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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Okay rockstars, settle down

rockstar!bucky barnes x assistant!reader x rockstar!loki laufeyson / masterlist

summary; having previously worked for loki, it causes a heat to burn within bucky’s already accumulated hate towards the musician / warnings; threesome, smut, mxf and mxm sex, mentions of sex with other characters, oral sex (male and female receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, double penetration, degradation, swearing, orgasm denial, cum eating

“Can’t believe you worked for that wanker.” Snarked Bucky as an image of the well known, musically spread, and acoustically acclaimed, Loki Laufeyson was shown on the screen of the dressing room television, as the other artist stretched his clothing bare arms across the back of the couch. “Come here sweet cheeks.”

At his command, you dismissed the paper work for a moment, trailing over and straddling the inked hunk’s chain belted lap, digging your manicured set of nails into his shoulders, as you seated yourself over his crotch. “I’m happy I work for you now Buck, you treat me so good.”

Punctuating your words, you pressed your teeth into your bottom lip, giving it the appearance of being more plump, as you batted your dark eyelashes up at your employer. “I do, don’t I?” He rhetorically asked, skimming his fingers across the length of your arms, before moving them to sloppily cup your jaw, ensuring that you would not look away from his wild and dilated pupils. “Tell me what I do better than the lead singer of the god of mischief.”

At his words, a small yet peaceful contortion of uncomfortableness split a skin grafted line through the centre of your forehead, stating that you had no wish to do so. And thus, as punishment for your self aversive silence, Barnes braced his knuckles into your skin, causing you to keen out, and tap his shoulders in verification for surrender.

In turn, you lowered your hands, dragging the tips of your nails, absentmindedly running them down the expanse of his waxed chest, conveniently passing the silver hoops that were attached to his nipples on the trail to a less dominant ground. “I prefer the way that your songs have a heavier bass and-“

“Uh uh uh, not the music. Think of something that has you, let’s say, screaming, but definitely not in a crowd. Though, we may have to try that one sometime; show the world how hungry you are to assist me.”

“You, James Bucky Barnes,” he loosened his grip to your relief, which lead to you hugging in spite, “are the best fuck I have ever endured. Loki has nothing on you, he deems himself a god of the arts, but he doesn’t see how you paint me so perfectly with your cum, nor how you bend my body to your whim, as though I am a tool in the midst of your creations, useful, but disposable.”

“I like the sound of that doll. Disposable, now that really does you make you sound like my personal cum dump.”

“That’s was certainly interesting to listen to...”that voice had your body jolting in shock, and it appeared that Bucky too was surprised by the presence, though, he steadied his well versed hands on your hips, claiming you to the intimate spot.

“What the fuck are you doing in my dressing room you greasy haired weasel?” Bucky sneered, his nose turning up at the sight alone of his competition in the lyrical world. Loki, he had graced you with his presence, and you had to look away; he admittedly looked good.

His shirt was open chested, leaving you with the memorable impression of all the times that you had left crescent marks upon that particular surface, a few times you had even drawn blood, but that had only fuelled his mission to fuck you into a propeller of urgency.

“Our new album Laufey has just been released, I can confirm my dear, you shoulda stayed around and knelt in our success. The records are certainly going to have more sales than what was it called again? Ah yes, the red star. I could tell it was about this one, so much passion, a sultry tune, that did little to justify what it means to be with her.”

Loki’s hands waved around as he spoke, and you could only picture the past whence he penetrated your with those long and talented fingers of his. He had drawn orgasm after orgasm out of you, resulting you to be nothing more than a withering mess, as he digressed the option to simply stop. There was nothing simple about him, nor the time that he demanded that he shared you with his brother.

That thought alone had you mindlessly grinding upon Bucky’s covered cock, plucking at your lip with the keys of your teeth, though Bucky’s voice brought you back to reality, causing you to pause your movements embarrassingly, venting a clear out of your head to process the situation that was before you. The two were bickering like two teenage girls, and it was quite exhausting to listen to.

“Answer the question trickster, else I’ll have you fed to the infamous black panther, and let’s just say that he is the best bodyguard I have ever hired. So, are you going to speak, or will I have you dragged out of here like a damned serpent with a noose around its neck?” Bucky threatened, gritting his teeth together, his nose straining in frustration, drawing more attention to the small stud on the right side of his nose.

“Looks like she needs me Barnes, perhaps your reputation does not proceed you. But to answer in full, my band have made quite the rise, and I thought it would be... fitting to pay you a visit. Though I had no idea that this wonderful woman would be here, pining on your lap like some feline in heat. I see she’s fucking you now, after all my suspicions are never wrong. Or we’ll, Heimdall’s train of thought always ends up at the right station.”

“Can the pair of you stop, for one goddamn minute!” Your hands obscured a path into your hair, as you glared back and forth between the pair of rival rockstars. “I am here, dammit! Stop talking about me as though I am not here, a part of me wishes that I wasn’t so I didn’t have to listen to your bitching.”

Without any thought, you clambered from your perch on Bucky’s lap, walking towards the raven haired gentleman, pointing your finger in his face as you accused him. “You’ve got your point across, but I’ll tell you something. If you don’t leave, Heimdall will see me putting my foot up your ass.”

“Does she speak to you like this Barnes? I thought she had loosened up in more ways than one when I allowed Thor to stretch her cunt, but it appears that that mouth of hers has gotten a little out of hand also. You should do something about that, or else you’ll lose her to someone else like a did. Who knows, could be Romanoff, heard she has a thing for brats.”

Natasha Romanoff, a diverse woman in her ways and songs. She was the queen of the rock culture, tormenting her workers with her verbal abuse and it would undoubtedly be no different for her assistant. If you were to be under her employment, it was certain that you would not get out alive, nor work for another talented person for the rest of your life. To cross her, was a vow to sign your own death certificate, it was plain stupidity, yet people still hustled with her and her limits, resulting in their chances of ever getting hired for any job, vastly slim to none.

At the lack of defence that Bucky provided you, you felt small, your shoulders slacked as you were tortured with Loki’s cold and silky gaze, more so when the man stood up, pressing his bare chest against your back. You could feel the rings that hung off the buds that adorned his chest coil and dig into your back, shrouding your demeanour substantially.

A part of you wanted nothing more than for Bucky to abuse Loki’s face with his fist, specifically the right, since it was the bearer to a chunky silver ring. It’d leave quite the print, however, the unexpected unravelled as his enquiring tone was aimed not at you, but Loki instead.

“You let your brother fuck her, hmm. Maybe she should learn her manners by being shared, that way her retrospective spattering of bullshit may be contained, to a limit of course.” It was unbelievably, you could not believe that Bucky was conferring with the enemy! And not only that, they were talking about experiences of having you literally become speechless from their unprofessional administrations upon your body. “I’d get T’Challa in here, but I know she’s already fucked him. Can’t quite fire him for it though, because who could ever say no to those pretty eyes, and that mouth, god, it is definitely one of her most persuasive attributes.”

“Bu-“ you didn’t even get to finish imploring his name off your lips, about to defend yourself and your previous actions, though, you were interrupted, starved from the opportunity of coming up with an explanation.

“No.” Loki told you, the roles now reversed as he was the one with his index finger aimed at you. He tapped your nose with it, as he began to pace in the room, his wild locks remaining in their place as he spun, before facing Bucky, a sly tranquility of a truce veining out from the pools of his evergreen orbs. “You don’t speak a word to me y/n, not whilst I’m having a conversation with James here.”

James. It was too far a polite way for him to address your boss. They were all hot and ready to tear out each other’s throats a moment ago, and now here they were, having a silent conversation without your inclusion. It had you reeling your mind as to why, until Bucky gathered your hair in his hand to the side, sliding you y/h/c locks over your shoulder, and finally deemed it acceptable for you to hear his voice.

Though, he still was not directing his tensive words in your direction. “Since you had dealt with this subordinate behaviour from her, perhaps you’d like to join us; help me train her to become more...” His breath fanned your the top of your ear, making your skin crawl by not only his warm and inviting breath, but also the offer that he had supposed to the other man.

“Obedient?” Loki asked in turn of his wispy ended offer of optimism, his leather, sharp tipped boots taking a prominent, heart clenching step towards you. He reached his finger out, grasping a loose strand that had fallen out of Bucky’s grip and before your face, tugging lightly on it, as his lips came dangerously close to your own. “Rules aren’t your forfeit, are they my dear? The best assistant I ever hired, with all those unique ideas floating around in that independent head of yours, but you’ve always been troublesome. I remember the time that you bit my cock that day you had attitude. I reckon Bucky here could do a better job.”

“Then why doesn’t he?” You hissed as said man tugged on his handful of your hair, instantly making you regret your phrase in the moment. To a halting surprise however, Bucky released you, lightly shoving you to cause you to fumble forwards, and away from him.

“Maybe I will.” He dared, earning a nod from Loki, whom seductively began to unzip his loose trousers, as Bucky descended to the ground, his hands running up his rival’s thighs, as the material dropped around Loki’s ankles. It would seem, that he had gone commando, and as Bucky grasped Loki’s shaft, you felt a pull in your chest inherently demanding that you play some part in this fornication.

“Wait.” Your hand shot out, as though you had some force to stop them from continuing with their war path to exact all of their developed spit onto you. “What about me?” You were ss

“Oh no doll, you are not pulling any strings here, if you wanna do something useful, come here and warm my cock, you can watch me blow your old associate.” A slither of a whimper fell from your lips, it wasn’t exactly what you were prying towards, but you sure as hell were not going to refuse the contact that Bucky was obliged to give you.

Thus you wandered towards him, your pinkies curling around one another, as you sashayed to the ground beside him, watching as he paid Loki no mind for a moment, ruthlessly in a desperation fuelled motion, unbuckled his thick belt, and shoved the material of his leather trousers to be held accountable against his lower thighs, just above his tense knees.

He too, as their exteriors supposed, had forgone the extra layer that kept his cock tucked away, though it was exposed as he tugged those tight trousers down, and the sight of both his and Loki’s cocks bobbing in the same vicinity had you close to quivering.

It was somewhat of a dream portrayed in the viscous space of reality, the two men half undressed in then proximity of yourself, it was something that you had always imagined, even before you had left Loki’s side, and opted to work for Bucky, but the idea was definitely short lived. They hated each other, but apparently they were willing to put all their issues aside to prohibit you from freely running your mouth.

Bucky’s cock twitched as he patted his own thigh, ordering you without the aid of his voice to commence it as a servant’s throne, or in your case, a stool for you to rest on as he tended to intimate needs of the man that you had once worked for. Finally, with the decision of better judgement, you allowed your grey jumper dress to slide down your body, leaving you nude, and the aspect of the two men’s unforgiving and locked gazes.

“No underwear, and you wonder why your men have no difficulty in her allowing them to fuck her.” Bucky took ahold of his cock, squeezing his cock with one hand, whilst his other aided you in sitting on his muscular legs, as he lightly growled up at the opposing rockstar.

From the stiff grip that Bucky affirmed around his sceptre, Loki gasped, his pale lips instantly shutting once the sound wantonly abandoned him. The last thing that he wanted was for Bucky to see him in vulnerable poise, though with that said, it’d be rather difficult considering the smutty circumstances.

Bucky took Loki’s long, alabaster prick into his mouth, starting from the primrose tip and descending down, reciprocating the action that you did yourself as you sheathed yourself onto his cock, but instead with his lips. A grunt rendered along Loki’s length as the man bit back a whimper, the vibrations running through his veins like a transpiring pulse of sorcery.

Bucky opted for bobbing his head, as you endured the liberation of his very slightly gyrating movement inside of you. Though, despite him being almost completely still and leaving you full to the brim with his thick length, his balls resting against the partition where he was delved into you, you remained transfixed.

The motion image, recording first hand through your own eyes, of him blowing Loki was sinful, but you were drawn to it. If that made you a sinner, one endorsed by the graphic scene, licking your lips from the sight of Bucky running his studded tongue up the length of Loki, dipping the ball of silver metal into his slit, then so be it.

Your heart raced as you were met with an opportunity. A globe of saliva, strung by the lapping muscle of Bucky’s tongue dropped down; you practically saw its fall in slow motion. It was done before you could register your actions, you had leant forwards, catching the trickle of spit in your mouth, thinking not for a moment as you gulped the subjective liquid down.

Bucky’s pace increased, he gagged lightly as he jolted him further down his throat. Loki hummed, harshly grabbing Bucky’s dark brunette locks, biting his lip as he reimagined your little catch. It had him feeling close, and just as he was about to finish, precum furiously pooling out of his tip, Bucky pulled back, a smirk marking his features.

“You’re not cumming in my mouth, I don’t mind sucking dick, nor swallowing, but I have to practically listen to you jizz over your own talent, and prowl over my girl.” The name he labelled you with had your heart fluttering, but not nearly as much as when he lightly pulled out of you, infuriating you with the lack of any pleasurable esteem. “Don’t you worry babes, you can finish with me inside of you, like always.”

That used to be him, Loki thought with a brewing rage in his chest. Though he instead shrugged out of his dull patterned striped shirt that was already loose on his shoulders. The fabric hit the floor, leaving all of you barren to the subject of nudity.

“Always doesn’t suppose the past Barnes.” Loki stated, referring to all the various times that he had found refuge in your spongey walls, you willingly clenching around him, and pleading for him to hit a deeper spot within you. “And I do not prowl, I don’t need to. The evidence is there between her legs, coiling in juices surrounding her ever so willing folds, that are prepared to endure the harshest of penetrations.”

“What are you trying to do, write a fucking song about this?” Scoffed Bucky, rolling his crystallised orbs at the guts that this man had. If he so much as wanted to, he could stop this passage into a three way all together, but he did not, at least he had yet to. He was enjoying the way that you were squirming to yourself, thinking that he didn’t notice, squeezing the sides of your thighs together in an aroused matrimony.

“A fucking song would’ve the correct term - literally.” Was the affirmed words of Loki, as he shoved Bucky to be sat beside you, tilting his messy brush of crazed hair, his untrustworthy eyes drifting to you. “Who’d you want to fuck you, you fangirling slut?”

It was truthfully a difficult decision. “Both.” You admitted, your bones jumping as Bucky pinched one of your erect nipples, continuing to hold a sturdy clasp of his pads around the sensitive flesh; you couldn’t jut choose one of them. Not when they were both in such close range, bore in nothing more than their birthdays suits, talking about your quivering and diversely accepting cunt.

They knew that you couldn’t possibly refuse one or the other. You were vastly too hungry to be filled like you had never been before, shagged by two of three most well known artists in the industry, earnestly and mindlessly earning yourself a title within the circle of uptight yet simultaneously chill performers.

Perhaps, if Bucky we to ever potentially fire you, there would be another pursuer for your articulating talents on standby, awaiting for the moment that you walked out of his complex door to swoop you up as though they were a predatory falcon, flying off into a stationed sunset, those around seeing you as nothing more than a shadow of the ambient orb, but the one who had employed you finding you to be a sufficing inspiration.

Large hands swallows your hips, firmly controlling their angle as they grasped you in their strong, almost super human hold, lifting you so that you were tentatively tucked in a reverse cowgirl position on Bucky’s lap. It was the third time that you had been this close to him, it would almost be intimate, if your legs weren’t strewn in an open, all revealing splay, so that Loki could see your boss tease his tip around your entrance before sliding you down his length, extracting a strong wail from your churning throat.

Your own hand resented down, applying swirls of pressure down on your clit; it appeared that they were willing you to continue without interruption. Bucky lightly, despite the power that he was promoted to in this position, began to bounce you on his shaft, spewing small mewls out from your agape mouth.

Fisting his cock, Loki approached, Bucky reachin this seen hands down to spread te lips of your pussy, so that the other man was guaranteed a crude glimpse of you being stufffed. Though, you weren’t quite filled enough, for Bucky raised a brow and prompted Loki to allow himself to be pulled closer by your axed and whining aura.

He brushed his tip languidly against your buzzing clit, dragging through your slick and jab i at your delicate fingers before probing at the base of Bucky’s cock, and pushing inside, right along his rival’s length, the pair moaning out in a pleasured union. On the other and, you had tears falling from the crescents of your eyes, the stretch so much that it was a blistering pain to your cunt.

“Don’t go all meek dear, you and i both know this is far from the first instance where you’ve had more than one cock in this nasty, betraying cunt of yours.” Loki taunted, gripping the vulnerable expanse of your throat from behind, his icy glazed skin sending provocative shivers down your spine, making your pussy pulse from the chill that ran through your body.

And then, i a split instant, both cocks began to piston into your walls, as though you were nothing more than a rag doll, meant o be thrown around and handled in a disorderly fashion. They ere ruthless, groaning out symphonies in the cursive air around you, as your walls engulfed their pricks more than snugly.

You felt so wide down there, they were taking a pirating toll on your body stealing every breath that dared wither from your lips, tweezing their nimble fingered around various parts of your body, all in due retrospect or coerce you into fucking them back, making all actions in the mass of bodies a mutual effort.

Loki lowered his head down meeting Bucky for a sloppy, brash kiss. It was clear they were simply doing that part to fulfil a greedy desire in your stomach, but you were not one that minded. It was, like the rest of their frenzy of collaborations, a competitive mess. They nipped harshly at each other’s lips, ravenously all in the meanwhile ploughing your body with their har girths.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Your tongue dribbled, earning satisfied, lust induced smirks from both parties that were currently penetrating you, making you writhe harder against their lengths a new flow of moisture weeping out from your hole, lubricating their movements further, it encouraging them to do nothing more than continue what they were doing, despite their better judgements.

The truth was, they were rockstars. They had no better judgement, which is why everyone like them needed someone like you. Their thought were clouded with one mission, and for once in their spent lifetimes, it was not to beat the others, at least not to a certain extent anyways. It was their assignment, delivered by their own hands, to bring you to the edge, and that’s physically what they reformed to do.

One of them were groping your nipples, whilst the other confined the same treatment to your ass cheeks. Loki found your Rocky enables of positive feedback to be icicles and they were beautiful, he stared at them, as though they were divine ploys extracted from the mythical kingdom of Jotunheim, their residence in the realm to be the peacemakers of all bountiful creatures, much like himself and Barnes.

A rich euphoric groan exuberated from Bucky as he allowed himself to spoil, but he tutted whence he watched Loki’s features suppose that he was to follow shortly behind. “Not inside of her.” Bucky growled, sufficing Loki to roll his eyes, and pull out, the man behind you furiously replacing your hand, rolling our clit in his grasp until a sinful scream enveloped the air, commencing them all to the fact that you had just came.

Loki found the show to be unfair, and instead, spilled his priceless seed onto the huffing skin of your stomach, you eyes fluttered shut at the warm feeling pooling onto you. You leant back, drawing your neck into a crooked angle as you swiped your tongue wordlessly over the piercing on Bucky’s right nipple, metal providing a relief to the heat that your body was and had been swarmed with. “ Last chance you’re gonna have t taste her sweet cunt.”

“You do certainly have some faith in this one Barnes, but I do doubt that it will be the last instance in which i am todo so.” His silver tongue pried at your cum soaked flesh, drinking up all the essence that you had to offer, onshore the flavour that Bucky had brought to the table, i the form of a succulent drizzling of Snow White cum.

As Loki finishes swabbing his tongue over your cunt, Bucky adoringly kisses you, much sweeter than he has before. It was sort, and almost chaste, but his blue eyes roamed your face, delicately observing the high points of your face, that were covered with a sheen of great force making you as he would put it, glow.

The pair of you weer exhausted, there was still some swollen was to his lips from where he had sucked off Loki. His hands cradled you around your waist, his feet kicking Loki back as you whimpered from opaque sensitivity. “I guess that was you bidding me a dew.” Sneered the trickster, fishing for his clothes, as he spared you a spark filled glare, to which you ignored.

Once he was situated back into his attire, he left the sex scented room,a hollow smirk chapping his lips as he strutted th a purpose out into the hallway, taking a left instead of a right, and creeping into barnes’ studio to see what the man was working on in the midst of his enduring tour/ He was always the trickster, and nothing different was to ever be expected out of him.

“That was good.” You mumbled, rubbing your ode lovingly across the scruff that coated his jaw. His fingers made small circles upon your tummy, humming contently as he remained sheathed inside of you. He had to admit, he preferred it when it was just him, but his lonesome, sheathed within your walls, feeling the small trembles of your walls around him. It was practically heaven, and he would say so if he believed in such a place.

A deliberate knock ruined the moment, as the man entered,he quarrelled with himself where her to casually look in the direction of the pair of you or to avert his sight around, and blankly at the all. “What is it T’Challa?” Grumbled the man inside of you, quirking a thin brow at the timing of his presence.

“Loki; he managed to get into ur data, and he’s leaked a whole bunch of your music.” Of course, Loki would not come here to simply gloat, there was alas something extra up his green sleeve, and now it was revealed.

“Son of a bitch!” Bucky made a move to stand, but instead prohibited a whimper out of you as hi ships jutted angrily tip on instinct. “Get Odin on the phone, we’re going to have a little chat about his slippery hands son!” Barked Bucky, prepared t do anything to bring his greatest threat down, compiling him into the put of hate industry, until he was forgotten about, unable to ever produce new music again.

“Talk to Sif.” You whispered, becoming the image of his assistant once more, even if his cum lathered cock was prevailing within a rut of required stress relief, growing in the conjunction of your wall with his body guard there. “She loathes him, and rightfully so. He got her kicked out and she has dirt on him that nobody else has ever heard. If you want to take I’m down, she is your in.”

The strict tone grammatically supported by your logical information was definitely turning Bucky on again. He could handle you more than fine without Loki’s aid, he was just a means to an end, as it was clearly shown in his priorities.

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jangofctts · 4 years

Note

Ma’am I’m dying out here. It’s always “Void will wreck you in the fresher” and “Void has the third best stroke game of the squad” but never “Here I wrote a lil blurb of Void wrecking your shit”

Please I need we need it

smH YOURE RIGHT IVE BEEN DENYING YALL KJEKEJH

ct-7775 void // fem!reader

warnings: shower sex

You’re not quite sure when this became a regular occurrence--a couple months ago you think. Sorta like date night, except in the fresher...naked and undoubtedly against regulations. That’s what makes it fun you suppose--a little late night thrill.

Not like anyone would find you, you specifically chose time slots around midnight so you’d have the entire fresher block to yourself--an ingenious idea and totally worth waking up with wet hair in the morning. You just--well you didn't expect someone else to have the same idea. Safe to say it was a little jarring to cross paths naked and afraid, soaped up and scrambling for a towel with Sunburst squadron’s finest and only medic. Void.

To be fair, he hadn't even seen you. It was the end of your shift, tunnel vision on one thing, and one thing only. A nice hot fresher and certainly not a naked you.

With neither of you willing to budge and shuffle around schedules, you came to the brilliant conclusion that you could both shower at the same times--just so long as you both kept your eyes to yourselves. Funny how that rule barely lasted two weeks.

Safe to say, it’s been the best sex you’ve ever had. And all done in a fresher for kriff’s sake.

Once or twice every week you have Void all to yourself--that permanent scowl and grumpy mannerisms washing away with the flow of water and the warmth of your skin. A completely different man--one briefly unburdened with the weight of keeping his brothers alive and well just to send them off to battle the next day. You don’t mind being his distraction--as fleeting as it may be.

Tonight is no different as the solid line of his body slips in behind you, filling in the limited amount of space left in the tiny space. And you mean tiny. You can move without challenging your flexibility or banging your elbows and knees against the walls.

The touch of Void’s palm over your ribcage pulls a pleased sigh from your lungs. His fingers tickle up your shoulder blade and sweeps your hair, plastered to the nape of your neck, to the side. “Let me see you...”

You turn without hesitation, giggling as Void’s hand cups your cheek, his thumbs jumping up to smooth down your eyebrows and wick away the rivulets of water. Before you have the chance to greet him, Void tugs you forward into a deep, toe-curling kiss, shuddering as the cool durasteel of the wall touches your back. You break away and place your palm over his cheek. leans into your palm and smiles as your thumb lands right over the little blue dot tattooed onto his cheek.

“How was it today?”

“Sweets got a splinter and Fuse burned himself playing with matches again.” Void grumbles, sliding his other hand up to cup one of your breasts. He pinches your nipple and rolls it between his forefinger and thumb, plucking out a gasp from your parted lips. “All I could think about was you--always distractin’ me.”

You roll your eyes. “Boohoo--baby is distracted by my tits. You’re lucky I like you.”

Void buries his face into the crook of your neck, nips at your ear and hooks his arm around your waist. “Mhm. If I accidentally kill someone, s’because of you.”

You slide your fingers through his hair, a bit long once it’s wet and free from his headband--you give the strands a playful jostle. Void tilts his head, skims his lips over the line of jaw and steals another kiss--when he pulls away he hesitates here for a moment--simply drinking in the shape of you, every freckle and little wrinkle, grafting it into his memory for eternity. It’s a two way mirror however--

The bags under his eyes, like two swaths of purpling bruisers, are worse than last week and Maker--do they ever give this man a break? “Void--when’s the last time you slept?”

He blinks rapidly and shoves his head back into the crux of your shoulder to avoid your scrutiny. “Don’t worry about it.”

You frown. You’ll push him about it later, because right now? He’s trailing tiny, addicting kisses from your shoulder up to your ear, your blood already singing even though the chaste pecks border innocent. You gasp as those kisses morph into nips, sucking sure to be bruises into the flesh, marking you just below the line of where the collar of your uniform ends.

The arm around your waist skims further down, grabbing a handful of your ass and roughly squeezing. You whimper, curling further into his hold as liquid heat races from the pit of your stomach and outward to each and every limb. He worms his muscled thigh between your legs, pinning you further against the wall, the hand on your ass snaking back to massage tiny circles over your thigh. You whimper and thread your fingers into the wet strands of his hair, arching into his chest.

“Fuck--you’re a vision,” Void pants, “So beautiful.”

He moans low in the back of his throat as your hand gently encompasses his cock, thick and swelling to its full length in your palm. “I could say the same about you, handsome.”

Void shudders and sags into your hold, huffing out curses and roughly parting your thighs further apart. You whine and press your head into the wall as he hikes your thigh up and around his hip. He then slides two of those thick, calloused fingers pass over your clit, throbbing and aching to be touched. Your own slick mixed with the aide of the water let the two digits glide with ease over your lips, rocking down to circle your clenching entrance then back to lightly trace the little bundle of nerves.

His cock jumps in your grip as you whine his name, needy and desperate as you roll your palm up and down his cock. He curses under his breath, and bites your earlobe. “You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

You groan as he pushes a finger into your cunt, the muscles squeezing around him for just a shred of pleasure. “Yes--please, Void--fuck me.”

“Such a filthy mouth.” He chastises with a dark chuckle.

You groan out your frustration as you roll your hips, your nails digging into his bicep to pull him closer. He must take pity on your squirming, pathetic display as he abruptly extracts his finger and drops your thigh.

Your stomach drops as your bare feet slip off the tiles, yet the heavy muscled weight of Void’s chest pinning you forward saves you from landing ass over heels. He’s stronger than he looks, a fact you’re confronted with as he scoops your knee over his elbow and squishing you further into the wall. “Careful, mesh’la--wouldn’t want a trip to med bay, now would we?”

You swear and dig you nails into his shoulder, slippery from the water. He grips his cock in one hand and slides the thick head over the wet slit of your cunt, the tip of him catching against your dripping entrance.

You jerk and press your hips back. “V-Void…”

Your breath catches in your throat as the very tip of him, searing hot and harder than tempered steel, pushes into you. It feels the same with each time he fucks you, that pinch and fluttering panic low in your stomach that he’s too big. You squirm and whine as he rocks his hips forward, the little motions seating him deeper into your greedy center. Maker— you think it’ll go on forever, with no room to accommodate him.

“There you go,” he babbles, his breathing a mess of pitchy moans and praise, muffled by the spray of water. “Fuck—such a good girl. Taking it all.”

You shiver despite the temperature of the water, twitching in his hold as the narrow dip of his waist slots against your cunt. Your name flows past his lips, the enamel of his teeth tugging at the fragile skin lining the base of your neck.

Stars— your thoughts are pulverized into dust with the first tentative rolls of his hips. There’s no buildup to the pace he sets or patience as his fingers dig into your ass while the other anchors to the wall.

It’s a ridiculously short amount of time, you think, as your orgasm creeps down each vertebrae, your cunt clamping down on his cock tighter than a fucking vice. One last roll against your clit and you’re done for. So fucking gone.

The edges of your entire universe drop off into some unknown mystery--bursts of white light igniting behind your eyelids as you're brought over the edge.

“Shit—get so fucking wet when you cum,” Void snarls. “And tight. S-so fucking tight.”

You’re not allowed to float down from your high, not until he also reaches his end. Until then you’re forced through the rough scrap of the last dregs of your pleasure, his abdomen scraping agains your throbbing clit. The loud, wet slaps of his hips meeting your cunt echoes in the tiny space, accentuates every hitched moan and sharp whimper. Void’s hand slips off the wall and buries it into your hair at the base of your skull, tugging sharply as your core clenches around his cock.

“M’close,” he pants, his breath humid against your skin. “Can I—fuck--can I cum in you?”

You nod with a shuddering whine.

Your nerves burn as you slip your own hand down to toy with your clit, a simple brush over the nerves and your careening off the edge again. Your cries are a jumble of incomprehensible babbles--the only thing you manage to latch onto is his name.

With a dangerously loud curse, Void’s bruising pace quickens, frantic as he chases his own release. Void’s hips stutter, the hand in your hair tightening into a fist as his teeth embed themselves over your shoulder. With one—two last thrusts of his hips, he cums. Ropes of his release coats your insides, throbbing and twitching until he’s spent, left with the ambiance of quick panting and the trickle of water.

Stars, you can’t fucking think.

With a grunt he stumbles back as much as he can in the limited space, the absence of his cock leaving his cum to dribble out and slip down the inside of your thigh. You’re still squeezing your eyes shut, jittery and unable to move from your current spot without the risk of stumbling to your knees.

Void dips his head and steals a kiss, dragging his tongue deep into your mouth. He groans and keeps you here, leading you through soft kisses and a careful dance of something more than just a simple fuck in a fresher. You’re not sure if you’re allowed to breach that gentle space between you—grasp something tangible with uncertain promises and stolen minutes as sunlight fills the space between your heart and lungs.

He kisses your cheek, breaking away before either of you slip and tumble into uncharted territory. Another time maybe—not in the middle of a war and certainly not in a communal shower.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. And it’s enough—it has to be enough.

#HERE IS MY INSANE RAMBLES HEKDBD #oOf #ask #keida answers #sunburst squadron #my writing #clone trooper x reader #clone oc x reader #clone oc

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otterskin · 4 years

Text

Dumb Details From the Loki Trailer I noticed but then got too serious about

First - apparently it’s not a trailer, so I guess we’ll get ‘Trailer 1′ later? ‘Exclusive Clip’ hardly seems accurate, but hey, I’m not Disney’s marketing division. I wouldn’t live in a shoebox if I was.

Dumb detail no. 1:

Owen Wilson’s jacket is...weird. Look closely.

And another shot:

Yeah...his jacket has a ‘reversed collar’. It’s a cut-out rather than cloth folding on top. Huh. What a strange design choice. What could it mean?

I’ve no idea, but that I watched the trailer enough times to notice this should concern you.

Detail No. 2

In this scene, we see what we can presume to be President Loki’s ‘Throne’. Notice the candy-canes. This is a Santa Claus throne, presumably from some mall Santa. This whole place might be in a mall, judging by the stuff in it.

But the Loki in this shot is not President Loki. Notice that he’s wearing brown pants, a thin brown tie, and the beige shirt he’s seen wearing in other parts of the trailer after he's apparently joined the TVA. President Loki wears black pants, a green vest and a wide green tie with a golden clip that resembles Loki’s little chevron he always has (more on that later).

So it would seem that Loki might meet President Loki here. President Loki might even be addressing him at the end of the trailer. It’s possible that his minions turn on him because there’s two Lokis and they don’t know which is the ‘imposter’.

Speaking of, there’s a minion with bicycle handlebars grafted to a football helmet here, likely meant to resemble Loki. I dig it. There’s also cans of food scattered among the rubbish here. Makes sense that food production is non-existent since everyone has resorted to wearing license plates and spoons. Love how tattered the whole aesthetic is.

This reminds me of the opening Michael Waldron’s script ‘Worst Guy of All Time’, which featured a similar post-apocalyptic setting after the ‘worst guy’ ruins everything and makes himself king of the ashes. That’s likely what’s happened here, but I hope that Loki isn’t anything like Logan Paul, who was the inspiration for that title character.

Ah, the mysterious female character watching a meteor shower WAY TOO CLOSE UP. But my eyes are drawn to one thing...

What is that oblong object with a shiny handle? Could it be...

A sword? I do love swords. Did you know there’s a bunch of pictures of me in the stock photos for ‘Fencing?’ That’s my cred for loving swords.

I suspect that this female character will be an amalgamation of Amora (shudder) and Sylvie and an alternate Loki of some kind. This sword is currently in her possession, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it or another timeline version of it becomes the Loki Show’s Loki′s weapon.

Loki has lacked a ‘weapon of his own’ in the MCU for quite some time. I mean, yes, he has his little knives, but they are many and disposable and something he chose for himself, rather than the two legendary weapons wielded by Odin and Thor, Gungnir and Mjolnir. In fact, throughout his appearances, Loki has seemed to want such a thing of his own - he briefly had Gungnir, and then the Gungnir-like scepter, and even tried to lift Mjolnir.

One might ask why Odin would’ve overlooked such an obvious show of favouritism. Why give Thor a storied weapon and leave Loki empty-handed? Heck, even Hela had the Necroblade.

In Thor 1, we might’ve assumed that the Casket of Ancient Winters was perhaps intended one day to be given to Loki, as it is shown with Mjolnir in the Vault and thus connected to it and the children who would inherit it. But in the comics, Odin did have another weapon of storied history put away for his second son: Gram the Sword.

It was locked for eons by Odin in a special vault which required five keys to be opened, and it was meant to be for Loki if he be worthy.[2] The five keys were infused by Odin with the powers of "journeys", "endurance", "secrets", "new beginnings", and "brotherhood", respectively.[3]

The sword, like everything else in comics, has a complicated history full of take-backs and twists, but let’s just leave it at ‘it’s a representation of Loki’s worthiness and belonging in the trifecta with Odin and Thor as a King of Asgard’. It gives him ‘equality’.

In the original mythology, it’s wielded by Sigurd to kill the dragon Fafnir, and the only relation it has to Loki is that Loki is partially responsible for Fafnir existing in the first place (my username is nod to this myth by the by. Sorry Ottär.) But hey, maybe that means we’re getting a dragon? The Fafnir would be very cool.

Or it could just be a bit of rebar in this mining quarry.

Then again...it appears somewhere else...

It’s easier to see in motion, but that’s a sword swinging on this person’s back.

So the hooded figure is this lady...shall we call her Amylkie? Does that mean she’s the antagonist of this show? Well...maybe, but I suspect the true antagonist is foreshadowed here -

So, what’s going on here? A young girl (Young Amylkie? Some other TVA prisoner that the guard is watching over? An oracle, A Norn, or a kid who wandered off from the tour group in a basilica somewhere?) She’s giving Mobius M. Mobius a...piece of chocolate. Maybe he saw a Dementor, I dunno. I suspect it’ll be a MacGuffin of some kind later. He looks pretty concerned here, which contrasts with his ‘another day at the office’ blaséness when dealing with Loki. But of course this is the eye-catcher:

So, Norse Mythology. It’s been Christiannized. You can thank Snorri Sturluson for that, but you can google all about him later. Let’s just say that he made many Norse figures into equivalents for Christian ones. Baldur is Jesus, pure and a sacrificial lamb who dies for a greater good. And the devil is...Loki. Something the Marvel comics and the MCU have continued.

Here we have a devil, dressed in green and with a distinct shape on his chest:

Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...

Ah. I’d say that cinches it. This is meant to be Loki. If you look at the devil’s hair, it also resembles Loki’s, being shoulder-length and black.

So, what’s devil-Loki doing? Laying an egg? Trying out a foot massager? For a second I thought it was a moon, but we see the moon over his left shoulder, amongst the stars. Which means this is - probably the Earth.

...Dammit; I live there.

So Earth is barren and being devoured by flames, likely caused by this Loki sitting atop of it (in a throne, no less). Aw gee, things look pretty bad, don’t they?

But wait - what’s that? Under the Earth (and, possibly, under the earth)?

It’s a plant. A shoot, to be exact.

Back to Ragnarok for a second. Ragnarok isn’t the apocalypse (something we see a lot of in this trailer - all of it seems to be exploring the end of days). Ragnarok is the fire meant to wipe out the old and fertilize the ground for the new. And after the gods have died, what happens? Well, Baldur emerges from Hel, one of the only surviving gods (hmm, seems him dying worked out, didn’t it?). He’s joined by Líf and Lífþrasir, who are the new first man and woman, who’s names mean ‘Life’ and who are pictured, usually, with plants and new life. It is they who are tasked who growing a new Yggdrasil after the destruction of the old. The previous first man and woman are Ask and Embla, meaning Ash Tree and Vine/Elm tree, so there’s a theme there.

So a new sprout, possibly a tree, growing out of the destruction of the old.

This fits with Loki’s role as understood in mythology. He checks the arrogance of the gods, including when they tried to achieve immortality (sorry, Baldur, nothing personal), and that keeps the gods at their best. After Loki is imprisoned, the gods become weak, unhelpful and foolish, and Yggdrasil starts to rot. Eventually Loki escapes and returns along with Surtur (who also resembles this figure) to burn it all to the ground. This is also referenced in Thor:Ragnarok, with Loki releasing Surtur in the Vault, a place of thematic importance to Loki and one that represents the hidden secrets and sins of Asgard). You could say Ragnarok continued into Infinity War, where Loki played an important part in aiding Thanos’ destruction, giving up the stone to protect his brother and essentially dooming the rest of the universe - but also ultimately leading to its salvation, even if, like Myth Loki, he wasn’t around to see it.

So, we see Amylkie literally start a fire in the trailer -

- in fact, this whole trailer is awash in flame -

It’s fire, fire everywhere and she’s setting them!

It’s possible Amylkie’s our big bad, but I think there’s a chance she’s either a red herring, or, much like how Loki ‘worked’ with Thanos in The Avengers, she is the pawn of a greater foe -

- a Loki bent on destruction, for some reason or other. The TVA is obviously aware that this is the case, and it seems like they might be trying to ‘fight fire with fire’ by enlisting one Loki to combat another. The villain could be President Loki, since there's evidence of 2 Lokis in that scene - or maybe that's one of many Lokis, and the Big Bad Loki is being played by Hugh Grant as Old Loki. In any case, it would appear that Loki will be coming face-to-face with the worst versions of himself, and many of them. And, if I’m right about this scene:

...Loki will likely eventually discover that even his ‘good’ timeline ended in the destruction of his people and home, plus his own gruesome and torturous death. Although I think the TVA will keep that from him, and just show him the happy parts in an effort to inspire ‘good behaviour’. Until Loki inevitably discovers the rest of how that timeline played out and realize he’s been lied to. I don’t imagine he’ll take that very well...

Damn, even our ‘hero’ Loki is burning stuff down! Does this mean that Loki is doomed, always meant to be an avatar of death and toasty destruction?

Well...let’s go back to that stained glass.

Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...

And there’s something else...the bottom of the Earth is being lit up, and not by fire. Light appears to be coming off this little plant.

What colour is this plant again? That’s right, green. Green is the colour of new life and growth and change and...hang on, I’ve heard that before, too...

Hang on hang on HANG ON... let me have a look at the shape again.

That’s...a letter. An L? For Loki? Like in the title sequence?

Wait...no, a different letter. An older letter. After all, Loki is old Norse. How do you spell his name in that again?

ᛚᛟᚲ ᛁ -

And ENHANCE on that third letter!

This, my friends, is a Kenaz/Kaunaz, or what would become 'K' in our alphabet. It is also known as the 'Loki Rune' (and the Ulcer Rune, for some reason. I suspect Odin understands why). It’s used to spell his name, but is also used on his own to represent him. Heck, it's even his Superman 'S' in the comics:

Runes are more than letters - they are symbols for concepts. So what else does it mean?

Primarly, it means ‘torch’.

And also ‘knowledge’ (ken). As well as ‘growth, change, the search for truth, decay, arrogance, elitism, feminine, kinship and creativity.’

...Okay, that’s a lot, but you have to admit it fits.

More specifically, it means ‘Mastery of the Fire’. As in, someone who has learned to tame fire so that it is helpful, not harmful. To bring light and, symbolically, knowledge.

There’s another way Loki’s been associated with fire - in the Wagner Ring Cycle, Das Rheingold, the opera that inspired much the Thor films’ aesthetic and certainly their helmets, Loki is called ‘Loge’, which means ‘Fire’. He’s usually dressed to match, too -

Many trickster figures are associated with fire. They are usually called ‘Fire-bringers’ - See: Raven, Lucifer, Prometheus, etc. They are often complex figures with a foot in different worlds, but who nonetheless help mankind with the gift of ‘fire’ - although they usually pay for it, and tend to be self-destructive.

(Side note. Lucifer means light-bringer, which is what luciferase is named after. Because it glows. Which is helpful in labs. In case someone needed to know that.)

Moving from a destructive fire-starter to a fire-bringer seems like a great character arc for Loki to take, especially given his rehabilitation in pop culture, the comics, and even wider culture. Loki has gone from being seen as an evil, deviant, destructive character to one who’s seen as a patron of the arts and creativity, of stories rather than lies. Heck, some scholars of Norse Mythology even posit that he’s the closet thing to a protagonist Norse Mythology has, so I guess that backfired, Snorri!). Being dressed in green and with the sprout clearly also being stylized after his Kaunaz, there’s foreshadowing that he’ll be capable of growing good things even out of ashes.

So, to sum up: Being ‘Satan’ sounds pretty bad, but with a little letter re-arranging like we see in the title sequence, you can be...

...practically a saint. Maybe even a saviour.

Merry Christmas, everybody.

#loki #trailer #details #meta #theories #theory #explanation #thor #tva #santa #devil #snorri sturluson whinging #christmas #fire #kaunaz #loki trailer

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bioodorange · 4 years

Text

||How I See The Pastas||

This was originally supposed to be how they looked but I decided to go for mental aspect and explain why as well PLEASE like, reblog and share your thoughts on this in the comments or inbox

Below the desciptions are images i’ve compiled and some art (if you know the creator please tell me so i can credit them) for a visual

dont forget to like reblog and share your thoughts with me, I spent a few days on this so i’d appreciate this

Jeff the Killer

So lets start with the obvious- jeffs pasty white toothpaste lookin skin

But realistically he wouldn’t be completely covered in scars

It would be blotchy, with pink fleshy patches among the burns

He most likely has contracture scars, third degree burns that turn the skin a pale white and tighten the skin

This explains his gaunt features and skin color

Now we have to take into account the vodka that was splashed on him, he’d probably have worse burns there with exposed flesh and damaged nerves

This would result in gnarly exposed skin, a damaged scalp and maybe damage to his teeth and eyes

Realistically, Jeff wouldnt have burned off his eyelids that alone would have resulted in blindness and death

Than his smile, his signatuure mark would probably be more of a gangly bloody scar mess

Pastas heal faster and aren’t really human, he’d have to recut his smile pretty frequently making it pretty jacket up because ltes be honest hes far from clean

ANd than his hait being chard black is very unlikely because as nasty as he is he s h o w e r s

not very frequnetly given his living situation and untreated burns but people can figure out how to wash hait and not much else

also i think its funny he’d shower with a plastic bag on his face to avoid getting soap in his nasty infected scars-

His hair would probably be dry and cut unevenly, more of a dark brown color with blonde undertones

Not to mention his burned scalp, hair probably wouldn’t grow there so he’d have a cool unintentional side shave

Jeff would also be a tall individual, he cant really eat, snacking on things from his victims homes giving him a more skeletal build

His personality and mindest is about as pretty as his face- but he most likely has a very screwed up headspace

Lacking in self care, maturity and sanity its fair to say he’d be a brash and violent person

Fun Fact: While researching this I learned that some versions of the joker had facial scars in the shape of a smile

Ticci Toby

So tobys age, unlike a lot of pastas, is pretty well agreed on, 19

So unlike when he was first a proxy toby most likely has stronger facial features and facial hair

Because shaving and hygiene isn’t first priority for pastas (gross-)

He stands around 5′7 and has grayish skin

Toby i feel is picky about foods, not only is it hard for him to eat its hard for him to keep food down

He’s malnourished explaining his thin figure and grayish skin

His hait is dark brown and a curlish mess, unkempt but short so it doesn’t get in his way

I’ve always seen him with a small gap in his teeth, because I can

And since toby can’t feel shit I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to eat rocks simply because he fuckin could

So some chipped teeth that are a bit uneven

Along with his CIPA and not eating enough Toby would bruise easily and have lots of scars, from things like cutting his finger on accident or getting mauled by a racoon

I wouldn’t be surpised if some of his joints were a bit screwed up, because whenever theyd beak or fracture he wouldn’t notice, this would probably happen a lot causing them to not heal correctly

One of tobys habits is nailbiting but he cant te;; when too far is too far

His fingers may be abit odd looking, knobby and discolored nails because of how exetreme his habit is

Would most likely have bandages around his fingers frequently to prevent the habit

So theres a lot of debate about tobys cheek was it the CIPA or the car accident, I beileve the accident because his other cheek is completely fine, theres damage from the OUTSIDE to inside and considering his sister died in the accident its unlikely he survived unscathed

Fun Fact: only a small handful of people have ever been diagnosed with CIPA, less than 500 (documented) cases around the world

Bloody Painter

So Helen is often seen as quiet emo painter boy

but uh no <3

Personaly i beileve he suffers from narcisistic personality disorder, exetreme importance and that he is always victorious and gets what he wants

This sporuts from the constant heavy invalidation from classmates, toxic friends and neglect from his parents

He doesn’t hang out with people because he doesn’’t lie them its because they never let him in the past and he beileves he’s better than them

But this also links to deep rooted insecurity and social anxiety/being inept completely

Him being nice is basically so you like him, he wants validation amd admiration not love

Unlike the other pastas he’d be a more clean well kept one a helthy figure and some tattoos bevause he can

I beileve he lives in socity, finding hus victims in girls and men alike who fall for his charm

he uses hhis skill and ordinary appearance to blend in on the streets

From his behavior helen most likely keeps his hair a bit shorter and clean

He always looks his best

Has chapped, and picked at lips because of his anxieties

Aswell as his breakdowns- his identity is completely in his head, he is very unsure of who he is and takes the delusions in his mind as reality

Unrelated but paino fingers-

And finally in order for his art to be as perfect and amazing as him, he has to be apart of it

Thus using his own blood in his pieces and the body parts of those he admires

Covers his scars with clean bandgaes

But his paintings turn brown and dry out, he’s always in need of a new medium

Is most likely anemic from all the blood he looses and has a paler skintone

Clockwork

ahh yes finally someone who knows what self care is-

helen, i love you buddy but you need to stop

But anyway natalie has a stronger, athletic build

She often chases her victims and gets in altercations, relying on strength most of the time

on that same note, this would defintelty cause many scars on natalie

Wether it was a bite mark or scars from a kitchen knife, shes got lots of scars

A few even on her face

Now, for the clock in her eye that thing is like holding her skull together at this point, realistically

She is probably delicate and cares for it becaise 1) it hurts 2) if it gets screwed up that could cause a lot of problems

natalie would be a smart person, I wouldn’t be surprused if she had a few other stray stitches or bandgaes wrapped around a fresh wound

For more visual-ish things uh m u l l e t (credit: @cum-looking-sock-mf in a chat like 4 months ago)

She has one, fight me on it

but also thick and curlish hair so I also riase you

Undershave

just y e s

I can also see her getting tattoos over certain scars on her arm, just to make them look not so ugly

I feel like clockwork wishes things worked out better

Wishes for another chance but knows she’ll never get one

Thus her taking goof care of herself

Natalie throws herseld into her “work”, keeping her body in shape and killing people

Its a way to avoid her life and that it is- a huge, sad mess

Shes an outgoing impulsive individual, confident but questions her actions

She’s also unstable- protective and loyal but explosive and strong

Jane the Killer

Jane is the final one, im sorry I couldn’t do more theres a photo limit and I wanna bash my head into the wall

Now a main different between her and jeff is she had surgery and lie treatment

Janes skin is still greatly scarred but it is greatly healed

She takes care of it and had skin grafts

Her face is disfigured, a scarred smile and burns around

But unlike Jeff she doesn’t recarve the cut so its a cleaner line and a lot healthier

Janes hair took a rather long time to grow back, but it did!

She has a slightly long pixie cut a bit choppy but she doesn’t mind

Her wife definetely cuts it for her and you can fight me over that

I can see Jane having a lot of facial trauma, scars around her nose and cheeks

She was young when she started killing and went for the over the person, pin them down kill which didn’t work out

She switched to a silenced pistol after awhile, you know like a smart person

Janes arms and legs are in alright condition where most of the burn trauma is on her back

She has a leaner but healthy figure but like boobs-

Like clockwork and Helen she takes care of herself

She doesn’t kill as frequently, going after a few of jeffs victims before him and is of course, actively hunting him down

Her eyes are a pale green and she wears makeip to fill in her eyebrows because those bitches take a long time to grow back

fun fact: jeff has no eyebrows, fight me

#jeff the Killer #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #slenderverse #slenderverse headcanons #jeff the killer head canons #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby #bloodypainter #bloodypainter headcanons #clockwork headcanons #clockwork #jane the everlasting head canons #jane the everlasting #jane the killer #jane the killer headcanons

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the-gay-prometheus · 3 years

Text

(AU Segment) “Second Chances”

Ok so- after almost two weeks I finally freakin finished it. It might be a little messy because I have done absolutely zero proof-reading on it because I’m just happy to have finally finished it 🙃

Anyways...

This is another little segment of my work-in-progress Frankenstein AU that still has yet to have a solid plot other than “Victor agrees to live with the creature on the mountain they meet on as an alternative to creating a companion for him. And also Henry comes to live with them too because he can’t stand to be without his boyfriend™.” An actual plot is in the works but... I’m currently thinking about revamping all that I have of it so far and also completely changing the setting of it.

No warnings needed for this segment to my knowledge! Just a nice moment of interaction between Henry and the creature with a little bit of clervenstein toward the end. It’s not super long but it is 5 google docs pages single spaced so uh- it’s also not super short - just a lil heads up.

Likes, comments, reblogs appreciated as always if you feel inclined to do... any of those things.

Oh! Also- before getting into it - I still need name ideas for this AU. I want to do something like “The <blank> Prometheus,” but I don’t know what word I want to put there so uh- if anyone has any ideas... send them my way ;~;

Henry pulled his coat tightly around him and shuddered as he stepped out into the frigid night time mountain air, clouds of mist drifting away from him with each breath. He glanced around, searching the moonlit ledge until his eyes set upon a cliff just a short climb above. On that cliff sat a familiar tall figure, staring upward into the starry sky as his long hair drifted in the chilly breeze. Henry rubbed his hands to let friction warm them, then made his way toward the cliff. He took his time to carefully climb up, then sat down beside the figure - his lover’s creation - who leaned away as soon as he sat beside him.

“You should not be out here,” the creature mentioned. “It is far too cold.”

“Neither should you,” Henry answered, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

“The cold does not affect me in the same way that it affects you,” the creature countered simply. “I am fine - you should be inside with Victor.”

“Actually, I was just talking to Victor. He agreed that I should come out here and try to talk to you.” The creature glanced toward him, his yellow eyes ever so slightly glowing in the dark of the night, but turned his face away after only a moment, pulling the hood of his cloak over his face. “You don’t have to hide from me, you know. I’m- I’m not afraid of you.”

“I do not doubt that you are not afraid - I cannot imagine you would be out here if you were,” the creature replied. “I am merely sparing you from the sight of me. I know well that I am a hideous wretch.”

“I don’t think of you as a hideous wretch.” Henry paused, looking up toward the sky. “I think you are… fascinating, really.” The creature pulled some of the fabric of his hood away so he could look back toward Henry.

“Fascinating is not a word I think many would use to describe me.”

“Well - I’m not ‘many,’ now am I?” Henry glanced toward him with a smirk, but the creature simply turned away with a shaky, labored sigh. Henry’s smirk turned to a more solemn expression as he returned his sight to the stars. “It’s true, though. I think you are… incredibly fascinating.” The creature didn’t reply, except to shrink away from him and cling tighter to the edges of his cloak. “I mean, think about it - how many people get a second chance at life?”

“Victor can argue whatever he wants, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are very much a person. Sure, you may have been made rather than born, but what difference does that make? After all, there are plenty of people who would argue that regardless of birth, all of us are intelligently made. And just think - how lucky you are to know your creator while the rest of us are all destined only to wonder,” Henry explained. He turned to look toward the creature with a sympathetic smile. “Of course, unlucky for you it happened to be Victor, who can barely take care of himself let alone an entire other person,” he joked. The creature couldn’t help but smile a little - it was true, comically true, in a way. His creator was no god, he was just a young man searching for answers and glory, but who left himself and everyone else behind along the way. “Anyways, with regard to your first question, I would say it is. In fact, I would say that’s the best kind of second chance. You’re not burdened by any preconceived notions about what life is or about how the world works, you started your new life with no worry of money or the trivial squabbles of man; you just existed as you were and as you are, perhaps a bit confused and a bit lost, but when you emerged into the world what you saw first shaped you in a way that most people have not been exposed to.”

“Is it a second chance if I cannot even recall the life… or perhaps I should say lives I had before?” the creature began, tracing over the scars on his arm as though he were trying to find memories within each graft of skin that existed there. “For that matter… am I even a person?” He paused, his hands dropping to his knees. “Even my own creator would argue that I am not.”

“Most people awake in their first moments to find a mother’s embrace or a father’s kind smile. From the moment I took my first breath I was not just miserably alone, but actively feared and hated, Henry. This is not the kind of ‘second chance’ I would wish on anyone,” the creature said quietly, staring down off the cliff’s edge into the dark valley far below. Henry sighed softly with a shiver from the cold.

“I… I am afraid I do not understand your meaning.”

“You know that now, but did you know that then?”

“I mean - did you know that the reaction you saw was a reaction of fear?” The creature thought long and hard about that statement, trying to recount the memory he had chosen to repress.

“I suppose not,” he replied at a length. “I was… confused, and somewhat afraid myself, but I did not understand the meaning of his reaction. I thought it was normal. How should I have known any differently?”

“So what did you do? How did it affect you in that moment?”

“I tried to follow him but I was… still unsteady. He was far too nimble-”

“Ha! Victor? Nimble? That’s funny,” Henry interrupted with a laugh, though he quickly stifled himself and cleared his throat. “...Go on.”

“For my unsteadiness, he was far too nimble,” the creature restated, giving Henry somewhat of a disappointed glance before returning his gaze to the valley below. “So, assuming that I was simply not meant to follow him, I decided to wander elsewhere.”

“Which means in that moment, you had no assumptions of mistreatment, correct?”

“In that moment, yes, that is correct.”

“And where did you go, then?” The creature looked up to him, brow slightly furrowed from confusion.

“I have… already told you this story before, Henry,” he mentioned with uncertainty. “Why must I tell it again?”

“Because I want you to hear yourself tell it. And this time, I want you to actually think about how you felt in each moment,” Henry answered with certainty. The creature stared for a moment, then dropped his gaze downward once again.

“I found myself in a nearby forest,” he began. “It was cold, and dark, and I was still afraid, but I looked upward and saw the moon and the multitude of stars against the night sky. For some reason this sight gave me… comfort. I had no words with which to describe what I saw or what I felt, but it was a moment of serenity. The days following as I learned more about my surroundings were much the same. My fears were allayed by a sudden sense of curiosity and wonder at the life which surrounded me - and everything was certainly alive. Yes, the flora and fauna, but also the stream as it rushed along its way, and the stones in their cold stillness. I felt…” He paused, lifting his gaze to the horizon. “Connected; to all of it. I did not know who or what I was, but I knew I was alive, and for the time being, that was all I needed to know.”

“Those were your most formative moments. Unbound by the values and traditions of our time, blissfully unaware. The rest of us may have had people in our lives from the moment we were brought into this world, but for many, that isn’t necessarily a good thing. We become biased from the very moment we learn how to speak, taught and told how to think or act. Yet there you were, untethered, and instead of finding your sole connection in the eyes of mankind, you found yours in the purity of nature itself.”

“What good has that brought me, though? I happened upon mankind regardless of my contentedness within the woods, and promptly yearned for a place among them, only to be beaten and shunned away for no cause other than my appearance alone. Mine is a miserable existence.” The creature turned away after he had spoken, clenching his eyes shut and gritting his teeth at the sudden pang of sorrow that throbbed deep in his scarred chest.

“Tell me how you see the world,” Henry answered, resting a shivering hand gently on the creature’s arm. The creature heaved with a breath, holding back tears as even a simple comforting touch such as this was so rare and so precious to him.

“It is,” he began, taking a moment to think. “a cold, dreadful place full of hatred and malice.” His voice, though clearly wrought with pain and some slight sense of anger, sounded uncertain. Henry looked to him.

“You’re describing the world of men. Describe the world itself to me,” he insisted. The creature didn’t respond for a length of time, instead shuddering as he held back tears, but then finally breathed a heavy sigh and opened his yellowed eyes and stared off into the distance beyond the peaks that rose and fell across the horizon.

“The world is…” He paused as he gathered his thoughts again. “The world is a dawn chorus, each bird singing sweetly in its own tune, somehow both melodious and cacophonous all at once. It is... the painted sky as the sun sinks down to dusk, the way each color blends and shines, and the way the clouds glow with golden light, a fleeting work of art that fades into darkness and is never the same twice.” He breathed deeply, slowly closing his eyes as his expression of concentration and contemplation turned to a contented smile. “It is the way the stars shine brightest when the moon hides itself away, and the pale silver gleam that all things acquire when the moon is at its fullest. It is the silence of a heavy snowfall and the deafening roar of thunder, the glitter of ice and the blinding sight of lightning. It is the lonely shriek of the fox and the communal cry of the wolf, the powerful bellow of an elk and the gentle bleat of a deer.” His eyes reopened and he turned toward Henry, who was now staring up at him with a look of astonishment on his face. “The world is wonderful and terrible, familiar and strange, lovely and frightening. It is like fire, which both warms and burns, dances and destroys. Though it is not always kind, I am inclined to search for the beauty and kindness that does exist within it.”

“Incredible,” Henry breathed, dropping his hand from the creature’s arm to wipe away the tears that had welled in his eyes. The creature flinched and turned his gaze away as Henry’s hand fell away, instinctively reaching up and placing his own hand in the open space that Henry had left as though he just needed to feel something there, as though he wasn’t quite ready to exist alone again. “That’s what makes you a second chance worth taking,” Henry continued, smiling as he put a hand over the creature’s. “I am absolutely sure that none of those who were used to make you saw the world in such an awe-inspiring, beautiful way.” The creature turned to him with a curious tilt of his head.

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, slowly pulling his hand away and bringing it up to his face as he inspected each stitched-on piece of skin that covered it.

“Well… People tend to take on the views of whatever surrounds them for their first true moments of consciousness, I’ve found. It leaches into who they are. When we are surrounded by the life we’re meant to have - a life free from the confines we created for ourselves in the name of ‘civility,’ - we open ourselves to exactly what makes us human to begin with.” The creature opened his fingers, gazing at Henry from between them.

“And what is it that makes…” He hesitated, eyes shifting from side to side as he considered what he was about to say before locking with Henry’s once again, “us human?” Henry grinned, warmth filling him despite the cold for the joy of hearing the creature speak of himself as one of them rather than as some horrible thing.

“Curiosity,” he replied simply. “Curiosity is what makes us human, but far too many of us have lost our sense of it. Yet here you are, curious and full of wonder. How many of those whose parts made you can say that they felt the same in their lifetime? I’d hazard to guess very few, if any.” He lifted a shaky, shivering hand and gently pushed the creature’s hand down so they could see each other truly eye to eye. “You are their collective second chance. Yes, it hasn’t been easy. Yes, you have done things you have come to regret. Any other man would have become all but lost to his misery, but you, in your endless search for the good and beauty you found in your most precious moments of life, have chosen not only to try to be better, but to never lose sight of that same inspiration that made you who you are. I can’t imagine a better second chance than one such as yours - regardless of the hardships you have endured and have still yet to endure.” The creature stared at him, mind reeling with what he had just heard. Leave it to Henry Clerval to once again make him feel not just like somebody worthy of life, but somebody worth celebrating. He blinked away tears, retracting his hand to wipe away those which had already fallen upon his pale yellowed cheeks, and was just about to speak when a new voice took both his and Henry’s attention away.

“Do you… mind if I join you both?” Victor stood behind them, wrapped in a large, heavy wool blanket. Henry smiled, moving over to make room for Victor beside him.

“Not at all. I could use the extra warmth,” he mused. Victor smiled slightly, shakily walking over and sitting close to Henry. Henry took one end of his blanket and wrapped it around himself, making sure the other end was also fully covering Victor so the two of them were snug within it. The creature watched them for a moment, then turned his eyes toward the stars.

“Long enough,” he answered softly, pressing himself closer to Henry and laying his head on his shoulder. There was silence between the three of them, Victor slowly closing his eyes and breathing a soft sigh as Henry wrapped his arm around him and held him close.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked suddenly. Victor glanced up at him.

“Henry says I am… incredible,” the creature mentioned, breaking the silence for no reason other than that he was still processing all that had just been said. Henry looked to him with a smile.

“And he’s right to say so,” Victor answered after a long pause. Both Henry and the creature looked to him simultaneously in shock. Victor opened his eyes and looked up at them both. “I’ve just been too blind to see it.”

“That almost sounded like an apology,” Henry remarked with a smirk. “I thought you didn’t do apologies.”

“I don’t,” Victor grumbled defensively. “Not usually, anyways. And that wasn’t an apology, it was… an observation.”

“I appreciate your… observation, Victor,” the creature murmured, unsure of what else to say or how else to respond. After so many months of hearing his creator berate him and call him such horrid, disgusting names, it was still always a shock when those rare moments came that Victor acknowledged his existence in a positive way - much less rare now that Henry was here, of course, but still rare all the same. Victor, also unsure of how to respond, simply glanced up at him and muttered,

“Your appreciation is duly noted.” Henry chuckled softly at the awkwardness between the two of them, and gently tapped Victor’s shoulder.

“I think it’s time we get some rest,” he said quietly. He turned toward the creature. “As long as you’ll be alright, that is.” The creature nodded.

“Thank you, Henry. You have been very generous. I believe I will be well.” Henry gave a curt nod in return, and pulled the blanket off of himself to drape it back over Victor before standing and extending a hand. Victor gripped the blanket around himself as he reached out and took Henry’s hand with the other, the two walking off and disappearing as they helped one another climb their way back down.

“Did you mean what you said just then?” Henry inquired as they walked back to their cabin home on the ledge, hand still firmly gripping Victor’s own.

“I did,” Victor answered with a nod. As they approached, Henry reached for the door, and Victor’s hand slipped from his as he hesitated. Henry stopped just as he opened it, turning toward Victor with a curious expression. “As I listened to him speak I realized something I hadn’t quite realized before.”

“Oh? What would that be?”

“He’s a lot like you - in the way he thinks and speaks, that is.” Henry was about to respond, but Victor took him by surprise as he suddenly wrapped his arms around him and embraced him tightly. “And you’re the most incredible person I know.” Henry was shocked, as Victor was rarely the one to initiate physical contact, but hugged him even tighter in return.

The creature sat alone on the cliff, listening intently to the two voices below as he stared up at the sky. Brushing a lock of hair that fell over his face behind his ear, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. His eyes followed a comet as it passed through the stillness of the stars, and smiled as he continued to recount all that had been said. As he heard the door of the cabin click closed, he rested his hands on the stone of the cliff and leaned back to look up at the moon. “How delightful, dear moon,” he began as though speaking to it directly, “to be given the second chance to be something incredible-” He paused, and slowly closed his yellow eyes with another soft sigh. “to be something human.”

#frankenstein #frankenstein au #henry clerval #the creature #victor frankenstein #clervenstein #i am once again pausing my usual angst to practice my wholesome writing #idk how that's working out for me but #hey i mean- i'm trying ;~;

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refriedweeb · 4 years

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LET ME SANCTIFY YOUR BODY (SHINSOU + PLUS SIZED READER 18+)

A/N: refriedweeb here my little chickadees. Here’s another plus size reader one for all my beautiful thick babes out there. I’ve started hardcore sipping over everyone’s fave emo boy (who I always thought would prefer a thicker girl bc it just screams at you he would be) not responsible for any emotional trauma caused. ALSO, I used the same quirk from the Hawks’ series I have going on don’t judge me it’s honestly my favorite quirk I’ve thought up (and totally not bc I'm self-inserting) also if anyone draws y/n/me/yourself in this hero costume y/n chooses I'd die bc I think it’s so incredible

Prompt: Your hero agency has been pressuring you into a more scant, sexually appealing hero costume. Though you’re a hero, you’re still coming to accept your body and feel that the new costume they’ve put you in is anything but. Your boyfriend has other thoughts.

Tags/Warnings: body worship, oral, sex, spanking, shinsou being an absolute god

Word Count: 6,009

You stared at yourself in the reflection of the mirror in your bedroom. It’d been a long, exhausting past couple of weeks between you and the hero agency you worked for. They were insistent on changing up your hero costume, eager to add some sex appeal and tighter material around the assets that made you such a ‘feast’ as they called it. You were fuller figured, plump in spots that other female heroes weren’t. Your curves had caught the eye of the media surrounding the hero discourse, and you’d become something of a source of body positivity for the public. It wasn’t about your health, rather, but that strength and power came at any size, and a hero didn’t need to look like the heroes of the past in order to do good and be worthy of everything you had in your life. At first you’d been a little skeptical, sure that the other shoe was going to drop and you were going to be shunned for the tummy you had, the thickness of thighs that made you look ‘more beautiful than Venus being born’ according to one of the magazines that had commented on your body.

However, you hadn’t seen anything wrong with the hero costume you’d been rocking prior to the media’s public obsession with you. It hid the insecurities that you wished to conceal, like that very tummy so many people had started to praise. The dimples in your thighs that showed through in the latex and skin tight material that made up so much of hero costumes. Many designers of said hero costumes had been scrambling to get their designs to your hero agency, practically groveling for you to pick theirs. You’d left that day after your seemingly endless patrol (thankful that nothing out of the ordinary outside of small, petty crimes) had come to an end. But...that didn’t mean the work was over just yet. The agency you worked in had been persistent that you needed to pick a new costume by the end of the week, and it was already Thursday.

Your eyes moved from the mirror to the laid out costumes on the bed. The hero alias you went by was that of Nightmare. Your quirk was an Emitter quirk, and worked in a way that many people had been careful to get within your reach of. Once you activated your quirk, you could raise your target’s worst nightmare into a warped physical reality around them, or at least they perceived it to be a physical reality. What it really was, was a field of false reality with layers so thick it was hard to look through in order to see that it wasn’t real at all. A hallucination of the worst kind. You, much like your boyfriend Shinsou, had been people that your fellow classmates had thought would be best as villains, rather than heroes. People didn’t trust you, didn’t want to get to close to you lest you reach out a hand to their forehead and bring forth their own personal hell.

They wanted to make someone they had once demanded be too dangerous to be a trustworthy hero into a sex symbol. The fleeting thought caused you to snort, your eyes moving back over the costume layout once more. Shinsou hadn't popped around to yours yet, likely still finishing out his own patrol. His opinions might have helped, but you weren’t sure when he’d get to yours and you’d rather get the uncomfortable trial and error of why your body didn’t look right in any of the costumes that had been sent to you over with. That way you could curl up in bed under the sheets and wait for Shinsou’s warm embrace. It’d always managed to make you feel better when you were sure the world hated everything about you. That very reason had been one of the reasons you and Shinsou had bonded so quickly. The world was determined to make you a villain before you’d even had a chance to prove them otherwise. You were each other’s biggest support system, the team cheerleader while you raced to make the world a better place.

What would Nightmare wear? What would the unstoppable, dangerous Nightmare wear? The first costume was definitely not your speed, a deep plum color that was beautiful on its own. Yet, it was cut deep in the back with a half-peplum tiered skirt at the back of your waist. To you, it made you feel like a joke of a circus ring leader, feeling more like an overripe raspberry than a hero worth going toe to toe with. You didn’t have a body like Midnight or Mt. Lady. You were fuller all around, a pooch of a stomach that stuck out more than theirs, thighs that were thicker in muscle and fat then theirs. An ass, that as Shinsou had once said when he was drunk on sake, wouldn’t quit. Once again, you didn’t see anything wrong with the hero costume you had now. It was baggier, yes, allowing you to obscure a body you hadn’t fully come to terms with despite the years of progress you’d made with self-acceptance. Sure, the trench jacket did nothing to show off much of the body you’d worked hard to maintain and love, but it hadn’t been about how good you looked. It’d been about being able to do good and save people from villains. If you’d wanted to be judged for your looks, you would have signed up to be a model. But hero politics were the same politics that existed in every aspect of reality, and you had gotten used to it. It was really only a matter of time that you’d be up next in the line of speculation. The first costume was a hard no, and you peeled yourself out of it already feeling the sinking feeling of defeat as it crawled up into your spine.

The second costume was better in some aspects, worse in others. It was black in color which was much more your speed, with a black mask to match that shielded the top half of your face. Yet, over your bust and over the widest part of your hips ran horizontal white lines, giving the effect of making them appear wider than they were. It wasn’t as if they just ran the front of the costume, either. Traced around your back and your butt, you only felt that sinking feeling grow. You looked wrong, and felt worse. There was no way people actually thought this was going to look good on you, did they? An annoyed sigh passed through your nose, doing one last turn around in the mirror confirmed your thoughts. These people had no idea what would look good on you. The cynical part of you was sure that this was the other shoe dropping. This was some grand joke that you were the punch line of. If you picked any of these costumes you’d be ridiculed for your body just like you’d been when you were a kid. That mere thought sparked tears in your eyes, but you pushed them down. There was one costume left. Though you didn’t have much hope for it.

You were so in your negative thoughts at the moment as you stripped down from the second costume, you hadn’t heard the front door of your place open and close. Nor the sound of shoes being kicked off.

The third costume was by far the most aesthetically pleasing to your tastes. Like Goldilocks and the three bears, it’d been the one you thought would be best. It was a one piece jumpsuit as the rest had been, cut deep in the front and back, low plunges that exposed everything to your naval in the front, and the small curve of your lower back. Though where freshly exposed skin would have been free, black mesh was laid overtop to give the graft appearance. There were winding slits down the long sleeves of the costume, making the mesh look like ropes winding down the length of strong arms and deliciously thick thighs. The mesh at the lower back connected to the beginnings of the mesh at the back of your thighs, lining up with the mesh that curved down from your naval and over your hips to meet up with the front mesh of your thighs. The mesh of the costume was one continuous running line, and you had to admit you liked how it shaped your body. It was tight as the other costumes, and certainly left nothing to the imagination of anyone who’d see you. If you picked this costume, everyone would know what it was you were working with. And that was what they wanted, right? The final costume was by far your favorite, opening and closing the fingerless gloves that had come with it. But were you okay with the world seeing the rest of your body? You didn’t think you were ugly by any means, and hadn’t felt ugly since you were a teenager. But...that didn’t mean the world wouldn’t take that chance to pick you apart if they thought you’d gotten too confident.

You leaned up on your toes, angling to this way and that so you could get a full view of how you’d be seen from all angles. Your hand rolled over the little pooch of your belly, over the curve of your backside into that meshed lower back of the costume. The way your thighs blossomed against the costume, looking strong as hell. In the platformed boots you wore to do hero work, it’d look good. You thought. But was it too risky? Would you look like a joke? Your shoulders sagged in defeat, not sure you had the confidence to pull this off like the world seemed to think you did.

“Well, well...” came that deep drawl of the man you cared so deeply for. You jumped, completely unaware that for the last five minutes you’d been examining yourself in the mirror, that Shinsou had been eyeing you up from his position. Leaned against the frame of the door, hands tucked into his pockets with a shameless look on his face. “These those new hero costumes you were talking about?”

Once you were sure you wouldn’t about faint from the racing of your heart, you nodded. “Yeah, they weren’t that great,” you said and jutted your chin to the ones you’d hung back up on their hangers to be sent back. “Those were the first two options, and they looked...gross on me.” you said, voice dropping as the negative term against yourself left your throat. Shinsou angled a brow upwards question, violet eyes moving over to look at them. He doubted that they looked bad on you, almost disappointed he hadn’t gotten to see your skin slip under that tight material, the way it ran so flush over that body of yours he’d worshipped for so long. For all Shinsou cared, you could be running around in a trash bag and he’d find a way to think you were the most beautiful person in the world. But, one thought he shared in common with you on the first two hero costumes, was that they didn’t speak Nightmare. Your quirk was exceptional, like his in a way. It needed something as equally daring, as enticing as you were.

“I doubt that...” Shinsou strolled over to look at them, running the fabric of the raspberry suit between thumb and forefinger. “But they’re not you. They’re too tame for you.” the comment was innocent enough, but your mouth dried up at it. Sunken eyes moved over to look at you once more in that black suit number, one that he found himself to be a growing fan of. “What about that one?” His expression was hungry as he dragged his gaze up and down your body, over the curves showed off so freely.

Shinsou had never had an issue with your body. Rather, he preferred a partner that was on the thicker side to begin with. He liked being able to feel you in his hands without worry about hurting you too much. Your skin was a comfort to him, the way you were soft and plush drove him up a fucking wall. He might not have been the biggest fan of public affection, but when it was just the two of you he couldn’t keep his greedy hands off you. And how could he? Even in that moment, his fingers twitched with the carnal need to have your flesh under the pads of his fingers.

“It’s definitely the best of the bunch.” You shrugged, hand running down the shape of your belly once more, your mind still stuck on whether or not it was going to get you ridiculed. “I just don’t...I think it’s too much. I don’t think...” you trailed off. “I don’t know if I look good in it.”

The sound of a snort from behind you had you meeting Shinsou’s gaze through the mirror. He wore an incredulous expression as if you’d just claimed that there was no such thing as gravity. He shook his head and approached you slowly. “You’re kidding, right?” Shinsou stood behind you, his chin resting on the top of your head. His body was pressed flush against yours, and you could feel the half-hard length of him pressed against your backside. “You don’t think you look amazing in this, (Y/N)?”

A blush hit your cheeks as his hands rested on your shoulders. “It’s not that, Shi. I just don’t...I guess...I don’t think people will want to see me like this. So...exposed.” Being sexy wasn’t the problem here. It was how others would see you and if they’d take the same thought away that the agency had, that Shinsou had, that some of the media had about you. You could take being ridiculed for your ability to act as an hero, if you messed up on the job or anything like that. Those criticisms pertained to your ability to help and change the world, and nothing to do with your physical appearance. Changing your hero costume would open up that path to criticisms about your appearance that had never been there before.

“Ah...so that’s it.” Without having to say much, Shinsou understood where your mindset was. He sighed, feeling somewhat guilty. Had he not shown you how beautiful you were each time he settled his mouth or his cock between your thighs? Had he not told you how you were the only person who was ever going to have his eye whether you were dolled up in a face full of makeup or drooling while you slept? The last thing he wanted for you to feel about yourself was inadequate because of how much you weighed or what your body looked like. He knew it wasn’t for him to decide, that only you could determine your self-worth, but you were perfect for him. And if he was selfless enough to let the world see you how he saw you, he would in a heartbeat. But just because he wanted the world to see it, didn’t mean he was a fan of sharing. Timidly, you met his indigo gaze through the mirror’s reflection. “Here’s what I think, kitten.”

A chill ran down your spine as his fingers started to ghost over your shoulders. “I think...” He slowed his movements, tracing the seam where mesh met spandex, Shinsou’s eyes narrowed as they followed where his fingers met. They ended at the inner point of the V that formed the front of a potentially new costume. Goosebumps erupted over your skin wherever his fingers trailed, and all you could do was watch in the mirror as his head came to rest on your shoulder, doing the same. “This looks downright sinful...” his fingers moved back up the V of the spandex material, only to pause as his fingers cupped the fullness of your breasts, thumbs whispering over piqued nipples. He hovered there for a moment, tracing circles around them as you shivered against the well defined muscle of his chest. “Not a thing left to the imagination...” Shinsou murmured, taking as his hands swept over the top of your chest to your shoulders, slowly down your arms. The winding tightness between your thighs had started, and he’d only been gentle with you so far. His thumbs moved along your inner forearm, traced circles along the sensitive part of your inner wrist before they flowed back up the length of your arms, returning to your breasts where he pulled and teased once more. “You’re telling me I might have to share this with the public...”

Shinsou’s eyes, a beautiful shade of setting sun, were narrowed as his hands traveled down the mesh material of your stomach once more. His fingers spread as he traced your belly, fingers bent just slightly so you felt the drag of his fingertips through the material of the suit. It was just a prototype, after all. The real work effectiveness of the suit would be put in place if you agreed to have it. At the sensation of his nails scratching along your stomach, your thighs turned inwards, backside pressing in against a growing erection. It only caused Shinsou to smile that smarmy smirk that had caught your attention all those years ago at UA. “You’re telling me everyone’s going to get to see this goddess body I get to claim night after night...” Shinsou continued, pulling the soft pudge of your skin in his hands as he raked them to the side to grip your hips. Those fucking hips. His fingers dug in sharper there, knowing your skin could handle it. So full, so fucking lush. “Hell, kitty, you might just raise the crime rate because everyone wants to see you in this costume...” He released his iron grip on your hips, hands sweeping towards your backside to grab at the bountiful ass you had. How it drove him up a fucking wall to see how it bounced against his hips when he took you from behind. “You have no idea...” Shinsou paused to pull up the legs of his pants before he squatted down to his knees, his hands still on your ass.

“How fucking good you look in this...” You were speechless as he continued to knead at your ass, giving that plump backside of yours a soft slap that sounded through the room. He worshipped your body day in and day out, and had simply no problem letting you know how much he loved every square inch of it. Shinsou let out a low hum. His hands continued their march, coming to cup the lower part of your ass in his hands. He was greedy when it came to this, the best fucking handful and then some any god could have given him. “Your ass looks so fucking good...” he whispered, side of his face nuzzled up against the curve of your thigh. One hand slipped from the grip it has on your backside, slipping between your thighs. An idle thumb swept through your lips, so thick and full that when he ate you out he simply rested his head there. A sharp gasp escaped you, rolling into the touch that ended before it’d even begin. This didn’t go unnoticed by Shinsou, that devilish smile there once more. “And these fucking thighs...” he whispered, his second hand repeated that sinful sweeping motion between your legs, his hands gripping your inner thighs, slowing pulling them apart. All the while, you watched through the mirror, his eyes zeroed in on the puffy mound of your pussy that seemed particularly swollen in that jumpsuit. “These fucking thighs that I love to have wrapped around my head...” Shinsou turned in so his nose was pressed against your left thigh, his teeth soon enough caught the material of the jumpsuit between them and pulled it back from your supple skin. A moment later, a sharp snap hit the air as it slapped back against your skin, causing you to squirm. “You’re telling me the world is gonna know how fucking delicious these thighs are...”

He wasn’t the jealous sort, Shinsou. He knew that you wouldn’t be with him if you didn’t want to be. That you came home to every night because you wanted to. In that sense he was secure in his relationship with you. But he wanted to make it astoundingly clear to you just how beautiful your body was, and how everyone else in the world who had their head screwed on tight enough was going to see it too. He was hungry to devour you in that suit right there, to fuck you and mark you so greedily so that the world would know his mark on you, but this wasn’t about him or his selfish wants. This was about making you feel like the strongest, sexiest, most powerful woman on the entire earth. And based off the heat he was feeling so close to his hands that gripped your thighs, his mission was working. He hummed, digging his fingers into your skin. “I could spend hours on your skin, kitten.” he murmured, his nose inching up the length of your thigh to where it curved, the crease of hip into thigh his goal. “Kissing it all over, tasting all of you...” you squirmed as Shinsou shifted on the ground slightly, so that he knelt in front of you. The sight of him looking up at you, sunken eyes dark with lust, made your waver on your knees. It was next to holy imagery, his legs spread wide, hands gripping your thighs for purchase as if he didn’t, he’d disappear entirely. “You gonna let me taste you, kitten?”

Shinsou didn’t wait for your answer, moving on his own agenda. He leaned forward into that sweet, tantalizing mound of yours. His nose burrowed in, hands moving up to grip your hips as he pulled you in against him. The flat of his tongue slipped over the clothed length of your cunt, warmth radiating against the sweetness of your pussy as he pulled your thighs apart for him. You moaned out his name, the action he took so simple but enough to threaten you over the cliff. Shinsou had only touched you, slow and measured at that, and this was the first he’d put a hand or tongue where you needed him most. The fabric that had been between your legs was in his mouth, Shinsou sucking on the fabric there to get as much of you in his mouth that had already escaped you while he’d been busy touching you. The fabric fell from his mouth when he was done, slapping against your heat and causing you to jolt forward. Your fingers found themselves wound through the thick tendrils of indigo hair, balancing as he smiled up at you with his head tipped to the side. The look was downright bastardly, and you tugged on his hair. “Don’t tease me,” you said, breathless.

“No teasing here, baby...” Shinsou breathed, pausing to blow hot air against your sex. “I want to make my girl feel good,” while he spoke, he stroked his middle and index finger up and down the slit of your cunt, pushing in slightly so the fabric dipped in your glaze. “I want to make you feel good about this fucking body I intend to destroy...” He sounded so bored as he played with your pussy that it only drove you crazier. You knew from the bulge in his pants that he was far from bored, but how nonchalant he could be while he was winding that coil of an orgasm tighter and tighter inside of you could have pushed you over the edge. “I want to take my time getting you there...”

You mewled, rocking against his fingers as they slipped back and forth, agonizingly slow in their rhythm. Shinsou had never been a fan of when you doubted yourself or your abilities, your worth and your beauty. This wasn’t exactly what he would have called a punishment, rather a reminder that there wasn’t a single part of you that he would want to change about you, and that you should have felt the same. He worshipped you, every second of every day. Frankly, in his eyes, there wasn’t enough hours in the day to give thanks to whatever deities were out there that created the fucking perfect version of yourself that was stood over him currently. “Sit on my face, kitten.” he drawled, eyes raking upwards over those delicious curves of your body, the thickness of your skin so plump, until he was looking into your eyes. “Let me taste you.”

With the way he’s looking at you, you know you don’t stand a chance of saying no. “Yes,” you rasped out, Shinsou’s hands soothing you as they smoothed up and down your thighs. You took a step back from him, Shinsou staying where he was, frozen as he watched you pull down the suit.

It was like a work of art, his cock hardening as you pulled the front of it down, exposing your mounds of flesh, nipples piqued and flushed from when he’d been teasing them earlier. As the black material folded over your arms, exposing soft skin he ached to get his hands on. Down over your midsection, exposing the little roll over your belly that had his mouth watering. “You look so fucking beautiful,” his voice had hollowed out, thick with need to have your thighs practically suffocating him. He watched the blush deepen on your cheeks, only serving to make him grow harder. His eyes snapped back as the skintight material rolled over your hips and his cock twitched. The way your skin pushed out, full and so fucking desirable from the spandex material sent him over the edge. And then there it was. That glistening pussy with the softest patch of hair extending up towards your naval, a landing strip you’d called it once. Shinsou couldn’t help himself as he reached up to his mouth and ran his index finger over the swell of his bottom lip. He could see how wet you were already from the teasing he’d put you through, how your glaze seeped onto the thighs you’d pushed together. He was motionless as you slowly rolled the jumpsuit the rest of the way, over the curve of thighs into calves, finally at those fucking ankles he rather enjoyed having up by his face when he drove into you like a man starved for your fluids.

“You look so fucking tasty, kitten.” he whispered, settled onto his back. Not once had his eyes left yours. “Let me have you, please.” The please and desperation in his voice caused you to squeeze your thighs together again, and he moaned. But you indulged him once he’d taken his shirt off, your eyes directly tracing the spattering of indigo chest hair that lead a thin trail to his naval, the patch at his waist thickening as it disappeared below his pants. Slowly, you lowered yourself until you were sat on his chest. The slickness that spread on his chest from your cunt caused Shinsou to moan as his hands wrapped around your thighs once more, spreading you so he was face to face with that precious cunt he called his. “Gonna make you feel real good, baby.” he said and pulled you forward so that your thighs were pressed in against either side of his head. When he spoke next, the breath he exhaled was right against your heat. “The world’s prettiest cunt, all mine...” Shinsou’s chuckle had you fisting your hands. “One thing I won’t share...”

And then he dived in, having dessert before he’d even had dinner. He’d been aching to get his mouth on your cunt since he’d seen that swollen mound of the hero suit you’d tried on. Now that he had it, he was going to ravage you until you were begging him to stop. His nose pressed in against your mouth, hands spreading your legs further as he lapped noisily against your wet pussy. You were so wet for him already, his tongue lapping up those juices only spurred you to drip more. He was always sloppy when he ate you out, simply because Shinsou wanted to have as much of you on him as possible. You tasted like honey, like a lazy Sunday morning, like the feeling of victory. He slurped and suckled, his teeth grazing over your clit as you found the rhythm of his tongue and started rocking against him. Soon enough the sounds that filled your bedroom were the wet, sloppy noises of Shinsou eating you out, and you whispering his name like a prayer as he suckled on your clit with feral need. His face was slick with your silk glaze, running down his chin and onto his neck, the floor underneath him. But frankly, he didn’t give a fuck. Your thighs had done what he’d hoped they would, squeezing and flexing against his head as he played with and teased your clit. Shinsou could hardly breathe, but if this was how he was supposed to go, he certainly didn’t mind.

He’d started to flick and circle, traced his tongue around your bundle of nerves faster, and you started to ride his face harder. It was a chase to your orgasm, and just before you reached that finish line, he stopped. A desperate whine escaped you, writhing in an attempt to get back on his tongue and finish out your eye. Except, Shinsou was hiking one leg over his shoulder so that you were off his chest entirely. You whined once more, your core throbbing at how wet his face was. “You taste like fucking heaven...” he groaned as he wiped his fingers over his face, coating his hand in all your silk. Then, he undid the button of his pants, the zipper. And as you adjusted yourself with legs spread, you saw the brilliant pink tip of his cock, dripping pre-cum as he sprung free. You whimpered, desperate to be full once more and to reach your orgasm. Shinsou eyed you up, taking the wetness of your slick from his face in his hand and pumping himself as he came to rest between your thighs once more.

“I want to cum,” you groaned as you reached out, fingers ghosting through the curls of the violet hair around the base of his cock. Shinsou pried your fingers away, returning it to where it’d been beside your head.

“I’m gonna let you, kitten.” he said, as he continued to coat himself in your silken drip. First, he wanted to take a mental picture of how fucking good you looked on the floor. Hair fanned out around your head, your cheeks flushed, eyes blown wide with lust. The rapid rise and fall of your chest, your divine breasts moving with each movement. On your back, you were subject to his mercy. The only plan Shinsou had was to make you cum, to make you realize how fucking incredible you were. “You feel good for me?” he asked as he pulled you close to him by the legs, leaning over so that he could hike them up over his shoulders.

You nodded, any of the previous doubts about your body and how you looked quieted as you watched Shinsou turn his head to the side and nip at your ankle. “You’re so fucking perfect. These fucking legs drive me wild every time, kitten.” You felt Shinsou pressed up against the entrance of your cunt, feeling him leak onto your slip. “I don’t ever want you to feel bad about yourself when you look so good.” He was slow as he pushed into you, feeling the stretch around his cock as you moaned out his name. “Your body is fucking perfect,” he said through gritted teeth as he propped himself up on his forearms, leaned in over you so that violet hair hung over your face. Once he started thrusting, he was slow, hitting deep against your walls.

“This tummy is so fucking beautiful,” he groaned as your walls clamped around him once he picked up pace. “Feels so fuckin-nngh,” he sputtered, your feet locked behind his neck. “So good to rest on.” His pace quickened again, purple shaded eyes dropping to your breasts as they bounced in time with his thrusts. “These fucking breasts,” he grunted. You whimpered as you felt that mounting wave of your high start to climb again. “So fucking hypnotizing to watch while I fuck you,” he hissed, your hands braced against his muscled biceps as his pace started to turn sloppy. Your nails dug in, and Shinsou tossed his head back as he hit the final turn.

When he looked back down at you, there was carnal need in his eyes. “These fucking lips,” he moaned, leaning down to capture your mouth in a sloppy, wet kiss that left behind traces of your cunt. “I can’t get enough, kitten...” His tongue ravaged the rows of your teeth, lapped against your tongue as he fought to taste every part of you could. You were at the climax of that wave mounted in your heat, and you moaned his name, the only indicator he needed of to hurry the fuck up. He started to fuck harder into you to the point where bruises were likely to blossom against where his skin slapped against yours. “That’s it, kitten, that’s it.” he cooed, listening to the mewls falling past your lips as you started to spill over, the wet sound of sex filling the room louder than it had been.

Shinsou leaned back just slightly and returned his hand to your clit, the final push you needed as he paid it loving attention. You came undone around his cock and thumb, the shuddering orgasm ripping through you as you cried out his name. Your legs spasmed, squeezing against once more as he followed after you moments later, spilling hot ribbons of cum inside you. He continued to thrust after he’d come, emptying whatever remains he had until he was empty and spent. Breathless, Shinsou flopped against your chest. His head rested against your breast, moving in time with your rapid breaths that mirrored his own. His thumbs traced loving circles over your hips, his cock soft inside you but Shinsou not wanting to leave you aching and empty of him just yet. “That’s my good girl,” he rasped, swallowing heavily.

Your hands raked through the thick wave of indigo hair, gentle as you combed through it. Words and thoughts were out of your functionality for a passage of time, but when you finally remembered how to do both, you asked a simple question. One that you really already knew the answer to, no longer abashed about how it hugged the curves of your body, just another indicator that you were human. After how much attention Shinsou had dedicated to your body, you almost felt silly for having felt insecure to begin with. “The black suit?”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the breast opposite the one he was slumped on. Shinsou turned his head slightly so that he could look at you, admire all that you were. And what you were to him was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life making feel that good about herself, about her place in the world. However he had to do that, he would. It was only right because you had supported him through so much and had never asked for anything in return. You were the only person who had ever looked at him like he was normal, like he wasn’t some type of freak. And he’d done the same for you when you’d both attended UA. As far as he was concerned, the only forever he needed was right there, pressed up against his naked body. Shinsou’s grin was lopsided and he nodded. “The black one.”

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

Text

A New Arrangement [Part 6/9][NSFW]

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Voyeurism

<- Part 5 | Part 7 ->

Summary: Dr. Chilton does not want your weekly in-home visits to come to an end, so he proposes hiring you for a different service.

(For @thatesqcrush‘s kink bingo. If you’re just here for Kinktober smut, feel free to start with this chapter! It should have all the exposition necessary.)

Frederick Chilton x Female Reader

3,389 words

The sturdy rectangular gray headboard supported your weight, along with a mountain of soft eider-down pillows, as you sat back against it. One hand typed financial figures into a laptop. The other gently ran its fingers through the thick hair of the head resting in your lap.

This had all started as a fairly standard work arrangement.

Frederick Chilton had been through several near-death experiences, and had reached out to your agency to ensure his affairs were in order. You handled end-of-life arrangements: advanced directives, living wills, estate planning, funerals—your business was the one-stop-shop for a worry-free death.

He was only recently out of the hospital since being severely burned over ninety percent of his body, and was shy about it. He was also wealthy enough to cloister himself away from the world. And so you had been visiting him at his home for the past few weeks to conduct business.

Your fingers stopped their lazy crawl through his hair, and he let out a soft whine. Clearing your throat, you pointed out something on the screen that required his attention, and he pushed himself off your lap with a disappointed groan. Once he managed to get into a sufficiently upright sitting position against the headboard, he settled back into you, leaning against your shoulder. He idly laid his hand on your leg, and you covered it with your own, stroking the scarred skin with your thumb.

Because he was so frequently exhausted, you had gotten into the habit of… well, cuddling. Platonically. Professionally. Eventually you grew so comfortable together that you started working from his bed, where he could fall asleep if he needed and not have to drag himself from the study (a short but insurmountable distance when one is in great pain and too tired to even sit up).

It felt nice to be so close with someone, even if you were never allowed to see his face.

As relaxed as you had grown together, he was always covered completely from head to toe. The only indication to the extent of his burns was the scarring that peeked underneath the white chin of his mask, covered his throat, dipped below the collar of his dress shirt, and covered his hands like a gnarled glove.

You closed down your computer after he had finished reviewing and signing all of the necessary digital forms you needed for that day.

Not just for that day, in fact. Those were the last ones. That was it. His end-of-life planning was complete. You could only hope he wouldn’t need it for a long time. The thought of him in a hospital on life support sent an uncontrollable pang through your heart.

Extricating yourself from his clinging limbs, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and packed the laptop in a messenger bag. His hand chased after you, gingerly grasping your hand. A soft, familiar gesture, silently pleading you to stay.

“It’s been a pleasure working with you, Mr. Chilton.” You gave a coy smile. “Sorry. Doctor.”

His pretty eyes narrowed inside the mask, and his shoulders heaved with a short breath of laughter. He had corrected you so harshly the first day that you were sure he was going to cancel your services then and there. He had only been kind to you since. Particular, but kind. “It’s a shame this is our last meeting,” you sighed, and you meant it.

You were going to miss him. He was an unusual client, and you enjoyed getting to know him.

“It does not have to be the last,” he blurted, desperation tinging his muffled voice. “I could continue paying for your time.”

You cocked your head. “Everything is set up. The only thing we’re waiting on is confirmation from the—”

“I could pay you for… other services.” His thumb brushed sensuously over your wrist.

Oh. Oh.

Your eyes widened and you felt a shameful twitch between your thighs. You tried to hold your composure but your cheeks were burning and your face revealed every sinful thought whirling through your mind.

“I do not mean anything untoward,” he said quickly. “Nothing you do not wish to do. I enjoy your company and would like to keep it, that is all.”

Nothing untoward? You deflated. Something untoward happening had been a thought you’d been pushing down into a box with a tight lid for weeks now, and the moment he said that—the millisecond you thought he might want you that way—the lid sprang off like a pressurized cannon, and it would take ages to gather up all the licentious images scattered in your mind and contain them again. But he just wanted company. Any company. Even some random accountant.

A new wave of sympathy welled up in your chest. “You really don’t have anybody, do you?”

He let go your wrist quite suddenly to cross his arms over his chest, and his placid mask turned away sharply. Underneath the expressionless porcelain, you had a feeling the prickly psychiatrist was anything but calm.

“You believe I am lonely?” he scoffed. “My last book topped the New York Times Best Seller list. If I wish for company I can have it. I was merely being sentimental, as I have grown accustomed to you and find you tolerable. It seemed simpler than finding somebody new if we continued with… another arrangement.”

The shyness with which he said arrangement, pronouncing it with stretched syllables to give it weight, made you certain he did intend something untoward until he misread your look of surprise as rejection.

What you should have said was there was no need to pay you to spend time with him—that you were happy enough to do that on your own. That you found it surprising how a man so charming and cuddly could believe he needed to pay for anyone’s company. But the idea of being paid for “services” titillated you, sending an electric jolt straight to your core.

So instead you said, “All right.”

The mask swung back to face you. “All right?”

“What kind of arrangement do you have in mind?” you purred, crawling back onto the bed toward him.

He swallowed sharply. The strip of exposed neck beneath the mask’s chin was red and had the texture of kneaded bread dough, but the bob of his Adam’s apple was pronounced enough for you to see his undisguised arousal.

Since you had been sitting close to each other near the edge of the bed, you were almost immediately on top of him, smoothing the silky fabric of his shirt down his chest. He smelled of spices and a hint of something clean and floral. “Well?” you pouted expectantly. His muscles were stiff as rocks. All you could see through the mask were two pale eyes the color of autumn moss staring in panic from a white sea of sclera.

“I didn’t necessarily mean… i-if you don’t want to…” he stammered, words losing their controlled diction. Apparently he had not anticipated you agreeing so readily, but a stirring in the front of his slacks suggested this was precisely the outcome he had hoped for. You took a chance and ran your palm over the growing bulge, and were rewarded with a gasp, his fingers clenching the sheets. “Yes, that—that is wonderful. Keep going,” he croaked.

He shifted, opening his legs to give you better access, and you turned so your thigh rested over his, skirt riding up, as you rubbed him through his pants. His hands wandered over your hips and back, muscular arms pulling you in closer. Seeking more contact, you buried your face against the kneaded skin his neck where you could feel warm puffs of breath escaping from the sides of the mask. You wondered if he would take it off, now that you were being intimate. Part of you hoped he wouldn’t. The anonymity added to the thrill, to the wrongness of what you were doing. You agreed to let a man you’d never even seen have his way with you for money.

His breath grew ragged as his cock hardened, lengthening under your palm. His hands withdrew from their exploration of your body to clumsily unbutton his slacks, which were tenting under the strain of his growing erection. It sprang free and he stroked himself a few times, but your hand was right there to take over the job. His muscles tensed, prepared to flinch away when you released him in disgust, but you bit your lip, lids fluttering closed as you tried and failed to hold in a lewd noise of pleasure.

He stared at you like you were the most incredible thing he had ever seen. Then he let out a breathy moan, head falling back against the headboard. “You are… quite eager,” he teased.

“I’ve been waiting a long time.”

He wondered if that was true, or if it was just something you said, but he let himself be excited by it anyway, pretending you wanted him.

His cock felt incredible in your hand—heavy, throbbingly hot, like holding a heartbeat, and textured with a mesh of grafts and thin, stiff ridges of surgical scars zigzagging down the shaft to allow it to expand to its full, exquisite length. You wondered if you were the first person he’d been with since his burn, and a weight of importance settled onto your shoulders.

“Am I doing all right?” you whispered, trying to gauge his reaction from an unforthcoming mask. “Tell me what you want.”

“Take off all of your clothing,” he said thickly. “All of it.”

You tugged at your shirt, in a hurry to obey, but he stopped you, and had you get up and stand beside the bed where he could see all of you.

He wanted to watch.

The cold white mask was unreadable, even Chilton’s green eyes disappearing into the shadows, as you began unbuttoning your blouse.

“The skirt first,” he instructed. Your heart skipped a beat. Self-consciously, fingers trembling at the clasp, you zipped down the skirt, letting it fall to the floor in a puddle around your ankles. You looked to him for approval.

His cock was in his hand and he was stroking himself slowly as he called out the next article of clothing for you to remove. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and your cunt drip with anticipation. A wealthy eccentric who had essentially bought you was sitting there in control while you were exposed and vulnerable, not showing any emotion but clearly getting off to you.

Trembling breath shuddered in his throat, strained. As he allowed you to undo your blouse, button by button, his pace built urgency, hand beating up and down in his lap. You could imagine how his face looked beneath that calm mask—how clouded with lust, helpless and falling apart.

God, you wanted to see him. But not knowing was such a turn-on.

At last he guided you to slip off your panties, and you stood naked before him. He stopped stroking himself.

“Come here,” he beckoned with his finger.

You climbed onto the bed, skin prickling with goosebumps, and settled yourself next to him in a familiar cuddling position. His arm easily snaked around your back, supporting and drawing you closer.

“How are you doing?” he asked, ducking his mask close to whisper like it was a secret.

“Nervous,” you admitted, whispering back.

His fingers circled your wrist, calloused with scars but the fingernails polished and manicured, and press into the soft underside. “Your pulse is racing,” he said as if you were a patient. “We can stop.”

The needy whine in your throat cleared up any uncertainty before you could form words. “I don’t want to stop. If you need to stop, we can. But I…” your eyes drifted unconsciously to his cock, thick and covered in distinctive surgical details, and you sucked your lower lip between your teeth. You wondered how he would feel sliding into your entrance.

Pressing your shoulders, he began by having you lie on your back on top of the blankets, exposed for him. Then he asked you to spread your legs so he could kneel between them. You thought he was going to fuck you, but he just hovered above you, watching.

He had taken off his suit jacket before getting into bed, but the end of his blue-patterned tie dangled dangerously above his stiff cock, which emerged from the opening in his dark slacks. He was very well dressed, only revealing what little flesh was necessary. He loosened the knot around his neck, and pulled it off, tossing it haphazardly aside.

Soft green eyes bored into you from their protected porcelain fortress, heating your skin like a fire as they took in the curves and dips and perfect imperfections of your body.

Finally he moved.

Bracing himself on one arm, he leaned above you, hand roving intimately over the same curves of your body his eyes had just navigated. You were so worked up already, your back arched and you moaned the moment he made contact with your skin. You were ready, writhing and straining for him to fuck you, but he only touched you.

He didn’t rush for the obvious areas you expected, but took his time. Instead of going directly for your tits, he caressed the length of your collarbone delicately with just his thumb and two fingers. Then he dipped lower, and you sucked an expectant breath, but he drew a line down your sternum, between your breasts, and splayed his scarred fingers out over the soft of your belly.

You were so ready to explode from anticipation, even the slightest graze of his fingertips sent sparks tickling across your skin wherever they went. You thought about him touching himself while he watched you strip.

It was so hard to know what he was thinking. The mask removed facial expression from the equation, and when he went silent for so long like this, you trembled with how blindfolded you felt, just focusing on his touch..

He traced one finger delicately down your arm, ghosting just over the skin in a wandering, unhurried path that raised a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

The pink head of his cock glistened with precum, waiting just as anxiously as you to bury itself inside you. You wanted to take control, grasp it, and plunge him between your thighs, but you didn’t want to spook him. If this was the first time he was intimate with someone since being scarred, it was a big step. You didn’t mind him taking his time. You were hypnotized by his delicate touches, every inch of your skin vibrating like the air during a lightning storm.

Leaning down closer, he curled his fingers around your neck. You gasped as the throbbing weight of his erection pressed into your stomach—but he was only studying your face. Still, he was much closer now, the heat of his body inches from yours, and being able to feel his cock was almost too much. You reached up to wrap your arm around his back, pulling him even harder against you.

God you were beautiful. And sweet, and intelligent. He wanted to keep you. Maybe it was just how tender he was from his latest life-altering trauma, but he had never wanted anything quite as much as he wanted you.

Your skin was warm and smooth, so unlike his, but you did not mind—or you were skilled at concealing your distaste. He observed with pleasure how you shuddered and sighed and leaned into his touch. How you gasped and moaned and wanted him. It was just for the money, of course. He knew that. Wealth could buy all kinds of love from the sort of person with the proper priorities—though he had not expected you to be one of them. It was a desperate final effort to make you stay. But some surprises were good ones.

He trailed his fingertips along your jaw, over your cheek. You whined as his fingers brushed across your lips, and you parted them, tasting a salty pad with the tip of your tongue. You felt his cock jerk against your stomach. So you licked him again, satisfied to achieve the same reaction, as well as pull a low whimper from deep in the back of his throat. His fingers curled around your chin, thumb still teasing the tender inner flesh of your lower lip, letting your tongue draw him in deeper, pinching the manicured digit between your teeth, and finally sucking on it, pretending it was his exquisite cock in your mouth.

It drove him crazy. With every swirl of your tongue, his cock twitched and grew harder, and a strangled sob would force its way shaking out of him. The contrast between the impassive mask and the lustful noises muffled within its porcelain shell sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you rocked your hips against his pant leg. He lowered himself to your ear and nuzzled your neck. His noises were even louder, intensifying your greed for him. Your hand snaked its way up to the back of his head, fingers gripping his hair, and tugged his head down.

He stiffened, every muscle going rigid. Grunting disapprovingly, he knocked your hand away, but to your gasping delight, continued to drag the mask down your body.

He felt sick deceiving you. No matter how much money he had to offer, you would never agree to be with him if you knew what was under the mask. He couldn’t risk you tugging at it. It was terrifying and confusing enough that you were touching him at all—the incredible, gorgeous way your body moved beneath him—and if you knew, you would be gone. It would all go away. This dream would end as a nightmare. He felt awful, but unbridled lust overwhelmed every bit of logic and tenuous scrap of decency he had. He deserved something good, just this once. He was going to make you scream for him in pleasure, not horror.

Hard, expressionless porcelain traveled down your soft skin, its cold lips following the swell of your breast. It brushed your nipple, and you arched your back, moaning around the thumb in your mouth. Your body started shaking with so many sensations—the cold smooth porcelain rolling your hardening peak under its sculpted ridges, his cock pressing into you, and his warm, rough, salty thumb, dripping with saliva as you took out your frustrations on it, swirling your tongue over the pad, bobbing your head, hoping to drive him mad enough to fuck you already.

His movements were jerkier and less patient, you noticed—he was falling apart, too.

He continued moving lower, his thumb escaping your mouth with a wet pop and trailing down your chin as the mask’s pointed nose traced a ticklish path over your stomach, and down, between your thighs. The mask’s nose just barely grazed your clit, but you were so ready for release it made you whimper loudly and grab at his hair, almost coming just from one touch. You wanted to push his head between your legs and let you grind your swollen clit against that nose until you broke, but he brushed your hand off again and you relented. You had an unspoken language built on weeks of cuddling—He was sensitive about certain things. He set a boundary and you knew not to push it.

Though he didn’t let you ride his mask, he stayed between your legs. He pressed the broad flat of his palms against your outer thighs as he deeply breathed in your scent, and you shuddered at the lewd act. He let out the breath with a long, intoxicated sigh.

“P-please,” you whimpered, knowing just how pathetic you sounded. “Please fuck me.” Every muscle in your body was on fire from this agonizingly slow foreplay, straining for some kind of release. A satisfied chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.

“So impatient,” he teased, voice low and soft. “I want to savor every second. Every inch of you.”

You swallowed hungrily.

#frederick chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #Hannibal #raul esparza #Kinktober #female reader #thatesqcrush kink bingo #my writing

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gerbiloftriumph · 4 years

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The Silence Between Snowflakes

(also on ao3)

His name was Gwydion–but that wasn’t his name. He lived in Llewdor–but that wasn’t his home.

Alexander escapes Manannan’s grasp and flees to Daventry, hoping he might find a place that he might call home after years of loss and loneliness. While Daventry embraces him, loves him, shows him all the stories it has within it, the country is also suffering under the worst winter in memory. But it might not just be a hard season: there might be something out there, something chasing the lost prince. Something malevolent, intent on destroying the kingdom snowflake by snowflake, spreading a curse across the lands and infecting its king.

~*~*~

8/8

(1: Found Family)(2: Footprints)(3: The Stories that Really Matter)(4: A Rose Among Thorns)(5: Snowbound)(6: Fractals)(7: The Ice Queen)(8: Belonging)

~*~*~

The fixit fic didn’t include the ch4 prologue, because I didn’t see the point in writing it word for word. But just in case, maybe you might want a refresher on [Graham’s Lullaby.]

Seriously, again, special thanks to @captmickey and @theicemancometh for being my betas in part or in full. It wouldn’t have worked at all without you.

~*~*~

Each room in the tower was shrouded in ice. They looked like ordinary rooms, but with their contents replaced by strange facsimiles. He glimpsed a frozen table, frozen curtains, a frozen bed. The furnishings were all as one might expect, but they were cold. Cheerless and unwelcoming and flat and hard, and now he was paying attention, hauntingly familiar.

This was the tower, he knew without a shred of doubt, that had carried him, Valanice, and Valanice together through the clouds. Vee and Neese, his friends. Then, it had been cursed in a way that ensured its inhabitants could never leave. Now, it was cursed with ice, and it spread its curse boundlessly. It had taken on additional buildings and courtyards and walls as it had traveled. Whole huge rooms for its labyrinth. He wondered whose castle walls these had been. Whose courtyard had been stolen. That stable, those barracks, that lamppost. What had been lost to this traveling curse?

He thought of the sculptures of people, in their dizzying array of clothes and styles and features, frozen in the labyrinth, and he amended: who had been lost to this traveling curse?

Valanice...Icebella. Icebella had been lost to it.

Daventry was losing more to it by the moment. It was going to take his family next.

The guards pushed them into a small room and left them alone. The door locked behind them, a cold sound that reminded Graham nauseatingly of the prison he’d been locked in as a brand-new king, shivering and alone and afraid of the dark.

This room wasn’t a proper cell, at least. It was possibly a workroom of some sort, full of tables and chairs of a utilitarian nature. He tried to remember, twenty years ago, what this room would have been, but nothing came to mind. It was now filled with more of those frozen people-sculptures. People like Graham, people from other countries this castle had visited, cursed and frozen and dead.

Manny, recent addition to Icebella’s court, apparently hadn’t known about the ice curse itself spreading to people. Or, at least, hadn’t known the particulars, hadn’t seen an example of it in action. He had been surprised by Graham’s slow conversion. But it definitely wasn’t a secret now. He knew about the power of this place and he could do so much with it. Could freeze anything, anyone, who stood in his way. Steal the pieces of their countries he wanted, grafted onto the original tower like mashing clay toys together.

Did Icebella know how this curse worked? Could she stop it if she wanted, or had all these people frozen beneath her helpless hands? Had she acted maliciously or accidentally, or had she anything to do with this at all? Had it been something Hagatha had done, corrupting everything while Graham and Valanice just barely escaped?

Icebella....

He shivered, pacing to keep warm, the chattering of his teeth setting a rhythm. “We spent that whole spring together. She was Valanice’s best friend. She was at my wedding, Valanice’s maid of honor. She danced with us all through the night, laughed with the royal guards, loved us wholly.” The memories were warm, hazy, bathed in a golden glow of nostalgia and joy. But for the first time in years, he let himself really think about the time after that spring in Hagatha’s tower, this tower.

Somehow, he realized, the wedding was the last time they really spent time together as a trio. And even earlier than that, during the courtship of his soon-to-be-wife, she had stayed distant, less willing to spend time with them. She broke herself away from them, and they didn’t reach out to her as frequently or as hard as they ought to have.

“She wore gloves,” he muttered. “Even in fine weather. At the wedding. I never saw her hands after we left the tower. And I didn’t think. I didn’t ask. I should have thought. I should have noticed.” He stared at his own icy hand, locked up and clear and blue, and it hurt, a cold ache that gnawed his bones. And he wondered. Had he seen her shivering in the sunshine, had he dismissed it as a trick of the light?

“I should have known.”

And, in her fear of being alone, she had carved her own guards with her newfound ice magic in mimicry of Royal Guard Number One’s uniform, had kept a piece of Daventry close by her side, to protect her, even as she sank deeper and deeper into a curse, even as she forgot where the designs had come from, why they had ever mattered to her at all.

“I should have known.”

He paced, and paced, and his steps were slower, and slower, and his breathing grew laborious. The white clouds of condensation from breathing in cold weather were heavier, almost like dark little clouds full of snow. Like the curse was spreading through his chest, crystals spiderwebbing across his lungs.

He realized in his distraction he didn’t know where his son was. The room was small, but the young man was good at finding little nooks and crannies and burying himself in them. Graham found him curled in a corner behind a table, surrounded by reaching ice sculptures, clutching his head in his hands.

“Alexander?”

“Gwydion,” he whispered. “I’m Gwydion. That’s all I’ve ever been. All I’ll ever be. This is my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have come here. Everyone is going to die because of me.”

Lost. So lost. Alone and lost.

Graham knelt stiffly. “My son, my dear Alexander, please, don’t. This is not your fault. You have done nothing wrong. You deserve the world and the chance to make what you want in it. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened. Alexander, none of this is your fault.”

“Manannan wouldn’t have come here if I hadn’t cursed him.”

“You couldn’t have escaped him if you hadn’t. And we never would have been blessed to meet you.”

His son said nothing. He curled deeper into himself, shaking with fear and cold, sure he had brought all this on the sunny kingdom of Daventry, sure he had brought its destruction.

Graham leaned against the leg of a statue, clutching his arm. In a voice laced with frost, he whispered the words to an old lullaby, not sure if he was speaking to his son or himself at this point. An old memory stirring up from the dust as he remembered his friends and his hope. He didn’t sing. He didn’t feel like he could get enough air in his chest to sing. But he could speak, and he repeated the words to a song that he hadn’t thought of in almost eighteen years.

I may be king but you are my prince. If life gets too puzzling, I’ll give you the hints. Your quest has begun, my kingdom you’ll run, I’ll love you forever, my son.

They sat in silence. Graham just tried to breathe. Thinking about cats and curses. Staring off into the cold shadows of the room, the chill seeping into his heart.

After a while, Gwydion said, softly, hesitatingly, “You never finished the story.”

“I didn’t? What story is that?”

“About the goblins. How you escaped. That July. I want…I want to hear the rest of it.”

Graham told the rest of his story, then. It was abbreviated. It lost all of the usual polish and storylike qualities it had earned over the years. He told it haltingly, painfully. Without the fairy tale sparkle, he started remembering the fear more. The fear that his friends were going to die while he watched helplessly from the other side of a locked door. All the smoothness was worn away by the ice in his throat, revealing an uneasy ripple that he couldn’t hide. He couldn’t tell it any other way, with his son watching and the cold strangling him.

Manny had tried to kill him, and he would have succeeded if it hadn’t been for Graham’s refusal to give up, for his reliance on his friends. It ended with hope, but the road had been hard.

And then, Gwydion told his own story. For the first time, from start to finish, willingly. He couldn’t remember all of it. There were eighteen years of it, and much of it was the same: menial tasks for a wizard who was quick to punish if Gwydion didn’t work as fast or precisely as expected. But parts of it were memorable. The manor house itself, for instance. It was just him, and Manannan, and Mordack.

Mordack would watch him with cold pity, and that was almost worse than Manannan’s cruel anger. It meant Mordack didn’t necessarily agree with any of this—but wouldn’t do anything to help. So Gwydion worked, and hid, and scrimped, and survived, but he had a growing fear that something was reaching an end. Something about turning eighteen frightened him, like something major was going to change in the manor and that something wasn’t going to be good for him.

Deciding to escape had been relatively easy. Actually escaping was another matter all together.

The fear of not knowing when the wizard would catch him, where he should hide the tools of magic he stole, if he would be discovered. The challenge of the magic itself, the near misses and tight scrapes. Triple checking every step, every line, again and again, mouth dry with the thought of failure, or worse, being found. Practicing the wrist movements, chanting the ingredients needed, reading the books, sneaking down to the hidden cellar with stolen wand clamped in his shaking fist, afraid of breaking it or marking it in some noticeable way. Finally building his confidence to craft the one spell, the curse, that would save him, to break the cat cookie in Manannan’s breakfast and to try not to give the whole game away too early. To wait for the magic to take. And the difficult decision of what to do next.

“I ruined it by coming here. I should have gone far away, where there wasn’t anyone for him to hurt.”

Graham reached out and touched his son on the shoulder. His Alexander. His brave Alexander. Not Gwydion, never again. “You deserve a place to call your own as much as anyone, and you can carve your place out anywhere. But you came here, Alexander. If you’ll have us, we want you. In Daventry. That’s all we ever wanted. To have you with us, to have you call this place with everyone—Amaya, Whisper, the Feys, Acorn, everyone. To let you, Alexander, call this place home. You shouldn’t allow someone like Manannan decide where you go, who you are. You shouldn’t even let us decide for you. That’s your freedom.”

Alexander, nervously, leaned into Graham’s hand, and then into him, his shoulder pressed against Graham’s chest. He was shivering, but his warmth helped ease Graham’s pain. The king felt like he could breathe again, like the ice in his lungs was melting.

Gingerly, he embraced Alexander, and for once, he didn’t flinch away. His dear son, full of magic, of fire and heat and fear, stifled by the cold but powerful nevertheless. He’d escaped. He’d used Manny’s own tools against the wizard, and he had chosen to come here. He was stronger than he’d ever know. Graham smiled, resting his cheek against his son’s wavy hair, thoughts drifting like icebergs. If only he could somehow convince his son to see that. But it would take more than Graham’s words. It would take a heartfelt conviction. A fiery intensity and determination to change.

Heat. Warmth.

…wait a second.

Warmth. My fiery son.

But the guards burst in, and pulled the two up by their arms (Graham bit back another yelp, wishing people would stop yanking on his aching arm) and it was time for their audience with Queen Icebella.

~*~*~*~*

Valanice was dizzy. She didn’t feel like she could stand for more than a moment, and her boots couldn’t seem to keep traction on the slippery floor. The queen of the castle had linked arms with her and they were proceeding down the castle halls in silence. Despite the normally friendly sort of gesture of walking arm in arm, the queen was haughty and detached, ramrod straight with her cold gaze fixed firmly down the hall, unwavering and unblinking. Valanice walked beside her, feeling slovenly and slumpy and hazy and unfocused. Her vision kept blurring in and out.

She had the strangest sense that she had done this, had walked like this, arm in arm, with this queen before, giggly and full of joy. But that was silly—the queen, Icebella, was frosty and blue and distant, and they had never met.

At least, she thought so. It was so hard to focus. But no one was actually blue. Probably. Maybe. Maybe fairies. Maybe she was with a fairy.

Her head hurt.

“Come, Valanice,” the queen said, and there was a slight echo to the words, like she was speaking from the back of a snowy cavern. “I have asked for a chair for you, by my throne. I am sorry to wake you when you are so exhausted, but I want you to meet this amusing visitor to my castle. He claims he is a king, and his bright red cloak is most grand.”

Bright red cloak. Sounded familiar, somehow. Valanice nodded blearily, not trusting herself to speak and walk at the same time.

The throne room was remarkably bright despite the late hour. Valanice had to squint against the white reflective ice, and she dizzily sank into the chair offered her, only realizing after a few moments that it, too, was made of ice, like everything in this place. She started shivering. Or maybe she’d never stopped shivering.

The cat sitting on the throne beside her seemed to smile at her, pawing its ear. As though cats could smile. She would have given it a friendly pet had she been able to lift her hand, but that seemed too complicated and wearying a thing to do.

Ice guards lined the walls of the room, hands on swords sharp as icicles. She supposed they were meant to protect her and the queen from whoever their visitor was about to be. She wondered if this audience would be safe. But with so many guards, surely she need not feel concerned. She was grateful to them and their grim silence.

It was a lovely red cloak, she decided, as the supposed king stumbled in, propelled along by one of the ice guards. That was about all she could say for it. It didn’t seem to be keeping him very warm. His lips were turning blue. How interesting. Maybe he was a fairy too. A fairy king.

Wait.

~*~*~*~

Gwydion.

Alexander...?

Gwydion. He stood in front of his former master, and Gwydion was all that he could be. He didn’t have a choice. He was clumsy, and he was foolish, and his attempt to escape, to take a different name, had failed. He was before Manannan, as before, as always.

Not entirely alone this time. Gwydion could feel the cold radiating from the king despite standing several paces away. The king’s teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. He tried wrapping his cloak tighter, but there wasn’t any warmth to hold in. And that was Gwydion’s fault, too, for not stopping him from touching the roses, Gwydion’s fault for leading the ice castle here, Gwydion’s fault for believing, even for an instant, that he could be this man’s son.

From the dais, a voice called, “Graham!” The lady of Daventry half stood from her chair, but a wave of dizziness seemed to overwhelm her, and she sank back down helplessly, clutching the chair arms as though that was the only thing keeping her upright. Powerless to do anything but speak.

“V-Valanice,” Graham managed. But he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was fixed on Icebella.

“Do you refer to me? I did command you to stop calling me so,” Icebella said. She stood straight before her throne, her gaze haughty. Frustration made her icy cheeks turn white. “I wished to begin differently, sir, but you try my patience immediately. Perhaps Cat was right, and you are too foolish for my attention. My name is Icebella. It was given to me. My special name.”

“How was it g-given?” Graham shivered.

“Cat is sweet, and Cat said the name suited me, and Cat gifted it to me when I had no other name.”

From the throne, Manny stretched long and luxuriously, tail flicking. He yawned, showing off a fierce row of sharp little white teeth, and smiled, sitting straight. “Names do matter, don’t they, Gwydion? They indicate so much. They tell others who you are, where you belong. Speaking of names, Graham, I’m wondering what name we should carve under your ice sculpture in a few hours. I can’t decide. Maybe we should workshop it. You should pick a pose now, I think.”

Graham ignored this. “Icebella,” he said, stepping forward and bowing to her stiffly, icy arm locked into place at his side. “I apologize for my rudeness and b-beg your forgiveness.”

“I may grant it,” she said. “I have questions for you as a supposed king, after all, and I would regret not being able to ask you about your kingdom if I ordered you thrown out a window for impertinence.”

“Of c-course. But. May I ask you a question f-first, in earnest?”

She hesitated, probably knowing where this was going, and then said, reluctantly, “You may. It does seem only fair, from queen to king.”

“With the full respect owed, and you may ch-choose not to answer me: how long have you been Icebella?”

She frowned, and for a moment she looked like she wanted to lash out again. “I suppose not long,” she finally admitted, after deep consideration. “A few months, at best. Before then, I was no one, I fear.”

“You weren’t no one,” Graham said. “You were special, Valanice.”

“Icebella,” Manny interrupted smoothly. “You are only a person now that you’ve been named. Your name is ice, your name is beauty. Before, you were no one, as you say. You were dark and sad and alone, and I named you, and I saved you, and you are Icebella.”

“Stop calling her that,” Valanice said. “Her name was Valanice. She loved adventures. She loved sunshine. She was competitive and sharp and creative and energetic, and she was all those things as Valanice, and I would bet she is still all those things.”

“You wouldn’t know,” the cat hissed. “You didn’t reach out to her, find her. You didn’t let her know she was still Valanice. She was lost, and I found her, and I named her, and I saved her, and she is mine.”

Gwydion felt the chill, then, in a way he hadn’t before.

Names.

Ownership.

Names are crucial. Names matter.

And I’m not the only one Manannan hurt.

Someone else here had lost her name, and someone else was using her powers to lash out, guided by a monster who only wanted her to do his bidding. Who only wanted to own her and use her.

I was that person too, a slave to a wizard. Lost name. Lost self.

But...he had run away, hadn’t he? Gwydion. Alexander. The power of a name. And...maybe...?

“Icebella,” Graham said. “Valanice. You loved books, and music. You loved puzzles, and you loved art, and you loved stories, and you loved games, and you shone like the sun, not ice. You could d-dance and—” his voice broke off with a crack like snapping an icicle, and he coughed hard, little puffs like snow clouds floating around him, shivering so violently it looked like he was going to splinter into shards of ice.

“And you could sing,” Valanice, the queen, picked up where the king could not, “And you knew all the names of all the constellations. And you could embroider, but you thought it was boring. And you could beat all of us at chess every single time, and you knew every fairy tale, even the rare ones. And you loved us. You were so full of love and life and compassion and care. You weren’t no one, Valanice, even in the darkness. You were Valanice, and you could do so much. And we’re sorry, so sorry, we left you.”

Icebella hesitated, hovering over her throne, looking at Valanice with something unreadable in her expression—perhaps sorrow? But then she glanced toward Manny, and her eyes hardened again. “If what you say bears even a shred of truth,” she said sharply to the Daventry family, “then you have done me a disservice. You spoke not to me when I was...that other person, and I was lost, and I may blame my years of darkness and wandering upon you. Cat came out of the darkness, and Cat saved me, then, and I am Icebella, and shall remain so.”

The smug grin on the cat’s face made Gwydion bristle, made him angry. Alexander had once been angry enough once to teach himself magic, to take his fate back into his own hands, to turn his fear into determination, and to escape.

And he would do it again.

“Your castle moves,” he said. Both Graham and Valanice turned and stared at him, and he stammered nervously, but he had to speak. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say, if he could help or hurt, and none of this was considered, but he had to speak.

“Your castle moves,” he repeated, “but do you ever feel like you have a home? Or do you always feel lost, even now, as Icebella?”

Icebella’s gaze was haughty and angry and he cowered beneath her authority. But he rose again, feeling the heat of the magic he’d taken for himself in his chest. “I always feel lost,” he told her. “I lost my name, too. I lost my identity and my purpose, and I was given another one, one that I didn’t want by someone who didn’t love me, and I walked away from it, and I’ve been wandering, looking for a place that could be mine, a name that I could have.”

“You do not understand loss,” Icebella said, and her voice was colder than the deepest ice cave.

“I lost my home,” Alexander countered. “I lost my family. I lost everything. I wasn’t anyone. But here, in Daventry, I’ve seen people who know where they belong. The bakers, the blacksmith, the knights, the guards, everyone. They live here, and they build stories here, and this is their home. They know their names, and who they are, and they’ve all been trying to help me learn a name I could take for myself. They look frightened when they remember I was once Gwydion, and they want to call me Prince Alexander. But I think I’m just Alexander. I think that’s my name. And I think I’ve found a place where I could overwrite my loss. A place that welcomes travelers, that tells stories, that is sunny and warm even when it’s snowy and cold.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Manannan said. “Shut up, Gwydion, the adults are talking.”

“No, I won’t. I’m Alexander, and this is my home, and I don’t want it to be cold and heartless like you’d want it to be. This kingdom is full of life, and I will protect it in any way I can.”

He looked at his father. “I learned something,” he said, and he was worried and quiet again, like he was taking something from Graham that he didn’t feel he’d earned. “It didn’t help me at first, because I didn’t really understand the point of it, even with all the stories. But it’s a salute that you can do to center yourself, to feel brave when you don’t want to be, to be compassionate when you’re upset, to be wise when you feel confused.” He gave an Achaka salute, thumping his fist into his open palm. “It’s to remind you that you aren’t alone,” he said. “That there are people who will always support you and care for you if you look. People who will tell stories with you and help you belong.”

“This is drivel,” Manannan said. “This whole family is a waste of air.”

“But you admit that he’s part of our family,” Graham said, his voice almost as hollow as Icebella’s now, crackling out. “This kingdom has opened its arms to him and taught him our stories and let him become part of us. If he wants.”

“And I think I do want that,” Alexander said, and he stood tall. “I think that’s what’s important to me. The stories they tell here always show what matters to them. What’s important to them. What’s important to you, Icebella? What was stolen from you? Was it a name? Was it a home? Was it a family? What do you want back? And did Manannan—that cat—give it to you? Has he ever even given you a choice?”

She didn’t have an answer to that.

“This is all very sweet,” Manny said, his tail thumping on the throne, voice oozing disinterest. “But I just don’t see the point of any of this. I’ve still won this game. I’ve captured the entire Daventry family”—he spat the word with disgust—”from the king and queen to the lowly castle guards, and I can dispose of them whenever I see fit.

“Gwydion, you claim this place as your home, fine. It won’t matter, because it’s going to belong to me now, since the king is in-deposed. But first I’m going to ask very politely, very pointedly, for you to lift this curse, and we can be as pointed as we must for as long as we must until I get what I want.” His tail thumped again in emphasis. “I’ve won, and all of this is pointless, pandering, meandering tripe. I have ice guards. I have goblins. I have the queen herself. I always get what I want.”

“I wouldn’t be sure of that at all,” said Rosella.

~*~*~*~

Graham’s neck was starting to lock up now too, but he managed to turn just in time to see his daughter standing inside the throne room exchanging...yes, exchanging a high five with Royal Guard Number One. “An excellent riposte, Princess Rosella,” No1 told her.

Royal Guards Two, Three, Four, Kyle, and Larry were standing in a loose semicircle at their sides, swords drawn. And, crammed into every inch of space between the guards, vibrating with barely suppressed excitement, were rock goblins. The goblins were all colorfully decked out in every color of Acorn’s winter stock, scarves and hats and socks, and they were all bristly with picks and shovels. One or two of them had even managed to recover their regular spears. They were all, to a goblin, glaring at the ice guards. Except for that old familiar forward curl goblin—it graciously tipped its snowcap at Graham.

The room hummed with anticipation, both sides carefully observing the other. Number One especially seemed to be running calculations and expectations: his head never stopped moving, checking every angle while he stood otherwise perfectly poised. There was a breathless pause, and in that pause, Icebella stood, furious about this unexpected intrusion to her audience.

“Guards!” Icebella said, flinging her hand out in command, “to the dais! Protect my royal self and my guest Valanice from these ruffians!”

But the ice guards hesitated for a fraction of an instant, looking to the cat for true instruction, and that was plenty of time for Manny to smoothly intervene. “That seems like an unnecessary waste of resources. I have a better idea. I have no need for this charade anymore, no need for you, my dear—everything I want is right here and I will take it. Guards! Kill Icebella, and take Graham and Gwydion alive. Kill the rest, and the goblins. I won’t need them anymore, not once I’m free of this curse. My magic will be enough.”

Icebella whirled, skirts twisting around her, to stare at the cat sitting in her throne, but ice guards stepped between them, protecting the smug wizard, and she stumbled backward, hands raised not in command but imploringly now, startled and afraid of her own creations. Of her once-upon-a-time friend.

“Goblins,” No1 snapped, drawing his own sword, “defend the royal family!”

“Including the ice queen!” Alexander yelled.

“Really? Very well. Including the ice queen,” No1 amended. He raised his arm, and the goblins streamed around him, whooping and laughing.

The ice guards lining the walls had drawn their own swords. Some took defensive stances, but many of them sprinted forward to fill Manny’s order. They were immediately driven back: there were too many goblins and a crew of very annoyed and very determined royal guards. The ice guard standing near Graham did grab its opportunity. Specifically, it grabbed the king and yanked him off balance, drawing him close and pinning his arms behind his back. His stiff shoulder bent awkwardly. Graham yelped, sure his ice arm was probably going to snap in half considering how many people kept pulling on it.

But forward curl goblin knocked the ice guard out by the knees, swinging its shovel hard enough for the ice to splinter. Graham staggered forward as the ice shattered around him, pieces glittering like dust motes. The goblin gave him some sort of complicated gesture that was probably meant to be reassuring but instead looked rather menacing before scampering off to take down someone else. No1 stepped up beside Graham in its place, sword raised to defend, giving his king a determined nod. Graham returned the nod, clutching his aching ice arm with his good hand.

Around them, chaos reigned, goblins wailing and gleefully attacking their hated bosses, royal guards hacking left and right, ice cracking beneath their swords. The ice guards were fighting back, their icicle blades scraping and tearing winter wear but unable to penetrate rock goblin armor or Crimson Colada platemail, making the fight a series of quickly timed events in favor of the Daventry team. When the Daventry team wasn’t caught unawares or desperately outnumbered, they were quite good at their jobs.

One enterprising goblin managed to tug a frozen tapestry from the wall and went sailing through the air, clutching it like it was a vine and warbling a war cry, its little stocking’d feet slamming into an ice guard. Another pair had gone for the Kyle and Larry route, one charging in with another on its shoulders, both deadly at short range, while the real Kyle and Larry did the exact same thing a few feet away. Still others just went for the general bashing and tackling and pouncing methods. Graham remembered being on the wrong end of those pounces and winced in sympathy.

Near the dais, Icebella drove her attackers back as best she could with her ice magic, but the sheer number of guards that had been close when the fighting began would have overwhelmed her in moments had she been alone. But she wasn’t alone, not now. No2 and a pack of goblins leapt to her side, shouting and slashing and kicking and, at least in the case of one or two goblins, biting. No2 didn’t bite anyone, though he may have considered it. Nearby, Numbers Three and Four and their own small group of goblins stood guard over Valanice. The Queen of Daventry was still dizzy, and she clung to her chair watching everything unfold in silence. Her gaze never left Graham, not once, not even when No3 desperately struck with her sword and took off the arm of an ice guard reaching for Valanice.

The outcry and laughter and mayhem echoed around the throne room, but all told, the fight lasted not much longer than a few minutes. The scuffle had kicked up frost motes, which settled after a moment, revealing goblins sitting on, lounging against, and generally mocking the ice guards, all of which were broken or helpless under their new captors’ hands. On the dais, Icebella, safely ringed in by a handful of determined goblins, stood glaring at one very guilty looking black cat. Manny’s ears and tail drooped, and he seemed very small, all his plans quite suddenly cracked like shallow ice.

“Cat,” Icebella said, sharp and cold. “I do not wish you to be part of my court any longer. Get out.”

“I think that might be for the best,” Manny agreed. He jumped out of the throne and started sheepishly creeping away, until one of the goblins, who had clearly been in this room before and seen this sort of thing happen already, pushed aside a curtain, grabbed a lever, yanked, and opened the floor up beneath the cat’s paws.

“Oh, zards.” And Manny disappeared down the slide. It slammed back into place behind him, silencing his startled cry.

Valanice stumbled off the dais, pushing aside her goblin guard, and ran to Graham. She was still off kilter from whatever they had done to her earlier, and she stumbled, and she fell into him, hugging him tightly. He tried to lift his arm to hug her back properly, but it was completely dead now. Everything was locking up. His vision was blurring, and everything was so cold. Her breath on his icy cheek was warm and nice, but it did not melt anything. She tearfully kissed him, like that could break the curse, like a story would have it, but nothing happened, and Graham’s body was simply giving up. Rosella and Alexander and his guards stood around him, and Valanice flung an imploring look back toward Icebella.

“Please,” she begged. “He’s freezing to death. Please, can’t you help?”

The ice queen stood alone, in front of her ostentatious throne and her frozen tapestries and her snowy carpet and her broken ice guards, and her imperious stance seemed to be diminished. She looked anxious, and confused, and she was shivering. “I don’t know how, Valanice,” she said, and her voice was softer, gentle and sorrowful. “I’ve never known how. If I could have lifted my own curse, I would have. But I couldn’t. I can’t help. I’m sorry.”

“But I...I might be able to help,” Alexander said.

Valanice stepped back. Graham could feel her absence, could feel the cold rushing over him without her, could barely breathe now. He realized his heart had been slowing down, choked by ice, and the lethargy was almost overwhelming, but his knees had locked into place so at least falling wasn’t a concern.

Alexander continued, “This is a curse. It’s greasy, and sticky, and dark. You don’t stop a curse. You break it. Icebella isn’t the origin of the curse. It’s the castle. It moves, it never settles, it’s always looking for a place to belong, right? It’s stealing everything it can to make itself strong. All the buildings in the courtyard, all the people in the labyrinth, and you, Dad. It’s always traveling, always searching, and always taking, and it’s never satisfied. But, Dad, you know exactly where you belong. You belong here, in Daventry. And I think that’s the answer to this, what will break it.

“I’m new at magic,” Alexander admitted. “And it seems to work best if I can use something extra to give it strength. Either my own emotions, or…or I think music might focus it, if it has meaning. And this one…I think it means a lot to you, and to me, and it might be a way to show the curse belonging. I hope.”

Alexander started humming a familiar song. An old lullaby. A song Graham once sang over a cradle minutes before Manannan burst in, stole his son, ruined their lives.

Graham would have stumbled backward in surprise if he could. “You remember your lullaby,” he said, and his voice was as hollow as an ice cave.

“I didn’t remember the words,” Alexander said. “When you spoke them, earlier, they were just words. They didn’t mean anything to me. But...but they fit the melody I remembered. Something soft, this old song that I could rely on when I...when I was upset. I used to hum it at night, when my chores were done. When I felt lost. But I remember them together now. The music and the words together.”

His voice was quavery, and small, and it didn’t seem to have any power to it, but he willingly hugged his father for the first time, and he sang the words gently, and Graham sang with him, stuttering and broken, his voice locking up with ice and fading away, until Valanice let her voice join theirs, and Rosella joined the embrace, and they were warm and gentle and strong together. And Alexander had a warmth to him, some deep spell he was drawing on, some magic he had stolen and turned to his own purposes, the same way he’d melted a hole in the tunnel, a power of his own devising. It was almost too hot, this brilliant shimmering intellect and care and ability, and he channeled it with the music, focused it, and….

Graham’s knees melted, buckled beneath him and he went down in a heap, and his whole family reached out and caught him, and everything was different and everything had changed, and the cold had left him, and he grabbed hold of his son, keeping him squeezed tight in the embrace, and Alexander let him without any complaint, and Graham breathed freely again, and he stared at his hand over his son’s shoulder, flexing his fingers in wonder.

And they stayed like that for a long time, royal guards standing by watching and waiting and protecting, until Graham could finally stand again, smiling.

At least he was smiling until he realized he was also being hugged around the leg by two goblins. They tilted their heads to look up at him, apparently grinning beneath their helmets. The rest of the goblins were staring, too, long fingers flexing on their picks and shovels.

“Rosella, Number One, what did you do?”

“Funny story,” Rosella said brightly. “So, like, under the castle, there were these goblins, and they were building the snow storm, and I didn’t want that, and I...” she frowned, and looked to No2. “I’m telling this badly again,” she complained.

“I think I know a better way to tell the story,” No2 agreed. “Who wants to do a reenactment play!” he called over the goblins, and every single one of them raised their hands eagerly.

No1 groaned. “I will not,” he said.

“Then I’ll play you, that sounds neat, and...that charming looking goblin right over there can be me. Rosella, do you want to be yourself, or maybe an ice guard?”

“Definitely an ice guard.”

“Okay, then I need someone to play Rosella. Hands up again, who wants to be a princess?”

The story, as it worked out, was like this:

One lone goblin, after being abused by the ice guards one too many times, was having a very hard time, hiding behind an ice cart used as a component to generate the perpetual blizzard that powered the castle, helped it move, gave it fuel, gave it strength. Rosella called out to the goblin, tempting it, by whispering, “Once upon a time, there was a very brave little goblin.”

The little fellow had jammed its helmet back on and followed the story like a trail of bread crumbs, until it found itself surrounded by Daventry Royal Guards and its princess a good distance up the tunnel from its companions. It shrieked, and it would have turned and fled, but Kyle and Larry had jumped it and held it, and Rosella said, “Don’t you want to be a brave goblin like the one in the story?”

And that had made it pause, just for a second, just long enough for Rosella to tell another story about a little goblin who was sick of doing everyone else’s chores, and who got all his friends together, and when they were together, they were very strong indeed, and could throw off their tormenters and make the terrible people do all the chores instead. Which the goblin liked very much, it being both rather violent and promising that it wouldn’t have to do any more chores. And also, the story ended with the goblin getting to go home and enjoy the warmth of a dark, damp cave, surrounded by its glowing mushrooms, content and happy.

The goblin had slipped back into the mines, with Rosella and the royal guards watching anxiously after it in case it decided to betray them after all and turn them into the ice guards for the promise of some time off. But it did as they’d suggested, sneaking up goblin by goblin, whispering the plan, and then those two goblins spread out from there, whispering to another two, until suddenly the whole mining operation was giving the ice guards shifty glances and the little goblin gave Rosella a sly thumbs up, and Royal Guard Number One had pulled out his sword and they’d all gone charging in. The ice guards had spun around, ready to fight the royal guards…but they hadn’t been expecting to have to fight their goblin charges, too.

It had been quick work from there on, whispers of Rosella’s story passing from goblin to goblin to goblin, until all the ice furnaces grew still, and all the ice guards were dispatched, and the new and improved team of Daventry could move on and help their king.

The story was told with rather extravagant and overblown gestures, goblins pouncing and leaping and taking each other down to replicate the tale No2 was narrating, having an especially good time telling about the attack, and at the end they all took a ragged bow, out of breath and tired and very, very happy for the first time in what must have been ages.

Graham, Valanice, and Alexander applauded. And then a fourth person started clapping, too.

Icebella had retaken her throne and was watching the story with rapt delight on her normally stern features. She was smiling, her teeth like little ice chips. “That was delightful,” she told the goblins. “I did not know I had such talented people working in my castle. You must have come with Cat, yes? You are much better company.”

“Ice…Vala…” Valanice bit her lip, unsure what to say.

“You may remember me as Valanice,” the ice queen said, and her face wasn’t nearly so dark now, “but I’m afraid I still do not. Your stories of who I was are kind, but I prefer Icebella. Even if it was a gift from Cat given in possessiveness, it was still a gift, and one I have become accustomed to. I should like Icebella, please.”

“Icebella,” Valanice repeated. “Icebella, I’m sorry. I can make every excuse I want, but in the end, you’ve still been hurt by us. We never reached out to you as friends should have, and I’m sorry. Perhaps we can do something for you now? My son…”

But Alexander was shaking his head. “Mom, I can’t. It’s a stable curse. I don’t know how to lift it now it’s been in place for so long. I think only the person who cast it can lift it at this point. I don’t even know who that would be.”

“Hagatha,” Graham said. “I think it was Hagatha. I don’t think she meant to hurt you, Icebella, but. I think her curse spread from this tower to you. I’m sorry, but we don’t know where she is, or if she’s even still alive.”

“I do not mind,” Icebella said, though there was a hollowness to her voice that betrayed her sorrow. She twirled her fingers, and a rose, clear as glass, formed from ice in her hand. “There are many things I can do this way, and I have been Icebella for longer than I can remember being anyone else. But…your story,” she said, looking at No2. “You indicated that my home is hurting yours. And so, I should depart this place, and quickly, so that your home may recover without me.”

Valanice looked stricken. “You can’t go,” she said. “Please, we’ve lost you for so long. Don’t leave us again. Don’t wander lost. You said you didn’t know yourself, before Icebella, and that darkness sounds frightening and lonely. Please. Don’t let that happen again.”

Icebella looked at her ice rose, and crumpled it in her hand. “You cast me away before,” she said, though she bore no hatred in her voice now.

“We were young and silly and in love and these are pointless excuses,” Valanice insisted. “You can’t leave, not when we’ve found you again.”

No1 muttered, in a stage whisper that nevertheless carried around the room, “But the castle needs to leave.”

Valanice nodded sharply. “Then, let’s take the castle away, and return to Daventry after it is safely hidden somewhere, up high in the mountains where it can’t hurt anyone anymore. It is as my Alexander said: this kingdom is a place of stories, where we welcome travelers. It doesn’t have to be your home, unless you want it to be, but you won’t know unless you try it. Daventry castle is enormous. We have a place for you even temporarily. If you don’t have a destination, at least stop with us for a little while to decide. I’ll stay with you into the mountains, and we’ll travel back together.”

“Valanice,” Graham said, warningly.

“No, shush, Graham. It’s a girls’ night and you’re not invited.”

Graham stepped toward her, wobbled on his freshly healed leg, and almost fell over. She caught him and they leaned against each other, and he whispered in her ear, “She did try to kill us. She doesn’t remember her past. Is this fully thought through?”

“It’s Valanice, and you know it, and this has all been Manannan’s fault, as per usual,” she said back. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing. This isn’t some plan for martyrdom, this isn’t some silly rescue that only I can do. But I’m not going to let anyone, especially not a friend we’ve already lost once, go wandering alone in the world with no one she can call on. Not again.”

Graham considered, then nodded. There was relief there, a keen desire to see his dear friend content and happy again. “Okay. But you’ve got to take some royal guards with you.”

“I’ll take Number Three with us, if she agrees.” And she pulled the guard’s arm.

“Agrees to?” No3 asked, warily.

“Girls’ night,” Valanice grinned. “Or, rather, girls’ couple weeks while we take this castle up to the snowy mountains and leave it there and come back.” She looked up at Icebella. “Of course. This is all if you want to do so, Icebella,” she said. “I’m sorry that Manny thought he could own you. I won’t do that to you. If you do want to leave, we shall step aside and let you. In the end, every choice should be yours.”

Icebella looked at her broken rose, at the stem splintered in half and the shards glittering in the light.

“I am a queen,” she said, “of nothing. Of one tower. Of some ice guards. And that’s all. I think in my travels I have hurt people. Stolen people. Even though I don’t think I meant to do it, the curse on this tower absorbs and encompasses and consumes everything. It all seems fuzzy without Cat telling me what to do. But I think…I think I would like to rest, for at least a short time, and your young man’s tale of Daventry makes it seem…like a warm place to do that. May I please rest with you?”

“For as long as you want, my dear friend.”

~*~*~*~

The sun was shining both outside and inside Daventry castle.

Outside: that was perfectly normal. It was the beginning of spring. The snow was melting away, and if you knew where to look, little green sprouts were resolutely starting to poke out of the earth.

Inside: well, that was perfectly normal, too. With the warmer weather came the opening of the tapestries, the huge windows letting sparkling sunlight pour into the castle, making dust motes glitter. But, now, the place shimmered in a way it hadn’t before. It helped that Icebella had created a large number of small ice diamonds, stringing them in every window—their unmelting magic caught the sunlight as it passed through them, splintering each beam into dozens of flickering rainbows.

But it was more than just the passing of the season.

The whole castle felt the change. It was brighter and warmer here, the King and Queen no longer lost and afraid and lonely. The royal guards had more of a bounce in their step, less wary of what might be around the next corner. The townsfolk felt it, too, energized to create more and share more as they realized how curious and excited for life the two newest, recently rescued, members of the castle were.

Graham and Valanice walked through the courtyard, hand in hand, feeling the warmth of the sun. Rosella sat on the balcony above them, glaring at the Duel of Wits board game spread out on the table in front of her and wondering how she’d lost to Alexander yet again. Maybe if she tried moving her pieces like this she wouldn’t lose as often. She couldn’t wait for him to get back so she could try it out.

Alexander had taken Icebella on a stroll through the forest, like his father had done for him. He had so many things he wanted to show her, and now that the snow was disappearing, he wanted to take her to the little overlook that showed off the entire valley, so they both could see what it looked like in the new season. And they could return the next season after that and see the changes in their home. Because it was their home, their place, that had welcomed them. They might both move on, someday, as was their right and ability, but for now, they had both found a place they belonged. And that was all they needed.

For now.

~*~*~*~

The sun had set, but the lanterns had been lit. Little pools of glowing warmth dotted the garden, and night insects chirped. Gart was sitting in the garden on a bench, knees drawn up to his chest, looking very young in the torchlight. His arms were wrapped tight around his legs, and he was staring at the floor. There was a crumpled letter next to him, pinned into place by a rock so it couldn’t blow away.

Gwendolyn took a deep breath. She thought of the stories, of how brave everyone had been, how they had learned so much about identity and home, and she walked into the garden. As she walked, the grass broke beneath her feet, and the warm sweet scent of life surrounded her. The bushes were in bloom, too, filling the air with soft fragrance. Even this late at night, she thought she could hear the distant sound of some passing minstrel with a lute strumming his way along the forest paths, reveling in the safety of the country.

She loved it here. She loved Daventry. It wasn’t her home, not like Green Isles were, but she still had a right to share it with Gart, even for a little while.

But when he looked up at her approach, she saw he’d been crying, and she saw the letter at his side was tearstained, and it looked like he’d crumpled it and opened it and crumpled it and opened it again, smearing the handwritten note that, even from here, Gwendolyn could tell was Grandpa’s handwriting, his signature. Some official looking addendum, with his signet ring’s crest stamped into the wax near the bottom of the page.

“Gwendolyn,” Gart said, his voice thick, “I’ve been a beast, and I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a perfect brute to you lately. It wasn’t fair. You’re still just a child, after all.”

“You’re just a kid too, y’know,” Gwendolyn said, and she tried to smile at him, to make him smile with her like Grandpa would with her, but his gaze dropped to the ground again. “What’s going on? Is it because of…what you said? It…it wasn’t nice.”

“And I’m sorry,” Gart said, and buried his face in his arms. Muffled: “I shouldn’t have said those things. I knew they were wrong. They weren’t what a king should say.”

“First off, I forgive you, honest. Second off, you aren’t a king yet,” Gwendolyn said. “You don’t have to get things right all the time. At least, not right away.”

“I might never be a king,” he said. “Not…not with you here.”

“Gart, you just apologized. Don’t start it again.”

“It’s not that.” He nodded toward the paper, without looking at her or unfolding himself.

Gwendolyn reached down, picked up the letter, and scanned. “This is an addendum about…” she paused, struggling with the level of official legalese the council expected addendums to have. “Oh. This…this says…that the crown of Daventry’s tradition should be reinstated like Edward had it, allowing the crown to pass to any person the king chooses, not just the first male heir in the existing line. Does…that means that I could…?” A sudden image of Grandpa’s crown on her head as she stood in front of the magic mirror flashed before her eyes, and she almost staggered.

“It’s not that,” Gart said, sniffling. “I mean, that’s why I said those things to you, why I wanted you to leave. I was scared of it. But. Read the rest, too.”

And she did. And she dropped the letter, and she sank next to her cousin, and the two turned into each other and pulled each close, because King Graham had written of his illness, what was keeping him bedridden, and his rapid decline, and his imminent death, and the changes that he foresaw coming to Daventry.

But that story was yet to happen.

#this is silly long i'm sorry there wasn't a good place to break it #back to our regularly scheduled art posts again now next week ahahaaa sorry if fic hasn't been your thing #King's Quest #kings quest #King Graham #alexander (king's quest)#rosella (king's quest)#icebella #Manannan #vee #neese #this post is protected by the royal guards #goblin appreciation blog #ch4 #fic'ing

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WHUMPTOBER 2021 - 4/30

No. 4 - TRUST FALL “Do you trust me?” | taken hostage | pushed

Also available on AO3!

Sapnap’s day starts off with his shitty apartment flooding ankle-deep in unidentifiable monsterly fluids, which sucks.

It’s not as dangerous as that one time the whole building came alive and tried to eat its residents, but it’s definitely messier, which is arguably worse.

This is the kind of thing most people usually take as a sign from the universe that they should go over to a friend’s place and sulk for the rest of the day. Anyone who’s survived more than a week in this clusterfuck of a city knows to trust their instincts on that—which usually means getting the hell out of dodge.

Unfortunately, Sapnap has kind of garbage instincts.

Oh, they’re fantastic at keeping him alive, sure. He’s coming up on his one-year anniversary of being here, and he’ll definitely be celebrating that at one of those dubiously legal and definitely non-human bars, but the fact that he’s still here, squelching through monster goop and all…

Sapnap wrinkles his nose as he sidesteps the still-twitching corpse in the lobby. Some idiot with an organ graft from the End, probably, which explains the goop seeping into everything. Shouldn’t the drawbacks of End tissue be common knowledge by know? Specifically the fact that it implodes at the first hint of water?

Most apartment complexes these days have sprinklers installed on the doorstep for the explicit purpose of enforcing their dumb Huma-only policies.

Sapnap, with his Netherborn lungs, counts himself lucky. He looks Huma, is legally Huma, and can hold his breath when the sprinkler douses him. So his landlord’s none the wiser.

Probably.

Eh, if he was going to be evicted for that, it would’ve already happened. Work comes first, and if Sapnap’s lucky, he’ll be too worn out to even notice if they’ve cleaned up the mess by the time he comes back.

He pats the left side of his face, checking that his eyepatch is in place like it should be, and walks out into the thoroughfare of SMP City.

Immediately, the world drops out from under him. Sapnap whirls around, reaching out for the wall that should be right there, but the thin clouds slip through his fingers without so much as a whisper of substance.

The wind forces his good eye shut. He forces it open again, squinting, all too aware of the warmth smoldering in his chest. His vision blurs weirdly in a way that could’ve been from wind pressure or because he’s been out for longer than he thinks. After a few seconds of blinking furiously, it clears.

Oh. That’s not the sky.

That’s the void.

Those are two very different things. One is up, and the other is… well. All around the city, truthfully; it swallows the ocean and heaven alike into the dragon’s maw, marking out the abyssal boundary of where the other worlds bleed into this one.

It’s part of what makes commute in and out of the place troublesome, because too-big vehicles that get too close end up attacked by the aforementioned dragon—not that anyone’s every seen the whole breadth of the thing, just an errant wing or tail that swings up to demolish a plane or ship, black scales iridescent against the darkness.

The fact that Sapnap is standing on a platform in the middle of this beast’s territory is, as they say, Not Good.

Leaning over the edge, Sapnap sees no support holding up the square of rock he’s somehow ended up on. It’s just floating over the misty emptiness. Looking up yields nothing of note either; he must be pretty low in the void if he can only see the wispy fog instead of the surface.

Something silver flashes at the edge of his vision, and Sapnap ducks out of the way of a shattered blade. His cheek flares, and he slaps a hand against it, wincing.

The metal tumbles into the void. Sapnap pulls his hand away, and blinks at the smear of blood left behind.

“GREETINGS,” bellows out from somewhere overhead. A long scythe of a blade lowers from the fog, and Sapnap backs up to the edge of his floating rock as its tip comes to a gentle rest over his throat.

“Why am I here?” Sapnap demands. He slouches backward, sticking his hands into his pockets like the perfect image of a begrudged student. If it’s to hide the trembling of his arms, that’s a secret between him and the phone in his pocket. “Who are you?”

“I AM UNKNOWN, COLLECTOR OF DIVINE INSTRUMENTS, PROSTHESIS MADE BY THE GREATER POWERS,” the voice booms. “I AM HERE TO COLLECT YOURS.”

“Uh, divine what now?” Sapnap says. He presses his thumb against the cool screen of his phone, making sure it’s facing towards himself so the light doesn’t bleed out. “I don’t know what those are. You’ve got the wrong person.”

The scythe jerks upward, nicking open his chin, trailing up his face.

And comes to rest directly over his eyepatch.

Sapnap stills.

“THE ALL-SEEING EYES OF THE GODS.”

“What about them?”

“YOU HAVE THEM. OR SO I THOUGHT,” the voice adds, and the scythe withdraws a little. “I DID THINK YOU FELL FOR THAT TRAP TOO EASILY FOR A TRUE WIELDER… IT WAS EITHER YOU OR YOUR SYNDICATE FRIEND, THEY SAID, AND THE FANG HUNTER IS MORE TROUBLE THAN I’D LIKE.”

Syndicate friend. Fang hunter. Dream. Sapnap's heart plummets to his heels, but he tries to keep an even keel. “Who’s they?” he asks over the sound of his phone unlocking. As subtly as possible, he drags his thumb across the screen.

“AH, NOW THAT WOULD BE TELLING, WOULDN’T IT?” A low cackle rolls through the fog like thunder, ruby light flashing faintly in the distance. “OF COURSE, IF YOU GIVE ME WHAT I WANT, I WILL GLADLY TELL.”

“You… want to take the Eyes,” Sapnap says, slowly.

“I DO.” A metallic click echoes overhead, and two more scythes descend, grinding against each other in a thin shriek of metal on metal. “BUT IF YOU ARE NOT THE ONE WHO WIELDS THEM…”

Inhale, feel the air warm in his throat, embers into flame. “What’re you gonna do,” Sapnap says, “kill me?”

“AND WASTE SUCH A RESOURCE? NO, NO. YOU ARE BEST KEPT HERE,” Unknown says, amused. Another blade comes low, and clinks against the phone in his pocket. Sapnap freezes. “GO ON. ASK YOUR FRIEND TO SAVE YOU. CALL THEM HERE. THESE THINGS ARE ALWAYS EASIER TO NEGOTIATE FACE TO FACE.”

Well now he doesn’t want to do it.

Sapnap snorts, and a tongue of flame washes over the back of his teeth. “I’m not going to be your good little hostage,” he spits.

“BUT YOU ALREADY ARE,” says Unknown, and the scythes all turn to slam into the rock.

Ruptures tear across the surface of the stone, and Sapnap swears as he quickly shuffles onto the biggest piece. The edge crumbles away; far below, the fog shifts. A dull purple glow starts to brighten in the abyss, a tell-tale sign of the dragon waking, and Sapnap throws himself at the scythe in preparation to climb up the weapon-limb if he must—

His vision sings.

Suddenly, the world takes on a blue tint. Everything jumps into high-definition, and the fog might as well not exist, and Sapnap can see the arching crimson light of a fucking Blood Breed looming above him, Unknown is a Blood Breed, Sapnap doesn’t stand a chance even if he can read out the letters of their true name from the red aura surrounding them—he looks away, and notices for the first time the golden threads spanning the width of the void, glittering with magic.

In the back of his mind, he registers that he’s looking at the spell that stopped the Great Collapse, the one that saved the worlds from folding in on each other into utter destruction.

The rest of his mind is a little busy screaming, though.

A displeased snarl rips through the air as another set of scythes cleave down towards him, and Sapnap exhales a spout of flame that slows them down only barely enough to dodge.

“OH,” says Unknown, “OH, OH! IS THAT AN EYE? YOU DO HAVE ONE! I DIDN’T KNOW YOU COULD HIDE THE GODS’ GIFT LIKE THAT—YOU MUST LET ME HAVE IT, HUMA, IT IS WASTED IN YOUR SOCKET!”

Sapnap shouts, “You can take it over my dead body!” and throws himself at the ground when a blade tries to cut him in half at the hip.

“GLADLY!” Unknown dives, now, their nebulous aura now a very clear and vivid blood-red glare into Sapnap’s vision, ruby light spinning down their bony weapon-limbs like latticework.

Sapnap doesn’t flinch, and even swings his head upward to let the Eye watch and watch and watch—thinking this is what I go through for you with only half the bitterness he really feels—which is the only reason he notices the other one.

Two Blood Breeds in a single day. Fan-fucking-tastic.

A blade pins him through the shoulder in a burst of hot-eyed pain, but the rest all miss as a thin red string wraps around Unknown’s limbs and yanks them upward, into the low-hanging mist.

Sapnap blinks. He can still see them, thrashing against a thread that yanks Unknown around like a plaything before throwing them aside. It’s connected to the second Blood Breed, which is descending towards him now.

Okay, okay, it’s fine, he has a little time. A Blood Breed’s weakness is their true name, so if he can just extract that, he might be able to… burn it, or something.

Sapnap takes a deep breath, gives his vision the middle finger just so the other end of the Eye can see it, and then focuses hard on that deep red aura.

For the most part, it’s just a storm of crimson, red and red and ruby and blood, but Sapnap keeps looking and his one working eye whirs like a machine as it narrows, cutting through the noise, piercing down until he can see the heart and the core and… at the very end, a thin string of letters in a language he shouldn’t know.

The All-Seeing Eye of the Gods pours it all into his head: red red crimson-winged elder ⍊𝙹╎ᓵᒷ↸╎⍊ᒷ ᓵ∷ᔑℸ ̣ ╎リᒷ ⍑||!¡╎ ̇/ᒷꖌ ℸ ̣ ᒷᓵ⍑リ𝙹ʖꖎᔑ↸ᒷred blood red red war red—

“Tech—” he begins, and promptly chokes as a hand slaps over his mouth.

“Shush,” says the Blood Breed, calm as anything, quite suddenly right beside him. “Yeah, I got there in time, of course I did. Hey, you’re Sapnap, right?”

Sapnap tries to melt him on pure force of will alone.

“I’m gonna let go of you now. Maybe don’t be rude and expose me in front of an idiot like that, alright?” The Blood Breed exaggeratedly steps back, and Sapnap immediately flings himself to the opposite side of the very tiny floating rock they’re standing on. “Great, cool, nice talk. Not awkward at all.”

“What do you want?” Sapnap demands, bristling.

“You don’t recognize me?”

Sapnap pauses. He gives the Blood Breed another once-over, taking in the plush red cape and royal garb. Looks at the name again. Nothing rings a bell. “Should I?”

“Eh. Guess not. We’re a little short on time anyway, so introductions can wait, I guess.” As if on cue, the void begins to rumble. The dragon must be inches from rushing out.

Sapnap waves his hand through what he’s sure is a gear of light blue energy rotating in front of his face, trying to tell his friend to let it go. He doesn’t want him to watch him die.

The Blood Breed interrupts him with a hand on his wrist. “Hey. Do you trust me?”

“Hell no.”

“Smart,” the Blood Breed says, and shoves him off the edge.

#my fics

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offtopicoverload · 4 years

Note

how would your ideal LI season go?

oooh thank you anon this was really fun and definitely too long and entirely unrealistic because of all the variables but oh well i had fun lmao

Okay I’m just going to start by talking about LIs

I think one of Season 3’s biggest successes was making AJ available from the start, I think that definitely kept those who play for the girls interested

HOWEVER i also think we need one of each: an AJ, a Talia, and a Marisol

Someone you can couple up with right off the bat, someone that takes a bit of time to warm up, maybe around the halfway mark, and someone that isn’t available til the last or second to last recoupling, maybe because they’re only bicurious or its just in their character to take a while to warm up in general, they spent the season in friendship couples or blowing their shot because they didn’t want to move too quick

I know the amount of LIs in Season 2 is a huge attraction, but it obviously wasn’t maintainable, since so many LIs lost their personality after CA

Again, I think Season 3 did great on ideas, but bad execution on drama and actual plot

So I’d probably keep it about 9, maybe 10

And ideally one of them would be trans, probably a trans guy with top surgery scars. Someone makes a joke on the first day and he explains no problem, is open about it and his experiences, maybe he was kicked out as a teenager and is all about positivity and loving people for who they are because of it

I’m all on board for a enby or gnc character or MC, but I honestly think Love Island’s too binary for someone like that to thrive

OH! And an ace LI that’s probably sex neutral and really comfortable with it. They’re up front with their sexuality but have no problem with how sex-focused Love Island is, like they’re fine with the flirting and intimate stuff, they’re just not attracted at the end of the day

Or have this season’s slowburn female LI be demi? I’m not demi, only ace, so I can’t speak on that experience, but I think that might work pretty well, maybe she goes in knowing she’s demisexual and comes out of it knowing she’s demiromantic too? Id love that but idk

I want to touch on customization too, since there’s nowhere near enough

Definitely body types

I forget who said it, but have the typical thin type, a muscular type, and a plus sized

And don’t get me wrong, I know it’s extra work for the artists, but I personally think it’d be worth, but who knows

Make fantasy hair colours possible - blue, green, purple, pink, silver - with the type of variety S3 had, in a style closer to S2

Also tats! And piercings! Just like a septum or some ear piercing, maybe a lip, nothing too difficult

And allow for actually different personalities and careers

I get that most people who apply are going to be outgoing and influencers, but this is all fake anyway so who cares

Have your personality impact LIs, certain LIs are easier to get hearts with with a certain personality, while others have more negative reactions to that personality

Lot of coding but this is just my make believe, what’s the harm

Okay into each day

Id have 20 days, since I agree that that’s a pretty good sweet spot

And Im definitely on board with MC being a bombshell, but instead of introing her on the first day, Id do the second

First half of the episode is spent as a recap of the first day, 5 couples like usual, let’s call the Islanders Bobby, Harry, Camilo, Bill, Rohan, AJ, Talia, Elladine, Miki, and Erikah, I’ll explain later, it’s pretty much for one single reason each

So MC’s first day is the Islander’s second, she shows up like Lucas & Henrik, before all the Islanders are up, and she has an option to say hi to someone early, add a gem to be upfront about being interested or something, during the second half of the first episode

Second episode starts with all the Islanders finding MC and saying hi, whoever you chose to have a chat with’s partner is kinda salty, if you chose a guy

MC ends the day choosing between any of the guys and two of the girls, AJ and Talia

For the guys, like Season 3, three are endgame, ones a red herring like Rohan in Season 1, and one’s up front about it being a friendship couple from the start, since I definitely think we need actual friendship couples - this friendship couple guy is Bobby, but without the pushy crush

Rohan is initially interested, but like in Season 1, he gives it up after a while

AJ is super into it and happy if you pick her and has no problem with it, while Talia has a “no thanks” thing and makes you pick again

Basically, youre not supposed to pick Talia because she’s not open to that yet, and that tosses you off her route or makes it really difficult to fix, maybe only a few dialogue options over the next few days or a specific personality gets her to forgive you. If you don’t pick her, you can couple up later as normal

Day 2 is like it usually is, you’re LIs original partner starts grafting on your LI if you have a male LI, Bobby doesn’t care if you steal AJ, you just have to have a talk with him and he’s fine

You can attempt to reconcile with their original partner, and if you succeed they’ll stop, if not your LI will step in and tell her he’s not interested

Day 3 finds a whole Villa recouping with a dumping. If you have a female LI, then girls are choosing, and AJ will pick you, however there is no dumping for future numbers sake, I know it doesn’t make much sense for the guys to be safe but whatever

If you have a male LI, the boys are choosing. If youre with Bobby, you get stolen and have to help Bobby decide who to dump.

He’ll always choose to dump Miki, regardless of who your LIs ex was or what you say. His reasoning is that she hasn’t made a connection and she was accidentally mean to him once and this Bobby’s hella sensitive

Bobby kinda struggles with it and has a rough few days - You have the option to be sympathetic and keep him available as a friendship couple option, or be a jerk and lose the option to be in a friendship couple

Day 4 is a bit of a filler day, with a fun challenge and some actual conversations.

You learn about your LI and someone else of your choosing, whether that’s a friend, like Ell or Erikah, or another LI youre romancing, like Talia or another of the guys

This is the first time Talia starts to be honest with MC about maybe fancying her and being open to seeing what happens

Day 5 has bombshells: a guy and a girl. The girl is our Marisol of this season, which can also explain away why she’s so slow to open up, she feels like an outcast since she came late and MC can empathise better than anyone which is how they initially bond

The guy is also a LI, but far more bold than Marisol, he has no trouble grafting in front of MC’s LI and trying to steal her or win her over - I’m just going to call him Lucas

Day 6 has another boys’ choice disaster recouping, but with the threat of a dumping on an AJ route

No matter how you reacted to Lucas’ flirting, he picks MC, whether you were going to couple up with him or not, he still steals you from your LI just like Season 2, for simplicity’s sake

The other couples get mixed up, a Nope-adjacent couple are split up, let’s say Erikah and Camilo, but they don’t make it all about them. One of the girls had been pining after a guy but he chooses someone else even though she’s available (Elladine, but Bobby’s oblivious), the girl Bobby was planning to couple up with gets stolen (Talia, but regardless of your route, she doesn’t fancy him), so he couples with Marisol

On a male LI route there is no dumping because the couples are already even

On an AJ route, Rohan is the deciding factor between AJ and Miki. Miki is always dumped because she was barely involved the past few days and Bill isn’t that interested in her even though they were coupled up

Day 7 is the start of Casa Amor, but much shorter this time. Two of the guys are endgame - let’s say Arjun and Carl, two are interested in other girls - let’s say Graham and Nicky, and there’s one you CAN get with, but cheats and gets dumped later on, essentially a Rocco, and one just isn’t interested, another friendship couple opportunity if you don’t want to share with one of the LIs - let’s say Seb

Day 8 is still Casa, you get to know the boys or can crack on with any of the female LIs, though this is still applicable to Day 7

You get a chance to either commit to AJ further or say you want a break to crack on with someone else

If you reassure her, she’ll pie off all the guys and you can stay on the daybed together, essentially ignoring the disaster recoupling and pretending youre still together. But if you dump her, she’ll crack on with Seb if you’re not paired with him, and Arjun if you are, just as a sort of revenge

During CA you can get closer with Talia, cheeky winks in public and getting kinda nasty during a challenge

You get sneaky scenes with Marisol where you learn where her head is at and how she has a hard time opening up and letting people in. You can reassure her and say you’ll be patient or pie her off and she’ll get with the season’s Graham, though they’ll have a different dynamic and ACTUALLY MAKE SENSE AS A COUPLE

Im sorry but boaty mcboat face and MARISOL?? i just dont get it, im sorry

You can graft on Arjun & Carl, tell them where your head is at, and they’re far less pushy

They try to impress but they’re not like poking you until you tell them you’ll take them back to the Villa like in S2

Day 9 is the final day of Casa, with a stick or switch

You can take back Arjun, Carl, Seb, or Rocco, although Seb is a platonic option but you can pair with him the rest of the season as aromantic representation

AJ never switches to save Rohan, and to be loyal if youre on her route

Talia doesn’t switch no matter the route, she spent Casa just hanging out which honestly isn’t the best idea outside of her route

Erikah switches, because like Season 1 Erikah, her head turns quickly, it’s just a matter of time. She switches to Rocco if you’re not on his route, and Arjun if you are. This is going to absolutely blow up in her face

Elladine switches because she gets worried Bobby will, picks Nicky and they actually get on really well

Marisol switches to Graham if youre not on her route to stay safe again, though they dont last anyway, and sticks if you are because she spent Casa with MC instead of the guys

Bobby sticks cuz Bobby

Harry always switches to someone, let’s call her Cherry cuz why not

Camilo sticks to get back with MC or Erikah - Erikah switched, effectively dumping him and really upsetting him

Rohan switches to someone, lets call her Shannon, no matter the route

Bill always sticks

Lucas switches to someone, lets call her Blake, no matter what, just for simplicity’s sake and because I’m already ripping from S2 so who cares

Day 10 is aftermath, much like Season 2

You can talk with your previous LI,

Day 11 has a massive dumping where you vote to save a few people

One of the original Villa boys stays, Camilo is the default but if youre on Harry or Bill’s route, they’ll fill his place

Rohan and Bobby survive

If you brought back a Casa boy, you pick between him and Lucas to be dumped

If you didn’t, Lucas is safe automatically

Rocco/Arjun survive, they’re coupled with Erikah

Either Nicky survives to stay with Elladine or Graham is saved for Marisol if she brought him back, Nicky automatically survives if not

For the girls, Erikah, Elladine, Marisol, and MC are safe

You vote between Cherry, Blake, Shannon on who to save, Shannon is the encouraged option because her and Rohan are actually really cute, but he’ll be nice to any of the girls for the rest of the season

You have to vote between AJ and Talia, sorry queers, i hate it too

Day 12 has a recouping where Talia is finally available if you saved her after everything from Casa Amor

You can reunite with your LI from pre-CA or simply stick to youre CA pick, it’s girls choice, MC is somewhere in the middle

Day 13 has two bombshells - both guys, let’s call them Levi and Tai

Levi grafts hard on MC whereas Tai takes a backseat and MC has to go to him instead if shes interested

Day 14 is a grafting day, you can graft and bond with your LI, Levi, Tai, or Marisol

Day 15 is the second to last recoupling, where you can get with every LI

If youre romancing Marisol, you have a fight in the morning because she still won’t commit and she hasn’t really had an drama on her route yet

Day 16 is an explosion of drama

It’s another Roccogate but on an even bigger scale

If you’re on Rocco’s route, you suffer the backlash, and if you’re not, Erikah does but it still blows back to MC in order to keep her involved

Rocco makes a move on Erikah when MC’s with him, and MC when Erikah is. If he makes a move on MC, she can reciprocate or blatantly shut him down and Erikah will always reciprocate it when he’s coupled with MC because whaddaya know her head can turn at the littlest thing

If he made a move on MC, she can tell her LI who will chew him out privately, or keep it to herself

They basically get caught in the act by Levi, who doesn’t say anything until the afternoon - a lie detector that reveals a bunch of stuff, ill discuss later

He’s asked if he has any drama and he lies, saying no but eventually spills that Rocco made a move on MC/Erikah, and regardless of whether MC reciprocated or not, he says she did

If MC’s with Rocco, she can attack Erikah until someone steps in, maybe Bobby? Or Arjun? and reasons with her. She can get most of the Villa on her side about Rocco being a prick - except for Levi, no matter what, he’ll always side with Rocco and say it’s part of the show

If MC’s not with Rocco and denied him, her LI will accuse her of lying and she’ll have to essentially win them back by the next day or try and get Rocco to clear her name, which she can if they have a high relationship

And if MC didn’t deny him, her LI will dump her on the spot if they have a low relationship, or still win them back if they have a high relationship - but it will still be remembered

Back to the lie detector

There’s the typical S1 questions, cheating is revealed, you can commit to your LI

BUT

If youre on a Marisol route, your LI asks you about her and MC has to confess, which drives a rift between her and Marisol because yeah

y i k e s

Day 17 is the final recoupling

Marisol basically storms into the kitchen when MCs making breakfast and says they’re coupling up and just leaves again. MC has the option to be like “yeah okay, chill” and go back to her breakfast or “what the fuck? no” and chase after her and pie her off

If you don’t pie her off, she chooses MC herself, because that scene in S2 is just really cute and I want another

There’s a double dumping of two boys - Levi and Rocco, and you have no say in it

Erikah, MC, or her LI will essentially turn the Villa against Rocco, while a few of the Islanders resent Levi for his take, mainly the girls

It’s a couple vote, and even if you vote for someone else, they still get dumped because they have the most votes

Day 18 is filler and fluff, meet the parents and final dates, with a surprise dumping where you can get a say and can help them pack, but its a strictly platonic goodbye

There’s so many possibilities and I don’t feel like listing them out right now, but it’s a single couple between three at-risk ones

Day 19 another surprise dumping, why not stick with prom? I just really dig the art, and but maybe make it closer to Season 2? And more personalized speeches!!!

And have a Lottie/Hannah moment!

Idk who all would be here, I don’t feel like listing it out, but I think I have all the dumpings listed below the cut

You can pick between both people dumped who you want to help pack, and can have a moment with either of them, opening a “runaway” option after the finale or reunion

Day 20 is the finale, with the Islanders gossiping and stressing in the morning as some filler content

The afternoon is the announcement, and your placement depends on your couple - If you were loyal the entire time you were with them and have a max relationship you get 1st, if you were loyal but dont have max hearts, you get 2nd, if you weren’t loyal but still have max hearts, you get 3rd, and if you have neither you get 4th

If you win, your LI gets the money no matter what and it’s not based on relationship, it’s based on where in the relationship you are - if MC agreed to be their girlfriend on Day 18, they split the money, and if MC didn’t, then they don’t see a future and keep it

The last episode is the finale party with options to dump your LI for good, make plans to move in, reconcile and explain why MC didn’t say yes on Day 18, or get with someone else entirely

Oh and I want two of the dumped guys to show up together and have started dating outside of the Villa

Cuz I can’t think of another opportunity for mlm in this chaos

This is really messy so I’m going to list out couplings under the cut to try and make sense of this, I think I got everything but probably not its a disaster

LIs

Day 1 - MC or Bobby or Single

Day 3 - MC or Bobby or Bill

Day 6 - Rohan

Day 9 - Rohan

Day 12 - MC or Bobby or Dumped

Day 14 - MC or Bobby or Dumped

Day 17 - MC or Bobby Dumped

Talia

Day 1 - Rohan or Single

Day 3 - Rohan or Bill

Day 6 - Camilo

Day 9 - Camilo

Day 12 - MC or Bobby or Dumped

Day 14 - MC or Bobby or Dumped

Day 17 - MC or Bobby Dumped

Marisol

Day 6 - Bobby

Day 9 - Single or Graham

Day 12 - Graham or Harry/Bill/Camilo

Day 14 - Graham or Harry/Bill/Camilo

Day 17 - MC or Graham or Harry/Bill/Camilo

Harry

Day 1 - MC or Elladine

Day 3 - MC or Elladine

Day 6 - Elladine

Day 9 - Cherry

Day 12 - MC or Elladine/Marisol or Dumped

Day 14 - MC or Elladine/Marisol or Dumped

Day 17 - MC or Elladine/Marisol or Dumped

Camilo

Day 1 - MC or Erikah

Day 3 - MC or Erikah

Day 6 - Talia

Day 9 - Talia

Day 12 - MC or Elladine/Marisol or Dumped

Day 14 - MC or Elladine/Marisol or Dumped

Day 17 - MC or Elladine/Marisol or Dumped

Bill

Day 1 - MC or Miki

Day 3 - MC or Miki or Elladine/Erikah

Day 6 - Erikah

Day 9 - Single

Day 12 - MC or Elladine/Marisol or Dumped

Day 14 - MC or Elladine/Marisol or Dumped

Day 17 - MC or Elladine/Marisol or Dumped

Lucas

Day 6 - MC or Erikah

Day 9 - MC or Blake

Day 12 - Blake

Day 14 - MC or Elladine/Marisol or Dumped

Day 17 - MC or Elladine/Marisol or Erikah or Dumped

Arjun

Day 9 - MC or Erikah or Dumped

Day 12 - MC or Erikah or Dumped

Day 14 - MC or Erikah or Dumped

Day 17 - MC or Erikah or Dumped

Carl

Day 9 - MC or Dumped

Day 12 - MC or Dumped

Day 14 - MC or Dumped

Day 17 - MC or Erikah or Dumped

Tai

Day 14 - MC or Single or Elladine

Day 17 - MC or Erikah

Rocco

Day 9 - MC or Erikah

Day 12 - MC or Erikah

Day 14 - MC or Erikah

Day 17 - Dumped

Levi

Day 14 - MC or Single

Day 17 - Dumped

Other Islanders

Elladine

Day 1 - Harry or Single

Day 3 - Harry or Bill

Day 6 - Harry

Day 9 - Nicky or Harry/Camilo/Bill

Day 12 - Nicky or Harry/Camilo/Bill

Day 14 - Nicky or

Day 17 - Nicky or Tai

Erikah

Day 1 - Camilo* or Single

Day 3 - Camilo* or Bill

Day 6 - Camilo or

Day 9 - Rocco or Arjun

Day 12 - Rocco or Arjun

Day 14 - Rocco or Arjun

Day 17 - Tai or Lucas/Casa

Miki

Day 1 - Bill or Single

Day 3 - Bill or Dumped

Day 6 - Bill or Dumped

Day 9 - Dumped

Day 12 - Dumped

Day 14 - Dumped

Day 17 - Dumped

Shannon

Day 9 - Rohan

Day 12 - Rohan or Dumped

Day 14 - Rohan or Dumped

Day 17 - Rohan or Dumped

Blake

Day 9 - Lucas

Day 12 - Rohan or Dumped

Day 14 - Rohan or Dumped

Day 17 - Rohan or Dumped

Cherry

Day 9 - Harry

Day 12 - Rohan or Dumped

Day 14 - Rohan or Dumped

Day 17 - Rohan Dumped

Bobby

Day 1 - AJ or MC or Single

Day 3 - AJ or MC or

Day 6 - Marisol

Day 9 - Marisol or Single

Day 12 - AJ/Talia or Elladine/Marisol

Day 14 - AJ/Talia or Elladine/Marisol or Single

Day 17 - AJ/Talia or Elladine/Marisol

Rohan

Day 1 - Talia or MC

Day 3 - Talia or MC

Day 6 - AJ

Day 9 - Shannon/Cherry/Blake

Day 12 - Shannon/Cherry/Blake

Day 14 - Shannon/Cherry/Blake

Day 17 - Shannon/Cherry/Blake

Graham

Day 9 - Marisol or Dumped

Day 12 - Marisol or Dumped

Day 14 - Marisol or Dumped

Day 17 - Marisol or Dumped

Seb

Day 9 - MC or Dumped

Day 12 - MC or Elladine/Marisol or Dumped

Day 14 - MC or Elladine/Marisol or Dumped

Day 17 - MC or Elladine/Marisol or Dumped

Nicky

Day 9 - Elladine

Day 12 - Elladine or Dumped

Day 14 - Elladine or Dumped

Day 17 - Elladine or Dumped

#asks #can it kc #also definitely stole this format from bubblybabynailpolish cuz they're hcs are iconic but shush #thank you anon and sorry for whatever this is #litg

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pokemon-inspiration · 5 years

Text

Galarian Fossil Theory

Dr. Miranda Carter

Paleobiologist and Regenerator Operator at the Institute for PaleoPokemon Research in Rustboro City, Hoenn

To say those fossil Pokemon unique to the region of Galar have been tough to get our hands on would be a rather large understatement. Rumors have been circulating around the office for years about these creatures after it was announced that while new fossils had been discovered and regeneration was successful, the Royal Galarian Paleontological Society was withholding both living and fossilized specimens under tight watch for further research. I’m not proud, but we were able to pull some strings behind the scenes to get a handful of fossilized and living specimens. So far as I can tell it involved bribing one of the less scrupled scientists with a truly unholy amount of Lava Cookies.

To say we were confused is yet another rather large understatement. These Pokemon are like nothing we’d ever seen. Gorgeous, to be sure, as well as perfectly healthy and stable in their regenerated forms, but utterly and wholly unique. As I’m led to understand, the idea is that there are several “halves” of fossils that are alternately draconic and piscene that are able to be combined in any order to create the four total fossil Pokemon of Galar: Dracozolt, Arctozolt, Dracovish, and Arctovish. While Dracozolt and Arctovish look at a passing glance like relatives of Tyrantrum and Relicanth respectively, Arctozolt and Dracovish seem rather mishmashed. Arctozolt even seems to have its head perched upon what would otherwise be Dracozolt’s tail! Even in their “normal” configurations, the anatomy struck both me and the other paleobiologists as somewhat mishmashed, most notably seen in Dracozolt’s dramatic abdominal expansion at the lower end of its rib-cage.

All this, of course, set our minds ablaze with various theories as to how in all the world such biological configurations could be possible. Regenerators involve some guesswork on our part to fill in degraded DNA patterns, as an operator myself I will easily grant you that, but the grafting of two entirely different species together in a manner resembling this with any other species would be impossible. Even subtle differences in anatomy would at best blow out the machine due to contradicting patterns, and at worse, if such a malformed creature were to come forth... I don’t even want to think of how it would suffer.

The first theory, and still quite a popular one, put forward by some of my colleagues is that the two more put together species, Dracozolt and Arctovish, are actually far more closely related than they appear. The idea is that perhaps, though they superficially seem like completely different species, they are in fact extremely similar when it comes to underlying anatomy. Some in this camp believe that Arctovish might have given rise to Dracozolt as Water types were making their way onto land, others think that perhaps Arctovish is the result of Dracozolt taking to water in the same way Wailmer and Wailord’s ancestors did. In either case, with this theory, it is suspected that the underlying anatomy of the two is so similar, that in the replication process the Replicator cannot adequately distinguish the two from each other on a genetic level, so resulting in Dracovish and Arctozolt. While initially compelling, I personally believe the radically different body layouts of Arctozolt and Dracovish cannot be compatible with this theory.

The second theory is the one I came up with, and so far I believe it is relatively sound. The “halves” of fossils, as they have been referred to by the Galarians, are not halves of a whole organism. Each half is, in and of itself, a distinct species of Pokemon that developed symbiotic relationships with the other three in order to gain greater flexibility and power. This symbiotic relationship between the ancient Pokemon “Arcto” “Zolt” “Draco” and “Vish” evolved to such a point that once joined, the union between the two would be nearly flawless. This is not entirely unprecedented, as we have seen similar relationships between Pokemon, like Slowbro and Slowking, even as far as the components mutually changing once joined. This I think further helps explain the odd configurations of these Pokemon: While Arctozolt appears to have its head atop a tail, the “tail” is actually a complex part of the body capable of serving as a torso in order to give the “Arcto” half a higher viewpoint and more intimidating stance while affording the “Zolt” half the protection of a great toothy maw. Even the shuffling of elemental types seems to fit in this, as a shifting amount of elemental resistances and advantages would seem to give these four species a much better chance against predators and prey with static elemental proficiencies.

Thus, due to their intense symbiosis millions of years ago, the Regenerator simply follows the patterns of union these Pokemon displayed in life, and simply merges the two on a more permanent basis. This doesn’t seem to be a very large biological leap, given how healthy these living specimens are. Even before being regenerated, these Pokemon must have had some extremely advanced methods of combining into one superorganism!

Of course, I could be completely and entirely wrong on this. That’s the wonderful thing about science though: if I’m wrong, I get to learn more about the world around me! More delightful research awaits!

#pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon sword and shield leaks #fossil pokemon #Arctovish #Arctozolt #Dracozolt #Dracovish #figured I should use this format again given the similar subject #pokemon sword and shield spoilers #Galar

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nelllraiser · 4 years

Text

liability | solo

— - “our minds distort our mirrors”

contents: gore, death mention

The attendant had given her a strange look when she offered him her ride tickets, as if he were looking for whoever she’d come to the carnival with. After all, why would someone go into a Hall of Mirrors alone? “Just me,” Nell offered him succinctly, not entirely having the emotional depth to say anything more at the moment. She just wanted to get this over with, to see what she’d come to see. Of course, there was no knowing what she’d see, exactly. But Morgan had promised her visions of the past, the future, or perhaps even things in between. Personally, Nell was hoping for the future.

The path her life had taken thus far was one she knew well, and perhaps not one she was all that interested in reliving at the moment, not when it seemed she’d just been making mistake after mistake as of late. The most recent set of them had started all of nearly a year ago in the form of August Thompson and her summoning a demon in the depths of a Peruvian forest. Then Montgomery and Bea’s death. Did it count as two mistakes when it had metastasized from the original one? Or was it still just one? She decided it didn’t matter as she entered the first hall, and looked into the mirror. It was a familiar face, though she was already much changed from the girl that had returned to White Crest nearly a year ago. Compact with lean muscle, dark hair, a mouth that could turn as easily into a grin as it could a scowl, caught somewhere in between. Her arms were the most obvious change, the scars of the skin grafts and multiple attempted healings and reopenings sticking out like a sore thumb. Her skin was mottled, marred in a way that made her arms look like they’d been patched together, a quilt of slightly varying skin tones and textures, rough scarring in places, and smooth, shiny, skin in others. She’d been physically stitched back together after the resurrection, but what of the rest of her? Nell remembered what it had been like to shatter, to feel the very core of her world somehow both implode and explode, and she’d tried her best to pick up the pieces. To fit them back in the spots they’d been before. But the puzzle had changed, hadn’t it? The shapes and empty slots they were meant to fit into didn’t slide into place like they had before, so instead she’d had to jam them into place, folding and mashing them until she made them fit. She refused to be broken, to be anything other than something that could be turned into a tool to achieve the ends that she wanted, needed.

But perhaps in doing that she’d made yet another mistake. The resurrection hadn’t gone as planned, she’d put blood on Adam’s hands, and then another old mistake had decided to surface. Her mistake to ask Remmy to the Ring, her mistake to confront Jax, her foolishness in believing that all the monster catchers had the same rules she did, the error she’d made with Jared and Ronald on his farm. How many mistakes was she allowed until she had to face the fact that perhaps she was poison, her own rottenness infecting the lives of others like a slow-spreading disease. Her latest past was muddled, and with the Ring gone, and no clear direction in her life, there was no future that she could see for certain. But the mirrors...maybe they give her something to work with, something to work towards.

There was still nothing as she stared into her reflection, dark brown eyes simply boring into themselves with an intensity that was often intimidating when she wasn’t smiling. And she certainly wasn’t now. “Give me your worst, then,” she demanded of the mirror, ready to sift through whatever it might want to show her until she found what she was looking for, even if she herself didn’t know what that was. As if ready to rise to her challenge, the mirror shimmered, her present self melting away until she was faced with her childhood self. The young Nell was playing with a deck of cards, shuffling and practicing sleight of hand while Bea and her mother were close by, beautiful eruptions of fire springing from her older sister’s hands. Nisa cooed at her eldest’s creations, and Nell seeing this, toddled over to the pair of them. “Mommy, look!” she began excitedly, doing her best to get the cards situated. “Pick a card!” Nisa spared her a quick glance, the matching brown of her eyes reflected in Nell’s. “Sweetie, I told you- it’s Bea’s lesson right now. I’ll get to you later.” But Nell knew what that meant. Later had yet to come, and seemed to never arrive when it came to her mother and teaching Bea the ways of fire magic and stage work.

“No,” a present-day Nell replied fiercely. “I know where I’ve been. I know my past. Show me what I want.” These childhood memories of being ignored weren’t what she was looking for. She wanted answers, something to show her that maybe all these mistakes had been worth it, to give her a sliver of hope that she wasn’t the terrible person she feared she was. Trying to focus her intentions, Nell figured her attempts to shape the mirror’s path and magic were worth a try. “You will show me what I want,” she nearly growled between gritted teeth.

For a split second, it seemed to work, and another version of Nell appeared before her. Older, scars on her arms, as well as a collection of even more scars she didn’t recognize. Old enough to have crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes, but young enough to still be a woman in the prime of her life. Her gaze searched over the stranger before her, trying to discern anything she might be able to glean from the future version of herself that would give her guidance or hope. But nothing happened, she simply stood there, as still as a rock while the witch waited for something, anything to happen. Finally, frustration got the better of her, and a fisted hand banged against the glass of the mocking mirror. “Do something!” she yelled. Nothing happened. Or at least...nothing appeared to happen for a long moment. Then— from the corner of her reflection’s eye, something began to appear, pooling in the corner of it. A freckle? No, it was too dark for that. It gathered there, pooling before it dripped, ruby red down the front of Nell’s face. Blood. Suddenly, a twin tear trail of the blood dripped from her other eye, joining the other as they fell. Surprised and confused, the real Nell looked down, only to find that the rest of her future self had changed. Where her hand had been resting at her side before, it was now outstretched in her direction, cradling something in the center of it. A heart. A human heart by the looks of it, still beating as her future self’s hand closed around it, squeezing the bloodied organ until it deflated, and squished over the sides of her palm. The reflection’s lips had moved as well, stretched into a sharp smile as the rest of a scene began to unfold around her. A man, some ten feet from her reflection self, still standing with a look of horror and pain on his face, a hole where his heart had been literally wrenched from his chest. But Nell’s hand hadn’t been bloodied before she’d squished the heart, and there was no sign of any regular entry or exit wound on the person’s chest. Just a gaping hole, as if the heart had wormed its own way out through sheer force. Nell had done that? Without so much as using a knife or otherwise? Her reflection only smirked back in a silent answer.

It should scare her, worry her that her future self seemed to be so unmoved by the death of an unknown man, that she seemed to be reveling in it. But instead...all Nell could think about was how powerful she looked, holding a man’s heart in her hand and ripping it out as if it were nothing more than picking flowers from a field. This was the picture of a witch who didn’t have to watch as her sister was beheaded, who wasn’t cajoled into being a prisoner by an over-confident gancanagh, a woman that no one would even think of trapping in cages underground to steal memories from her mind against her will.

So in awe was she of her future self, that she almost didn’t realize the face of the man she’d killed begin to shift, to turn from one she didn’t recognize into one she very much did. His eyes shifted to brown, hair finding some medium color between dark blond and brunette. Adam. The power-hungry pride instantly dropped from her chest to a rock in her stomach, forming in a way that made her feel as if she might be sick. But as soon as she recognized the face, it was already shifting again, the mirror twisting it into another set of features she knew. This time, blond hair, blue eyes as the face of Jared stared back at her. “No,” she began in horror, taking an instinctive step back from the mirror. The blonde hair lengthened, eyes shifting again to match the color of Blanche’s. “No!” Nell yelled, hand fisting at her side as she now glared at her reflection, utter anguish etched into her face. She wouldn’t have done this, couldn’t have done this. Her friends meant everything to her. The body began to change once more, the bridge of Winston’s nose beginning to form, but it wouldn’t get the chance to finish. A loud crash rang through the Hall of Mirrors as Nell savagely screeched in denial, in anger, in pain. When she looked down again, it was to a broken mirror, her reflection back to normal and cracked around the shattered pieces of glass, her real, physical hand now bloody at the epicenter of it all. Her chest heaved with her breathing, and she grimaced as she carefully extracted her hand from the mirror, the pain nearly lost on her as she tried to deny what she’d seen. “I won’t- I won’t hurt them,” she whispered to herself, so quiet that she wasn’t even sure she’d said the words aloud, but fervent enough to burn as they passed over her lips. But hadn’t she already? August’s murder for Adam. The farm and Ronald for Jared. Asking Blanche to help with Bea’s ghost. Ripped the heart right out of them. All of them.

Nell turned sharply on her heel, refusing to stay in this cursed place any longer, turning her back on the future the mirror had shown her, and on the confirmation that all she did was hurt and maim and destroy those that she loved most. Ignoring the alarmed words of the attendant as she exited, she brushed past them, cradling her hand as she began to magically scab it over, watching the blood harden into place as, fixing the damage she’d done. She’d fix it. She’d fixed Bea and now she would fix the rest of it— fix herself so she could fix her friends, and make sure that no one hurt them ever again. Not Montgomery, not Ronald, not anything else that so much as glanced their way, and most certainly...not herself.

#// here have the solo i manic wrote at midnight last night #wickedswriting #solo #self para

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daisycandothings · 4 years

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A twilight movie review, yes I know I am a decade late.

Hello, this is a review of the twilight movies.

Okay now that nobody is reading this anymore, I have a note on how this will be formatted. Basically, I will have five sections where I go through and review each movie, and then I will have another section at the end where I look at the series as a whole.

I would also like to say that these are not good movies. Everyone here knows that. There is a lot of negative criticism out there and chances are, I agree with basically all of it. However, I do not want to say the same shit that everybody already says, that would be boring. People do not watch these movies because they are masterpieces of cinema, we watch them because it is fun to sit down with your family/friends and laugh when Jacob says “I am hotter than you” with a straight face. What I’m trying to say is I will not be analysing these academically so much as talking about what I enjoyed/didn’t enjoy about the surface level experience of watching them. Comparing these films to actually good masterful movies is like comparing kids playing floor hockey in gym class to olympic figure skaters. Like they just do not belong on the same scale

I really do want to take a look at these films on their own without the influence of the books messing with my opinion of them.

Also, there will be spelling AND grammatical errors, I promise.

Twilight the First One:

Good things:

This might be my favorite on its own. I just think the plot is probably the most exciting and it has the best split of drama, vampire bullshit, and fighting. I like the vampire family, I think they’re funny, and I actually genuinely think the baseball scene is a clever concept that is executed well. That scene, Anna Kendrick, and the dad are the high points of this movie, but Anna Kendrick and the dad are basically the high points of every movie they’re in, so I think I’ll speak on them later.

Also I really like the soundtrack of this movie. To be fair I only remember two songs (what do you think, I was taking notes? I’m not a nerd) but those two songs were cool. The pieces in question were the electric guitar thing during the baseball scene and the lovely piano song™ . God do I fucking love that piano piece, I think there will definitely be a paragraph dedicated to that one song, you’re welcome.

I like the hinting at the werewolf stuff in this movie.

Neutral:

The color saturation/tone (I don’t know movie words) were different in this movie. It’s like bluer. I don’t really know how I feel about it, its just kind of jarring to have this really blue movie and then move on to the next on and it’s normal idk.

Bad:

My biggest criticism is with the main characters. Like Bella and Edward have no chemistry, dude, I cannot name a thing that they bond over. Really their relationship only works because they are both hot, and the movie is relying on that in order to get the viewer to feel compelled by it, and I mean I guess it worked? I mean, I spent way more time wondering what Robert Pattinson’s hair product budget was than considering the fact that neither character had a substantial personality.

I also have this weird issue with the pacing, maybe I’m an idiot and this is wrong, but it really seemed like Bella transferred at the beginning of the year. Then she meets everyone and like 30 minutes later we’re talking about prom? A spring event? And then the rest seems to take place over the span of like 2 weeks. Its just hard to tell how much time is passing at some points and I’m not a huge fan of that.

“I like watching you sleep”

The effects are not good, but I don’t give that much of a shit, I just wish they’d been more obnoxious with the glitter. I’m not entirely sure I would have noticed if I lived in that world

I think that’s all I have to say here

Twilight New Moon

Good:

Jacob is the best main character in this movie. He has personality traits, and his wolf transformation plot would be good if he weren’t such an asshole about it all the time. To be fair though, I have never been through such a transformation, so I can’t really judge. That said, I do like the scene where he freaks out at Mikey (that one blonde kid who decides to be a part of the series every once in a while).

Also there is some genuinely funny shit in here? Like, even moments that the movie actually intended to be funny. That guy, Harry, who hangs out with Charlie? He has some really great moments. Also the theater scene where Bella is sitting between Jake and Mike, and they both have their hand out hoping that Bella will hold it? That is just really funny. There’s obv more, but these are some highlights

Yes Jacob, please take off your shirt in order to dab the blood off Bella’s face. That seems like the best course of action to me. God the weird shit he does is really funny.

Bad:

Charlie’s friends keep dying, and his daughter is shitty and that makes me sad

The characters continue to have very little...well… character, not to mention actual development. I shouldn’t have to explain why that is a huge issue, especially for a movie that is primarily character driven.

THIS MOVIE IS SO LONG. there were moments when I would just take a sec and be like. What is happening? What is this movie? What story is even being told here? God when is this going to be oveeeerrrrrrrrrr?

I’ve said a lot less here, but this is undoubtedly worse than the last one.

Twilight Eclipse

Good:

The plot is built up a lot better in this one compared to the last two. In the last two, the main conflict wouldn’t even be fully introduced until like half an hour before the end of the movie. There was just a bunch of time that went by very slowly where basically nothing happened, and then all of a sudden there has to be a climax so the actual rising action takes place over a ten minute period, That's just weak writing, and this movie does not have that problem.

I like the depth that we are given to the other members of the vampire family members. That said, Jasper was a confederate soldier, and you can not convince me that he isn’t racist.

I think the scene where Edward and Jacob see eye to eye for a bit is pretty good if you disregard the fact that they really talk about Bella like an object. Like they spend so much time in this series just being NEEDLESSLY rude and mean; like you guys couldn’t even pretend not to hate each other for half a second? For real? Anyway, this scene kind of has them getting along and having a constructive conversation and I liked that.

“Let’s face it. I am hotter than you”

Neutral:

The plot is definitely more exciting in this one, but Victoria’s plan seems needlessly complex.

Are there other werewolves, or are the ones in forks just all of them? Like there seems to be this giant vampire government that spans the whole world, but the werewolves just have like ten kids in forks?

Bad:

I get that you all are natural enemies, and you are in love with the same girl, but god you guys don’t have to be such assholes to each other.

Viewers are CONSTANTLY reminded that Edward just wants to protect Bella and that Jacob might be a better fit because she wouldn’t have to change. Like really hon? You’ve said this shit twelve times, but please go ahead and tell me again.

I know I was laughing about it before, but Jacob, can you please put a shirt on, it’s snowing.

The ring that Edward gives Bella is terrible, I would not wear it.

Why did the cullens just let the volturi kill that girl? They shouldn’t have.

*Sigh* and now we are at the really bad thing that I really didn’t like. TW for sexual assault. There is a scene where Jacob basically tells Bella that he kNoWS she likes him. She actively says that she DOES NOT, and then Jacob kisses her. THAT WASN’T CONSENSUAL. THAT WAS SEXUAL ASSAULT, BUDDY. Some people might say that she did actually want it, but if you look at her face during that kiss, she really doesn’t seem okay with it; in addition, she punches him after. BUT WHETHER OR NOT SHE WANTED IT DOESN’T MATTER!!!! SHE SAID NO!!!!

Then this yucky shit happens again, when Jacob finds out Edward and Bella are engaged, and Bella feels the need to kiss Jacob so he doesn’t do anything stupid. That is bad for obvious reasons. It is very frustrating because if it weren’t for these events, I would totally be team Jacob.

Also I get you guys both love her, but I challenge you to tell me exactly what you love about her.

Twilight Breaking Dawn Part One

Good:

This movie is fucking hilarious and amazing. I have watched all of the movies up until this point, and maybe it’s just the fact that this is my first time watching it, but this might overtake the first one. It’s great, I love it.

As I mentioned, this movie is very funny, there are a lot of really good moments, Charlie and Anna Kendrick’s wedding speeches are amazing and I love them. There are a bunch of other ones that I cannot remember at the moment, but I promise it is great.

I also loved when Rosili (I’m sure I spelled that wrong) had to cut Bella open, and then she really wants to eat her blood. Very fun and also amazing for raising tension.

I like that this movie is not pretending to be an action film. All of the other ones are mostly drama with a pretty shitty action plotline grafted over it. That does not happen here. It is literally just a romance movie that uses vampirism and werewolfery as an added layer of drama. The other movies do this, but they also have those bad action plotlines, so it feels like they are lying to me about being monster fighting movies when they are really just romance dramas. This movie KNOWS that it is just a romance drama and it owns it and I think that is cool.

I really liked the thing where we got those close up shots of bella’s blood vessels becoming vampire-y and stuff, I thought it was fun. Also when bella is having that dream about her wedding and everything is white and red and they end up on a pile of bodies? I cannot explain why, but I thought that looked really cool and it was kind of chilling which was the desired effect.

Seth and Leah, need I say more?

Lovely piano song ™ is BACK!!!

Neutral:

*sigh* Jacob. I have a strange relationship with Jacob. He constantly goes from being very cool to being very terrible. I will talk about this more later, but in this movie it was especially prevalent. He would say unnecessary, mean shit about the Cullens, and I would be like “god when did you become such an asshole?” and then he would leave because he didn't want to watch Bella destroy herself and I would be like “when did you get coOL?” and then he would tell Edward how much he wanted to kill him and I would be like “jesus, when did you become such an asshole?” and then he would distract the wolves so the Cullens could hunt and then I would be like “Yo dude, when did you get coooool again?” and then I would remember that he kissed Bella without consent and just……

There was a similar thing with Sam because at the beginning he was like, “the Cullens are fine,stop being such a little bitch about it, Jacob.” And then later on, he’s like “nvm we gonna kill this baby”

I know these are actually just character inconsistencies, but I’m not putting them in the bad section, no I will not be taking criticism.

Bad:

I wish they had told us more about stuff. Like they didn’t really explain why Jacob was so obnoxiously against them fucking. And Bella says it’s impossible for Edward to get her pregnant but umm how? Why? If that is the case, please explain to me why he is able to get her pregnant. Like this was the entire plot of the movie, and there was very little actual explanation which is annoying. I would like to understand the crux of your story, thanks.

There was that thing where that woman from Argentina like, knew that Bella was carrying a demon baby. I feel like that is kind of painting woc as being mystical, and hey, that’s not great.

Jacob imprinting on a literal baby yes I know it is more complex than that, but still, come on stephanie.

“EJ for Edward Jacob if it’s a boy” EWWWWWWWNODONOTNAMEYOURCHILDTHAT!

“Reneesme if it’s a girl” that’s good by comparison, but you set a super fucking low bar, my guy

The wolf talking was uhh, pretty terrible. No thank you, sir.

GIVE ME MORE CHARLIE!!!! WHERE IS OUR KING???!!! WHY ISN’T HE ON MY SCREEN?!!!

Twilight Breaking Dawn Part Two

Good:

this movie is also a lot of fun. I liked meeting all the vampires from across the world, and I did like the plot more or less. I thought that it was exciting enough, and I have no issue with them splitting it into two movies, I actually liked it. There were two distinct plots with distinct tones, so I thought they were justified in the split.

I liked the opening montage. I thought their use of white and red (just as they did in part one) was very cool and chilling. In addition, the shot where Bella opens her eyes and adjusts to seeing in a vampire-y way is really cool. Like it makes me get why people like this franchise, like it’s cool!

Jacob is fucking awesome in this movie; basically because he isn’t attracted to Bella anymore, and so he is no longer attracted to Bella, so he isn’t constantly whiny and mean. I liked that he made up with Sam, and I do think the movie did a good job making the imprinting thing not weird. Jacob is just cool here. I REALLY liked that everyone was like “we gotta pretend Bella is dead” and he was like “no fuck that, charlie knows I’m a werewolf, and he’s on his way over to see her.” He is just constantly doing the right thing, and I love it.

Lovely piano song™

The fight scene at the end was fun to watch. It was by no means a masterful spectacle of choreography, but I liked it anyway.

RAMI MALEK IS THE AVATAR?!!! I FUCKING LOVE IT!

Bad:

There were some moments where things were not explained all the way like there was this part where Jacob comments that more wolves are turning than before, and I was kinda like “wait what why” and then it is just not mentioned again. And I feel like there were a couple other moments like this that just felt like they were trying to say something from the book and then just didn’t have time to expand on it. Maybe I just missed something.

What made Alice think that only Bella would be smart enough to go to the book that the page is from? That was my first thought when she left that note.

The movie made it seem like the volturi really just wanted a reason to fight with them, and only Aro seeing himself get killed was able to deter him. But um… why? Why do the volturi give a shit about fighting the Cullens? Also I was a little annoyed with the final battle like for real dude? The ‘it was all in his head’ trope? Fuck that, if you are going to kill a bunch of good characters, at least commit to it yaknow?

I’m also not a fan of what they did with Alice. She just became a device to solve all of the problems. Like she leaves for the whole movie, comes back and fixes everything? That’s not good writing, mate.

I wish that they told Charlie things. Like I wish he was in the loop. Speaking of.... GIVE ME MORE CHARLIE AND ANNA KENDRICK. SHE WAS NOT IN THIS MOVIE AT ALL!! FUCK THAT, HER CHARACTER IS GREAT. AND WHILE WE’RE ON THE SUBJECT, MORE LEAH AND SETH, TOO!!

As a series

Yes, watching these movies is so much fun despite all the dumb shit. In fact, it might even be because of the dumb shit. I would just like to make it very clear that I legitimately loved watching them, and I really liked writing about them as well. I say this because there have been (and there will be more) harsh criticisms.

This part will mostly be me venting.

Edward and Bella are both very bland, and Jacob is for sure, the most interesting of the main cast.

Okay I don’t wanna spend too much time on this one, but Edward is 109 and Bella is like 17 when they meet. I don’t have to explain why that is kinda messed up.

I really really wish that there had been more Carlysl (another spelling mistake I am sure), Emmet, and Alice. I liked them both a lot, and we don’t really get to learn about their backstories. There is also supposed to be this friendship between Bella and Alice, but I wish that had been fleshed out a lot more. I would have liked to see more bro time between them.

I also wish there was more Seth and Leah. And let's throw in Charlie and Anna Kendrick for that matter.

Not a fan of the way that threat of sexual violence is used with Bella in the first two, TW for minor discussion of that here. In the first one Bella runs into some guys who harass her, and Edward saves her. The thing is, he only knew it was happening because he was following her, and I’m not a fan of the narrative that perpetuates. In the next one, she actively seeks out a dangerous situation with a man, so that Edward might come save her, no thanks.

Green screens are used, and they are not always very good.

There are moments throughout the series where you are like “oh yeah, that is definitely a direct quote from the books” like when Jacob says “stop looking at me like that” “like what” “like I’m your favorite person in the world” like okay bro turn down the emo.

Okay and now the most important thing, the lovely piano song ™. This is going to be the longest paragraph about it because this is possibly the most missed opportunity in the entire franchise (yes this is the type of person that I am). If you aren’t sure, the song in question is the one from the Ed/Bella relationship montage in the first movie, where Edward actually plays it on the piano. As I’m sure I’ve said, this piece of music is FUCKING AMAZING. Like it makes me actually quite emotional, and its association with the movies makes me feel more strongly about them. That is where the missed opportunity comes in because IT IS NOT IN NEW MOON OR ECLIPSE. Perhaps I just missed it, but I was making an active attempt to find it. It would have been ridiculously cool if they had used this song as Bella and Edward’s love theme. It would have been super cool if they had gradually added instruments throughout the series, making the piece grow and change, just like their love. It would have been so cool if they had added a counter-melody when Reneesme was born to symbolize the addition to their family. It would have been so cool if the closing shot was Bella and Edward in the field, and the original piano solo plays to remind us of the foundation of their love (and the series); cut to black and then the song plays through the credits for the main cast. God that would have been so cool, I get emotional just thinking about it. Instead, it is just a song they play sometimes when they want us to feel something. It works like that, but it isn’t as cool as it really could have been, which makes me sad.

Alright that’s it everyone, holy shit that was a lot. I am going to give you two ratings. On a scale of 1-10, how good is the series? not better than a three. But MUCH MORE IMPORTANTLY, on a scale of 1-10, how enjoyable are they to watch? At least a seven.

If you read all of this you are great, thank you for dealing with me for this long, I did spend hours on this.

#twilight #twilight movies #bella swan #jacob black #edward cullen #charlie #movies #movie review #review #bad at tags #vampires #werewolves #im having a crisis #bad at tagging #funny #movie critique #movie critic #im funny i promise

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