Alfred pushed him to rest since he had been up for almost two days straight after seeing those photographs and seeing you come home stonefaced.

Alfred held the door open for Bruce as he stepped into the lounge and there he saw the two other members of the Justice League sitting across from his wife. Dinah looked up at Bruce with a smile, a polite gesture, but a silent sign of a conversation that would not exactly be pleasant. Then Bruce took a seat down by his wife and when he glanced to see her expression he clearly knew something was wrong, her mascara beginning to run down her cheeks and her lipstick slightly smugged probably from her trying to wipe away her tears, especially when she opened her lips to speak. “My daughter was engaged to a psychopathic maniac and you knew and didn’t tell me?”

“Our daughter-”

“That doesn’t change anything… this is exactly why I didn’t want to raise her with you, because of all the secrets and hiding and the danger… god…” Your mother sniffled but slapped away Bruce’s hand when he reached to comfort her. She glanced at Dinah and Oliver and forced a smile as she stood up from the couch. “Thank you for telling me… I have a few things to think about right now.”

Bruce watched as your mother stood up from the couch and walked out of the lounge, walking past Alfred as he held the door open for her and closing it behind her, and left the room himself. Bruce shot Oliver a glare as he began to question the archer. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her about the photographs and about your daughter being kidnapped.” The fellow vigilante responded to Bruce and before your father could open his mouth as to question how he knew and even found out about that, Oliver spoke up again. “Dinah was looking for your daughter last night to talk and then found Stephanie and she told her everything, including the fact that your wife didn’t know, but that’s not the main reason why we wanted to talk to you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I think you know, Bruce.” Dinah answered, and the two men watched as she pulled up her phone and opened it to show other photographs, photos of you as Songbird. She scrolled through them, showing them to your father. “Notice any similarities?”

“I do…” Your father could not deny how it was clear you based your persona off of the Justice League member sitting across from him in this very moment. “She was a fan of yours a long time before she ran away-”

“She didn’t run away, she was eighteen when she left this house, she went off to figure out who she is and she is still trying to figure that out because you never let her grow up or you didn’t want her to at least.” Dinah cut Bruce off, pulling her phone back and setting it on the coffee table between them. “Look growing up by yourself is scary, you should understand that, you all should all understand that… look Oliver and I have been talking and a few nights back Oli offered for her to come to stay in Star City, we think it would be best for her come stay with us and train because as much as you may not like it and if she may deny it, she was made for this life and she shouldn’t be doing it out of spite like she is now and that is all she will be in Gotham-”

“Neither of you raised her, you have no idea-”

“From what I heard your wife said she didn’t want you raising her either.” Dinah stood up from the couch, Oliver following suit behind his own wife. “Look Bruce, I understand wanting to protect her, but maybe she doesn’t need your protection anymore, or maybe she never needed it at all… look this was just to tell you in advance, but if it helps Oli and I will be helping look for her, so we’ll see you out there tonight.”

There was silence in the room as the two guests left the room, their footsteps echoing softly through the house as they began to fade away as they made their way out. Your father sat there for a moment, his eyes drifting around the roof in deep thought, his eyes finally coming to land on a photograph that sat on a side table of him and your mother a number of years ago, long before you were born and before she left him and when they were happy. A part of him wondered if he had chosen to leave this life when she asked if they would be happy…

Was it worth it?

______________________

You did not like the way the lace of your wedding dress felt around your collarbone, it felt too tight and the lace was too itchy, you did not notice it when your mother had brought it with her to that original visit to try on the wedding dresses but now everything felt suffocating, the fact that the room you were in had no windows did not help either.

You had been moved into another room after your conversation with Gabriel after you knocked out a member of the Court of Owls and tried to break out. The room you were in was some sort of dressing room, the sort for special occasions like weddings, the sort with a makeup vanity and an old changing screen. There were a few women in those owl masks helping you get dressed, but they did not seem to be full members of the Court of Owls, most likely some form of employee, servant, or devotee to their cause, for some reason they were more unsettling than seeing your old friend under the mask. These unknown women whispered among themselves but did not talk to you directly, which you found irritating.

You sat on a chaise lounge near the corners of the room as the women began packing up their makeup bags and still speaking in hushed tones. You laid back on the lounge, your head resting against the velvet surface as you thought back on this entire mess, you should have honestly just left the country when you had the chance when you first ran away, or at least you should not have stayed in Gotham of all places, this corner of hell.

You thought your wedding day was supposed to be happy, but here you are wanting to kill yourself.

You heard the door open, but you did not care enough to look at who it may be, especially when you already had a good enough of a guess. You felt the weight of the chaise lounge shift as someone else sat down next to you, and you finally looked to see that same girl who claimed to be your friend in school, she was wearing that white owl mask and her throat was still all red from when you knocked her out by choking her. “You should feel lucky.”

“Huh?” You finally spoke in a soft voice, confused by her sudden change in character, and you could only guess that behind that damned owl mask she was internally raging.

“I know why so many of the Court don’t like you because you are so ungrateful for everything you have been given. You are about to have everything you ever wanted, but you would rather run than have the most powerful man in Gotham at your disposal.”

“I loved Gabriel once… but how can I want this when it is being forced upon me?” Your question made her fists curl up, grabbing at the fabric of her dress in her rage. “If I was still in the dark then of course I would marry Gabriel in a heartbeat but I know he is a monster.”

You saw her raise her hand to slap you, and you knew it really would not hurt you, but the blow to your face never came, instead, you felt yourself being pulled back by one of the other masked ladies in the room while you watched a throwing knife break through your old friend’s owl mask and she was dead before her body even his the ground, the pool of red forming beneath her. You turned your head around in the direction of where the throwing knife came from and there you saw one of those assassins, a Talon, it must have followed her, you guessed it was probably commanded by Gabriel to kill anyone who dared to lay a finger on you, that was a terrifying thought. You glanced down at the body again, while she was once your friend she was also Gabriel’s old friend from school, and yet still he had her killed, just like how he killed his own mother in cold blood.

Then honestly you wished you did not look back up at the assassin again, because as if like instant karma, you watched as a blade made contact with its neck, slicing through it clean, beheading the creature. There was just you staring for a moment as everyone else in the room dropped dead, leaving you standing there alone and you knew this was not planned by the Court of Owls, especially as you saw an all too familiar woman step over the Talon’s corpse and severed head.

Seems like you were right about the League of Assassins targeting the Court of Owls, and Talia Al Ghul standing in front of you only proves your point.

“It seems that when children do not listen that discipline may be needed.”

______________________

“You played me!” You yelled at Talia as she dragged you out onto the rooftop of the building that the underground compound you were trapped in was connected to, you were sure that there were more entrances scattered throughout the city, but this was just one of many. You harshly pulled your arm out of her grip and you felt the fabric of the wedding dress sleeve rip, it was already ruined anyway because of Talia pulling you through the gore she created, the blood that was shed stained your white dress crimson at the edges where it met the ground, there is probably some fucked up metaphor you could use to describe it and compare it to your life but honestly could care less at this moment. “You only warned me to get me out of the way because you knew I would be a problem in your plan, you lied to me, you never actually cared about keeping me safe.”

“I care, but if you died then you would just be brought back, your safety and life are not a priority when you always have been keen on causing such trouble for everyone involved. A three-way war is more than enough for the League to deal with, we do not need a wild card involved.”

“So you would kill me and then throw me in a Lazurus Pit if you couldn’t pull me out or scare me off, huh?” You took a step back, your dress getting caught on a broken bit of metal that made up the rooftop you stood on, the fabric of the skirt of your dress ripping. “I think I’ll pass on both of those options, and you know that they won’t let your League mark Gotham as its next target in your father’s messed moral philosophy.”

“By them, you mean your family and your friends, correct? Because do you really think your little group of runaways stands a chance against me alone?” Her words made you fall silent, biting the inside of your cheek to keep a word of anger from spitting out. She was right, your friends would all be dead if they raised a hand against the League of Assassins. Talia smiled at your reaction, taking a step forward and reaching out a hand towards you. “It seems that you do not have as much faith in them as you say, do not worry, they will be spared when the time comes… but as for you my dear, I suggest you stop fighting and come quietly because as willing as I am to do so I would still hate to bring you back to my father as a corpse.”

“I…I…” What were you supposed to do? You had no weapons on you to fight and no suit to protect yourself from her blade, but you could not just let yourself be dragged along to Ra’s Al Ghul. You glanced around the rooftop, bare and on the outskirts of the city, you could jump off the edge and try to land on your feet on the next rooftop but without your suit, the threat of falling and breaking a bone was all too real. You glanced down at the part of your skirt that was ripped off by the metal, that broken shard of metal lying underneath the stained fabric. You sighed and kneeled down picking up the scraps of your skirt and the metal shard underneath it, hiding it underneath the ruined fabric.

“That’s a good girl…” Talia spoke, taking a step forward as you began to stand up, her hand reaching out to run her fingers through your hair. You took a deep breath in and out for courage as you looked up to meet Talia in the eye, still slightly crouched so it would be quite difficult to stab you without giving you reaction time. You took a sharp breath in before reaching up, stabbing the demon’s daughter with the broken piece of metal, jamming it into her gut before kicking in her legs to make her fall over. You could hear her scream in more rage than pain, as you made a dash for it, running toward the edge of the rooftop and taking a both literal and figurative leap of faith, jumping off the edge of the rooftop with a running start. You landed on the next rooftop over with a roll, but you did not have time to waste, you had to keep running.

You could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you ran off this rooftop, jumping off the ledge, but this was a jump you would be able to make as Songbird, not just as yourself.

Your body hit the ledge of the building you attempting you make a jump to, not enough time to grab the ledge and pull yourself up and your body fell tumbling to the ground. Trash bags thrown into the alleyway broke your fall, and every limb of your body hurt but you had to keep moving. You forced yourself to stand up only for your body to fall to the ground again. your head hurt and you could process the sounds of voices, they sounded familiar, sounded safe, but you could not place them. You felt someone cradle your head and torso, telling you that it is going to be okay, that you are safe not. You could see the blurry outline of the two people, the one who was holding you was a man and there was a woman behind him who was talking to someone you think, everything felt so fuzzy…

“It’s okay, I’ve got you Songbird…”

______________________

You felt groggy when you woke up, there was a soft beeping of a heart monitor that you managed to recognize in your half-unconscious state. Your first instinct was to sit up but when you did you felt two sets of hands push you back down. “Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re safe now.”

You recognized that voice…

You stopped to let your vision focus, and you were indeed in a hospital room much to your relief. You turned your head to the source of the voice, the blond woman sitting next to your bedside, Dinah Lance, otherwise known as Black Canary, she had been your hero since you were a little girl, you remember meeting her for the first time when you were fourteen and you remember her being everything you wanted to be one day. You made the guess that the other person in the room on your other side was most likely Oliver Queen, and given that she was in civilian clothing then so was he, the two of them probably changed before bringing you here. She smiled at you, brushing the hair out of your face. “How are you feeling?”

“Rough… nothin’ feels broken though.”

“Ya… you made it out with just a few bruises, the nurse said you're okay to be discharged when you woke up, but let’s wait a few minutes.” You felt her reach down and give your hand a soft squeeze, a much-needed comfort after everything you have been through. “Do you want to talk about what happened? With Talia that is, Oli spotted you two on a rooftop, that’s how we got to you when we did, but we didn’t hear what was said.”

“...Not… not right now.”

“That’s okay, just rest right now, we’ll watch over you.”

[frost-queen]

Horde of walkers (Reader x Daryl Dixon)

Requested by: anon  Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex–awesome–22, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23, @melsunshine  , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis, @slythetic, @bitchybananaflower, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr

You swallowed nervously, staring below the hill. Snarling and growling reaching your ears. Countless of walkers moving restlessly around. Some swinging their arms around when another walker bumped against them. – “Like hell I’m going through that.” – you said, looking to your side at Daryl.

His shoulder resting against yours. Lying between the bushes with you to remain out of sight. – “I don’t think we have any other choice, sweetheart.” – Daryl answered, slowly turning his head at you. – “They are blocking our path to reach the others.” – he went on, quietly raising his hand to point at the horizon. – “That is where we are meeting.” – making you look at well. You puffed loud, knowing it good enough.

You just wished there was any other way. – “Can’t we go around?” – you suggested. It was probably a stupid question, but you needed it to be said anyways. Daryl gave you glance if you were being serious right now. – “That will take us days. You really want to stay in the woods for days more without any more supplies. I only got a few hard candybars left in my bag Y/n.” – Daryl immediately spoke the hard truth.

Exhaling deep, you lowered your head. There was no going around. Only one path clear. Forwards. Gazing below once more at the hoard, you started silently counting them. Wanting to know against how many you were up. Daryl noticed it as your mouth was moving silently. – “Stop counting.” – he let out, pressing his hand over your mouth. – “It will only do more wrong.”

You shoved his hand off your mouth with a glare. – “I just like to know what I’m up against.” – you reminded him. You hated coming unprepared. – “Walkers. Dozens of them, maybe more.” – Daryl answered. You slapped him against the back of his head. – “Au.” – he quietly let out to not draw too much attention. – “I didn’t need your hard reality right now.” – you made clear.

“You wanted me to lie?” – he asked of you. – “Maybe.” – you said frantically. Unsure what you wanted in this kind of situation. Some snarling became louder, making you hide more behind the bushes. Daryl hid more as well, knowing some walkers might have been triggered by the voices. Daryl waited a few moments before whispering. – “If we want to reach the others before nightfall, we have to move now, sweetheart.”

He nudged you against your shoulder. You nodded shakily. Crawling backwards through the grass. Once you were far enough from the edge, you got up to your feet. Dusting your hands off from the dirt. – “So… so how do we this.” – you wanted to know, swaying nervously on your feet.

Daryl took your hand, taking a deep breath. – “It’s risky and I don’t think you are going to like it.” – he started. It made you look frightful up to him. Wondering what was going on in his mind. He smiled sheepishly back at you. He started to walk backwards, taking you with him.

It didn’t take long for the rotten stench of flesh to reach your nostrils. Between a few bushes laid a dead walker. In half as it’s intestines were spread out over the grass. You already had a clue of what he was thinking. Slowly backing away, but the grip on your hand made you unable to go far.

“No…no…” – you said, shaking your head. Daryl came closer to you, shushing you. – “It’s the only way Y/n.” – he told you. – “Daryl!” – you called out, pointing out that was ridiculous. – “I’m not wiping some blood and gore on my face!” – you shouted as Daryl came covering up your mouth. Checking his surroundings that they hadn’t drawn any attention.

“What other choice do we have? I’m not going to fight thirty walkers or more!” – he forced out. He slowly removed his hand from against your mouth with a nod. – “It will be alright, sweetheart. I’m with you.” – he reassured you. Letting his hands brush down your cheeks. Leaving a caring kiss on your forehead. Then a gentle on against your lips.

Slouching your shoulders with a sigh, you gave in. Daryl kissed your knuckles, before backing away. Crouching down to dip his hands in blood and gore. He then approached you. Smearing it out on your clothes. The stench coming with it, nearly made you gag. He apologized when his hand came near your face.

“Just do it.” – you let out, shutting your eyes. Feeling his hand touch your face. Leaving gore on your cheeks. The stench was almost unbearable. You slowly opened your eyes, seeing him return to the walker. Pick at his bowels.

Returning with a broken off one. – “Daryl!” – you shout-whispered in protest. – “Sorry sweetheart. I have to be certain.” – he responded laying the bowel over your shoulders. – “I can’t risk losing you to a hoard of walkers. I won’t watch you be torn to pieces so I have to be certain.”

You understood. Daryl returned to the walker to rub himself in blood and gore. Throwing a bowel around his neck as well. Motioning at you, he wanted you to follow him. You followed him down the hill towards the road. Eyes widening at the amount of walkers.

There were more than you ever imagined. Hundreds gathered around on the road in a swarm. Pacing around in the same space waiting for something to disrupt their mindless stage. Daryl had to swallow hard as well at the number. He hadn’t thought it would this many.

The woods had blocked out a lot of the hoard wandering the streets. He had expected fifty, but not hundreds. He took your hand with a firm grip. – “Slowly and quietly.” – he whispered to you. Making you nod with a soft hum in return.

Daryl took the first step, forcing you to follow. To get in motion to reach the first walkers. You swallowed nervously. The first walkers were wide enough apart to simply walk through without much effort. Some sniffed the air, opening and closing their jaws at nothing. Moving around till they settled once more.

Daryl kept a close eye on you. Bringing his finger to his lips to stay quiet. You nodded, pressing your lips together. Quietly you ventured forwards. Daryl guiding the way through the walkers without touching one. The  crowd became thicker.

Having less space to move around easily. A walker moved his head in your direction as you past it. It made you supress a yelp. It came snarling by your ear. Making you stand still and close your eyes firm. Daryl tugged on your hand, forcing you to move.

Opening your eyes once more. He reminded you to keep moving. Holding your hand even firmer. A walker came snarling loud, turning rapidly your way. You let out a soft yelp before covering up your mouth. The sound attracted the walker.

Making him bump against you. Coming closer to sniff you. Another walker came at your other side, sniffing you as well. Their teeth clattering hard against each other. Daryl watched the display, telling you to stay quiet. Sweat broke out.

One bumped against you as you couldn’t supress the sound coming out of you. It set off a lot of walkers. Making them turn their heads your way. – “Y/n!” – Daryl let out. Walkers bumping against him to reach you. He grabbed them by their shoulders, shoving them back. You were panicking hard. Alarming the walkers, yet they were confused by the smell.

Daryl started shoving walkers away from you. Taking your hand. Pulling you at him. Bumping against his chest, he wrapped an arm around you. Keeping you close as he kept shoving the other walkers out of the way. Their normal ways disrupted, yet settled down quickly from the smell.

Daryl quickened his pace, keeping you warm under his arm. – “Hang on Y/n.” – he said shoving a walker out of the way. They stumbled against another one. Snarling and growling loud at them. The other one growled in anger back. Daryl hurried up, making his way across. Leaving the hoard of walkers behind him with a pant.

“You okay Y/n?” – he asked. You were trembling on your knees. Nodding shakingly. Daryl sighed relieved, pulling you close to his chest. Feeling how your body suddenly started to shudder. Shudder as you were crying. Crying from the panic attack you had. – “It’s over Y/n. It’s all over now…” – he reassured you. Throwing an arm over your shoulder. – “Let’s meet the others.” – he said. You nodded, glad to be in his save arms.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[chuellas]

Now We’re Lying About the Nights | N is for Nylon

⤷ Ft. Fyodor Dostoevsky

V. A. L. E. N. T. I. N. E.

Warnings | Fem!Reader, N.SFW, 18+ only, use of the name “Dear”, nylon fetish, thigh fucking, partially clothed, mirror sex, WC: 1.4k

A/N | WE R ALMOST TO VDAY WE HAVE ALMOST MADE ITTTTTT

“Fedya?” You call out from the attached bathroom in the hotel room you’re staying at, voice coming out a bit quieter than you meant.

Somehow the man still manages to hear your call and hums in response. You barely hear it over the obnoxious ceiling fan. Something tells you if you want to hear him properly you’re going to have to go to him, not the other way around. 

You let out a sigh as you leave the bathroom, still trying to reach for the buttons on the back of your dress as if by some miracle you’ll somehow finally find a way to unlatch the little pearled buttons yourself. You don’t, of course. When you reach Fyodor who’s sitting at the edge of the bed, untying his boots, he lazily looks up at you.

You turn with a dramatic sigh and point to your back. “I need help. I can’t get these ridiculous little buttons unlooped. Pretty please, help a girl out?”

Fyodor doesn’t respond at first, you turn your head back to see why he hasn’t said anything only to find his eyes running down the line of buttons. A simpering smile lifts the corner of your mouth upwards as a mischievous plan crosses your mind. You crouch down a little and press his legs together to create the perfect seat, like a throne fit for a queen. You make yourself comfortable in his lap and gather your hair to the side once again and look at him from the corner of your eye. 

“For your convenience, this way you don’t have to get up.” Fyodor’s gaze is sharp and calculating, clearly unsure how to feel about you just doing as you please.

After a moment his lithe fingers make work of the buttons, wordlessly answering your plea. His actions are pointed and slow, and every so often his cold fingers brush against your bare back. It takes everything within you to not physically shiver. You try to hold it in but your breath skips in your throat and by the way the Russian’s hands pause for just a moment you can tell he caught it. You can vividly imagine the lazy smile he must be wearing, eyes swimming in amusement. He can be so smug and you can practically feel it pouring out of him at this very second.

When he finishes popping open the last button, instead of pushing you off of him like you’d initially thought he would, Fyodor grabs the hem of your skirt and lifts it up to bunch at your hips, exposing your thigh garters that hold up the black nylon stockings you’re wearing on your thighs. You watch his fingers prod at the hem of your left stocking and smoothly run the tips of his fingers under the nylon, tickling the bare skin of your thigh.

Fyodor removes his hand just as quickly as it had previously gotten there and this time both his hands snake under the expensive material of your dress and take hold of your waist to keep you from moving. “What do I get in return for helping you out of this contraption of a dress, Dear?”

This time your breath really does hitch, catching loudly in your throat as his lips are just an inch away from your ear. His hot breath fanning over the shell of your ear keeps you from thinking straight. You’re unable to answer his question. Now that Fyodor has made sure you’re not going anywhere, his hands return to your lags and he pinches the soft flesh of your thigh to regain your attention.

You let out a small yelp and refocus your gaze to his hands, coming back to reality.

“These stockings- I quite like them. I think I’ll have some fun with them.” It’s not a question, he’s not asking for permission and at this point you can feel the way Fyodor's cock is pressing against your ass, straining in his pants. 

With one swift movement you lift yourself up just enough to sweep the dress’s skirt out from underneath you and pull the whole thing off. Your chest is completely bare and you sit back onto his lap which is also bare now too. He must have hastily lowered his pants while you worked on your dress -- always efficient, Fyodor is. You hum in appreciation as your ass now presses into his leaking cock, grinding down and rewarding him with some much deserved friction. 

You look back at him with lidded eyes and play with the hems of your stockings. “You want me to leave these on?”

Fyodor lets out a grunt of approval and lifts you up with a surprising ease you never expect from him. With his chest to your back he walks you forward to the full length mirror and bends you over. Your hands steady you on your thighs and he clicks his tongue, clearly unhappy with your choice.

“Hands on the mirror. You’re going to watch me while I enjoy your thighs, My Dear.” You let out a whimper at the thought, easily doing as you’re told. “Good girl.”

You let out a surprised gasp when the raven haired man pushes aside your panties and nestles his cock between your legs with ease thanks to the slick that’s now dripping down the inside of your thighs. You look in the mirror and watch as the flushed tip of his cock peeks out of the crease in your thighs only to disappear again as he sets a steady pace. Your head dips when he catches your clit, mouth opening and panted moans fall from your lips. 

Fyodor reaches around, breathes heavy, little noises catching in his throat as he does so and he picks up your face to make you look up into the mirror. You know he wants you to watch as he uses your body for his own pleasure, not even trying to do anything for you in return, but you think the way he looks right now is more than you could ever ask for. His mulberry eyes intent on watching the way he slides between your plush thighs, precum staining the very material that stirred him in the first place. His brows are knitted in concentration, something you rarely get to see when Fyodor is always confident with everything he does -- almost annoyingly so. 

This is the one thing that still perplexes him.

His hips start to lose their rhythm, becoming sloppy as he twitches, close to cumming. You spur him on by meeting his thrusts and circling your hips to add an extra bit of friction. You smile proudly when you manage to pull a groan from Fyodor’s throat. 

You look at the Demon through the mirror. “Are you going to make a mess of my thighs, Fedya? Paint me with your cum like a work of art? Don’t you think I would look so pretty with it rolling down my legs and soaking into my stocking?”

Your teasing is all it takes for Fyodor to grunt with one last thrust and finally releases all that pent up tension you think he’s been holding in all night. True to your word, he spills onto your thighs, painting the nylon white. you watch as his cum rolls down your thighs. You’re so mesmerized that you almost miss the way Fyodor lets go of his grip on your hips and backs away. 

You stay put and look back at him to find him already observing you with an odd expression. 

Fyodor doesn’t admire many things but you think that’s what might be flashing through his eyes as he studies you. Before you can question him, he looks away and moves toward the bathroom. You gape at him as he just leaves you leaning on the mirror.

“What- Where are you going?” Your voice is shrill, ready to accuse him of leaving you a mess.

Fyodor tilts his head and grins at you in amusement, making you feel small with simply one look. “I’m going to draw us a bath. I made a mess of you, I should clean it up.”

[maacbrem]

(I put this in tags then had too many tags so forgive the addition)

The ‘lack’ of an Assembly arc is actually the presence of Caleb Widogast (and thus the presence of Liam in Matt’s world), and I like him way more than any imaginary political coup arc.

The ‘dissatisfaction’ of not seeing the Assembly fall is, as shown, vital to understanding Caleb’s arc and I would ALSO argue that it’s vital to understand Liam’s contributions to the setting itself. All three of his main campaign characters (and a lot of his Exandria oneshot characters) are at the core representations of aspects of grief, and the way they navigate their initial losses and the fallout are what shape the story they are parts of and thus the wider narrative of Exandria. Exandria of course wouldn’t exist as we know it without any of the cast and all the contributors to source books, extratextual material, etc, but let’s talk about Liam via Caleb and let’s talk about tragedy.

I’m using the term tragedy here to mean a story in which failure is inevitable, but inevitability is tricky in the context of ttrpgs. So for the medium I’d say tragedy in practice is a combination of backstory (immovable, malleable perhaps in form/detail but not core concept - Bren always kills his parents, Veth always drowns, Elaina is always killed by a dragon), gameplay and presented narrative (the DM sets the standards of possibility and the players must act within them, but upset is not off the table - see Fjord, whose journey of faith snuck up on everyone at the table including Matt and Travis but could be folded in mechanically and was a natural evolution of the story the players were building for themselves within Matt’s setting), and the players’ instincts (the dice turn up a number, but the player tells us what that means to the character), and Liam has a instinct towards the dramatic.

Which is a lot of words to say: Liam is interested in tragedies and their aftermath, so he asks variations of the question “what do you do when you try and still fail and keep failing, still lose and keep losing?” And the answer has been in essence “love anyway” (Vax) and “make it better for the people who come after you” (Caleb)

(and i get the sense that his angle as Orym was intended to be a sort of combination of the two - you keep living and you keep fighting, but Orym’s greatest flaw was imo his denial of his own potential agency having already failed once, Orym as a shield and a blade, a background extra not an actor, and I see the groundwork of a story in which he learns to balance his sense of responsibility towards others with his ‘selfish’ desire to move forward in the absence of the people he lost- but the structural failures of c3 didn’t give any themes room to breathe and much like the Nana Morri deal lots of character beats got lost. But that’s pretty much speculation on my part, ANYWAY)

Liam asked his questions and answered them with his characters; Matt saw his answers and built parts of the world around and in his own answer to them; the rest of the cast saw Liam and Matt and asked ‘where do i fit?’ Amidst all of their own stories and the world they were also building with Matt and each other. And the interpersonal relationships became the driving force of Caleb’s growth - he was always going to have an arc towards Ikithon and his parents, but the angle of approach was altered by the sudden intrusion of people caring about him and him caring about them in return.

Matt built Exandria. He invited his friends to enter it, to get down in the gears and wires and invent the Briarwoods and the Aramente and the goddamn Rexxentrum Toy Authority. And the setting changed in response to them. Vax made a choice and now the Raven Queen’s Champion is a brother, an uncle, a lost lover, a bit of an asshole who likes practical jokes and once teleported inside a dragon and cut his way out. Caleb made a choice and the Assembly didn’t fall, but Ikithon was brought to justice and then punched to death and trapped in a cursed rock that was eaten by a dragon. Liam proposed a tragedy and acted out the aftermath, and the worldstate responded. His friends as their characters acted on Caleb and Caleb responded. The world changes Caleb and Caleb changes the world; Transmutation.

I think Exandria as a setting would have been less interesting if C2 had an Assembly take down arc. Post-C2 we saw a world in which a powerful institution was temporarily embarrassed but not diminished - and boy isn’t that familiar - and then in C3 we saw what kind of person builds an institution like that in the first place and how they maintain it. For all the campaign’s ultimate flaws the initial political state of C3 Exandria is a fascinating piece of world building. And we don’t get that without the dissatisfaction of watching Trent get locked up while the rest of the Assembly circle like vultures, while Astrid takes her abuser’s seat and props up the system that facilitated her abuse because she can’t, for the sake of her sanity, see another way. They could have done another arc - i also expected it and was at first a bit disappointed that it didn’t happen - but looking back i think the choice not to was the right one. And i think that it shows not just good instincts on Matt’s part, but an understanding of the themes Liam wanted to play with via Caleb - that you can’t take it back, whatever it is you did, and as part of that you can’t shortcut your way through or dodge around the hard parts. You can’t risk reality to save your parents; you can’t dismantle the Assembly with your bare hands. No matter how much better you might feel, you have to bury your book of letters and spend the rest of your life doing the boring, quiet, necessary work of making a world that will no longer tolerate the horrors you lived through.

I am certain that this has been said before, by myself and others, but because we're talking about it, let's look at the Trent situation in some depth, shall we?

I will admit, I was among those who was of the opinion that there might be another arc of campaign 2 to deal with the Assembly, since they were positioned as the entity pulling strings in Wildemount, they had been tangentially associated earlier with a plot to release Tharizdun, and because they were of minor to major interest with regard to character backstories, not least with multiple members being involved in the Aeor arc (and when it was still believed that Veth might've had some relationship to Doolan Tversky). Nevertheless, in hindsight, I don't feel that there's any issue with the positioning of the Assembly by the end of the campaign. They are a problematic entity that continues to exist in the world as grounding, because such entities are not generally one-note villains to be killed and destroyed; they are generally systemic and entrenched, and require sustained and systematic collaboration to dismantle. The same can be said of the Clasp, or the Myriad. And indeed, Caleb will be focused on this dismantling for at least the next six years.

Looking at Trent in particular, though, requires considering Caleb's narrative arc in full, and in particular, the shift that he undergoes from the beginning to the end. He begins the campaign specifying that he is seeking to take down Trent, "among other things", which we know from his later wishes entails turning back time and undoing his parents' deaths—though, given he doesn't give details on the matter at the time, we can't say then whether or not his plan entailed attempting to leave the timeline unaltered, essentially leaving his younger self to succumb to the guilt and subsequent trauma of the Asylum. It's possible that he had considered that then, and it was simply a pragmatic attempt to preserve the timeline and prevent a paradox, but it's also possible that that element only came later, when Caleb found that he was capable of forgiving himself.

By the time he gets to the point of telling the whole group about his history, before they have dinner with Trent, he specifies that his intent was to atone, but "that idea has evolved quite a bit over time, and I'm not sure what the exact answer is. But I mean to atone." It is worth noting that in this conversation also is the exchange with Caduceus about the goal being no more kids on the pyre. This also only comes after the Nein have shifted from their early extreme murder hobo mercenary tendencies to a group with diplomatic ties who have already navigated a minimum of two governments to end a war, so their methods have changed and their options have expanded, not only in terms of their personal abilities but their social influence as well.

At this point, we know, he has not let go of the potential to turn back time—he admits to Essek later that he doesn't know what he would choose if the thing that he wanted was placed in front of him (incidentally, mere hours before it was). Which means that his idea of atonement has shifted in other ways. In that first conversation with Beau and Nott, Beau says that, "There are two options here: you can selfishly try and go after this guy for your own vendetta, or you can use your motives to keep others from getting hurt in a very similar way," and Caleb admits in response that both are appealing. We must infer then, based upon this information, that what has shifted over ninety episodes later in his idea of atonement is that he is no longer motivated by a selfish dedication to his personal vendetta.

In fact, he seems to slip back into that vendetta later, if not in the asylum (where it is unclear how much he is acting out of necessity than due to a regression, but I would suggest it is a bit of both) then when he attempts to convince the Nein and then Essek that they should invite Trent and the scourgers to join them in Aeor, in an effort to eliminate Trent beyond the view of the rest of the Assembly or the Empire. Even as they prepare to go to the asylum, he admits that he wants Trent dead for ruining his life, though only after extensive pressing from Veth as to whether he is avoiding confronting Trent out of fear, and he adds that he does not want to risk the rest of the Nein in the pursuit of it. I've argued previously that Caleb realized when Essek challenged him on it that he was willing to jeopardize their true mission—to prevent Cognouza from wreaking havoc on Exandria in Lucien's hands—in pursuit of this goal, and this was truly his final wake-up call about the dangers of the path he had been on.

The Assembly has a habit of distancing themselves from the responsibilities of their fellow members; the Assembly as a whole turned on Delilah the moment she ran afoul of the law, Ludinus and Vess both distanced themselves from Trent, and later Astrid distances herself from Ludinus, even though we know she is part of the reason he remained untouchable through the trials against Trent. When members are expelled or eliminated, they are framed as fringe criminals, whose actions and activities were unsanctioned by the Assembly and therefore beyond the control of the others, regardless of the truth of that.

Caleb recognizes that there is plenty of evidence to tie Trent's activities to the Assembly, but likely also understands that Trent will not be tried or convicted in death, and as such the scourger program will not come to the attention of the Empire's legal system if he takes revenge before he gets justice. And by this point, what he wants is justice, because only with justice can he prevent further harm. He admits to Essek that, "I know what it means to have other people complicate your desires and wishes," and frames this as not only a good thing, but indeed the only thing that might save either of them. He ultimately neither kills Trent nor returns to the past, and this is what allows him to move forward out from under the weight of his sins and sorrows.

So by the end of the campaign, what Caleb has attained is this: a reorientation of his priorities, a commitment to his own future, and the means to not only gain justice for himself but to ensure that what happened to him will not happen, in this manner at least, again in a manner that is sanctioned by the Assembly.

To argue that the "Assembly plot" was not wrapped up by the end of campaign 2 is to fundamentally misunderstand both the nature of the campaign, which was one driven by character interests and histories rather than external plot, and to additionally further misinterpret Caleb's actual goals. There was no Assembly plot in campaign 2; there was only Caleb's plot. The end state of that plot is determined not by the elimination of one unchanging villain (though it does, technically speaking, still satisfy that requirement, the Solstice blast notwithstanding), but by reaching a point at which Caleb can begin to recognize that he can live with himself and the efforts he is undertaking—but also, more fundamentally, to recognize that he can live.

[celticcrossanon]

Boo-hoo-hoo on Camilla not feeling that Queen Consort and having a place in history is reward enough. Most people would find this a mind-blowing honor enough but Camilla wants to complain how she hasn't been rewarded enough? You brought up an interesting future tarot question in your reading on Camilla: "what reward/s does Queen Camilla want to compensate for being Charles' former mistress/now-wife?"

Hi Nonny,

I did three readings on that last night because I wanted to post the answer as a follow up to the initial reading. I want to ask again tonight and if I get the same energy I will write up one of the readings for you.

I was surprised to get that waiting energy as well, but it was very strong. Queen Camilla is definitely still waiting for her ships to come in/to get some reward that she expects to happen.

[estherruth-jonsatrash]

The Dragon King and Wolf Queen: Jonsa One-Shot

For the @jonsa-valentine 2025 event. Prompt: King and Queen.

Preview:

“And what is it that you want from me, Your Grace?” Sansa asked, remarkably composed considering the odd circumstances.

“I want you,” Jon answered.

“Excuse me?” Sansa asked, throat clenching halfway through so that the question came out sounding strangled.

“I want you,” Jon repeated plainly. His eyes bored into hers. “I want you as my wife and my Queen.”

His words—so matter of fact and certain—were far from poetry. Yet the simple manner in which he stated them, and the intensity of his stare made Sansa think he was sincere.

The Targaryen King’s lips twitched in amusement. “Have I shocked you, Lady Sansa?”

Read it here.

[sizeofyoursoul]

There was so much I wanted to say to him, to ask him. Yet I couldn’t find the words really, or a way to begin. He had always had so many questions; and now he had his answers, more answers perhaps than he could ever have wanted; and what had this done to his soul? Stupidly I stared at him. How perfect he seemed to me as he stood there waiting with such kindness and such patience. And then, like a fool, I came out with it. “Do you love me now?” I asked. He smiled; oh, it was excruciating to see his face soften and brighten simultaneously when he smiled. “Yes,” he said.

Lestat and Louis, The Queen of the Damned by Anne Rice

[mischiefmaker615]

Eye for an Eye (2 of 2)

Summary: Loki does not like the idea of you being around potential suitors and means to erase any form of interaction you had with them.

Rating: PG14

Note: Part two was requested and i honestly debated on it Lol PART 1 was kinda left in a more fluff/sweet Loki manner, but if i decided to continue this one shot, i wanted to keep it portraying Loki as i saw him in the Thor 1 film. I hope you find still some enjoyment in this part, but it does follow the movie and hope the semi accuracy of the character's personality makes up for the mood shift sweats 

Requester: @evesdust

‘’Loki… what did you do?..”

The sound of your slow footsteps bringing you backwards were the only sound one could hear while you gazed up at your lover. His expression was hard to read, even for you while his lips parted and closed, failing to bring out words just yet while your fingers released their tight hold on your dress.

‘’darling.. we can finally be together..’’ he said quietly, as if carefully like you hadn’t heard him the first time. His eyes were sharp, watching your every move like you were a mouse being cornered by a cat. Something seemed.. off about him..

“Loki.. are you alright?” you asked, a million questions running through your head while you gazed up at him with round eyes.

He seemed to look down amused at you, almost with a raised brow while he tried to believe that was your first comment about all of this. Nevertheless, he spread his arms out as if to prove he was alright while he slowly began descending the stairs. ‘’I feel more like myself than I ever had darling, for once I feel.. happy..’’

Your teeth caught your bottom lip, feeling unsure with the new energy that seemed to be coming off of him. he was always so light hearted, happy to see you and gentle. The god before you just three steps away now, seemed to give off nothing but the energy of a..

Predator.

‘’how.. how is this possible?” you breathed, glancing around as if Odin were somewhere you just hadn’t seen yet. Where was Odin?

Loki looked at you carefully, his hands extending out but you made no move to take them while he finished the last step before taking them himself, holding your hands close to his chest while his thumbs stroked your skin. Just as he always did.. but no.. he felt..

‘’Loki.. your so cold..’’ you gasped, your eyes fluttering down to his hands in yours before one reached up to feel his forehead, finding the same temperature. ‘’are you ill-‘’

‘’I am fine darling. I promise.’’ He smiled, his answer a bit dry, as if one would hold back annoyance while he brought your knuckles up to place gentle kisses against them.

‘’..where’s Odin?” you whispered, watching him carefully while he held eye contact, his helmet seeming the frame his brows and adding more height.

‘’..he’s fallen into the Odin sleep, he is well but it is unclear of when he shall awaken.’’ He told you slowly, his eye contact wavering ever so slightly while you gasped.

‘’gods.. and what of Thor?” you asked, feeling his fingers grip yours ever so slightly that had your eyes fluttering back down at them.

‘’he shall remain in banishment. As of now, mother has announced me king.’’ His hand gently found your chin, tilting it upwards so you could gave up at him and his familiar softness seemed to return for just a moment where your heart fluttered. ‘’I am king Y/N.. you no longer have to meet with suitors..’’

Your eyes rounded while you took in his words, blinking up at him upon realizing your vision needed to be cleared from tears. ‘’your-‘’

‘’I choose you darling, I always have and I always will. I want you, at my side, as my queen..’’ Loki said gently, his voice slow and promising while he took a small step to the side to extend a hand towards the throne. ‘’just as we’ve always talked about- we will rule together darling, just us, no one else.. we can finally be together..’’ Loki smiled, his voice having risen as if a child talking about something exciting he had received on Christmas while your eyes wandered to the throne.

This was all so.. sudden.. you knew Thor had gotten banished, much gossip flowing through the palace and to your benefit, had paused your weekly meetings in order to get things back into a rhythm now that the kingdom was short one prince. You didn’t believe any of the rumors.. Loki had just been looking out for everyone’s safety by telling the guard of their whereabouts.. but since that day, he had seemed.. distant.

Now he was king? Odin falling into the sleep not to long after? It all didn’t seem to make sense.. but he’s never lied to you before, and who were you to complain when you both have what you have always been wanting! Loki has gotten his throne and you both were now able to be together! So why did it feel like your smile was.. fake..

‘’I am so happy for you my love, I know you will be a wonderful king for Asgard.’’ You beamed up at him, having cupped his cold cheeks with a smile while he rested his slender hands on your wrists with a proud look.

‘’we shall soon plan the wedding darling, everything will be just absolutely perfect..’’ he breathed and cupped your own cheeks, looking into your eyes while he pressed his forehead to yours. ‘’your perfect..’’ he whispered, his lips finding your skin but the temperature having your eyes squeeze shut as to prevent yourself from pulling away.

Why was he so cold..

Loki seemed quite distracted after that, having not much time for you while you wondered the palace to seek his whereabouts daily. The guards had even denied you near the Bifrost, let alone past the palace walls with only the message that the new queen must be made safe in the transition times. Transition times? Yes there may be some coronation planning and feasts to ready, but it should have nothing to do with wandering outside the palace walls, let alone visiting Heimdal.

Come to think of it.. you hadn’t seen much of the Warriors three, nor Sif since the day Loki told you the news of becoming king. Frigga had refused to leave Odin’s bedside and any question you may have with any of the court leaders or guards, were vague and dismissive.

You wanted time with your soon to be husband but he seemed distracted.. bothered and at one point you had began to show signs of a cold with the strange temperature drop around him in which the healers had suggested you both continue sleeping separately until you felt better.

It got to a point where your frustrations over all had you seeking him out one day and the one place he tended to be often, was the throne room. Your dress swept up as you walked quickly down the halls, dismissing the guards with the wave of your hand- practically your first queenly orders to leave you be while they tried urging you to stop. You stopped right at the doors and eyed the guards who made no move to open them.

‘’open the doors.’’ You said carefully, the order running out of your mouth with a hidden desperate plea to see your lover.

‘’the king has requested that no one disturbs him at this time..’’ one of the guards answered with hesitation, seeming like he didn’t know whether he should have spoken out loud while you straightened your posture.

‘’he’s to mean everyone except me. I am his bride and his queen to be. You will open this door and refuse anyone else.’’ You said sharply, looking him dead in the eyes while you took a step back to make room for him to get started.

Both guards glanced at each other, and with seemingly to be a mental debate between them, they bowed and opened the heavy doors, letting you quickly slip in before they shut them behind you.

The throne room was cold- it always was.. wherever he was at lately. It was quiet, the room seeming to take on an eerie tone while you slowly stepped further and your eyes rose. Loki stood at the throne, yet his eyes weren’t on you, but past you. You knew very much that he wasn’t looking at anything physically in particular here, and by the sense in the space between you both, he was in the middle of using his Seidr.

Why..

You got the familiar feeling before whenever he had used magic growing up, he often practiced on flowers and using it to aid his harmless pranks when you both played. As years went by, for you at least it got easier knowing when he was using it. There was that sudden energy in the room, and you could always tell by his eyes when he was either in deep thought or spaced out, he was concentrating. Right now it would seem that although his eyes were open, he was looking at something.. something beyond what was here.. like reaching out into one’s mind as if it were right before you. What was he doing..

You weren’t sure if you should say anything as you neared the bottom of the stairs, not wanting to throw off anything that might ruin.. whatever he was working on. So you waited. Nearly ten minutes have passed before you saw him begin to take a step back and turn towards the throne, and yet you still didn’t know if you should interrupt. It wasn’t until he suddenly turned back around, it caused you to flinch as if he was going to direct something at you but realized he was still gone.

You bit your bottom lip, desperately trying to be patient while your fingers began curling at the fabric at your sides once more. A nervous habit you weren’t sure when you picked up. With hesitation, you began climbing the stairs, each step careful and quiet while your eyes stayed trained on his glassy ones that staired out towards the far wall. He looked.. deeply irritated, perhaps nervous but extremely frustrated. You weren’t sure if approaching him would be the best move, not wishing for him to do anything rash if you disrupted his concentration- but you knew he’d never harm you purposefully. You just wished to see him alright.

You came to the step just one away from him you took a deep breath. He was still now, standing straight and still while you looked up at his beautiful face. He was.. different. Seeming less than the man you had sought out every day and every day of that horrid time of the week and more like something stressed, bothered and.. power distracted? Running a kingdom was difficult, you understood that.. but there seemed to be much more to all this that just the transition period..

‘’..Loki?”

Even as a whisper, it was enough to have him flinch with a step back, blinking rapidly before his vision set on you.

‘’Y/N- ..Y/N you shouldn’t be here..’’ he said in haste, taking a step forward with a hand at your arm to help guide you down the steps but you pulled it free with a step back to face him.

‘’no- why must I leave? What has gotten into you lately? What were you doing just now?”

Loki blinked at you, truly finding this the first time you’ve ever been stern and demanding with him while he tensed and straightened. ‘’..there is much to do now that I am-‘’

‘’oh bull shit, you haven’t once joined a meeting to help prepare for your coronation. Quite frankly, I haven’t a clue what you have been up to, leading up to your new position here’’ you threw your hands up, days of pent of frustration seeping out to the point where your tongue became loose, and Loki noticed it with narrow eyes.

‘’you have been warned many times to not use that language within this realm, I thought we were clear that it’s no longer apart-‘’

‘’but it is apart of me Loki, like it or not.’’ You told him firmly, your eyes holding a desperate look for understanding while you took a step forward to place your hands against his chest armor. ‘’regardless of my upbringing here.. it still doesn’t change the fact of who I am.. who I truly am..’’

That seemed to cause Loki to take a sharp inhale, a flash to his eyes that had him looking away immediately as if one was trying to forget a forced and unpleasant memory. You gathered your patience, just glad you both were talking again while you looked at his avoiding eyes.

‘’Loki.. you do not lie to me, nor have you ever..’’ you began, your voice quiet while his eyes seemed to go off in thought but you kept trying. ‘’..what was it that you were doing just now?..”

His jaw tightened, being forced in a position where he could not lie, nor did he want to but at the same time, did not want to speak of the matter at the same time. The touch on his hand had his body instinctually relax, glancing down to see your dainty one grasping his before his eyes found yours. His eyes were.. sad, seeming regretful but also.. sharp, like the look he held when he came back from a battle that was more than brutal. ‘’..I needed to make sure Thor remained on Midgard.. he has found his worthiness again, and I have no doubt he plans to return..’’

Your eyes widened as you tried to piece things together ‘’that’s.. wonde-‘’

His hands quickly rested on both of your shoulders, his knees bent to so he was sure to be looking into your eyes while your own rounded. ‘’understand Y/N.. if he returns, things go back to the way things were.. you’d fall into the hands of another..’’ he said with seeming panic in his eyes while yours wandered.

‘’no that’s.. not if Odin chooses you- look how well you’ve handled Asgard so far-‘’

‘’you don’t understand Y/N! Odin will not choose me! Nor will he ever! No one will ever want the throne being handed off to a monster!” Loki shouted, his eyes glassy and he almost shook you by your shoulders that had you reaching up to grip his wrists.

‘’Loki.. what are you-‘’

‘’it doesn’t matter.. Thor will be coming, and I need to stop him..’’ he nearly scoffed and released you, moving a hand to take hold of yours before he began descending the stairs, making you pick up your skirts with the other hand and try to keep up with him. ‘’I need to keep you safe-‘’

‘’Loki- what are you.. where are we going?” you stutter, trying to get your hand free while trying not to trip down the stairs before you began truly pulling once you’ve reached the bottom.

Loki stopped, not even daring to look at you while you struggled in his hand, your pleas for him to release you and explain himself falling onto deaf ears while his breathing began to heave. Not a moment longer, he turned to look at you- his shear expression having your freeze with concerned eyes while he held promise, determination and sorrow.

‘’I’m sorry darling.. for everything.. but I made a promise, and i fully intend for us to be together.. no matter how longer, no matter what it takes.. all I ask is for you to trust me..’’ he said in pants, his voice quiet while you could have sworn you began to see tears threaten in his eyes- or it could have been your own.

‘’Loki.. I do trust y- hey!’’ you yelped while he threw you over his shoulder in a swift motion, beginning to walk again while you beat on his back and pulled at his cape.

‘’Loki! Put me down!! Where are you taking me! You cant do this!” your demands had now began sounding like pleas, a fear slowly growing in your heart as to what was to happen soon and what will become.

He hadn’t said a word, not until he had arrived at his chambers and waved the guards aside, pushing the door open himself before he took two steps in. ‘’you’ll be safe darling.. I promise..’’ he said gently before he set you down, taking the opportunity to close the door while you regained your footing before you began pounding on the door in panic to get it open.

‘’open the door Loki! Please! Talk to me!” you cried, a tingling on your fingers had you pull your hand away from the knob, his Seidr beginning to enchant the door to make sure it would stay closed while his hand gently rested against it on the other side.

‘’..i love you Y/N..’’ he whispered, knowing you might not being able to hear him, but knowing you definitely knew it while you sank to your knees with his footsteps slowly disappearing.

‘’Loki..’’ you whispered, pleading while you leaned your forehead against the door and felt the tears from your eyes land on your lap while you waited. And waited.

And waited.. and then..

Tag List: @foxherder13 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz @nervouseden @kathren1sky-blog @eleniblue @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @queenofstarsign85 @slytherinqueen4life @soulpiercing @princesssunderworld @angiesrelics

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

5

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Impulse made the promised soup for dinner that first night, and Tango found that Gem was right. It was delicious, a perfect blend of meat (real meat!) and vegetables (fresh from Gem's own garden!) and broth, every flavour blooming in its own right and simultaneously supporting all the others. They ate it with buttered bread, which was light and fluffy and, like the pancakes, still warm; nothing like the cheap rolls Doc sometimes brought him.

Impulse told him the meat was beef as Gem carefully added a garnish of small rocks and explained it was to help with digestion. Gem told him the vegetables were potato and leek and onion.

Tango realised, as Skizz tore chunks of his bread off rather than taking bites like Impulse was, that his teeth were just as sharp as Tango's own. He still had no idea what Skizz was, and wasn't sure if it would be rude to ask - he knew Doc would have hated anyone to ask him - so he said nothing.

The five of them conversed relatively easily, with minimal questions regarding Tango's past being passed around. He suspected they'd had a conversation about that somewhere in the course of the afternoon.

After dinner, Gem and Skizz made a bed for Tango on the sofa while Tango showed Impulse and Zedaph how his sleeping cap worked.

It was clever thing - fire- and waterproof, thick enough that even the heat of the flames struggled to make it through, but with just enough small holes in to allow them to keep breathing and stay alive. It protected his bed, or the sofa in this case, when he slept and his head when he washed.

Impulse and Zed were fascinated, asking about a million questions about how Tango's hair worked and how the cap worked and how they'd found out it worked and how they'd realised it was necessary. Tango answered each question carefully, leaving out any mention of the lab, or anything that could point to it.

He was realising very quickly that it wasn't out of some concern for the privacy of the lab that he kept it a secret, but more out of a strange unwillingness to admit to it. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't even want to think about the lab and its goings on and his life there. He told the others only the bare minumum that would answer their questions, because he of all people understood curiousity, but didn't tell them a single thing beyond that.

Finally, Zedaph's wings started to get tired, leading him to drop slowly out of the sky, and Impulse caught him and suggested they all get some sleep.

Zedaph settled down on the sofa's armrest, and Tango lay down on the sofa, Torchy curling on his chest. It was soft - unbelievably soft - and so, so warm under the blankets. He'd never been so comfortable in his life, and on his second night away from four familiar walls, he fell asleep in seconds.

*

Tango awoke to the sun streaming in through the windows. For several minutes, he didn't move, enjoying its warmth. There was no mistaking his distance from the lab this time - he'd never even seen the sun before leaving, let alone been woken up by it. It felt like his own personal miracle.

Finally, with a sigh of resignation, he opened his eyes.

Torchy was still fast asleep on his chest, only the scales on his chest keeping his lungs from collapsing under the weight, and Tango could spy Zedaph snoozing on the armrest in an entirely different position that he fell asleep in. From up the stairs that Impulse and Skizz disappeared to, gentle snoring was floating down to him. A faint knocking came from Gem's room as she presumably twitched her hooves in her sleep.

Tango's eyes landed on the messenger bag leaning against the sofa, and he thought of the smaller bag hidden inside, his gift from the Queen.

Careful to avoid stirring Torchy, Tango reached down, opened the flap and pulled out the drawstring bag. For a moment, he merely held it in his hand, feeling it's extreme weight. He couldn't imagine how such a small item could be so heavy.

Tango slotted two clawed fingers into the bag and tugged it open, turning it upside down.

Out fell a small rock.

It was no bigger than the top half of his thumb, roughly triangular in shape, and maybe a centimetre thick in the centre.

And yet it weighed as much as a decent sized stone. A geologist had brought him some once, to see what he would do with it. The thing had barely fit in his hand, so he'd had to use both to hold it securely, and it had been almost perfectly spherical. It had weighed almost exactly as much as this tiny slip of rock.

What was so special about this, Tango wondered. Why couldn't he open it in front of Doc and Cub? How could it possibly save his life? Unless he shoved it down someone's throat or something, which he wasn't particularly inclined to do, he couldn't see how the pebble could be used as a weapon.

Tango slid it around in his hand - he would have rolled it, but since its sides were almost perfectly flat, it didn't do much rolling. He found he quite enjoyed its strange weight. It felt... secure, grounded somehow, despite resting on nothing but his hand.

Something shifted upstairs, footsteps crossed the ceiling, then silence for a few moments. A grunt. More footsteps, this time heading this way.

Tango panicked. He was supposed to be up and ready by the time someone came to collect him in the morning, but if he moved now, Torchy would wake up and do what he always did when he didn't wake up naturally: burn the place down. But if he stayed put, he'd be in so much trouble! He had to move!

He tried shifted Torchy carefully, but the moment Tango slid his hands under the tiny dragon's body, he stirred, starting to wake up. Tango froze. No, no, no, no, no!

He was dead. This was it. Whoever was coming would be furious at him, and he'd deserve it! He should have planned for this, shouldn't have been so foolish as to lie there and do nothing after waking! Idiot!

The footsteps reached the stairs, and Tango's fear left him a statue, lying helpless on the sofa, ready for the punishment he knew awaited him.

They'd trained him so well! He'd worked so, so hard to do what they wanted, and it wasn't enough. He still couldn't be good enough.

No. No, he couldn't just accept this. He still had a few seconds. He had to be good enough. He had to.

Tango braced himself and readied his hands where they were still tucked under Torchy's body. He would have to be quick about this.

He could do this.

Without hesitation - he didn't have time for hesitation - he moved, keeping his hands as stationary as he could as he shot to his feet, before gently lowering Torchy back onto the sofa. The dragon stirred, snorted, shot out a stream of smoke, and didn't awake.

Tango yanked his sleeping cap off, shaking his head a bit to get his flames roaring again, and tossed it onto the sofa. He was just stretching casually - he had had to twist his arms painfully to get up without moving them - when Skizz appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

The other male paused when he spotted Tango, then grinned. "Hey, Top!"

"Good morning, Skizz," Tango said, doing his best to make it sound like he wasn't reciting the same thing he said every morning, changing only the name.

Skizz glanced at Torchy and Zedaph, still fast asleep, then gestured for them both to move to the kitchen. Tango followed him, and Skizz closed the door once they were both inside. Tango couldn't help but feel boxed in.

"How're you feeling, buddy?" Skizz asked. "Did you sleep okay?"

Tango nodded, smiling like his heart wasn't still pounding. "I'm feeling a lot better."

"Good, I'm glad." Skizz's grin wasn't fading, so Tango didn't let his, either. "Are you always up this early?"

"I'm not used to getting sun in the morning," he admitted, before realising that may have been too much information.

But Skizz merely nodded. "It took me a while to get used to it as well. You'll get there, don't worry." Skizz clapped his hands, then rubbed them together. "What do you say we get some breakfast started?"

"Sounds good!" Tango had no idea what help he could be, considering this was the first time in his life he'd ever even been in a kitchen before, but he would certainly try.

He looked around, hoping to at least be able to identify some of the things in the room. A few of them, he managed - the toaster and kettle, for example - as they'd been brought to him to see whether he could heat bread and water faster than them. But most were mysteries.

Skizz first crossed to one of the kitchen's larger occupants. It seemed to be a small, hollow, metal box, with a glass front and four circles on top of it. There were a collection of knobs on the front, just above the glass window, and Skizz twised one. Nothing happened.

"Dang it, dude!" Skizz grumbled, and kicked the thing. It didn't help. "This stupid oven can never decide if it wants to work or not!"

Oven. That's what the thing was called. Good to know.

"Is it... seadust-powered?" Tango asked uncertainly. Was this something everyone would know?

Again, Skizz didn't seem concerned. "Yeah. All responsibly sourced, don't worry! I provide the scales myself! But anyway, Impulse built most of it himself. The clock and timer mechanism was our buddy Etho, but Dippledop did the rest."

"I could take a look if you want?" Tango offered. "I mean, I'm not amazing or anything, but maybe I could spot something Impulse missed?"

"Sure, if you'd be up for it. I can't imagine Impulse having anything against it."

Skizz helped Tango pull the oven away from the wall to reveal the small space behind where the seadust and its tiny components were laid out. Tango crouched down and crawled closer, using his hair as a torch to peer into the hole in the wall.

It was a thing of beauty. He spotted the clock mechanism running along the side immediately, and told himself he'd have to come back to take another close look later. Right now, from what he could gather of the problem, he was looking for the on/off switch.

A glance over his shoulder located where the knob to turn it on would connect to the seadust, and when he turned back, he could see the string of dust that must have led right up to that connection point. He followed it, studying repeaters and comparators and observers carefully. It seemed to be fine, even when he looked over it a third time, checking and double checking notches on each component.

"What is that knob supposed to do?" he asked Skizz.

"Turn it on!" was Skizz's very useful reply.

"Okay... And what is it supposed to do when it's on?"

For the first time, Skizz sounded confused when he answered. "Well, get warm. You know, like an oven."

"Right. Just checking." Great, so that was a thing he was meant to know. Skizz would probably start getting suspicious of him now.

He shook off the concern and scanned the other dozens of fine blue lines. There, that one had a heating mechanism! But then he spotted another. And another. In fact, there were five heating mechanisms within this single contraption.

Okay, so he just had to find the one that connected to his knob.

He went back to the string he was following earlier, and followed it further, checking each branch that led into it until he was sure it didn't lead to any of the heaters. Finally, he found the right heater. He checked its entire circuit once, twice.

As he was triple checking every component, the kitchen door opened behind him and Impulse's voice said with a laugh, "Why is my oven in the middle of the room? Oh, hello, Tango!"

Tango, who had frozen guiltily, was very grateful for the training that allowed him to say on muscle memory alone, "Good morning, Impulse."

"He's fixing your seadust, dude!" Skizz sounded disproportionately exciting by this fact.

Tango braced himself, ready for the same anger Doc got when anyone else touched one of his seadust contraptions. Instead, Impulse only said, "Oh, good! That thing's been driving my insane for ages. See anything?"

"Uhh, not yet. Sorry." Tango wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. Where was the screaming? The accusations? The threats? Where were the demands that he put everything back just as he found it or he'd regret it for the rest of his life?

"No worries. We'll leave you to it!"

Two sets of footsteps crossed to the far corner of the room and were followed by whispers, and Tango forced himself to move again. He could wonder about Impulse's reaction another time: right now, he had a job to do.

He couldn't remember where he'd left off his last go-over, so he started from the beginning of the circuit again. Mere moments later, he spotted it: a comparator somehow stuck between comparison and subtraction. It must have gotten knocked at some point, though all the comparators Tango had ever worked with had safeguards to prevent something like that from happening.

With hands that were steady from years of practise, Tango flicked the delicate switch to comparison mode - a quick glance over the seadust around it showed that would be the best fit - and then backed his head out of the hole and stood up.

"It should work now," he announced, forgetting to wait for Skizz's help before shoving the oven back into its place.

"For real?" Impulse started at him, and Tango braced himself as the dwarf crossed to the oven and twisted the knob. A light switched on inside and the whirring of a fan filled the room. Impulse laughed, and the sound reminded Tango of the sound Cub would make when one of his experiments gave the desired outcome. "How did you do that?"

Tango shrugged. "A comparator was stuck. It was no big deal."

"No big deal? I must have looked over that seadust about a million times by now and I never once spotted that!"

"Sorry," Tango muttered.

"Don't be sorry!" Impulse was beaming, but he seemed to rein himself in a bit. "Thanks for the help, man."

Tango shrugged again, his face warming. "No problem."

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I can't wait for Tango to have his trauma responses loved out of him :D

[hannahhook7744]

I See Red (Red R-e-d RED)!;

Summary: You have NOT seen a fight until you have seen Hooks, Hearts, and de Vils argue about which shade of red is objectively superior and who wears it better. Trigger warnings: swearing, minor-ish violence, child endangerment, implied child abuse, etc. 

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

It was like a train wreck.

Loud, violent, and UGLY. 

At least that’s what a, frankly quite embarrassed Sammy Smee, would say if someone were to dare brave into the danger zone to ask the blonde what he thought of the sight of the Hook, Heart, and de Vil children all fighting. 

The deserted area of doc they were all on had caught fire twice. Harry had fallen through the old rotten wood at one point only to get right back up, soaked to the bone and covered in seaweed  but seemingly unbothered as he continued to shout insults at an unimpressed Carlos—still red in the face. Ivy had grabbed Quinlynn Hearts and Harriet by the hair. And that didn’t even cover the other things the first mate of the Queen’s Fury had witnessed over the course of the fight. 

A fight that was slowly inching towards the four hour mark. 

“What the hell are these heathens causing such a ruckus about now?” An irritated, sleep laced, familiar voice snapped from behind them—causing Sammy to jump slightly as he hadn’t heard anyone approach, head jerking around so fast that his neck almost certainly would have snapped if he had moved even a bit faster. 

“Oh hi Anthony.”

The (dark) haired redhead glared at him, just as unimpressed as always as he rolled his jaw. Eyes narrowing at the scene behind his younger friend. His hair was a mess for once—sticking up all over the place—and the nineteen year old was wearing cat slippers that resembled Lucifer and a silk magenta bathrobe. Clearly he had just gotten out of bed even though it was well past mid afternoon.  “Don’t you ‘oh hi Anthony’ me. Answer the question Samson.”

Sammy groaned. “You’re the only one who calls me that.”

“Clearly I’m not since it’s your proper name. Now stop stalling and tell me why exactly my beauty sleep was interrupted?”

“What beauty sleep—OW. Kidding. Kidding!” Sammy grumbled, rubbing the spot on his arm where Anthony had hit him grumpily. “And to answer your question, they’re arguin’ over what shade of red is the best shade of red. None of them can agree on one and they’re all very offended by the notion that anyone dare think their shade is trash.”

Unsurprisingly Anthony looked even more annoyed than before—looking as if he’d swallowed a rather sour and possibly expired lemon. His nose scrunched up in disgust, eyes glancing up at the sky above almost as if he was asking the gods ‘why me?’ before he took a deep breath. Giving Sammy a hard stare. “Are you shitting me?”

The blonde couldn’t help but grimace.

Anthony always swore more when he was tired—and with it, his patience often waned. Which of course led to nothing good. 

Luckily Sammy was saved from answering by one of the very subjects of their conversation.

“—Rose Red? ROSE RED? Are you defense! Rose Red isn’t even actually red, it’s pink! PINK!” Ivy, who was actually rather fond of the color pink, practically screeched as she got in Quinlynn Hearts’ face. Much to the younger girl’s chagrin. 

“Oh and I suppose vermillion is so much better—it’s orange you hypocrite!”

“Just barely and it’s more red than rose red is. Honestly I don’t even know why I’m listening to you since your little menace thought rosewood was even a possible candidate for the best red!”

Quinlynn shot her younger brother, Hardy, a glare at the reminder. She hadn’t been happy at the suggestion either and had been quite vocal in her disapproval of the matter. Unfortunately for her, the pirate prince looked positively unrepentant and just glared right back at her with his arms crossed; leaning back against the faded brick wall of the closed Hook’s Clocks and Curiosity Shop that the Hooks were technically supposed to be running. 

Not that any of them particularly cared at the moment. 

“I still say rosewood is a good shade of red and should at the very least be in the top ten.”

“It’s not even red! It’s brown!”

“Not according to the books.”

“Since when can you read?”

Harry snorted before returning back to his own argument with Carlos. “I’m telling ya, freckles. Blood red is the best red.”

The younger boy rolled his eyes. “Of course you would say that, you’re a pirate!”

“Hey!” CJ snapped. “Don’t lump me in with that idiot! I, for one, think that blood red is a stupid red and that maroon is clearly the superior option!”

“Nuh uh.” Little eight year old Red cut in, shaking her head defiantly as she crossed her own arms and stomped her foot. Her hair hitting Ginny (who, unsurprisingly given the not so secret fact her dad was also a hook, was also involved in the argument) in the face. “Lust red is best red!’

Hardy grimaced. “Don’t use that word.”

Quinlynn shot him a look. “Get your mind out of the gutter, it’s a shade.”

“Shade or not, I don’t wanna hear my little sister saying that!”

“Oh my Hades, you are such a child!”

Red took personal offense to that. “Hey!”

“I’m not apologizing. I wasn’t even talking to you and even if I was, you ARE a child!”

“Chili red is the best red.”

“No coke can red is the best red!”

“Diego no one even knows what shade that is!”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still the favored red.”

“Favored my ass, you’re just making things up!”

“Shut up!” Ginny barked out. “You’re all wrong, obviously the best shade of red is Garnet! End of story!”

“Before Imperial Red?” Harriet glowered—her words slurred as she was more than a little drunk at the moment. It was a bit concerning that she hadn’t sobered up enough to call it quits yet.“Are you colorblind?!”

Anthony groaned, head in hands. “I can’t believe they’re fighting over the color red.”

Sammy snorted. “Oh please, of your siblings and cousins were hear you would join right in and pick the most obscene shade of red just to fuck with everyone, and you know it just as well as I do.”

“I would never.” The red head denied immediately, raising his nose in the air snootily. Frowning. 

“Oh really?” Sammy said in the poilest ‘you’re full of shit’ tone possible. Not believing his friend in the slightest, since he actually knew how he was after all. Or at least he would hope so, after nearly a decade of acquaintance/comrade/friendship—whatever you call it. 

“Of course not.” Anthony rolled his eyes for what felt like the 100th time that day. Which was impressive considering he’d only been awake for fifteen minutes. “Tremaines don’t wear red. It’s an atrocious eyesore of a color, which I thought would be obvious to you. Even Harriet doesn’t wear red, despite partaking in this pointless conversation.”

Usually the blonde would be celebrating the fact that Anthony had included Harriet as a Tremaine and thanking the heavens for the fact at least one of them was finally out of denial and obliviousness. But as he stared at his friend, he couldn’t help but point out the obvious. “Doesn’t your grandmother wear red?”

The Frenchmen raised a brow, almost as to say ‘so what?’ before replying with. “And why exactly do you think none of the rest of us wear red? Other than the fact that it clashes with our hair, of course.”

The ‘because she does’ didn’t need to be said outright. 

“How about carmine?”

“More like Car-bage. Because it’s garbage.”

“That is a terrible joke.”

“Your face is a terrible joke.”

“Your mom is a terrible joke.”

—and that’s the story of how Harry Hook got tackled by the Hearts siblings.

Yes, including the eight year old.

All over the color ‘red’.

You have NOT seen a fight until you have seen Hooks, Hearts and deVils argue about which shade of red is objectively superior and who wears it better.

[cappycodeart]

"The dead one! Yeah I haven't thought about her in a long time!"

A little theory I've had about Winter King's original motives based on his heartless comment about Betty and Ice King's original motives for kidnapping princesses in the first place...... clearly she gave off Bad Ex Vibes…

[lokimobius]

LOKI S01E02 “The Variant”

[brw]

THEY TOOK HIM TO THE CLUB........ THEY BROUGHT HIM. TO THE CLUB.

Black Panther V3 #17