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randomshyperson · 8 months ago

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Baby, I'm Yours - Wanda Maximoff Oneshosts

Summary: The Avengers gain a new member, and Wanda Maximoff mistakenly assumes she has gained a rival instead of a friend. Or the one where Wanda has a crush that she doesn't know how to deal with. [Requested]

Warnings: really fluff, enemies to lovers, some kissing and a lot of teasing, avengers being a family, emo!Wanda and her first gay crush. | Words: 4.564k

A/N-> This was requested a while ago and I used it as practice for a winter soldier!reader idea that I had. Idk if I would ever make a series out of this idea, but it was fun to write this reader.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

Seven months after she joined the Avengers, someone else did too.

Unlike her, Sam was extremely excited by the news, he woke up early and somehow managed to convince Vision to join him in the welcome.

Wanda would have skipped the interaction - She only went to get breakfast and intended to spend the rest of the training-free day filled with interactions between the team, hiding in her room and watching old TV shows. But as soon as she noticed the little witch sneaking around the kitchen trying to go unnoticed by Sam's excited theories about who the new avenger would be, Natasha whistled and called out to her.

"Good morning, Maximoff. Do you intend to welcome our new colleague in pajamas?" The widow asked, hiding a teasing smile behind a cup of coffee.

The question already implied what Wanda had feared, and made her sigh. "I didn't know I was expected to take part in the welcome."

Nat grimaced softly - she seemed to be finding the whole thing very amusing.

"What an idea, Maximoff, of course you are! We were all there waiting for you when it was your turn."

She forced a smile, resisting the urge to snap back something bratty like "Thor wasn't". Deciding she had no reason to argue with Natasha, she busied herself with preparing some toast and pouring herself some tea.

When Sam suddenly tapped on the counter, everyone looked at him.

"I got it!" he declared excitedly. "I bet the new guy is Spider-kid!"

Nat frowned. "Who?" and then chuckled to the Falcon's obvious disappointment.

"Come on, the colorful vigilante who keeps throwing webs around? How come you've never heard of him?"

Assuming a thoughtful expression for a moment, Nat flipped through the newspapers on the counter before clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

"Ah, I think Tony's got his eye on that one." She says. "But, no, Wilson. The new recruit isn't the spider. And there's no point in giving me that look, as I won't spoil the surprise."

It looked like the subject was ending - at least that Sam was going to give up. It wasn't long before the rest of the team showed up for coffee, and Wanda mumbled a few good mornings back quickly before making her way to her own room, to change into something more presentable than fluffy pajamas.

But on the way to the bedroom, from one of the glass entrance doors, Steve Rogers appeared and he was accompanied.

"[...] Come on, we're early, they must still be having breakfast." Commented the older Avenger, busy taking off his coat, it took him a moment to notice that Wanda was in the hallway. She was staring, probably. "Oh, good morning, Wanda. I want you to meet someone."

But Wanda already knew you, straight from the television. And from the Shield's files of potential Avenger-level threats.

So maybe that's why when Steve said your name, patted you on the shoulder and you held out your hand for Wanda to shake, she just stared.

"Okay, not a handshaker." You mumbled awkwardly, lowering your arm. "You're Wanda Maximoff, mind reader and former enemy, right? I didn't expect the shock, given the circumstances."

"Hey, easy." Steve grumbled at your aggressiveness, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. Wanda narrowed her eyes at you, but you didn't look too intimidated, your posture relaxed and your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket. "That's in the past. We're all friends now. Aren't we, Wanda?"

With some resistance, she eventually forced a smile and tried to relax her posture. She sighed and nodded. "Of course, Steve. It's nice to meet you apart from the news, Miss Barnes. Should we wait for your brother to join us or does he still have Interpol on his back?"

You chuckle dryly. "Listen here, you-"

"Okay, enough." Steve interrupts, pulling you by the shoulders and giving Wanda a disapproving look. He also whispers that he'll have a talk with her later, but the witch turns away, dragging her feet back into the bedroom while you and Rogers head in the opposite direction.

On the way to the kitchen, you mutter: "And here I thought superheroes were polite."

The soldier chuckles briefly. "You tried to blow up the White House, you can understand the hesitation. Now come on, we've got the rest of the team to shock."

It had taken her hours to see you again, not that anyone had asked her opinion, but Steve had put you in the room next to hers on the justification that it would be good for the two of you to have someone close in age to pass the time.

Wanda grimaced and reminded him that you were about 150 years old. Steve chuckled.

"Technically, yes. But she spent almost all that time on ice, so she was only really around for less than 20 years. Can you please try to be friendly? You have more in common than you might think."

Wanda begrudgingly agreed to be the one to give you a tour of the tower. And so she could also discover that she was apparently the only Avenger who was hesitant about your presence on the team.

She knew your list of skills off the top of her head, but still wondered if you could read what she was thinking when you added; "Your hesitation is totally fine, Maximoff. It must be hard to share the podium as the team's coolest person, but you get used to it."

She chuckled awkwardly at the compliment mixed with teasing at the end of the tour. You offered her a farewell wink, thanking her for the favor before muttering that you needed a shower after several hours of driving. You disappeared to your own room before Wanda could come to a coherent conclusion as to why her heart was racing inside her chest.

Perhaps she was having a panic attack?

Wanda turned on her heels and made her way to Bruce's lab. A quick check-up would clarify things.

While assuring her that she didn't have a chronic arrhythmia, Bruce also - under the influence of Natasha and Tony - diagnosed her with something very common to teenage patients: a crush.

"Did you consider Miss Maximoff, that perhaps, you may have just liked her?"

She did not take this very well.

"What? That's ridiculous! I'm not even gay!" Bruce looked up from the normal results of the cardiology test she had demanded and offered her a small smile.

"All right, Miss Maximoff, maybe I made a mistake. You're probably just anxious about your return to action next week." The doctor suggested and Wanda stood up from the lab chair with an impatient huff.

"That's definitely it." She assured him, not wasting any more time on Bruce and his absurd theories after thanking him for the tests.

After such an unfortunate situation, Wanda began to avoid you. It was the most viable solution when someone caused her to have irregular heartbeats, sweat or tremors. Perhaps she was allergic to you.

Obviously, she should keep her distance.

But it seems that the team had other ideas.

"Barnes and Maximoff, you're together. No gloves, come on." Natasha arrived at the gym announcing, an iPad with the training schedule in hand. Wanda, who had spent a good few weeks with the successful plan of interactions limited to greetings, nearly had a stroke. At least her partner, Sam, was keen enough to hold off his punch before it got to her. Wanda hadn't even heard his comment about her getting distracted in a fight and her feet were moving towards the mat, her eyes quick to notice your breathless figure removing the fighting gloves you had been using on a practice dummy for the last few minutes.

"Let's see if training with Wilson has taught you anything, Maximoff." You commented with a smile that made her stomach jump. Something about your sweaty, panting appearance was making her dizzy.

The rest of the team spread out on the edges of the mat, interested to see the exercise, and it was only Natasha who came up to you to lead the whole thing.

"Start with the basics, I want to see Wanda's reaction time." The widow explained, squeezing the two of you on the shoulder. Before turning away completely, she raised a finger in warning to the younger brunette. "And no magic tricks, Maximoff. Even if you're losing."

Wanda smiled, rolling her eyes. Only once had she done that to Natasha and it seemed the widow would never let that story die.

Before the whistle blew, you looked her in the eye. "I'll take it easy on you, little witch." You whispered teasingly, and Wanda felt something burn in her lower belly. She also decided that she had to win because she had to get that smirk off her face.

It was an easier task than it looked - and it was all down to the fact that if there was one thing Hydra had taught her well, it was to exploit weaknesses.

And yours was to care about her. Every hesitation in your movements, your awareness of the super-soldier strength that could hurt her, made it very easy for Wanda to exploit it, slip away, and dodge all your blows. And there was something else too; a soft choke in your breathing every time she got too close, tangled up between one move and the next. The way your ears turned three shades redder when she managed to knock you over and landed on your chest.

"Wow, Maximoff really is kicking your ass." taunted Sam from the corner of the room, grinning at Barton and Nat.

You didn't seem to mind, licking your lips as you took a second look at the position Wanda now found herself in; sitting on your hips.

She did, however, give you an annoyed look. "Don't hold back, I can take it."

"I'm sure you can, little witch." You retorted ironically, leaning yourself fully back onto the mat.

Wanda grunted angrily, then grabbed the collar of your blouse. "Fight for real! I don't need you to take it easy, I can handle it."

The disarming was so quick that she barely had time to blink - one second she was on your hips, the next her back was pressed to the mat with her hands pinned to the side of her head.

Your body on top of hers, pressing her to the floor, made her choke.

For a moment, as your dilated eyes descend to her mouth, you also seem to forget what you were doing, and the audience around you.

But suddenly, you let go; a dry, humorless laugh escaping you as you stand up. And you turn to Nat as if you hadn't just dropped Wanda on the mat.

After ignoring you for weeks, she thinks she deserves it.

"Her fight is decent, so I think we had enough."

Nat raises an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. "Oh, are you the one deciding on the training now, Barnes?"

You smile briefly before retorting; "Come on, everyone knows she's not punching her way out of fights when she can use the energy tricks. It's a waste of time making the girl train like a soldier."

Natasha doesn't seem to agree. She follows you towards the locker room, arguing how important it is to eliminate the team's vulnerabilities, while the rest scatter around the gym, some giving up practicing to get something to eat and others going back to wrestling.

Wanda regrets sitting on the mat because in that position she can watch you at the locker room door, tugging at your training shirt, exposing a strong muscular back and a lot of skin because of the sports top that doesn't do much good to hide it.

Natasha continues to talk to you without taking any notice of the gesture, so Wanda is sure she's the problem. Her stupid brain and heart are clearly forgetting that she can't handle a crush right now.

She doesn't even have Pietro anymore, who, as soon as he'd finished tormenting her about it, would give her advice. Because he's always had a natural talent for this kind of thing, while the last time Wanda tried to flirt with a boy, it sounded like a threat.

She can't do this on her own. And with that conclusion, she tries to get over it. Maybe Google has some tips, or maybe, the walking computer that hangs around the tower can help.

"Vis?"

The synthesized man took his eyes off the book in his lap when Wanda called out to him, a few days after the training session where, since being pressed into a mat by you, Wanda found herself unable to think of anything else.

"Hello, Wanda." He greeted her gently, closing the pages and waiting for her to approach.

"I need your help with something."

"Oh, what would that be?"

Wanda pressed her lips together, her hands restless in front of her body. "Would you be able to tell me the most efficient way to... get over someone?" Vision frowned in surprise, and Wanda sighed. "Someone we shouldn't like. Definitely inappropriate."

Vis opens her mouth, still in shock at the whole thing, but it's someone else who speaks;

"What's definitely inappropriate?" Tony asks, and Wanda thanks the gods he didn't hear the first part.

"N-nothing!" Rebuts the witch quickly, the color of her cheeks probably giving her away. Stark looks at her suspiciously, then at Vis.

"Okay, what are you two love birds talking about?" The Vision would have blushed if he could. He gets visibly embarrassed, smiling shyly.

That's great as if Wanda needed one more extra thing to stress her out.

She can barely contain her grimace at the nickname, but Tony doesn't bother; Vision is at least quick to change the subject, and surprises Wanda with his ability to lie very well.

"We were just commenting on how inappropriate General Ross's accusations were at the last meeting." And that's enough to distract Stark.

Wanda practically flees the scene after that. For a long moment, she had even forgotten about the tension that had been swirling around the Avengers over the last few days, precisely because your absence from the compound made her - not that she would admit it - miss you terribly. And all she could think about was inevitably you, busy on missions with Steve in search of your brother James.

With your presence increasingly rare in the Compound, Wanda hoped that the crush would go away, but every time she happened to bump into you between missions, the feelings came back with an overwhelming force, like two lovers the war kept apart. It was frustrating, to say the least. Especially since Wanda was nothing more than a teammate. Hardly a friend.

When Lagos happened, and it was the worst thing that could possibly occur, at least Wanda had something else to think about. And this time, Ross's visit to the Compound was more than inappropriate - it was final.

Accords and fights between the team led to an unbearable situation. With half of her colleagues out for meetings with the United Nations, Wanda was still grounded at the Compound, waiting for news.

She didn't expect you to be sneaking around.

"You shouldn’t be here." That's the first thing she says as she fully opens the bedroom door you left ajar. Wanda could lie about being your fault that she found you, when in fact she had become an expert at sensing your aura over the last few weeks, the ability to just know when you were around, perfecting itself every time you two met.

You chuckle, without diverting your attention from the task of filling your backpack with as many things as you can squeeze inside. Wanda had the impression that many of the items you came to collect in your room were old presents; everything the others had gotten you over the last few holidays. Things that were precious.

"I'm aware. I won't be long." You retort, folding some socks together to put them away in the closet.

Wanda should call Vis - he's working as a sort of watchman for the tower or something. And he was supposed to notify Tony of your presence. But instead, she closes the door.

Twisting her fingers in anxiety, she asks:

"Where are you going to run off to?"

Offering her a quick glance as you returned to your suitcase to put away some underwear that made Wanda look away, you replied; "I can't tell you that, little witch."

Wanda almost smiled at the nickname. Instead, she took a desperate step forward.

"Would you take me with you?"

Standing back, you chuckle. "Funny."

"I wasn't joking."

You leave the St. Petersburg snow globe you got as a present from Natasha on the dresser and turn with a frown to the witch behind you. "Maximoff, come on-"

"I'm serious." She insists. "Stark grounded me. Like a fucking child. “ She then chuckles sadly. “Or worse, a problem he didn't want to deal with. And I know I fucked up in Lagos-"

"Don't say that, Lagos wasn't your fault." You interrupt her with a certain determination. "You need to remember that, alright?"

Wanda smiles softly at your reassurance, looking away because her face is suddenly very warm. You sigh then grab just one more change of clothes before zipping up your suitcase.

"It's not because of the company, Wanda." You mutter suddenly, with the backpack on your shoulders. She looks at you with confusion, but you don't meet her gaze. "I just don't think it's right, everything that's happening. And I don't think we should all be fighting with each other. But that's what's going to happen from now on. If you come with me, Steve probably expects you to be choosing sides. And I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

Her heart skips a beat, but Wanda takes a chance;

"Anyone... or me?"

You're taken aback, but you don't lose your poise. You sighed deeply before approaching her without haste, without any hint of what you were going to do either. Wanda opens her mouth again, to apologize for being so difficult, but you muffle the statement with a kiss.

It's the first time she's kissed another girl if that isn't obvious. She melts, panting and so very shy; it's a good thing that you hold her waist, while your other hand keeps your face close by grabbing her chin gently. Wanda's lungs scream for air after a moment, but she refuses to pull away from a sensation as good as kissing you.

Something like a whimper of need escapes her when you break the act, or maybe it's the way you give her lower lip a gentle tug with your teeth that leaves her trembling, ready to beg for more.

"Sorry if that was sudden." It's the first thing you say, your voice is hoarse, and as affected as your breathing. You smile, your thumb wiping away some of the mess left by Wanda's gloss. "But I think it took us long enough."

She babbles like a fish, unable to form a coherent thought for a whole moment. You wait patiently, your hands touching her shoulders, sliding down her arms as a way of calming her. Wanda has dreamed so much of feeling you that the touch meant to ease her nerves has quite the opposite effect; every inch of skin you touch tingles.

"H-how... did you know?" she asks, and you give a short laugh.

"I didn't." You retort gently. "Not for sure, at least. Not until two seconds ago when you asked to come with me. I had this... feeling. And this tension. Every time we walked into the same room, every time we were alone. I just felt…” You can put it into words exactly, so you just take a deep breath and smile at her. “I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, that the way I felt was making me imagine things but then you came in here. Sneak out into my room and ask if you could leave this fancy tower to run away with me to fight. I just had to be sure."

Wanda bites back a shy smile, feeling the heat spreading from her chest to her face and eras, and knowing for a fact that it's only going to get worse because of the way you're looking at her.

She tries to get some ground again.

"And are you..." A sigh, as one of your hands settles on her waist. "Sure?"

You hum thoughtfully before breaking the distance, kissing her in a different way than before. It's more intense and hungrier. Your tongue invades her mouth, exploring everywhere and your hands prevent her from pulling away when the oxygen is off. Every needy sound that escapes her is muffled against into lips.

Wanda tentatively follows the rhythm, one of her hands wrapping in your hair. Your backpack falls to the ground and you hold her tighter now, pulling her into you. It's a significant difference between a super-soldier's body and her own, and just the quick memory of you pressing her against the mat makes her moan into your tongue.

The sound makes you lose your mind - Your hands become more determined, the kiss desperate. Wanda struggles for air, exposing the collarbone that keeps you busy as she tries to catch her breath. You bite down on her skin and she arches against you, her hands becoming bold enough to scratch your back and pull up your blouse.

But you break into a husky chuckle, slowing the kiss and pulling away to remind her; "We have to go." Between one touch and the next, "We don't have time."

She needs a whole moment to force her brain to work, and even after you're no longer touching her, and she's sneaking off to her own room to prepare a suitcase, she's still shaking.

When you meet again, running hand in hand with suitcases back to the garage, Wanda is surprised to realize that she was foolish to be afraid of something as good as this.

That is, of course, until reality hits again.

Wanda has never seen you in action as a Winter Soldier before. She saw it through television, Shield files, and testimonies about deserters captured by the Avengers.

But she was never there.

The Avengers split up and fought each other, and your brother fled with Steve Rogers. She thought you were safe on the plane with them, she made sure you got on - but she didn't see you climb off.

Wanda accepted being captured, she accepted being drugged as a security measure. And throughout the confusion that was the transportation of the Avengers in custody to the Raft, she thought she was hallucinating the whole way there. The masked figure attacking the soldiers and opening the cells was a projection of the sedative in her mind.

She only knew what had really happened, had been able to remember, when you both were already in another country as fugitives from the United Nations.

You were by her side the whole time. You held her on your lap after getting rid of the straitjacket that had trapped her and lay down next to her when there was finally a secure roof over your heads.

Wanda was exhausted. She had lost the only thing she had left; her freedom. There was no longer a home, a team, a brother. She was drugged and trapped like an animal by people she considered family.

She started crying, and you woke up. You didn't say a word or ask her to stop. You just held her and let her sob into your chest until she fell asleep again, this time from exhaustion rather than through the influence of chemicals.

When what was left of the team moved on the following day, to another location to avoid suspicion as Natasha clarify it, Wanda got the impression that maybe it was you who needed her to hold you until you went to sleep now.

Bucky didn't come back, and neither of you knew what had happened to him or Steve.

Wanda let you cry all you wanted.

But then finally, everyone who had fought for Steve was back together. Even Clint and Scott, who would probably make deals for their families, to try to be with them, and would have to leave soon. For a moment, everyone was there and you found out that your brother was going to stay in Wakanda to be free again.

It wasn't perfect, but it was a good moment. Steve got food for everyone, you had something that resembled a Christmas, or at least an end-of-year celebration.

We're alive and safe. We're together. Steve was a man of words.

Even if they were sharing a safe house that was too small for such a group. Even if half the world was after them.

The team fell asleep between sleeping bags and sofas, and you left the trailer to get some air. Wanda went after you without thinking much about it.

"It's cold, witchy." You commented as soon as she was close enough, even though you opened your arms for her to wrap hers around you.

Your back was against Nat's truck, and Wanda pressed a little closer to hide her face in your collarbone.

"Where are you going to run off to?" She questions into your skin.

You sigh, one hand caressing her back. "I don't know." You confess quietly. "I wouldn't get to Wakanda with this, but I wasn't feeling very well in there. Having a Christmas meal without him."

Wanda adjusts her face to look at you. "Bucky needs to heal first."

You nod, giving her a sad smile. "I know, but Steve told me they put him back on ice. Until they found out what they were going to do with him. Just the fact that he's there, freezing again... " You look away, sniffling softly. "It reminds me of the past, our time as Winter Soldiers. And It makes me very sad.” You explain softly before sighing. “I know there's nothing we can do to help him now, but it's all so frustrating. I just needed to get out of there for a moment."

Wanda absorbs your words for a moment until she returns to her previous position and smiles as she feels you relax and put your arms around her.

She murmurs; "It's a shame we can't go out there. Natasha said this place has beautiful spots to visit."

You snort slightly. "Actually, we could drive somewhere further away. Far from the city." You comment. "We can watch the Aurora Borealis."

Wanda bites her lip for a moment, considering your invitation, until she adds; "Just the two of us?"

You chuckle. "Unless you want to wake up the team..."

"No, I wasn't complaining!" She clarifies quickly, and you start laughing again.

She taps you gently on the shoulder to make you stop. "Idiot."

"Your idiot." You hit back with a smirk, and Wanda's heart stops beating for a moment. There's a pause, between exchanging intense glances as you bring your hands to her face, adjusting her hair out of the way. "Don't forget, witchy."

She swallows dryly, her voice hoarse when she speaks: "I won't." She whispers back and you smile before pressing your lips into hers.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader

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zombie-bait · 18 days ago

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Went into The Penguin after seeing the trailer expecting Sofia Falcone to be some crazy minor antagonist who exists to just get in the way (*cue Gotham flashbacks*) and instead got a very powerful (and honestly quite justified) rendition of feminine rage motivated by betrayal, societal misogyny, gaslighting and isolation. It's very overt messaging, too. Her family, her coworkers, her friends, her city, even her therapist have all used her for their own means. You get to a point where you see that genuinely everyone in her life has fucked her over and she's not going to play by their rules anymore. And fuck, man, of course she doesn't take the high road but the one she goes down is not only satisfying but borderline righteous for the character and the audience.

On top of that, I truly cannot exaggerate how delighted I am that the show gave reasons to root for AND against both her and Oz. Neither of them are particularly good people but you completely understand where they're coming from and you find yourself wanting for them to succeed, even though one's success very much might mean the downfall of the other!! They have kind qualities alongside their cruel ones which work very well to humanize them.

With Oz, you understand what kind of person he is after only a few scenes. He will lie and schmooze his way to the top however he has to. He plays every side which puts him on the edge of danger and power constantly. Every time he's called out for not having a plan he doubles down on his confidence and acts scandalized even though he's absolutely talking out of his ass. He also takes care of his ailing mother and has spent his entire life being talked down to by anyone and everyone.

Sofia on the other hand, takes a while to unravel. And I love it. The point of her is that she's a mystery. A wild card. Slowly, you learn that she has ambitions, that she has suffered at the hands of others, that she has caused suffering with her own hands and that her family will never see her as anything but a problem. Visually, she is contrasted with Oz as smaller, frailer, younger. The narrative, like her own family, almost leads you to underestimate her. But with episode 4, the painting finally comes together. You see an ambitious young woman sharpened down into a jagged weapon and know that there is only one path left for her. You come away from the episode not feeling like she's an antagonist or a villain, but more like she's a secondary protagonist in a show that already has a fairly strong one.

tl;dr this show kinda fucks. The quality has surprised me in all the best ways possible and I'm genuinely excited to see more.

#the penguin #sofia falcone #the penguin hbo #oz cobb #gotham #dc universe #hbo #its been a while since I got into a show #so this is a win for 2024

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kissatoru · 1 year ago

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𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓

pairing. sub!vampire!levi ackerman x dom!gn!reader

synopsis. in 19th century society, everyone has secrets they want to keep from seeing the light of day — so what will happen when you unveil levi’s?

content. implied virgin/touch-starved!levi, ooc levi at some points cause of vampire hormones, plot before porn, blood/blood-drinking kink, oral fixation, dry humping, handjob, inappropriate use of cravats, petnames (dearest, darling)

notes. first fic of hornyween!! the others won’t be as long lol this took FOREVER. anyway, please consider reblogging if you enjoy it<3

wc. 5k

Sparkling chandeliers adorn the ballroom’s high ceilings, making the polished floor gleam like honey as stylish figures twirl and glide across it. The rest of the guests are gathered by the walls in clusters, their lively chatter and chuckles mixing in with the night’s melodies.

You stand by one of the pink brocade curtains, sipping a glass of champagne. Your stance is relaxed but mannerly; not seeking nor avoiding attention, just observing and occasionally humouring a fellow guest that takes notice of your presence. Among those who approach you, admirers are plentiful, with faces of various qualities and contours, and characters both pleasant and not, but none who gain more than a few minutes of your time before you’re politely concluding the conversation or excusing yourself entirely.

As you’re meandering through laughing circles and swaying couples, away from yet another adamant admirer, you scan the room for him: the main reason you attended this ball at all. He rarely arrives for the banquets, and when he does, he even more rarely eats more than is expected of him. Now that the dancing has begun, he should be here, but you’ve yet to spot a single trace of him. It has made you restless, your eyes desperate in their pursuit. Each time you catch a glimpse of dark hair and pale skin or a short stature and a neatly tied cravat, you’re just as suddenly disappointed when you realise it’s not him. Eventually, you fall back into the same routine as before — entertaining married couples, faking laughs at bad jokes, listening to shallow gossip.

“Goodness, me,” Baroness Azumabito gushes at you, “you are as charming as they say, Your Grace.”

You chuckle courteously. “You’re too kind, Lady Azumabito.”

She offers you a closed-eye smile, her crow’s feet pinching together. “I truly must ask,” she begins, unfolding her peacock-feather fan and speaking a little quieter now. You already know it’s certainly not something she must ask. “What are your plans on marriage? You have no small number of choices, I’m sure!”

She giggles a little too hard for your liking, and you are reminded of the not-so-pretty piece of gossip you heard only a mere ten minutes ago — her husband’s gambling problems, her unmarried child. Quite the ideal motive for her to talk to you; someone who has both higher status and greater wealth. Of course, you know not all hearsay is true, but with a smile like Lady Azumabito’s, cunning as a fox and twice as sneaky, trust is a risk you’re not willing to take.

You laugh again. “Oh, none at the moment,” you say, feigning ignorance, “I’m so busy these days, I feel as though a partner might be…”

At the edge of your vision, a dark-haired silhouette passes. Your head moves in search of it, your eyes following, flicking this way and that. However, amidst the sea of extravagant gowns and upscale suits, the glimpse you had managed to catch slips from your grasp all too soon.

“Might be what?” Kiyomi asks.

An uneasy sense of disappointment hollows in your chest, but you ignore it. “Uh, a distraction. Would be... a distraction.”

Another flash of shadowy hair, porcelain skin.

Kiyomi clears her throat. “Do you care to elaborate, Your Grace?”

Just as you’re about to turn back to her, a figure stops in clear view before you: a metre and a half tall, raven black locks, eyes as sharp as falcon talons, an intricately tailored waistcoat — and the swan-white ruffles of a linen cravat.

A huff is your only warning before the short woman is stepping in and obscuring your line of sight, her round eyes now pressed into slits by her strained smile. “Please forgive my impudence, Your Grace, but what has you so–”

You abruptly but gently take her hands into yours. “Pardon my manners, Lady Azumabito,” you say, already shifting on your feet in preparation for your departure, “but I’ve spotted an acquaintance of mine with whom I’d like to discuss some private matters with.” You let go of her hands and give a curt bow. “If you’ll please excuse me.”

Her dumbfounded expression is the last you see of her before you swiftly take your leave. You track the person with your eyes and feet in tandem, each step purposeful and your eagerness barely contained. Once you’re in arm’s length, you cheerily call out:

“Viscount Ackerman!”

Several people turn their heads. The Viscount in question stops no later, though seemingly reluctantly. He turns to face you, a question perched on the peak of his raised eyebrow.

Your shoes clack as you stride the rest of the way up to him. Once beside him, you lean over and flash him a cheeky smirk. “Fashionably late as always?” you remark, but it fails to prompt any sort of perceptible reaction. The only change in his expression is his eyebrow returning to its relaxed position.

“And I see you are…” Silver blue eyes wash over you, up and down, in a single steady motion. “In attendance. As always.”

“Of course,” you reply with a practised smile. “I would not dream of missing one of the Duke of Trost’s parties.”

He hums. “I don’t doubt that.”

You hum back, thoughtful. “And what of yourself, my Lord?” you ask. “What brings you here?” You pause to smile knowingly. “Certainly not the food, seeing as you were absent for that.”

His eyes narrow and his lips press together in a firm line. “If you must know, the Duke was very insistent that I attend,” he explains, eyeing a passing servant before picking up a flute of champagne from their tray. “As for my tardiness… I prioritised taking care of some business affairs, first and foremost. Though I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to understand.” He swirls the liquid around in his glass and takes a sip.

You chuckle heartily. “Oh, come now!” you exclaim. “Why so hostile? Are we not friends?”

“Only in public,” Levi corrects in a low tone.

You turn to face the room, smirking against your glass. “That’s not true and you know it.”

A newly-engaged couple you were conversing with earlier passes by, waving. You smile and wave back at them.

Levi makes an exasperated noise. “Do you never tire of that?” he grumbles into his glass.

You bring your own glass up to your lips. “Whatever do you mean, my Lord?”

He grimaces. “That.”

You giggle. “Keeping up appearances is just the way I was raised,” you reply with a gesture of nonchalance, “but not all my smiles are fake, you know. It’s quite pleasant, smiling.” You beam at him, as if to prove your point. “I think you ought to try it some time.”

Levi scowls. “I know how to smile.”

“Oh, I never said you didn’t, my Lord,” you quip. “I have no doubt that you understand it in theory, just that you should try putting it into practice.” You point to the corner of your mouth, lifting it to mimic a smile.

He sucks his teeth and tears his gaze away from your own. “You’re infuriating.”

“And yet, here you are,” you say, stepping closer. “For longer than ten seconds, might I add. Surely a feat, no?”

Levi scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He raises his glass, speaking over the lip of it. “You just happen to be the least infuriating one here.”

You bite your tongue — “Well, by your standards, being the least infuriating is, in fact, quite flattering!” — and instead, you glance around and lean in. “In that case, what do you say we go find a place away from all this poor company?” Your voice takes on a lighter yet all the more meaningful tone. “Perhaps somewhere just for the two of us?”

There’s a glint of interest in Levi’s eyes that doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you pull away to look at him. “I would say that’s highly inappropriate,” he says, hushed, but not in a way that matches his words; hushed in a way that suggests intrigue.

“Inappropriate?” you echo, lips curving into a smile. “You really needn’t worry so much, my Lord! We shan’t be away for long, I promise.”

Levi’s thin eyebrows angle up. After a moment of contemplation, he closes his eyes and sighs. “If you insist,” he concedes.

Without further discussion, you set aside your and Levi’s drinks, then go ahead and stroll over to the arched doors with Levi not far behind.

With how often the Duke hosts such extravaganzas, you’ve had plenty of occasions to become familiar with the layout of their home, hence why you know where all of the rooms are. You navigate through the narrow hallways with an air of confidence, occasionally stopping to praise or snicker at family paintings and decor choices, much to Levi’s chagrin.

“What is it now?” Levi asks, attempting to pinpoint the subject of your attention this time.

You stand by a window that faces the rear garden, peering through the glass with squinted eyes. “Do my eyes deceive me or is that the Countess of Ehrmich and her handmaid kissing out in the gazebo?” You turn to Levi with a theatrically outraged jaw-drop, making him roll his eyes.

“You are no better than those gossiping simpletons we left in the ballroom,” he scolds as he draws the curtains shut.

You chuckle. “Apologies! Only a jest!” He glares at you but otherwise doesn’t complain. You watch him for a moment, how his nimble fingers tug and adjust the curtains, how he mutters expletives under his breath at the dust that transfers to his hands from the curtains.

Feeling mischievous, you lean in, so your lips are almost touching his ear. “It’s just so fun to tease you, I can’t resist.”

Goosebumps raise on Levi’s skin as he flinches away from you, fingers hovering over where your breath brushed his earlobe. He swallows. “Maybe you ought to practise some self-restraint.”

You smirk. “Maybe you ought to have less of it.”

He frowns. “How would that benefit anyone?”

You take a step closer. “Try it and find out.”

Levi takes a step back, but you take another step forward. His back bumps into a solid surface as your hand reaches out. He freezes in anticipation.

The click of a door handle, then a quiet creak.

“I believe,” you say, smiling cattily and circling around him, “I have found the drawing room.”

Levi huffs. “Finally,” he mumbles and pushes past you through the door. You follow after him, shutting the door behind you.

The room is a size you’d expect given how large the rest of the residence is. A ceiling mural depicting an Ancient Roman legend; tall windows and velvet curtains. At the centre of the room, atop a patterned rug, gold and beige furniture is arranged in a thoughtful composition. Dainty — yet no doubt expensive — decorations and trinkets adorn various corners, shelves and walls.

In one of the armchairs, Levi sits down, exhaling long and heavy, as if he had been holding his breath all night. You, on the other hand, decide to explore the room first, ambling between the furnishings and admiring the cosiness of the space. Absent-mindedly, you run a finger along the spines of some books piled on top of a small table, tracing the ribbed leather and embossed text.

“At last, some peace and quiet, hm?” you say, mostly just to occupy the air with something of substance, as you glance at Levi.

He’s sitting with one elbow resting on the seat’s floral print armrest, the pads of his fingers massaging the area between his eyebrows. “Until you spoiled it, yes,” he grunts.

The beginnings of a witty remark form, then just as quickly dissipate from your tongue. The corners of your lips sink, the lines in your face waning into nothing.

With his face cast down, Levi is oblivious to the change in your expression. It isn’t until you take two, five, ten or so steps — when the silence drags on without a response of your own — that he raises his head.

“Actually,” you start, standing by the armchair across from him, only a few feet away, “I brought you here to discuss something with you.”

His reaction is stalled but still comes in the form of a puzzled frown. “Go on, then.”

The floorboards squeak under your weight as you take another few steps forward. Levi shifts in his chair. “We agreed to be honest with one another, Levi. To not keep secrets,” you say, “yet I have good reason to suspect you haven’t entirely been maintaining your end of the agreement.”

As he opens his mouth to defend himself, your approaching footsteps finally seal the remaining distance between you. You step in to occupy the space between his knees and the contact is enough to make them jolt away as if from flames. Levi stares down at them until he catches the movement of your arms in the corner of his vision.

In your hands is a book, presumably from the stack you were observing earlier. He had been so absorbed in the shrinking space between you that he didn’t stop to consider that perhaps the arms linked behind you might be holding something.

His eyes roam the book, then fall on the shining yellow words etched into the front cover:

The Vampyre

by John William Polidori

Electric impulses fire through his body. His mouth goes dry. “I told Hange to get rid of that.”

“Really? Why is that?” you ask, turning it over in your hand. “I hear it’s quite good.”

Levi can’t stop the irritation from showing on his face. “The problem is not with the book itself.”

It’s the influence it has on imbeciles like Hange, he finishes in his head. Imbeciles who’ll believe anything with enough coincidences and paranoid witness accounts. Sure, Hange is a special case, because they’re not so much afraid of the rumoured existence of ‘vampires’ as they are curious, which is arguably worse — especially since, for once, the imbeciles are right.

“Then what’s the problem?” Your frown seems to be of genuine confusion, but Levi knows better. There’s an underlying something just waiting to reveal itself.

Levi folds his arms across his chest. “What does this have to do with our agreement?”

The smile returns to your face, but it is unlike any that Levi is used to seeing; not fake, but not entirely trustworthy either. “Surely you’ve figured out that much by now.” You set the book aside. “Really, Levi. Do you take me for some kind of fool?” Your hands come forward and clasp the armrests of his chair. “Did you really think I don’t know that… you’re a vampire?”

Levi scoffs. “Do you hear yourself?” He narrows his eyes at you. “Vampires are a baseless conspiracy. A ludicrous superstition fabricated by the English that only a credulous halfwit–”

A hand grabs him by the cheeks, cramming the rest of his words back behind his teeth. “Open your mouth,” you order.

The suddenness of the command evaporates any and all thoughts from Levi’s head, replacing them with a purely chemical reaction in the form of heat striking through him. Gradually, you push his head back — and he lets you — while a hard mound he can only assume is your knee eases between his parted legs, coercing a gasp from his mouth. As soon as his jaw loosens, your fingers are poking through the gap between his lips, moving as if hunting for something. They settle around his upper canines, sliding over and prodding at them, over and over, until eventually they begin to grow, extending down, down into a sharp, tapered point, much too long for what can be considered human.

Levi groans, but the sound is much too airy for pain or discomfort to be the cause of it. Drool is gathering beneath his tongue and blood in his cheeks. How humiliating it is to have his fangs coaxed out by the close proximity of his carnal weakness — by someone who should be his prey in this dynamic — and how all the more humiliating it is to have the strike of heat from before already invading the rest of his body.

Only once the fangs have stopped growing do you cease your petting, opting instead to drag a single fingertip along the newly-revealed length of bone. “My, my,” you coo, “it seems that the truth has spoken for itself.” You remove your fingers from his mouth, but Levi’s head remains in its position against the backrest. “Whatever shall I do with you, now that I have you at my mercy?”

Your fingers travel down his exposed throat. Like a frightened prey animal, Levi’s body digs into the cushioned upholstery, trying to comprehend the foreign feeling of being touched in this way. Breaths beat out through his nose in quickening puffs and miniscule tremors rattle through his chest as he attempts to control, or perhaps conceal, the frantic rise and fall of it. Beneath your fingertips, you can feel his heartbeat, the pulse so solid that if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was hitting his ribcage with every beat.

“Are you afraid?” you ask him quietly, your fingers continuing their path downward.

Levi swallows, lets out a heavy breath but doesn’t answer. You watch him, analyse him. His tightly closed eyes, the sweat coming through his clothes… “Then perhaps you’re—” His unsteady breaths, his contracting muscles— “aroused?”

His Adam’s apple lifts and then drops. You follow the motion with your eyes, then lower, lower and lower, until you find the answer you’re looking for in his oh-so-conveniently open thighs. He immediately attempts to shut them, but your own prevent him from doing so.

“No need to be ashamed,” you assure him as you smile that knowing smile and carefully climb on top of his lap. “I can help to relieve you. If you wish.” You rub your bottom half against his hardened groin as a testament to your words.

Levi’s neck stretches over the backrest, an open-mouthed moan escaping him, then retracts back to his chest. His eyebrows cinch together in thought, but the way his hips rut into you has already declared his decision, so when his eyes finally flutter open and peer up at yours, you are unable to suppress your look of delight.

“Please,” is all he says — and all he needs to say to send your mind and self-control reeling.

You pounce forward, ravaging his lips with your own, while you grind down again; harder than before, and with more finesse. The noise that Levi makes into your mouth is much too heavenly for a creature of such damnable origin, yet as addictive as if it had been produced by a devil of temptation itself.

The swipe of a sleek surface has you parting from him on instinct. “Careful of your teeth, darling,” you warn and he nods as if in a daze before pulling you back in. He paws at your clothes, helpless and wanting, as though he aches to bring you closer. You let out an enraptured sigh at his aggressive gesture. After all, what an honour it is to have the stoic Viscount Levi Ackerman falling apart and moaning pathetically beneath you; what sacrilege to be a mortal defiling its natural predator. You feel as though you’re going mad, losing all sense of self from the sheer thrill of it.

You drag yourself away from his lips, only to see the full effects of your actions. Strong features softening as though he’s melting from the pleasure. Eyes squeezed shut while his glossy black hair, usually so perfectly combed, fans out in loose strands over his forehead. Razor-sharp nails mauling the armrests. Two fanged teeth poking out from under his lip.

In minutes, Levi is curling into you and crying out against your skin. You guide him through his climax, raking your fingers up from his undercut and through the strands at the top while whispering caring words to him, in soothing repetition. He collapses into you, his arms limp at your sides and his panting breaths warm on your neck. Before you can push him away, he’s mindlessly nuzzling and lapping at your throat like a dog, coating your skin in spit, sucking and occasionally catching his fangs on the fragile flesh. It would be a lie to say you aren’t enticed by the prospect of them breaking through; moving with more purpose and sinking into your–

Levi whines against your shoulder. “Please, let me have a taste. I’ll do anything, please,” he mumbles. “It’s been so long, I– I cannot wait any longer, please, I beg of you…” He pulls away, licking his lips, as if the taste of your skin is enough to last and cherish. “Please,” he begs, “let me drink your blood.”

You smile, wide, and brush back the hair tickling his eyes. “Only since you asked so nicely.”

As soon as the words enter the air, Levi lunges at you. You’re almost not fast enough, but manage to get a hold of him.

You pin his wrists on either side of his head, and the tightness of your grip seems to snap Levi out of his ravenous trance. “That wasn’t very polite,” you reprimand. Levi only looks up at you regretfully, which is likely the closest thing you’ll get to an apology from him. You sigh. “Don’t worry.” You let go of him and slide your palm under his chin. “Open–”

His jaw falls slack in an instant, granting you access to the inside of his mouth. You trail your fingers around his wet lips first, this way and that, slow and soft, just to hear him whine. You giggle but finally slip a finger inside and Levi groans in time with it. His tongue is the next thing to fall from his mouth, hanging over his lip and dripping saliva onto his shirt.

“What a sight,” you breathe. “I wonder what our fellow nobles would think.”

Levi moans softly as you poke your fingertip into the point of one of his fangs. You hiss as it pierces the skin and wait for the blood to collect before turning your finger over.

“Tilt your head back, dearest,” you say, and Levi does so with haste. You dangle your finger above his eager tongue and watch his eyes roll back as the first drop hits his taste buds. He savours the flavour like a man starved of water, his mouth pooling with drool, and whimpers in anticipation of the next drop.

Your eyes are fixated on him, as if hypnotised, and engulfed in sick amusement from the power you have over him. Your thumb sits under your fingertip, forcing out the liquid with steady presses, but for Levi, it’s still not enough. Animalistic hunger and impatience possess him. His arms come to life to grab your wrist and yank it toward his mouth. He manages to swallow your finger whole before you can react, though the sight is much too precious for you to deny or scold him anyway.

The grip around your wrist turns vice-like as he feverishly sucks the blood from your finger. His closed eyelids twitch and runny spit oozes down his chin. You look on in adoration at the sweetly depraved state you have him in. Who would think that a blood-sucking monster could be this docile and helpless?

Levi’s panting grows heavier until you begin to feel him rutting against you. When you look down, the lump of his crotch has regained hardness, already straining against the dark material. “Aroused again so soon?” you taunt.

He is so engrossed in sucking that he doesn’t seem to hear you, so you tug your finger out of his mouth and hands. He grunts in protest, but you ignore him and try again. “Would you like me to take care of that for you?”

As if freshly woken from a daze, or perhaps still in one, those folds you’re so used to seeing between his eyebrows take shape in a show of gentle confusion. “Take… care of what?”

You bring a hand down to his lap and lightly tap the bulge that’s formed there, making him tense and spasm under you. He must still be sensitive, you think with a smile.

“Of this,” you clarify.

He swallows. “Okay.”

“Okay?” You stifle a chuckle. “It’s a yes or no question, Levi, so answer with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.”

He sighs and evades your eyes as he hisses out a reluctant “Yes.”

“Good boy,” you praise and begin to make quick work of the buttons on his trousers.

Levi frowns. “Don’t call me that. I am not a dog.”

You laugh through your nose, amused. “Yet you drool and whimper just like one.” You playfully stare up at him through your lashes. He doesn’t say anything back, just blooms a deeper pink, so you accept your win and finish unbuttoning his trousers. Next, you unfasten the strings of his undergarments, freeing his leaking length.

As soon as your fingers make contact with it, Levi writhes. His legs squirm and his hips buck up into your touch. In seconds, the wet head of his cock is dripping with bead after bead of precum. In your awe of his intense reaction, you find yourself experimentally toying with it; squeezing, tugging, kneading, fingering. Obscene noises created by the remnants of his previous release make colour fill Levi’s usually colourless cheeks. His glinting grey eyes are lidded, his head dizzy and delirious. His mouth is hanging open in surrender to the erotic sounds he cannot help making, tongue dyed scarlet from your blood and glistening with saliva. You adore it — are spurred on by it, even — but his volume is now teetering on too loud, and the last thing you want right now is to be caught.

So with one hand on his dick, keeping him distracted, you hurriedly untie his cravat and stuff it into his inviting mouth. A startled, confused but thankfully muted moan rumbles through the cloth. You grin at the conflicted eyes and knitted eyebrows you get in response to your actions, entirely unbothered as you continue to take him apart with your touches, to watch him become the embodiment of debauchery. Moonlight skin shiny with sweat, teeth gnawing around his makeshift gag, pelvis involuntarily meeting your movements, elbows pointing to the ceiling as he desperately scratches and claws at the back of the chair, surely ruining it beyond repair with his needlepoint nails and vampiric strength. So effortlessly picture-perfect.

No more than a few seconds later, he’s arching his back against the chair and wailing into his linen gag. The wood of the backrest splinters and the upholstery tears loudly under his fingernails. Warm fluid gushes out over your fist and dribbles down it as you continue stroking his length. Your other hand takes out the cravat from Levi’s mouth and wipes up the mess. He lets out a few wet little warbles and whimpers at the overstimulating feeling, but quietens down once you finish.

You don’t allow him a second to recuperate from his high, instead satiating your own desires; snatching his face up in your hands and latching your lips onto his in one smooth motion. Tongues curl together and the metallic tang of your own blood swarms your senses. Levi keens and grips the fabric at your waist. By the time your mouths separate, you’re both breathless and gasping against each other, and the allure of his dishevelled state has you unable to resist trailing a few extra kisses on his skin; from the corner of his mouth to his jaw, on the soft spot behind his ear and down his delicate neck. Levi grabs at your shoulders weakly, but when you pull back to check on him, his gaze drops to your laps.

“How did you find that?” You tilt your head. “Good?”

Better than good, so much better — is what he thinks, but what he settles on saying is “Yes, it– it was good.”

The smile that stretches across your cheeks is inevitable, and the most sincere one you’ve had the entire night. “Well… as much as I would like to keep going,” you say, chewing on your inner lip corner, and making Levi flush, “I think it’s time we go back.”

You climb off of the chair and straighten out your clothes. Meanwhile, Levi tries, and fails, to stand up, his knees buckling and sending him flopping back into the seat.

You sigh sympathetically and caress the side of his face. “You should rest for a moment,” you tell him. Your fingers glide down to his chin, take it into your hand and wipe the spit, along with the traces of smeared blood, from his lips. “Perhaps neaten up your appearance, in the meantime?” you add with a smirk.

Some awareness seems to have awoken in him, perhaps as a result of your teasing, because he pouts and replies with, “I was planning on doing so anyway.”

You don’t say anything else, taking that moment to appreciate the silence, just the distant echo of music and the tick of the clock on the mantelpiece. Luckily, it does not take long for Levi’s ragged breaths to calm, and for his thighs to reclaim their strength. You help to clean up his image, fastening up garments, flattening out creases and wiping away or concealing the evidence of your activities. Kisses are exchanged in between; some of them stolen, some of them followed by giggles, and some by lustful gazes.

Once you’re ready to leave, you head for the door, but you only go as far as clasping the gold handle before stopping and turning to Levi. His eyebrows shift in that way they’re so good at, speaking when words don’t need to. Your eyes sketch out a path down his face, all the way to his lips, where you find yourself already missing the blood, drool and pearly fangs…

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching for his nape and wrapping your plush lips around each other.

“If you’re well-behaved tonight,” you rasp against his lips, “I’ll treat you to more than just a finger next time.”

taglist. @jazzyluuv <3

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blackbyrenflowers · 10 months ago

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I have an irrational hatred for the eyrie. It's the stupidest castle in the whole series. To even get up to it, you have to navigate on winding steep narrow paths too small for even horses, hoping you dont break your neck. Then you have to climb up six hundred feet in handholds, or if you prefer, baskets that are 2 seconds away from smashing against the rocks and killing you.

And unlike Storm's End or Casterly Rock which have to be surrounded by land and sea to be sieged, the Eyrie has only one entrance to make it really convenient for would-be invaders to cut their food supplies. How do they haul up food? They use oxen! They haul up several hundred pound mammals (how??) to bring up other food and other supplies. Then they kill the cattle and leave them for the falcons once winter rolls around, because they can't take them down with them and you can't survive in the Eyrie once winter hits. Because for some reason, Roland I Arryn decided that a castle he wouldn't be able to inhabit for years at a time would be a great idea.

Sure the view's pretty, but that's all they have going for them. The garden's too thin for a weirwood tree (maybe because you're trying to plant trees several thousand feet in the air) so it kind of sucks anyways. Want a change of scenery? Hope you don't snap your neck coming down from your mountain.

And let me be clear, this has nothing to do with the Arryns. Fine house, I like Jon Arryn, I like sweetrobin, etc. They just have the worst castle in Westeros. I would rather live in Harrenhal. Sure I might die, but at least at least it'd be of an unavoidable curse and not the abomination of logistics that is the eyrie.

#i am an eyrie-anti #asoiaf #house arryn #the eyrie #valyrianscrolls

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ravensvalley · 6 months ago

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#HuntedUntilExtermination

Northern Raven...

I am extremely pissed off today of our "changing and depending on which region of Canada we are living in", because laws are flexible and can change at any time.

Example: Nearly all native birds in Canada are protected, even if they don't migrate. But this law concerns only the category of small birds. Which is terribly weird for me because these small birds are here in abundance, like thousands and more of them. But for most native species as birds of prey, they are excluded from being protected, like; Hawks, Owls, Eagles, Falcons, Kingfishers, Ravens, Crows, Jays, as for three other species in the blackbird family, like; Rusty Blackbirds, Common Grackles, and Brown‐Headed Cowbirds. Unbelievable if we think about the White Headed Eagles who can have only one clutch of 1-3 eggs per year, (and the first born, the strongest one, can kill the other two to have more food for him, which mother Eagle will also let him do) and can be hunted? As for the rarely seen, Royal Eagle, who is always moving further to North for fear of human. Weird right!

Regarding to the BC Wildlife Act, "Ravens are Schedule C Wildlife, meaning they can be hunted any time, but you do need a hunting licence, unless !!! "you are hunting them on your property or they are damaging your property." Ravens are protected under the, Wildlife Act, except !!! in those regions of the province that have a hunting season for them. Ravens can trigger a wide range of human reactions. It may be disgust for some people to see them feeding on roadkills.Or to see them from your bedroom window can be annoyingly diligent at letting you know that it is 4 o'clock a.m. For Native people, Ravens are still honoured in many First Nations’ cultures while for ranchers can be horrified at them to find the eyes of newborn beef calves pecked out." -bcmag

Ravens, foxes, wolves,… they only try to survive like any other wild animals. It is called, the food chain… hello??? Maybe we should exterminate Roosters too?

So to say, Ravens are protected by the Fish and Wildlife Conservation Act in Canada but, don't have anymore any form of legal protection today.

It is like cannabis; it is against the law to grow marijuana in Québec but if you "live" in Canada, it is legal and you can!

What kind of Canadian bullshit law is this. Ravens have been hunted, trapped, poisoned, etc… for so many years until practically extermination. Ravens even teach their siblings to stay away from human as far as possible for all these reasons, but for some people, it is not enough.

So yes, I am right now fucking pissed off at our country. Ravens can now be hunted "again" because of some people that are disgusted by them.

@BenAdrienProulx May 15th, 2024

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breeyn · 1 year ago

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An essay rebutting the “bad writing” claims of s2 ofmd. Spoilers herein.

I’ll preface this with saying you’re obviously allowed to like and dislike whatever you want. I am in no way opposing that. And your reasons are your reasons. Have at. (Also - this is a collection of observations from the past few days, I’m not calling anyone out)

I AM going to rebut the idea that season two was poorly written and lost the spirit of what the show is about.

My favourite movie of all time is Empire Strikes Back. It’s been my favourite movie since I was four. I’m pretty sure it’s a fave of David Jenkins, too. He and Taika have made absolutely no attempt to hide their love of all things 80’s - Prince, the Princess Bride, Kate Bush, Star Wars, etc.

I have ancient video tapes (that I can’t play because who has a vcr) where Lucas is interviewed by Leonard Maltin? Malkin? I dunno. Who cares. Maltin asks him about the Star Wars (original trilogy) story arc. Lucas says “in act I, you introduce all the characters. In act II, you put them in a situation they can’t get out of, and in act III, they get out of it.”

That’s how it works. This is how stories and literary structures work.

Of course you’re not satisfied with season two. You’re not supposed to be.

The arguments I have read on why s2 loses the spirit of s1 is because no one heals. No one learns anything. No one moves forward properly. The person who makes the biggest move towards healing dies. The two main characters end the show doing the exact fucking thing they had promised themselves and each other they wouldn’t do. Our romantic lead still doesn’t understand his value or make any headway on addressing his tragic flaw. It makes no goddamn sense.

My gremlins in weird: it’s not supposed to. In Act 2, EVERYONE LOSES. This is how it goes.

I’ve read a lot of people saying “but this felt like a series finale, not a season finale.” We all know that outside politics play a part here, the strikes make everything precarious. I remember the last writers strike. It destroyed tv for fifteen years. Anyone remember Pushing Daisies? Some of y’all have never had your fave show cancelled with zero resolution for the characters and it shows.

Daddy J did us a kindness. He softened the blow of a tough season. After the brutal cliffhanger of s1, he gave us a little softness and hope. All those things you’re mad aren’t resolved? It’s because THE STORY ISN’T OVER.

No one on earth thinks “stuff all your trauma into a box and ignore it” is good advice. A way to actually live. This show did not have enough screen time to throw out dialogue for no reason. There was foreshadowing in s1 for s2, and there is foreshadowing for s3 in s2. This is a well-crafted story by very smart people who care very much for these characters. There is zero chance Frenchie explained the box in his head for no reason. The reason people have not resolved their trauma and growth is because they haven’t done it *yet*.

And friends - it’s not thinly veiled. They straight up fucking tell us what they’re doing.

Luke Skywalker spends the first two movies fucking up and desperately trying to prove himself and just generally being an idiot. Sound familiar? He ignores the lessons he is supposed to be learning to go off and do what he feels like doing, and loses fucking badly. At the end of Empire, Han is gone, Luke and Leia wave goodbye to the Falcon that has Lando and Chewy - the rest of their crew - aboard. Everyone has lost everything they care about. Vader is undefeated. Yoda is pissed. Nothing is resolved.

You see where I’m going?

If you think I’m stretching this too far, welp, when Ed tells Stede he loves him - the climax of the finale - Stede quotes Han fucking Solo. Like - *it’s right there*. The story structure. The reason everything is unresolved.

So yeah. They wave goodbye to their ship because they have wounds to heal (like Luke’s hand). The people aboard the ship have things to find. Ed and Stede have *not* learned their lesson about whims and how not to be like Anne and Mary. It’s not stupid that they’re doing the same thing, and it’s not pointless that we were shown Anne and Mary. It’s all relevant.

The resolution comes in Act 3. None of these people are done. The story is far, far from over. And just in case the studios want to be dicks about it, David Jenkins was lovely enough to not repeat my enduring heartbreak over Pushing Daisies.

Thank you, @davidjenks 🖤

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd spoilers

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obsessedwrhys · 6 months ago

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|| BRYON DATING HEADCANONS ||

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ just fluff, reader is gn!! (I've been meaning to do him lol)

Let's be honest, if you were to become his significant other, you would need an awfully lot of patience.

That's because he's not much of a social person, he knows who are his people and that's enough for him.

Personally, I think the only way you'd be friends with him is if you knew someone close to him. Maybe Lorsan or Lyca being the one who introduces him to you.

He doesn't like loud people. No hate. He just finds it stressful as it overwhelms his senses easily.

That's why it comes easily that he prefers someone's who's gentle and kind. Call it cliché but he appreciates beauty when he sees it.

Once your friendship starts to blossom, you'll start to notice the little things he does for you.

How he'd always be there for you if you needed some company, how he would provide you the book you had told him just the other day and how he would listen intently to your opinions even when he doesn't agree with them.

It all made you fall for him just that easy.

However, you didn't expect him to return those feelings because well, you just felt that he was way out of your league. He was too good to be true you know? So when he confessed it turned your world upside down.

Scenario ↴

You'd find yourself seated on a hill, enjoying the sunset with your eyes closed as the cold breeze blew on your face. It was nice to catch a break after finishing a handful of tasks. Suddenly you heard sounds of footsteps approaching from behind, you looked over your shoulder to see it was no other than Bryon.

"I hope I haven't disturbed you, would you mind if I share this view with you?" He'd ask politely.

"Not at all, go ahead" With your approval, he sat himself beside you. The absent of his falcon caught your attention.

"Where's Elona?"

"She's getting her rest. The battles these days have been draining" He said and you nodded to his words before turning to stare at the orange sky.

Neither of you said anything but you both found comfort in each other's presence. Due to his acute hearing, you had a feeling that he enjoyed this peaceful moment just as much as you was right now.

"May I say something?" He said which caught your interest.

"Of course, you don't need to ask" You said and it had him at ease a bit.

Though the way his jaw clenched as if he was debating on what to speak made you wonder if it was something serious.

"(Y/N), I'm afraid I have fallen for you..." He said. You had almost forgotten how to breath properly when you heard him.

"I don't know when it began... it seems like the feeling was always there. But I don't mind it. I choose not to fight these thoughts... because I love that I'm in love with you" He smiled softly at you, the blush on your face making you look ever more adorable to him.

"I wouldn't mind being yours as there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you...ah... my apologies, I'm getting ahead of myself... I didn't give you the time to speak" He said by the time he noticed that your lips were parted in shock. You quickly gained back your composure once the attention was on you.

"I uh... wow... okay..." You rubbed your arm awkwardly. Eventually you were able to think straight after calming yourself down.

"I actually feel the same way Byron... I just didn't think you'd think of me like that" You looked at him, your eyes sparkling with joy.

"Oh (Y/N)... you're all that I think about..."

When the relationship was settled, everyone congratulated you two. Especially Lorsan, he was quick to wish you both endless happiness. You had to admit, from the village's reaction, it almost felt like you two just got married.

His companion, Elona would definitely see you as her owner after a few weeks into the relationship. If he trusts you, she trusts you as well.

In the relationship, Bryon is very loving and observant. The reason why I say observant is because he'll always be fast to know what are your likes and dislikes.

Oh someone offered you a fruit you don't like? He'll simply just take it for you. There's a sale going on at the market and they have one of your favourite things on display? Watch him be the first to be in line to get it.

He also knows when you're lying about something. He hates it however when you lie about not being sick or not being cold because taking care of you is LITERALLY his job!! Besides he doesn't mind babying you, he adores you!

That's why I think his kisses are delicate and soft, most of times he'd hum when kissing but he does it unconsciously because he's completely lost in the moment, if you placed your hands on his chest, you could feel the vibrations from his voice. In a way it's like he's purring.

He loves it the most when you run your hands all over his chest when kissing. It makes him fall even harder than he already has.

If we're talking about PDA, I think he's not that against it but he's also not that crazy about it. He's willing to hold your hand, having hugs and kisses but if you initiate anything that's crossing the line or could make anyone uncomfortable then he'll simply give you a soft smile and shut your thoughts out with a simple forehead kiss.

He enjoys cuddling by the way. He enjoys it the most when you both are like covered in layers of blanket. You once teased him for it, calling it his bird nest which ended becoming an inside joke.

Like you'd be having a conversation with Lorsan and he's trying to be as patient as possible waiting for you to finish but knowing his friend, he's most likely never gonna stop talking so he'd politely invite himself into the conversation.

"Darling... can we go back to the birds nest?" He'd say, meaning he's in desperate need of cuddles. You would smile at his cute request and nod.

"BIRD'S NEST!? (Y/N), is he holding you captive???"

Expectedly, his pet names would be more of the lovey dovey stuff. He'd call you things like darling, sweetheart, baby, and even pumpkin. He enjoys your reaction each time cause you never know which one he'll use.

"You're adorable when you pout darling... oh alright, I'll buy you the candy you want. Only if you promise me a kiss after"

He's a romantic. There's no denying it. This man's love language is 100% act of service.

He's the type to light up dozens of candles at the entrance of the door so that the first thing you are greeted when coming home would be a fancy candlelit dinner prepared just for you.

He also happens to run the shower for you just as you're about to arrive home, he even places flower petals to add some scent to the mood. Anything to help you relax.

He's more of a giver than a receiver but if you ever showered him in love. He's positive that he'll faint. Even a simple "I love you" can cause him to smile all cheerfully.

You also happen to be one of the few people to see his eyes. Obviously he doesn't wear the blindfold to sleep so that's how you were able to get the chance to see him without it.

His eyes are beautiful. A perfect shade of light green and yellow, almost resembling eyes of a bird. They were pearls that entrapped you in a daze that you couldn't help but stare into them each time you cuddled with him.

He didn't mind but rather find it cute how you were in awe from his irises.

Another thing I want to point out is he enjoys holding hands with you, whatever it is, he just finds your hands fascinating.

You two could be cuddled in bed and he'd just have your hand placed on his, his fingers gently trailing against the skin of your palm.

"I love the way your hand fits in mine... it's almost like destiny..." He'd utter.

Since it's canon he has a soothing voice, you can expect him to sing you lullabies or just any song to help you go to sleep if you ever had trouble sleeping.

If you did have a nightmare, trust him to be there to hold you in his arms as he hums you a melody.

Honestly? He's just like Prince Charming but better.

#CA CAW CA CAW #INSTRUCTIONS UNCLEAR DONT LISTEN TO JOJI WHEN YOURE HIGH ON MEDS #IM SICK ASF HELP ME #I SEE HIM IN THE CORNER OF MY ROOM #afk journey #afk journey x reader #afk journey fluff #x reader #fluff #afk journey headcanons #afk journey bryon #bryon afk journey #bryon x reader #afk journey bryon x reader

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sketalya · 5 months ago

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✨The Narrow Gauge & Mr. Percival full ref's ✨

And of course some of my headcanons about them ;3🌹

(This is a little longer than before but I hope you like it :D)

1) Skarloey | 39 y.o | 165 cm

• One of the oldest on the railway, he was like a big brother to all the young narrow gauges.

• Extremely close to Rheneas, always talking about Rheneas everytime he wasn't around.

• Of course besides always talking about Rheneas, he likes to tell a lot of things and sometimes Rusty joins him for that. He's been on the Skarloey railway longer than anyone so he knows all the secrets and stories.

• Likes inviting his friends to drink tea together, sometimes inviting Mr. Percival for that even though he doesn't come often because of his busy schedule. Skarloey also likes to invite Edward just to chat casually and Edward always likes it when he comes to the Skarloey Railway.

• Afraid of thunder and storms but actually he is afraid of loud noises that startle him. He always hide in his room when that happened. He is also afraid of heights.

• People always thought he was wise but Skarloey himself always thought that Rheneas was wiser than him. Whenever he had a problem he would always ask Rheneas for advice.

• Everytimes the young narrow gauges were causing trouble, Skarloey was too tired to deal with it so he mostly told Rheneas about it and Rheneas is the one who will always handle that.

• He also considered Nancy as his best friend and he always allowed her to help him polish his engines.

2) Rheneas | 38 y.o | 165 cm

• Another big brother figure for the young narrow gauge. Always wants the best for the Skarloey Railway so sometimes he can be a little strict about it.

• And because of that, Sir Handel and Peter Sam liked to joke about him acting like a mother. Sometimes he was deliberately called mom by them whenever Rheneas advised them and it always annoyed him.

• Doesn't like it when his name is misspelled. Especially when Duncan and Sir Handel deliberately misspelled his name as "Rhene-ASS". But sometimes he's called "Remy" by Skarloey and he's okay with that.

• Has a pretty tough past and Skarloey is the person he considers his first friend. Doesn't like to talk about it except with Skarloey.

• Swear police number one. Always trying to cover Luke's ears whenever Duncan starts swearing.

• He can become overworked and even get sick because of it. He will really appreciate nap time.

• He never knew he could see ghosts and he always thought it was just a hunch, Rusty was the one who noticed it. Once accidentally saw Rusty talking to Boulder (FYI Boulder in my AU is a giant rock ghost where he will look like an ordinary large rock to the human eye but Rheneas can see its true form just like Rusty)

3) Sir Handel | 27 y.o | 163 cm

• Is the type of person who is unpredictable. Always think that he is the coolest among the others and will say it out loud.

• Wears shoes with wheels that can be lowered whenever he wants to use them. Rheneas and Skarloey always tried to warn him that it was dangerous to wear rollerskates on the railway but he never listened and he always to show it off.

• Always complaining if there is something doesn't go as he expected, it can make him act a bit rude.

• Sometimes makes trouble for his friends because of that, and he will feel sorry for that. (Still cause problems after that)

• Can be very competitive and vindictive.

• He considers Peter Sam as his brother. Peter Sam and Duke sometimes calls him "Falcon".

• When Luke officially joined them, Sir Handel was the one who was most happy about it. (That's because he's no longer the shortest one among them)

• Secretly loves romantic novels and always hopes that he is the main character. He also has a diary book that he keeps very secret.

• The reason why Mr. Percival always prefers to use his bicycle or ask Thomas to take him whenever he needs to go somewhere. (This is quite funny actually, maybe I'll tell you about this another time)

4) Peter Sam | 27 y.o | 170 cm

• The definition of looking like a cinnamon roll that will actually kill you. Always try to act good in front of Skarloey, Rheneas, and Luke but he can be such a troublemaker when he's with Sir Handel and Duncan. (Still a cinnamon roll)

• Whenever he was bothered by Sir Handel, he would always call him "shortie" to shut his mouth. (It works)

• Sometimes called "Stuart" by Sir Handel and Duke.

• Has a scar on his neck because of the trucks incident.

• Always acts like he doesn't like fairy tales or something but actually he likes them and always listens whenever Skarloey and Rusty start telling stories.

• One of the people who has met Proteus besides Rusty. But he forgot about it because Rusty erased his memory about it through his dreams.

• He really likes to eat and he always brings a large bag of food to work. He cooks it himself and doesn't mind sharing it with others. Sometimes brings snacks for Luke.

• Always confused about making decisions for himself so he's the one who always asked Skarloey, Rheneas, and Duke for advice very often.

5) Rusty | 25 y.o (Fake age) | 169 cm

• One of the most reliable on the railway, he can always fix anything so his friends always ask him for help with it and he doesn't mind helping.

• Just like Skarloey, he always likes to tell lots of things and his favorites are horror stories. He likes to scare Duncan and Peter Sam with it.

• He really likes relaxing classical music and sometimes he will borrow Duncan's headphones to listen to some music.

• He wasn't originally human, he was a ghost before and then being given a second chance to become mortal by Lady and Proteus. Narrow Gauge didn't know about this. And of course he can see ghosts.

• Has a special ability given by Lady and Proteus and that is dream control. He can make dreams and make it seem real when people are asleep, actually given this ability to help Lady and Proteus but sometimes he likes to use it for fun.

• Likes to experiment with it by giving dreams to his friends, although sometimes he accidentally gives them nightmares. The first person to know about his abilities was Skarloey but without them knowing, Sir Handel and Peter Sam overheard about it and of course because of that all the narrow gauges knew about his abilities even Mr. Percival. But they all thought it was cool and promised to keep it between themselves.

• At first he was afraid of Boulder's existence but then he got along quite well with it after that incident.

6) Duncan | 25 y.o | 172 cm

• The tallest among the narrow gauge.

• Worse than Sir Handel, he can be really stubborn and rude. Even Skarloey and Rheneas had quite a hard time dealing with his attitude. But somehow Rusty and Mr. Percival are patient enough to deal with it.

• Always acting tough but actually he can be soft without realizing it.

• Afraid of heights and of course ghosts. He really doesn't like it when Rusty deliberately tells him horror stories. He could have nightmares because of that.

• Has many piercings on his face and ears which are considered cool by Sir Handel and Luke.

• Really loves rock and heavy metal songs, always listening to them through the headphones he always carries. But Mr. Percival wouldn't let him use it while he was working because it will make it difficult for him to stay focus and it could cause problems.

• Very close with the twins Patrick and Pansy. Every time Mr. Percival took them both, he would play with them.

• Very adventurous, he will force Rusty to come with him whenever he finds somewhere interesting to explore.

• He liked to take Sir Handel and Peter Sam to race on the rail track with their engines.

• Also another reason why Mr. Percival always prefers to use his bicycle or ask Thomas to take him whenever he needs to go somewhere. (This relates to how unfocused Duncan can be if he has his headphones on while doing something)

7) Duke | 54 y.o | 167 cm

• He was the mentor of Sir Handel and Peter Sam. Highly respected by both of them and has been considered like a father figure to them.

• Even though he was very old, he refused to retire and decided to continue working on the railway.

• Called "Granpuff" by Sir Handel and Peter Sam. In fact he was still called that by other narrow gauges after moving to the Skarloey Railway.

• Always knows how to deal with the mischievous behavior of his two students. He never falls for any of their pranks and may even be the one who always beats them.

• The Duke actually has connections with the Lady and Proteus. When he was declared missing, he was not asleep for a long time but was actually helping Proteus with something and that because of Lady's request. (There's lore I made for this and it's related to my AU so maybe I'll tell you more about it another time)

• He was the one who gave the diary book to Sir Handel and taught Peter Sam how to cook.

• In his spare time, he really likes to ride around the railway and enjoy the beautiful views. It was really calming for him.

• Never take his glasses away from him. His view completely changed to 144p without it.

8) Luke | 22 y.o | 157 cm

• The youngest and also the shortest among the narrow gauges.

• Literally a cinnamon roll. She's so innocent, a little timid, and too kind. He was always treated like a little brother by the others which was quite cute.

• Having a phobia of the ocean, he actually tried to face his fear but was still unsuccessful due to his trauma.

• Whenever he had free time, he would go to the Steamworks to meet Victor, and because of that he became close friends with Kevin as well. Luke also still often meets Thomas and his best friend Millie.

• Has a deer as a pet and will sometimes take it with him to work.

• It's still quite difficult for him to trust people he just met, but it's different with the narrow gauge, he really trusts them with all his heart.

• Luke was very happy when invited to drink tea by Skarloey, take care of his deer with Rheneas, try roller skating with Sir Handel, eat snacks made by Peter Sam, going on an adventure in a dream made by Rusty when he was asleep, doing Rock n Roll with Duncan, listening to many stories from Duke, and even helping Mr. Percival is out of work.

9) Mr. Percival | 34 y.o | 185 cm

(Ok, this one is actually quite difficult for me because I didn't get much information about him either from ttte eps, wikifandom, and tumblr. So all of this is purely my imagination and how I view him. I hope it doesn't sound so ridiculous :D)

• If Duncan is the tallest among the narrow gauge then this man is much taller than Duncan. And that's why he likes to imagine the narrow gauge as 7 dwarfs. (But of course not to Duke because he respects Duke)

• Not like Sir Topham Hatt. Because his age is not much different from narrow gauge and even younger than Duke, Skarloey, and Rheneas. Mr Percival is also seen as a friend by them outside of work. And he really appreciated that.

• When he heard that Rusty could control dreams, he didn't believe it at first and he even challenged Rusty to give him nightmares. And after Rusty actually does it, he regrets his own request and then believes it. (He even asked Rusty not to tell about his dream to the others)

• Just like Duke, never take his glasses away from him. He would literally go blind without it.

• At first he seemed like a strict person but after being with narrow gauge for quite a while, he was actually quite a chill person. He even casually asked Sir Handel and Peter Sam to be in charge while he is away. (Even though he actually knew they would mess up)

• He doesn't have a hobby that he really likes so when he's not busy and bored, he likes to hang out and have fun with the narrow gauge. He thought that they were very random but that was part of the fun.

• Swear police number 2 after Rheneas, he will glare at Duncan when he starts swearing. He would even keep an eye on him when Duncan played with the twins.

• He always keeps his words professional and polite. But he won't hesitate to be sarcastic when he's annoyed or talking to someone he doesn't like.

• Personally, he doesn't really like driving by car and would prefer to use a bicycle. (And that was made worse after the incident that happened when he asked Sir Handel and Duncan to drive his car. Truly the worst decision he ever made)

• This man has a large collection of bicycles at home and even his children are like that because they follow their father. His wife Polly was doesn't surprised by it and couldn't do anything about it.

• He really doesn't like being seen as that stereotypical nerd just because people assume that he looks like that. Once Sir Handel and Duncan said that he looked like an "emo nerd" just because he wore glasses and always wore black. That really triggered him at that time.

• Has a pet dog which he named Perri, but she (the dog) hates him and only likes Mrs. Polly and the kids.

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