#the prize is a piece of my eyeball

[strangezuicide]

Hi! Bye,

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: feyd rautha x emperor’s afab oldest child!reader

cw: feet stuff, piss kink, implied eventual knifeplay/blood play, cannabalism, arranged marriage, feyd being so weird but reader lowkey loves it, facesitting but the kind where feyd would beg you to break his neck, spanking/mild painplay, very likely ooc feyd since i haven’t seen part 2 yet, use of “princes” and “wife”, wedding hunt and black cum hcs taken from @valeskafics , reader doesn’t really know what’s going on but they’re vibing

wc: 1.4k

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

Collapsing in relief has never been more appealing. You finally have a moment of respite after vigorous and exhausting wedding festivities, and you need to collect yourself. This marriage to the Na-Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen was only brought to your attention a week before it would take place.

Surprisingly, you didn’t really mind the man himself. It was just so sudden, is all. During any visits with his family, you had to be mindful of how you reacted to his cocky displays of ruthlessness and violence. Your father would have your head if he saw how tight you squeezed your thighs together or how much you panicked at the thought of leaving a puddle on your throne. Feyd always marked his departure with a cliche kiss to the back of your hand and a hissed promise that you couldn’t make out.

He would protect you at the very least if he didn’t love you. You’re not even sure that you love him, but this shameful crush could grow into something untamable if you lose your footing. Something… unbecoming of a member of the royal family. You wonder if it already has.

The wedding was as grand as could be, glittering decorations and finery followed by archaic rituals to please your in-laws. The Wedding Hunt in particular sent your heartbeat into overdrive, but the satisfaction on your betrothed’s face when he caught his “prize” was intoxicating. Feyd Rautha kisses like he kills, you were quick to discover, fiercely and uncaring of any blood that might be shed.

You’re brought out of your reminiscing by your now husband closing the door to your room behind him. You only have another day with your family before you’re to leave for Giedi Prime. There has hardly been time to get to know the man you will lie beside for the rest of your life, until now.

“Wife.” He bluntly greets you, awkwardly nodding his head in an effort to maintain his “tough” image. You won’t tease him about the barest hint of blush on his cheekbones, but you treasure it nonetheless.

You humor him, “Husband.” Your nod mirrors his and you take a seat at the long table in the middle of the room after Feyd pulls a chair out for you.

This was the next part of the ritual, where the newly married couple must eat a meal that one partner made for the other. It sounds simple enough that you don’t think anything of it.

Feyd makes a gesture and your food is placed before you by one of your family’s servants. They look a bit queasy and green in the face but they’re gone before you can ask if they’re alright.

“I hope you like it, princess.” Feyd says with a barely there smirk, pointing to the… pie in front of you. “I cut down many people for it.”

You raise an eyebrow at that but bring your knife to take a slice of the pie anyway. Upon lifting the piece onto your plate, you notice eyeballs, flesh, tongues, and some sort of black liquid running throughout the filling. You freeze in place, not even meeting your husband’s eyes. One blue eye seems to twitch and the black substance makes a sick sound as you move it around with your fork.

“The other men who your father considered, my concubines….. I actually can’t tell you which of them are in that slice, but they are all there.” He whispers in your ear, having gotten up from his position opposite you to feed you himself.

You respect the ritual despite your urge to throw up, so you swallow what he gives you. He grins, swiping a thumb down to your throat to feel the food travel. He squeezes your cheeks when you’re done, and you open your mouth to show him that you ate it all.

“That’s my princess.” He condescendingly croons, bending down to run his tongue all over your face before standing up and pushing you to lie flat on the cold table. “But I'm afraid that it’s time for me to have my meal.”

Your elaborate wedding gown is slashed to shreds, the cool tip of his blade moving down your flesh until it reaches your lace covered mound. He taps the hilt of his weapon on your hood and unceremoniously tosses it on the floor.

You didn’t expect the reveal of your wedding night attire to be under such unorthodox circumstances, but can you say you expected any of this?

“A worthy bride with a body to match, thank you for this gift, your highness”. He says in a half joking manner, grinning with too many teeth as he runs his hands along the delicate material. He toys with the idea of cutting this little number to pieces too, but your holes are left conveniently exposed. Maybe he’s fallen too in love with it, he’s been in love with you since you met years ago anyway.

The lingerie is a custom designed piece littered with straps and sheer fabric that leave nothing to the imagination. Your tits are accentuated by a seashell-like pattern bra and there’s even a little black bow above your pussy. The frilly strips of material wrapped around your thighs do nothing to keep your curves contained and the tiny tulle skirt frames your ass beautifully.

Your husband drinks in the sight of you before pulling your ankles to rest on his shoulders. You watch in arousal and shock as he broadly licks the sole of your right foot. He groans unabashedly, nuzzling at your heel and then dipping his tongue in the spaces between your toes. You wiggle at the ticklish feeling but you don’t kick him away.

He really gets into it when he starts sucking your toes, bobbing his head and making sure you’re watching as curls his tongue around each one. His eyes roll back in pleasure once he reaches the last toe on your other foot, and drool trickles down your leg when he’s done getting acquainted with the taste of it. He presses a kiss to the top of each toe but then the weird softness is ruined by the bite he adorns your ankle with.

Feyd’s mouth makes a slick popping sound as he pulls away from your feet. You’re at a loss for words when he proceeds to lie down on the table beside you. He gropes your breast quickly and leans over to give you a surprisingly chaste peck. The look on his face is a smug one but his eyes say something unknown to you, soft and obsessive all at once. It’s as if he knows something you don’t.

“Now sit on my face, claim your new throne, princess.”

You don’t know how long he keeps you hostage there, your cunt soaking him as he devours you to the bone. He doesn’t let you become too relaxed, nipping your clit as he sees fit and clawing the skin of your ass. Eventually your gut aches and though at first you think you’re about to cum already, the second heartbeat in your clit feels different. You come to a horrifying realization that you need to relieve yourself.

“H-husband, what the fuck- I… I need to pee.” You’d rather be dead than doing what you are and saying what you are, but nature calls.

“Yes, that’s it.” He growls and digs his nails into your ass, jigging the globes in his hands before sharply slapping them. “Piss all over my face, get me wet with it like a good wife.”

The shriek you let out when you do just that is abhorrent. Your legs shake as you spray hot pee on your husband’s skin, the gold mixing with the white of your simultaneous orgasm as it drips down his body. You try to move off of Feyd but he tightens his grip on your ass and yanks you back down. The sensation of a hungry mouth desperately sucking the fluids from you drives you wild.

“You have…… fuck- y-you have to stop, hah- i’m going to break.” You sob.

He chuckles into your piss covered pussy and then pulls away to speak, “Then break, a wife of House Harkonnen doesn’t need to be put together.”

You think you hear him say something about using his blade on your body later, but that might just be your own perverted idea.

[cardinalcyn]

otona precure rant post

spoilers for otona precure if you give a shit

but tbh i don't really care that much, you're better off not watching it

credit to sagiri asuka on pixiv for this cool art!

anyways uh. go under the cut for salt

bell from otona precure is the most terrible villain i've ever seen in a piece of media. ever. EVER ever. bar none, the worst.

i need to explain what i mean here. see, this isn't a rant about irredeemable "complete monster" type villains. i actually LOVE villains who are just horrible people for the sake of it— not all the time of course, but every so often there's a piece of shit so rancid that you just can't help grinning at the thought of the heroes taking them down. AM. william afton. ridley. pennywise. junko enoshima before DR3 ruined her

bell's not that.

tbh i think i probably would have liked her a lot more if she WERE meant to be irredeemable

the reason why she's so terrible is simple: her evil plan is complete nonsense. it's so brain-dead that if i travelled back to the 1920s to call her an idiot, just so that could actually mean something, it would still be an understatement.

if you've never seen otona precure, here's the story. there's some fuckass city with a bunch of ex-magical girls called precure who are all working ordinary adult jobs now (wasted potential but that's another rant). all of a sudden these weird Shadows start attacking people. now the magical girls have to figure out what the fuck's going on before these abominable CGI turds figure out how to move quickly enough to actually hurt something besides the viewer's eyeballs from beyond the fourth wall

bell is the "brains" behind the shadow attacks, and the one summoning them.

do you want to know why this woman is forcibly turning people into ugly shadow zombies?

because climate change.

no that's not a shitpost.

bell saw what happened to the city decades in the future because of climate change TRAVELLED BACK IN TIME TO THE PAST and instead of warning anyone maybe pulling a luigi or two

"here's how i'm gonna stop climate change," says the extraordinary time-travelling angel who can shapeshift and lives in her own personal pocket dimension. "i'm going to turn everyone in this city into shadow monsters so they stop polluting"

BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY, YOU CAN PREVENT THE SYSTEMATIC DESTRUCTION OF THE ENTIRE PLANET BY CASTING A SPELL ON ONE GODDAMN FUCKING CITY. THAT'LL SOLVE EVERYTHING! SOMEONE GET HER A FUCKING NOBEL PRIZE ALREADY!

as if this wasn't already the most colossally stupid thing in all of anime, bell somehow FAILS TO MENTION ANY OF THIS until there's only one episode left in the season, and spends the rest of the time acting like a generic moustache-twirling big bad evil guy and hiding behind cryptic riddles. SHE CAN READ MINDS. IT'S NOT HARD TO TELL THE MAGICAL GIRL WHO JUST TAUGHT HER ELEMENTARY SCHOOL STUDENTS ABOUT CLIMATE CHANGE IN THE ANIME ITSELF WHAT YOU'RE TRYING TO PULL. instead she's like "i'm going to make you lose your will to fight me oooooooooo i'm so evil"

and when she's finally cornered, explains everything, and all the precures are understandably like "what the fuck??? why did you choose to go about this in the most convoluted stupid way possible", she decides the only way to make them realize how foolish and naive they are (holy projection, batman!) is by MAKING ALL THE SHADOW MONSTERS INTO A FUCKING KAIJU AND SICCING IT ON THEM. the kaiju proceeds to go completely berserk and vaporize everything in its path. like, the buildings just vanish into nothingness from one touch.

AND THEN.

WHEN A TEAM OF LIKE 12 MAGICAL GIRLS, PLUS THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP OR WHATEVER, IS FINALLY ENOUGH TO KILL THE KAIJU

BELL'S LIKE

"oh."

"shit"

"i guess i fucked up huh"

"okay i'm good now. im gonna go fuck off to my pocket dimension now"

YOU DO NOT GET TO HAVE A LAST-SECOND REDEMPTION ARC AFTER NEARLY BLOWING UP THE PLACE YOU WANTED TO PROTECT OUT OF SELF-RIGHTEOUS STUPIDITY. WHAT THE FUCK TOEI

oh yeah also there's a stinger scene after the entire rest of the show has wrapped up its dogshit excuse for a plot that pretty much implies the shadows are gonna be a permanent problem now.

congratulations, bell.

now they're gonna have to deal with climate change

AND the monsters you conjured from the depths of your nonexistent grey matter

AT THE SAME TIME.

tl;dr local "guardian angel" causes more problems by trying to solve them in the most stupid and short-sighted way imaginable

[starjoe]

oh my god an O-OBJECT SHOW..!?

yea I’m making this for fun idk if it’ll get far but I’m just making relationship charts n stuff

the script is in writing. If there’s any questions lmk :0)

K.O.! (Knitting Overtime)

K.O.! Is an object show hosted by Plush cat and Yarn ball.

Plush cat is a they/them Yarn ball is a she/her

The hosts have a close relationship, being best friends who decided to start the show for fun.

There are 19 contestants competing!

(competing for what? You may ask..)

The prize is… um.. well..

Well.. it’s a surprise! Who wouldn’t want to compete for a surprise!? Who knows what it could be?!

The contestants are split into 3 teams.

TEAM 1

Page unresponsive (they/them)

Soda (he/him)

Weight (he/him)

Tomato (she/ her)

Feather (she/her)

Dodgeball (he/him)

Traffic cone (she/her)

TEAM 2

Starry (she/her)

Cotten ball (she/her)

Fish (he/him)

Notepad (she/her)

Puzzle piece (he/him)

Magnifying glass (he/him)

TEAM 3

Tissue box (she/her)

Eyeball (she/her)

String (she/her)

Scarf (he/they)

Candy (he/him..??)

Shell (he/him)

That’s all the info you get today.

deciding to post this because I know the object show fandom is in crisis.. II ep 17.. I did not survive.

[pheonixxfoxx]

My Flashy Haul!

This is an ideal time to show off all the goodies that came in that enormous box from Japan on Monday. Plus, other cool stuff I've acquired over the week! First up is this sexy mint in box Buggy Samurai figure by D.P.C.F-DX!

This brilliant figure is even more amazing then I could have ever anticipated! Well worth every penny, even the pennies on shipping!! Admittedly, I didn't expect it to be quite so, um...big though, LOL!! Will I eventually remove him from the box? I'm hesitant of that at this time, space being a contributing factor. Next up we have a variety of goodies! Yes, there will be lots of can badges; I seem to like them and cards/flats a lot!

I finally was able to snag the Mascolle Great Deep figure of Buggy for a reasonable price! Seems like he is moderately obscure to find too, but now I don't need to worry. The hunt was successful and is now over, woot!!!

The volleyball Buggy can badge is one of the best things ever! A fun addition to my ever growing collection. A mutual friend of mine wisely said that Buggy should be banned from sports, LOL!! As previously mentioned, I seem to have a soft spot for flats. While some specific items in this group are duplicates, there were a lot of intriguing things I didn't own yet, but had been eyeballing.

Besides, I couldn't pass on the "Buggy Conspirators" sticker. One thing I often seek out is unique items, and that sticker seems to be rather different. I honestly can't believe how many can badges that are in my collection at this point, LOL!! They are located in various suitable places around my collection room. The plan is to eventually take individual photos of every item I've obtained.

The face can badge, from what I perceive was part of a special promo this year for the 25th anniversary of One Piece. They took 10,000 face images from the manga and made them into can badges. Best part, no two are alike! I purposely obtained this one, as it is from Impel Down. The part where Buggy goes to kick out a Muggy Ball at Minotaurus. The nose can badge was a fun find too, apparently it is relatively old! Here is the last group of items from the glorious box of flashy goodies. The box that made my entire week as I I grinned like a Cheshire Cat.

There are in fact 8 of the birthday can badges, LOL!! I might have to create me an itabag with all the extras, it would make for a fun project. Oh and the art on the Amada sticker is beyond sexy!! *drools* I treasure it more then words can express!! Yeah, it doesn't take much to make me happy. Now onto the other items I received throughout this week.

I really like the composition of this card. It's a card, which has been on my radar for a bit and was ultimately able to snag for an affordable price. This is where you all will find out that I am an immature 2 year old.

This card set was mainly purchased because it mentions "Buggy Balls," LOL!! Eh, I'm a kid at heart, what can I say? Last, but not least is this rather flashy keychain of Buggy at Marineford.

Done for now, though there is one other item I could add to this for funsies. However, it is my most prized item of the Star Clown. I think it should receive a post all its own.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Fragile - a Malevlent fic (Intermezzo spoilers)

Arthur got low in Larson’s house. He hit bedrock; he admitted, brokenly, that they won.

John didn’t let him drown. Which is ironic, because John was already drowning.

Spoilers for Intermezzo.

AO3

———-

Humans were fragile.

John knew this. He’d known it since before he was ‘John,’ when wicked memories seeped through the torment of loss and damnation.

Arthur was fragile, too.

John did not know this, and this new and acidic knowledge threatened the unset foundation John had built his everything upon. 

#

Your hands, Arthur. You have broken pieces of his eyes under your thumbnails.

Hardly like John hadn’t done things like that  when King, hadn’t done things like that for Kayne, hadn’t torn people apart until he knew them down to the cellular level. It wasn’t that eyeballs were gross, or the violence was too much; it was that Arthur was the one who did it.

Arthur. Who’d stayed so strong through cult and coma. Who’d kept his head in the prison pits, and forgiven John more than any saint could.

Who’d cut his own damn throat to keep the King from winning.

John knew it had been less than a day for Arthur. (It had been… longer, for him.) Less han a day. How could Arthur change so much in less than a day?

“I…” Arthur sounded fucked.

Instinctively, John tried a lever, tried to use that name to prize Arthur from the mud. Imagine what she would think. Faroe wouldn’t want her father to be this. To lose himself in this way.

The lever did not work, and Arthur slumped down, bleeding, and wept. “I’m lost,” he said, and It was a terrible sound. “I’ve lost. I’ve sunk too far.”

Less than a godsdamned day.

No, said John, scrambling in the wake of shock. I know you, my friend. You are in there. You saved me before. (Arthur had, everything he’d done, everything he’d said, had saved John in the Dark World, had kindled his only lingering light and hope. Arthur could not lose. He could not sink. If Arthur did…)

John vowed: I will not let you drown.

Arthur sobbed.

A good sob? A broken one? Don’t be scared. 

“They’ve won, John,”  Arthur wept in a high, unrecognizable voice. “He won. Faust. I… I wanted to kill him. I wanted to fill his blood within my hands. I wanted to feel the crunch of his bones beneath my palms. They won.”

This couldn’t be happening.

No.

No.

Arthur was his light. Arthur was his hope. The source of a purpose in a life so short, the proof they didn’t have to win!

Kayne’s voice might only be in his head, but it rang cruelly true: If he was this wrong about not letting them win, what does that say about his hope for you?

No!

Humans were fragile. Arthur was less fragile than most, but still human, and John...

John knew what to do. 

He was ashamed of it, this innate, easy understanding of manipulation, of control, of (pleasure it had always brought him pleasure as the King) pretty words to make Arthur do what he wanted, to shift Arthur’s sails and steer him from the rocks.

He felt ill. Sick. He shouldn’t do this. Good people did not think like this.

Would it really be “good” to let Arthur wreck on the rocks of himself?

It would not (and John told himself it was for Arthur’s sake and not to shore up his own cracking foundation), and so John made his choice. Followed his instinct, and manipulated. How could they have won? We’re nowhere near finished.

That was the exact right delivery, and it snagged Arthur’s attention like a lure (fish, Arthur, now caught). 

Next, communication the way Arthur thought in his quietest hours: Whose woods these are, I think I know... Because Arthur thought in music and poems. Because Arthur’s sobs slowed as John quoted, pulling the verses from the shared well of their mind. 

My horse must think it queer, to stop without a farmhouse near... Because Arthur might deny that gloriously artistic part of himself (of which John, as King, was keenly aware), but he could not resist the siren-song of rhythm and introspection and beauty, and he’d listen to this when he’d kick all else in the teeth. 

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, but I have promises to keep… and miles to go before I sleep. He would not lose this man today (maybe if the King had used poetry instead of compound fractures, he would have gotten somewhere). And miles to go before I sleep.

It worked. (Of course it worked. It had to work. It was back to the Dark World if this didn’t work.) Arthur, as John knew he would, responded. “I’m sorry, John,” he said, and he finally sounded like Arrhur again. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

(He’d missed him so much, his changeability, his chosen softness.) I’m sorry, too.

“Why? For what? You…”

For what?

For what he’d done to get back here.

For the lies he’d told.

For the wickedness he’d wrought.

For—

For leaving you for so long. But that was too close to the truth of things Arthur must never know. Now. Let’s leave this place.

“No,” said Arthur (because his stubbornness took no time at all to reassert itself). “We need to help those people. Down in the mines.”

And there he was. The Arthur Lester of John’s imagining. The flawed but willingly good human, the anchor to which John clung, the mortal for whom he’d debased himself, for whom he’d died.

He’d done… so many things to stop being dead. Arthur (canonized in memory, precarious on his pedestal) would never understand.

How could he? Arthur was human. Humans were fragile. And even Arthur had people he would not forgive.

He could never know. It’s a new beginning, Arthur. A clean slate. For both of them.

“No, no. Not a clean slate.”

John’s metaphorical heart clenched. No? I thought that’s what you wanted.

“That was easier than to remember what I’ve learned, what I’ve preached, not only to you but myself… that we can’t escape these things we’ve done,” said Arthur, fragile human, with no idea he was telling John that John was beyond hope.

John had to escape the things he’d done. He had to.

This confirmed it all: If Arthur knew what John had done, he’d never forgive him, and that flickering hope-light in would finally go out.

John couldn’t really reply. Okay.

“But it still is another,” said Arthur, sounding like his soul had shed a thousand pounds. “And I’d rather greet a new day like an old friend—with fondness and appreciation.”

Oh, Arthur. How did that fragile hope always survive? (He could never know.) Okay, Arthur.

“My friend. Let’s leave this place.”

And of course, Uncle’s body was still there, still shaking Arthur with reminders of savagery.  “I… I lost…”

Damn it. You’ve beaten yourself up enough over this, Arthur. It’s fine.

It clearly was not fine. “You’re right,” lied Arthur Lester.

Nope. Misdirection time (and John refused to think how easily the manipulation came). Oh! There’s a corpse in the bed.

And just like that, the detective switch was flipped, and finally, Arthur actually was fine.

It would all be fine.

It had to be fine.

The danger was past. John would never, ever need to tell him what he’d done. Arthur would continue to hope in John. It would be fine.

He couldn’t handle all that horror, anyway, John told himself as they dove into mystery and memory. Arthur was fragile, after all.

[fatbiatchforever]

Out of time (Pt. 6)

Pt. 5

"Are we ever going to talk about what happened?"

Yeppppppppppppppppppppp, take a good guess which dumbass blurted that out. 

YOU.

Last thing you wanted to do was seem surprised or nervous by the question, so you held your head high and gripped the counter a little tighter for some courage.

Bucky was surprised, clearly. Both of you held eye contact for ten long seconds before Bucky looked behind, "You want to talk about it here?"

You looked at the kids, "No," He does have a point, "But, I don't know. Yeah, it's something I thought about."

"Y/N," Bucky's hesitation was showing. You felt bad that you just springed this on him. 

You moved back and turned around to not look at him for a second, to breath out and internally curse yourself for getting here. 

"I'm sorry, forget it. It's all in the past and everyone's moved on and-"

"I haven't."

You turn to Bucky. All of the hesitation you saw before had disappeared. Bucky looked you straight in the eye, which made you feel way too vulnerable. Like he was back at it again. His whole attention on you and only you. Noticing each and every movement of your body, trying to read what's going on in your head. 

You shake the chills away as calmly as you could before asking for more, "What do you mean?"

"It's only you till you tell me that we're done. I kept my word."

The fact that your eyeballs didn't pop out of your socket was unbelievable, "HUH? But, but, you, what?!"

While you broke into million pieces, Bucky was doing pretty well. He simply nodded and continued to look at you like he said the most simplest/straight forward thing ever.

You looked at the kids before you continued, "You fucking left, so how's you waiting for my signal make any fucking sense?!"

"I didn't leave."

"Oh, so you were in the city this whole time but led me to believe that you were gone for five years?"

"WH-" 

You both look over to the kids, who were way too deep in the game to focus on your bickering.

"Cass, can you look after the kids for five minutes?" Cass nods before picking Riley up and focusing back on the game.

Bucky stares at you before you roll your eyes and walk to your room. You flop onto your bed. This was a lot to process in the span of a minute.

"Y/N,"

You look up at him,

"I wouldn't have left if I didn't have to. I, fucked so much up in my life-"

"Buck, that's not true."

"It is. These five years, I thought about it all. I got everything I didn't have for the most of my life with you, but I lost you because I was scared. It was right for you to leave. I should've known what I had before losing it."

Bucky exhales, "The day of our," he looks at you, which you return back with a nod, "I heard from one of my sources, HYDRA was starting-"

"How do they keep respawning like this?"

You immediately cover your mouth with wide eyes, before turning your gaze for Bucky who had a smidge of smile to continue, "They were determined to get their most prized possession back."

"What?"

Bucky nodded, "They wanted their power back. I was the first part of the plan."

Your heart sank. It made sense. All of it made sense. You knew Bucky and everything he would do to protect you. You whispered, "So letting me go was easier than letting me stay."

"If it meant that you were safe, then yes. I knew if I said I wasn't happy you would leave. I needed you out of the house so if they found me, nothing happens to you."

You could feel Bucky's eyes on you, but you didn't have anything to say. You looked at your rug, relieving that night and the hurt, but with a different perspective this time.

"Ross heard about it and he wanted me out. He was convinced that HYDRA had something none of us knew about. He told me to leave before I ruin Avengers reputation by turning back to,"

You moved aside to make space for him to sit. Bucky looked at you to make sure, before taking the spot.

"Is that why you needed to leave?"

"Yeah," Bucky took a moment before continuing, "Ross was right. If I stayed and something did happen, the US government would've been less forgiving. It was better for me to leave,"

"Buck, you could have told me."

Bucky sighed, "Y/N,"

"I know." 

Bucky always kept his missions and Avenger related stuff away from you. He didn't want you to get tangled up in it and get hurt.

"Did you get them? HYDRA?"

"Took me a while to track them down but yeah."

"Did they have anything on them?"

Bucky's silence was all the answer you needed.

"Shit!"

"After we got them, I went back to Wakanda for a bit."

"You're okay?"

"I am."

"Y/N," Bucky called.

You turned to him.

"I, I know, none of this is fair to you. I didn't come back to ruin what you have here. I had-"

You couldn't help it. He was right there. The person you tried so hard to hate was right there telling you he waited for you. Telling you that everything you hated him for was all untrue.

You whimpered. No one could ever make you feel like he did. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, holding you closer, deepening the kiss, holding the nape of your neck that made you shiver. Just as you pulled back, Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into him. 

You took it all in, his scent, his warmth and his presence.

"I love you." Bucky whispered in your ear.

You wrapped your arms him, "I love you too."

"I missed you."

"I'm not surprised."

Bucky laughed into your neck, his voice vibrating into your skin, "Fuck, I missed you so much."

"Why didn't you just tell me Bucky? We could have figured it out."

"I didn't want HYDRA anywhere near you. Anything to lead them to you."

Bucky held your face, running his thumb on your cheeks, "I could have done it differently. I'm sorry, doll. I did what I thought was right back then. You don't have to forgive me or even talk to me, or be anywhere near me,"

You raised your eyebrow, "You've been back for five minutes and I can't stop kissing you."

"Hmm," Bucky kisses you, "Good, don't stop. If you ever give me another chance, I promise to do better. Instead of making decisions for our relationship on my own, we'll do it together."

"Damn, character development." Bucky looked at you with so much love that you knew you had to be honest, "I, I was angry at you for so long, but I knew I loved you and it hurt so much. I know we have so much to figure out but I love you and I want to try."

"Me too."

Bucky and you smiled, staying tangled up in each other for a bit.

"Buck?"

"Hmm,"

"It's been really quite out there."

"Oh, right." 

Bucky moves his hands away and gets up.

You walk out, but immediately turn back,

"Don't worry, stays between us."

You smile and nod, "For now."

"For now."

[deputygonebye]

@florrentine asked: my brother gave it to me. he shouldn't have.

Pride and Prejudice (2005) Prompts.

Porch steps turned into seats, a space for audiences before them to take sight of the view, together did Shane and Emilia take comfort in a day without work. A weekend unlike any other, when time all together didn't blur into one, married and joined completely. It was akin to the days of old. When King County was more than a grave come to life; diner lights bright with their neon, music playing from the small clubs on the corner, football stadium packed to its limits with fans cheering on the high school team. A memory that felt more dreamlike than once-real, the resentment in Shane for the happiness of the thought was sour and cruel. Another stab to heart; the blade twisted and yanked, the reminder of all that the outbreak had caused him to lose. His sanity, his loved ones, his home and sense of peace; the frown on his lips was quick to rid itself once reality pushed forward, the wind upon his reddened cheeks, the color to his neck.

Scene set and to be directed, he was the role of a deputy. Survivor no more, a man who carried his pride on his sleave, his convictions on the glisten of his badge. A player that could master the costume to perfection, it was almost gross in how good he could do so. Natural - for it was once to Shane - as if it were always meant to be, what was supposed to be. Emilia part of the plot, her own part not yet cast, their relationship was on the foundations of friendly. Not close to be more than, not so distant or tension filled, but comfortable in the presence of one another. Able to speak free and without restraint, able to see one another, perhaps, deeper than was truly meant to. Shane's leg touching hers, his uniform to her more common garb, he watched as she worked something within her hands. Unseen, unable to be identified from shape alone, a mystery as great as she. Shane desperate to figure out the clues, he adjusted is posture, stared at the street in front of them, allowed his mind to contemplate and consider.

"Never knew you had one." Shane said, interested and attentive, browns glanced in Emilia's direction, the movement of her hands. "Mind if I ask what exactly he gave you? Ain't never had no sister myself, but if I did, I know just what I'd gift her. Probably one of them bastards with eight legs and thirty eyeballs, hairy all over."

Hand gone between his shirt collar and skin, a silver chain was pulled out and shown. Dazzling in the Georgia sun - more precious than true gemstone - a charm of #22 dressed in wear and time but nonetheless beautiful. Shane's most prized possession.

"My grandma gave me this when I joined the football team in high school." Shane shared, smile on his lips fast to be drawn, an honest and true one. "She was so proud of me, said I always looked like a football player. Real wide in the shoulders, thick in the legs. Probably a little dense in the head, too, now that I think about it. I used to wear it under my uniform. Always had it on for all my games. Never took it off, it was my good luck charm. Only nice piece of jewelry I ever had. My grandma Jean and I, we didn't have a lot of money growin' up. Was never poor or starvin', but life wasn't always easy. Sure did give that woman a hard time, sometimes. But God, did I adore her somethin' awful. She always took care of me. Made me feel loved. Guess that's why I still wear her necklace. She's always with me."

Shane added, tucking his chain back into place below his clothes, "truthfully, Emilia, I'm glad she ain't here to see the world turn to hell like this. Cancer got her. Took that poor woman down before she could even put up a fight. I used to be so pissed off about that, but now, now I'm a little glad for it. She would've been so brokenhearted to see what happened here. It would've crushed her."

[txemrn]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

If you already got this - feel free to ignore it! 😉

Cari! I am sending you the biggest hug through my screen! Thank you so much for including me on this Ask... and good gracious, this was tricky! And... don't shoot me: it's more than 5. 😬 Not because I think I have great pieces, but I have a lot of fics with great memories in 3 different fandoms. And you already know: I don't follow rules very well. lol I don't even know if they are the "top", but they are fics I love. 🖤

The Nanny Affair

Once... Always... Part 1 (m!Sam Dalton x MC)

There he is, her faithful, wonderful, and loving husband, Sam Dalton, in a nanny affair. Again.

Che Bello!

She whistles through her teeth. “Damn, Robin. You lookin’ to get laid tonight?” He chuckles, blushing as he saunters to her side.  He squats next to Brynn, his dark eyes meeting her stormy gray gaze.  "I think you stole my line."

~🖤~

The Royal Romance

Pour Two Glasses, Chapter 1: While You're in the World (Liam x Riley)

"...This award right here was a team effort, and it serves as proof that you are not adequate. No. Listen to me carefully. You are anything, but just adequate. You, my queen, are abundantly able, completely sufficient, surpassing every need and desire perfectly with unbelievable beauty and exquisite grace. The crown should be honored that a woman like you humbled herself, and chose to wear it. To my wife and eternal peacekeeper: thank you for making tonight possible. I love you.”

The Missionary's Daughter, Prologue: It's Over (TRR; Liam x Riley; Drake x Riley)

“Oh, c’mon, Drakey,” Leo chuckles in disbelief. “Anyone with two eyeballs–” he snickers again,”–more like anyone with two ears knows you and Liam’s prized American whore fucked.” Leo mimics a spanking motion in the air as his voice becomes breathy and whiney. “And fucked. And fucked–” “Shut the fuck up, Leo!” Drake growls at Leo, grabbing him by the collar. His other arm hangs low, tensed and ready to strike. “Go ahead. Hit me. I’m not the one who betrayed my best friend–”

Faded (TRR; Leo x Madeleine)

It’s been seven weeks since that awful morning. Seven weeks of silence and darkness. Seven weeks of broken dreams and false hope. Seven weeks of only one absolution: Leo had found his freedom. He wasn’t coming back.

~🖤~

Open Heart

Ricochet, Prologue: a New Boss (Ethan x f!OC)

Tatum freezes, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She knows that hauntingly deep voice: a voice that once made her giggle incessantly during the day while he purred her name late into the night; a voice that encouraged her, comforted her, believed in her all through medical school; a voice that once laid claim to her hand and her heart–that is until that voice found her in bed with his best friend. She knows that frigid tone anywhere.

Everything We Need (Ethan x f!OC)

Ethan quickly grabs Tatum’s shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace. She buries herself into his shoulder, her breath hitching in her chest. “Hey, hey–” he whispers, pressing his lips against her tousled waves. “Shhh, none of that,” he chuckles to himself, massaging intimate circles against her back. “You know it’s family tradition.”

Thanks again, girlie!

[epiph-wristbands]

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Why choose EPIPH wristbands?

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[ibjb]

I was loud bout some shit

quiet bout most

I ain't Lil Debbie

but definitely

an unforgettable hostess

JB who dat?

That's how they asked bout me

Don't let me hear my name outcha mouf

I'll have you playing jacks

wit cha teef

feel me?

Keep my eyes on the prize

FUK the crumbs and that slice

Napkin tucked in my neck I want the whole pie

Took a whole lotta

sleepy nights and yawning

lateral power moves

and reckless eyeballing

Movements in silence

never talk on a wireless

Kites not written

keep my DNA

off licked envelopes

Me and my hustle

bout ready to elope

send it via money gram

Got it western union

buy prepaid phone cards

MCI and random phone booths

Stick and move

be inconsistent

patterns interstate

Give the phone to my ex

Send my shit to ping off towers inner state wit CSX

I made it happen by my lonely

ain't really roll with an entourage

never stressed bout the loyalty

perfected cover perfect jobs

Go ahead pat me down

Im relaxed

take it and make it easy

Call the narcotic dogs

I'm allergic

Just keep em away from me

Got that shit

tucked and stashed

in my wig piece

Mad you can't get at me

Yeah I'm making em sick

Got twin and triplet burners

Forensics

can't trace my sig

old words

code words

I was elusive

and collected what was mine

Nah I don't keep receipts

money spent and splurged

stay in my mind cuz it's mine

I was already the product

I ain't need to brand it

A lotta glass jaws

a lotta dead hot boys

A whole lotta alibis

I was on bank cams

wit court approved

transaction hellos

Tying up real time loose ends saying goodbye to dem mofos

While you was battling fatigue

filling pockets in your fatigues

bruh

they couldn't lock me couldn't knock me

Being cocky was a sport

while I was sporting khakis

-- IBJB 🎤

[dragondemoness]

Ultimate Cuteness Series - Ultra Despair Girls Edition (Story Mode) Part Three

After the battle with Masaru, you, Komaru and Toko left the subway.

You returned to the surface, and you took a moment to breathe.

Komaru was relieved to be alive, but Toko was angry at herself for not getting any information from Masaru. Then she ended up having a fantasy about Byakuya.

Seeing her like that was rather disturbing, you had to admit.

Komaru noticed another subway entrance, which had been previously covered in rubble. Toko had a feeling it was a trap, but seeing no other options, you decided to go for it.

You entered the subway, and unlike last time, the area was completely empty. The trains weren’t moving, but at least you hadn’t wandered into a death match.

Not immediately, at least.

You started walking along the railway, when suddenly, a couple of Guard Monokumas were standing in your way. Thanks to their large shields, it was difficult to use grenades or Komaru’s hacking gun.

With that, you quickly turned and ran into the train, exiting on the other side. Unfortunately, the rest of the way out was blocked by rubble.

Suddenly, Komaru felt something hit her head, and the ceiling started caving in. The three of you started panicking, and a large piece of rubble bonked Toko right on the head, knocking her out. 

Genocide Jill returned, and she rushed out of the train and sliced up the Monokumas.

She sped off ahead of you, forcing you and Komaru to try and catch up with her. 

Genocide Jill explained that going unconscious or sneezing also causes her to switch personalities. With that, she sneezed, and Toko came back.

You listened to Komaru and Toko as they bickered, then you noticed two Monokuma Kids approaching you, holding a large monitor. 

They stopped in front of you, and on the monitor, another child appeared. His face was completely covered, besides his mouth and eyes.

He introduced himself as Jataro Kemuri.

You noticed a gleam in his eyes as he looked at you through the monitor, but it disappeared quickly. 

Toko demanded that he take his mask off, but he insisted that her “eyeballs would explode,” confusing her. This pointless conversation continued, until Toko gave up and started to leave. Jataro then explained that the ones wearing the wristbands can’t leave the city. They were targets in the Warriors of Hopes’ game, and the game needed rules to be fair.

Soon after, he said he wanted to show you something.

It appeared to be a playroom of some sort. It was bright and colorful, and a Monokuma was watching over people as they held hands and danced together. Then the image changed. Monokuma was now puppeteering the people, and their heads were hanging lifelessly. The music was distorted, and the image became more clear; the people were dead, and they had bolts jammed into their limbs so the Monokuma could control them. Jataro had arranged the demons he hunted into a diorama of shorts, a twisted piece of art.

Komaru stood in horror and shock while Toko tried to look away.

Jataro started bragging about the demons he hunted, like a child rambling about the prizes they found during an Easter egg hunt. 

“And did you know that my frog helped me hunt most of them? He’s more useful than me, and he’s just a stuffed animal. Kinda ironic, isn’t it? I must be reeeeal dumb and incompetent for a plushie to do a better job than me. Did you know that to capture them, the frog swallowed the demons and held them in his stomach? You could hear the demons screaming and begging to be let out.”

Komaru gazed at the monitor in horror, and Toko just said nothing. Meanwhile, you appeared to be in shock, gazing at the monitor with wide eyes and your mouth hanging open.

Toko grew angry, and called him crazy. Jataro then started rambling about how he has more fun compared to before, and that he should thank “Mr. and Mrs. Demons” for teaching him that he was “nothing but ugly, nasty, worthless filfh.”

You assumed that he was referring to his parents, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

The monitor switched off, and Komaru fell to her knees in horror. 

She broke down once again, forcing Toko to give her another awkward pep talk.

“You better not forget... I’m with you too. And so are they.”

She said, gesturing to you. She gave you a look that said “help me fix this shit,” and you quickly saw your cue.

“Yeah! Toko-chan and I are both on your side, Maru-chan! If you can’t do it on your own, we’ll just have to help you! So just keep fighting, okay?”

“Y-Yeah, what they said,” Toko agreed. With that, Komaru found her motivation again, and the three of you exited the subway.

When you returned to the surface, you wandered in on an... interesting sight.

The Monokuma Kids seemed to be having a party, and they were dancing while the Monokumas were mirroring their movements. And alongside them, you saw some small stuffed teddy bears dancing with them.

Both Toko and Komaru were focused on the numbers while you found yourself unable to supress a giggle.

“Wh-What the hell are you laughing at?!” Toko demanded.

“Sorry, it’s just funny.”

“Yeah, it kind of is,” Komaru agreed with a light chuckle. “But there are way too many of them. Let’s go back.”

So you went back down to the subway and tried to find an alternative exit. You headed to the underground and, after listening to the two girls bicker once again, you continued exploring.

Suddenly, you came across four Monokumas kicking... something while two Monokuma kids goaded them on.

Komaru shot the Monokumas with the hacking gun, and pulled up the white tarp to reveal another Monokuma, except this one was all white and had bandages covering the jagged red eye.

Komaru prepared to shoot the bear, before he insisted that he was an ally, and introduced himself as “Shirokuma.”

“Y’know... it’s kinda cute. Don’t you think, (Name)?” Komaru asked.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it kind of is, isn’t it?”

After Toko went into a small rant about Shirokuma’s ability to detect one’s first kiss, as well as making a short jab at you after it took a direction towards virginity, the bear stated that he could take you to a “safe place.” Naturally, this earned suspicion from Toko, but Shirokuma eventually managed to persuade you. 

And with that, you followed the bear to the secret base, where the adults were supposedly hiding. You entered the sewer, where you stopped to take a break after finding a file. Shirokuma explained his backstory, the day he rose to consciousness, and how and why he put the secret base together. Toko didn’t buy the story, neither did you or Komaru, but you saw little choice than to believe him.

After some more walking, you climbed up a ladder and found a shuttered door. Shirokuma opened it, and surely enough, you entered a place where some adults were roaming around, perfectly alive.

The three of you went around talking to everyone, many of which seemed kind of shaken up. Which was understandable, given what they had gone through.

After a few minutes of conversation, you encountered a women with long, dull pink hair and a low-pitched voice. She was calm and cool, and you decided that you liked her already. 

Like you and Komaru, she had a wristband. A wristband that signaled you were a target stuck in the Warriors of Hopes’ game. 

She introduced herself as Hiroko Hagakure, once-divorced and currently single. Hearing her last name was quite a surprise to you and Toko. Even though you were in different classes, you remembered Hagakure as a stupid and kind of useless weirdo who had a weird distaste for the occult.

And here was his mother, so calm and cool. How were they even related?

She gave the three of you nicknames, further increasing your enlikening of her. She even commented on your cuteness, causing you to blush. 

After all was said and done, you reported back to Shirokuma. He led you to the conference room, and asked that you wait until the “leader” showed up.

You found a list of dead and missing people in a locker. It was disturbing how long the lists were. 

At this point, it was no longer murder. It was war. The Warriors of Hopes’ revolution.

You investigated the notes found in the lockers before the leader finally came.

A tall man with long hair and a broken arm. He introduced himself as Haiji Towa, the leader of the resistance.

Komaru and Toko started fighting again, and when Haiji learned Toko was from Future Foundation, he ordered them to leave before storming out.

Despite this, Shirokuma insisted you stay the night. He led the three of you to a private room, with a strong resemblance to a prison cell. Then he gave you a wireless device Togami Group developed, and it could send audio and video.

Thanks to radio interference, it wouldn’t work immediately, but if you went up to Towa Tower, you might be able to contact Future Foundation.

And just like that, a new hope was found.

Komaru hugged Shirokuma as a thank you, and the three of you went to sleep. Komaru turned out to be a blanket thief, but she also clung onto you throughout the night, so it helped. 

And the next morning, it was go time.

[bakubabes-tatakae]

A/N: Are you telling me we're already almost two weeks into this thing? Well, for the all Black Clover fans, this next piece is a little bit of fun with Finral Roulacase. 😏 If you’d like a spot on the Kinktober taglist then please don’t hesitate to give me a shout. ❤️

Pairing: Finral Roulacase x fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, 18+ content, public sex, dirty talk, offensive language (swearing), submissive Finral

Word Count: 1.5k

Kinktober Masterlist

You dragged him through the streets, carts lining every inch of it as they bustled with people. Looks were thrown your way as they saw the robes that hung from your shoulders. “Finral, come on!” He could barely keep up as you run with him in tow. “There’s so much around here for us to do!”

Finral couldn’t help the smile that filled his face, he hadn’t seen you this happy in a long time. His streak of bad dates and denials had broken when he had finally tried his moves on you and he would never regret it. “Slow down, Y/n. We’ve got all night!”

You ignored him, stopping in front of what looked like a carnival game, the walls of the cart were lined with stuffed animals. Your eyes widened as you turned back around to him. “Finral, please! Come on!” You pointed toward the biggest one there was that hung in the very back. “Win me that one?” You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him toward you, whispering to him so that no one else could hear you. “If you win it for me, I’ll do a little something for you later.”

His own eyes widened and he smirked as he stepped forward. “Tell me the rules.” He pointed toward himself. “If there’s anyone that can do this, it’s me.”

The person running the booth handed him three baseballs. “Knock down all the milk glasses and win a prize. Knock down all threes sets and you’ll get that big one that she so desires.” The person stepped back and watched as Finral took one of the baseballs in his hand.

Finral looked over at you and smiled, readying himself to throw. You watched as the ball sailed from him hand, hitting the first stack with ease. You jumped excitedly next to him as he grabbed the next one. As it sailed from his hand it did the same, the butterflies in your stomach growing as you watched him pick up the last. Finral held a thumbs up to you. “You’re getting the one that you want, don’t you worry about that.” The ball sailed from his hand, hitting the center of the glasses perfectly.

The booth staff reached behind them and grabbed the one you had eyeballed earlier from the wall, handing it to Finral. You put your hands beside your cheeks and balled them up, screeching a little. He handed you the stuffed animal and put his hand on your lower back, walking with you toward the photo booths. “I think it’s time we get some pictures taken my love.”

You smiled at him, ecstatic to be doing anything at all with him. As you walked you sensed something coming off of him, something that should have been easy for you to read, but your brain was stuck in soft mode.

As you reached the photo booth you quickly climbed in, pulling him in behind you. “Fin,” You placed your things on the floor and pushed him onto the seat of the booth, finally catching on to what he had been radiating. His eyes widened as he watched you coming closer to him. “Have I ever told you just how much I love you?”

Final placed his hands on your hips, his mouth salivating as he watched your body moving over his lap. “Only every day, darling.”

You placed your hands in his hair and slowly ground against his lap. Finral’s head dropped behind him, landing harshly against the back of the booth. Just the feeling of your body rubbing against his had the bulge in his pants growing. “Y/n…” Your name rolled off his tongue lustfully and your finger shot up to cover his lips.

“Shhh,” You chuckled a little before resituating your skirt and grabbing his hand. “We wouldn’t want to get caught in here now would we?”

You guided his hand between your legs, showing him that it was alright to touch you. With as much game as Finral talked when it came to the actual act the man would shut down. As your hand moved his underneath your skirt you heard a small whine leave him. Were you really letting him do this? There was no way that you were going to go through with it. His whine was like music to your ears as you helped him move his fingers. “Don’t be afraid, Finral.” You leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Go ahead, make me feel,” you lowered your voice and spoke into his ear with a devious tone. “Make me feel good.”

His fingers slowly started moving, running over your folds as pleasure began to course through you. You grabbed his shoulders and gripped tightly, his fingers slowly sliding into your core. You moved your hips, grinding against his digits as you tried to quicken his pace. His nervous eyes kept flashing to the small piece of fabric that kept the world on the other side from seeing what was going on inside.

Your hands settled on your breasts, squeezing them for him to see. He hadn’t pictured his day going like this as your perfect breasts came closer and closer to him. The bulge in his pants was growing more and more with every passing second. He could barely contain his excitement as he pulled his hand away. “Please, baby.” He grabbed your hands and pulled you closer, the small sound that left you making his submissive side show a little more even as he tried to fight it.

You ran your hands down his chest and grabbed the waistband of his pants, knowing exactly what he wanted you to do. “Let me show you just how much I love you and appreciate you, my love.”

You pulled his pants and boxers down just enough, his length standing for you as it broke free of its fabric prison. Your hand grasped it, pumping slowly as he dropped his head back again. “Shit-” You held yourself up, lining his tip with your core before lowering yourself onto his length. As your walls engulfed him his fingers dug into your sides. You used his shoulders for leverage as you rolled your hips over him, every stroke of his cock inside your walls nearly causing him to come undone on the spot.

You could feel your orgasm quickly approaching, your hips moving as quickly as you could, chasing your high with great intent. Every small noise that escaped Finral as your soft walls indulged every sensation possible was intoxicating. His voice was desperate as he praised you. “So fucking good, baby girl. Making me feel on top of the world.” A small moan filled the booth as he spoke again. “I’m so fucking close, love.”

You slowed your pace, letting him revel at the moment as you placed your lips to his neck. Small nibbles were something that had always driven him crazy. You peppered his neck with them and watched as more pleasure flowed through his veins. The coil in your own abdomen was tightening, chasing your own release as he got closer and closer to his.

Finral placed his forehead on your shoulder, leaning into you. You placed your hand on the back of his neck, running your fingers through his long hair. “I’m-I’m so close Fin.”

Finral couldn’t even get his words out, the bliss too much for him as he finally felt himself let go. With a loud moan and a cry of your name, Finral emptied himself out inside your walls, painting them white with strings of his seed. The pure sound of him coming to his high gave you that push that you needed, your walls convulsing around him. You leaned your head against his, breathing heavily as you tried to come back down to earth. He sat up straight and made you look at him. “I guess we should probably get out of here. People are going to get suspicious if we stay in here too much longer.”

You nodded to him, standing up to resituate your skirt before grabbing your things from the ground. Finral zipped his pants and pushed back the curtain of the photo booth, grabbing the photo strip that was there before anyone could see it. As you got close to the curtain you caught the eye of another couple standing just outside of it, waiting for their turn. Finral took a deep breath and shoved the photo strip into his pocket. “We’re all set with it, have fun.”

Your eyes widened as he started to walk away, grabbing the back of his shirt as you caught up with him. “Do you think they know what happened in there?”

Finral peeked back over his shoulder before taking your prize to carry it for you. The couple that had just been there was now walking away from the booth. A small smile formed on his face. “Yea, they definitely know what happened in there.”

Taglist: @monic00l @strangeinternetwasteland @rowley-with-ackerman @kyu-pine @barrysimpparker @saudade-mayari @mykuronekome @nikiniki743 @thorinsraven @gonuclear @vs-redemption @tomarisela @strawberrydynamight @taliyahvermillion @stormydaysxx @yousturelys @z-thechaotic @inu1gf

©2021 bakubabes-hatake, please do not repost/modify without my permission, please do not use my work as ASMR without my permission

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Mon 14 June ‘21

Louis Tomlinson Cooks is here!! Yeah it’s 100% for sure as delightful to watch Louis make himself a sandwich as you might have hoped, but how was his cooking? Well I’ll let Louis rate himself-- “I’m not gonna lie not that appetizing is it, I mean look at it,” he says when it comes time to taste his creation, plus, “chopping peeling slicing not great to be fair- everything else I’m all right” (he’s… not wrong, even aside from the peeler issues has this man ever held a knife??) but- “it probably tastes nice though as I said it’s not about presentation for me… [munches cutely]... it’s actually pretty banging, that’s actually quite nice!” Success! Maybe it’s cause he knows the secret to faking good cooking- “as you can see I don’t have a lot of cooking ability so the more butter the better,” I mean the experts can tell you, that’s advanced stuff right there! #Louis-aChild! Substituting mustard and ketchup for coleslaw is a bit of a bold move, but in a belated attempt to convince the kiddos to eat some healthy veg even though he won’t he does bravely try the cucumber strips despite being “not really a man for cucumber” and makes a pained attempt to be positive- “bit of crunch.” Oh and speaking of crunch I’m relieved to have learned that the waffle is NOT a waffle, it’s a crispy waffle shaped bit of potato; a much more reasonable fish sandwich addition than the American version of a potato waffle! Full Time Meals polled to see what people think of Louis cooking; the two choices are “it was amazing” and “the best,” THEY GET IT. My kind of Louis poll! Helen Seamons rated him a “10/10 for effort and entertainment”, Masterchef acknowledged Louis as one of their own, and Marcus Rashford keeps it simple- “my guy” with a lil heart. YEAH, SAME.

Harry showed up in Italy, where he was papped in Venice being driven around (with PA Luis) on a boat (as you do, in Venice). He’s in a cool embroidered Bode shirt and shades and fancy hair, looking good. He’s seen carrying his suitcase, taking photos, and resting his head on his arms looking like a model. One might think, since we just saw the My Policeman cast and crew on set celebrating the wrap of the shoot, that they were done filming and Harry was off to do something different, but nope, he’s there to film! The book has key scenes in Venice that folks had been wondering about the filming of, and David Dawson is also being boated around Venice for the paps, so, it seems that was just for the wrap of the *UK* filming, which makes sense I guess since it would mostly be different crew I imagine, and perhaps some of the main cast are done as well.

Liam’s NFT sale is happening tomorrow! If you’re confused and want more info, I’M NOT GONNA HELP THAT MUCH… uh but I mean you can check out Liam’s youtube video explaining though I would guess that won’t help much (even Liam thinks so; “there’s probably websites that explain a lot better than me” he admits). There is a roundup now posted of what’s on offer for the buyers of the NFTs but I’m gonna be really honest with you, I’m more confused now than I was before. It’s clear that there are only SIX LONELY BUG NFTs right? They for sure said that I believe. But the packages for each different piece (token bundles) seem to me like they’re available to multiple buyers? Like maybe you don’t get the NFT but multiple top bidders on each get the extras? Like they can’t be selling multiple copies of the NFT... can they?! Isn’t the WHOLE POINT that only one person gets to own it? I DON’T FUCKING KNOW I AM SORRY. What I think I understand to be true: the six NFT buyers get to go to “a once-in-a-lifetime immersive dining experience at Resorts World Las Vegas” (this is the dinner with Liam and “a selection of crypto leaders from around the world” which takes place on display inside a giant glass box) and also “a bespoke commemorative presentation box containing the world’s leading holographic display... with audio... and a custom made Lonely Bug commemorative coin,” and “a unique QR code directing the owner to a special ‘Director’s Cut’ edit of the short digital film ‘Making Of Lonely Bug Collection’ which features unreleased footage from the day of the drop showing the creators' reactions when the winning bids came in” (I mean YEAH I would think it’s unreleased it literally hasn’t happened?) But then there are really a lot of other extras including tickets with Meet & Greet access to any Liam Payne headline show around the world, admission to pool and cinema parties in Vegas with Liam, signed art, non-Liam extras (I will literally bid to NOT have 20 minute phone calls with those crypto entrepreneurs PLEASE… but that’s just me), and access to an online party hosted by Liam; I really get the impression many of these, especially the last one, are just crypto tokens that are for sale that aren’t linked to the main Lonely Bug NFTs and many more than 6 people can buy them but a lot of the extras I’m not clear on which it is. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll understand better WE WILL SEE.

Liam also dropped by the discord last night to say some hellos (after a “long long day”) and that he “bought a piece of NFT art of myself tonight I’m going to give it as a prize Monday night so someone can own a piece of art that was owned by me” (an even less tangible bragging point than simply owning an NFT wow that’s an achievement) and the most important update- “I want a French Bulldog”! Oh and he said “that’s like one I did myself” in his fanart channel to a pic of a tiny crocheted illustration of Louis and Harry holding up a rainbow flag. Didya Liam?? (...Liam is crocheting??) Anyway I recognize who it’s supposed to be because it’s based on a familiar piece of fanart, but Liam definitely might NOT realize it’s meant to be someone specific, and tbh I’m more <eyeballs> at him saying that at the rainbow flag crocheted thing than at it being shippy.

Our Song acoustic version is out this Friday!! And Niall talked about NH3 some in an interview today; “I’m in the studio most days, it feels really good. I’m kinda in the latter stages of it and then I’ll go get a band together and go in and record the whole thing. I’ve just kind of been writing for the past 9 or 10 months and really enjoying it” and “It sounds like a complete album. God knows when it’s coming out because I’d like to be able to get around the world to see all the fans as well” and “It’s different. It sounds a lot more grown up. I’m 27 so it’s about time. I really wanted to kinda cement a sound. The singles I’ve released previously have all been kinda different sounds. I would like to have my ballad sound & like a cemented uptempo sound.” He and Anne Marie also talked about one of the other songs they wrote together saying, “It’s kind of like a, how do you describe it- guitar driven meets Tom Petty meets Katy Perry meets…” but say “We haven’t really decided if we are putting it out yet, the conversations are kinda happening... but it’s completely different (from Our Song).”

[dekalko-mania]

D&D: By wastefulreverie: Lester, Mikey, and Nathan were standing beside him. Mikey was fumbling with three jagged-sided dice while Lester and Nathan glared at each other. Realizing that he was awake, Lester broke eye contact with Nathan. Awkwardly, he put his hand on Danny's shoulder. "Do you want to join our campaign?" he blurted.

Danny tilted his head skeptically, "Join your what?"

Additional Tags: Dungeons and Dragons, friendship, humor, [really enjoyed the irony in this one]

Making Something Out of Nothing: By wastefulreverie: When Ishiyama calls Danny into her office, the last thing he expected was to be offered a job.

Additional Tags: Post-reveal, Teacher! Danny, 

Tiny Little Pieces of Ours: By Bellovebug: Danny Fenton was a dreamer. A dreamer of stars, of galaxies, of spaceships and sunsets and snow. He was a dreamer of wildflowers in the forest, of messages left on the insides of folders set up to take a test, of Polaroids an unknown person has dropped on the street. He was a dreamer of the things that didn't matter, because the things that did scared him.

But dreams don't last forever. And when Danny is gone, he leaves many in his wake.

(Or, a look at Danny's death, and the lives of the people in his life afterwards.)

Additional Tags: Major Character Death, hurt Danny, grieving, Sam and Tucker Centric, [This one hurt so much, but is very beautifully written. Still hurts even now lmao]

A Play to Remember: By AppleScentedLazers: When Danny's drama class puts on a play and Fenton is cast as his own crime fighting counterpart, what's the worst that could happen? With a new villain rising and lines to learn, the people of Amity start to see that there may be more to their resident ghost boy than meets the eye.

Additional Tags: Angst, [interesting reveal concept! more in-depth A-listers]

I’m Still Here: By Cordria: Buried in the backyard, Danny's locked away in a forgotten Thermos. When it's finally found seventy years later, Danny is released and he needs to learn to deal with his new life. Can he survive what the future can throw at him?

Additional Tags: Angst [definitely nostalgic angst]

The Scrapbook: By Dragon Elexus: Fearful of Jazz's idolism of the ghost-boy, Maddie tries to protect her daughter by stealing her Phantom scrapbook. But the book sparks strange questions in Maddie's mind, and she finds herself stumbling on secrets she never knew existed. Pre-PP.

Additional Tags: Family

Exposed: By ADraconicScribe: A mysterious caller has revealed that the infamous Danny Phantom is half-human, placing a five hundred thousand dollar prize to the one who exposes Phantom's secret identity. Coupled with Vlad's disappearance, the ghost fighting, and all of the efforts to capture him, Danny and his friends must tread carefully if they are to make it out with their secrets, and their lives, intact.

Additional Tags: angst, BAMF Danny Fenton, Identity Reveal, Sam and Tucker are good friends, [I cannot stress how amazing this fic is, extremely well written, such an intense plot. Endless twists and turns, so so good.]

Maybe We’ll Find Each Other: By DP_Marvel94: Phantom, the adoptive son of Clockwork, doesn't remember his life but wishes he did. Jack Fenton, ghost hunter, lost his only son at a young age. When the portal activates, a newly half-human Phantom stumbles into Jack's lab, barely a painfully familiar blue-eyed, black haired form.

Additional Tags: Full ghost to half ghost Phantom, Ghosts think halfas are abominations, father-son relationship, but neither know they’re parent and child [very very interesting story, super cool concept!]

Katzenjammer: By DannyPhantomSG1, sapphireswimming: Danny's had enough. Of everything. But thankfully Tucker understands.

Additional Tags: Oneshot, Half Ghost Angst, Hurt/comfort, Friendship

Hope Can Be a Heavy Thing to Hold: By DP_Marvel94: " I woke up here, wherever here is, with no memories. He told me my name is Daniel James Masters. He told me I am a human-ghost hybrid, like him. He told me he is my father. But I know that’s a lie; there is no way Vlad Masters, my captor is my parent. I know I have a real home somewhere out there. I have a family and friends who love me. Too bad I can’t remember anything about them."

Additional Tags: Amnesia, child abuse, Diary/journal, poor Danny can’t remember anything 

Abigail the Tree Girl: By EchoGhost: Danny didn’t see his first ghost at 14.

Additional Tags: Haunted Amity Park, Danny has always been weird, clueless Danny

Just Fourteen: By aniura: Danny Fenton is an average high school student whose biggest worry is getting the grades needed to become an astronaut. That is, until his friend Sam convinces him to step inside his parents' broken ghost portal...Updates bi-weekly on Sundays. Covers Danny's time at Casper High before the accident and the month afterwards.

Additional Tags: Angst, origin, the accident, Danny is NOT okay, [really cool fic that fills in the gaps that weren’t delved into during the show] 

The Phantom and the Knight: By savya398: After two years Danny Fenton finally felt like he was getting this whole superhero thing under control. So of course something had to come along and ruin everything.

Additional Tags: Danny Phantom/Young Justice, DC Animated Universe, [little twist on Danny’s origins]

Six Degrees of Separation: By Miss_Nihilist: Valerie Gray was not one for doubt and regret, but that was before she fell in love — and then, promptly and without a second thought, threw it away.

She wasn't looking for them to get back together or even to automatically be friends again. But maybe, just maybe, Valerie could get a second chance at being a decent person. For Danny, for herself, and for all the mistakes she had made.

Additional Tags: Moving On, Post break-up, hurt/comfort, identity reveal

Three for the Price of One: By Marsalias: They had only meant to summon ONE ghost...

Additional Tags: cult, summoning

When the Kingdom Comes Calling: By blueh: The Ghost Zone population assumes that Phantom took the crown with dignity. What they don’t know is fifteen year old Danny Fenton just wants to graduate high school, is constantly ready to throw hands with an army of eyeballs, and absolutely will not be crowned the Ghost King without a fight.

Additional Tags: Not PP compliant, ghost king Danny Fenton, fluff and humor, reluctant king au, [so funny and so on character for a little shit like Danny oof]

[crow-summoner]

Darklina Week Day 2: Role Reversal

Sun Summoner!Darkling and Shadow Summoner!Alina

Alina, a cartographer for the Ravken Army, undertakes a dangerous mission to stay by her only friend’s side. They must cross the Forge, a hellscape of intense heat and unrelenting light that has torn their country in two. Nothing can survive the Forge for long. Nothing but the monsters that call it home. Alina thinks she and Mal will make it as long as they’re together, but when their mission falls to pieces, Alina discovers something shocking about herself. She can banish light. Her powers draw the attention of the Golden General, a military leader who scares and intrigues Alina in equal measure. One thing’s for sure. Alina can’t go back to life of a mouse, and the General’s her best option to fight for something more. Can Alina save her world, or will she die trying?

Or, an AU where light powers aren’t necessarily good, and shadow powers get to be heroic. Content warning for some volcra expy related gore and some canon-consistent sprinkles of Malina at the beginning. There’s plenty of Darkles after that, now with extra sparkles.

Story under the jump

The Forge

Alina sits at the inn window, adding the last buttery yellow lines to her painting. For being such a blight against their nation, the Forge made a lovely landscape. She dons her fabrikator sunglasses, and turning her back to the unrelenting sunlight, she lifts her tented mirror up to compare her painting to the real thing. Her superior officers would kill her if they knew what she was using their equipment for, but the Forge is too bright to look at directly. Her superiors may not appreciate art, but if she’s going to risk her life for more supplies, she wants to leave a memorial for herself.

“It looks too much like a vacation spot,” Mal says, dragging up a chair so he can sit next to her. He’s already wearing his glasses and darkened veil, which will supposedly keep the Forge from boiling their eyes out and trap moisture near their faces. Alina would be happier if more than army issued fashion stood between her and certain death.

“You make a pretty bride, you know that?” Alina says instead of responding to the criticism. There were enough horrors in the Forge. She wanted make something pleasant. She places her canvas between the shelf and the wall, hoping that someone working at the inn will find it.

Mal huffs. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw the bags under my eyes. Don’t know how people sleep around here.”

Alina supposes people can get used to anything, even perpetual daylight. She secures her mirror and knives to her belt and dons her veil and gloves. She shimmies down the narrow walkway as if showing off the latest fashion. “What do you think?”

Mal makes a show of considering it, rubbing his chin under the veil. “I think the sveta will be too smitten to eat you.”

Alina tilts her head in mock coyness. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me.” She leaves it unspoken that she wishes someone else was smitten with her.

“Come on,” Mal says, taking her by the arm. “I want to be on time for once.”

By the time they reach the skiff, Alina and Mal are five minutes late. Thankfully, Alexei, her fellow cartographer, covered for her.

“You owe me,” he says, shoving her maps into her hands.

“I’ll bake you a cake,” Alina promises.

“You already owe me twelve cakes!”

“Then I’ll name my first born after you.”

Alexei snorts. “Like any of us are going to live long enough to have kids. We’re all going to be beef jerky in a few hours.”

“Squeak. Squeak, Alexei.” It’s the code their cartographers have for when Alexei’s boundless optimism is bringing them down.

Normally, Alexei would grumble but acquiesce. Today, he just stares at the skiff. “Do you really think the sveta are real?”

Alina shrugs. “What else could eat our men out there?” Admittedly, invisible creatures made of light sounded farfetched, but she’s seen the battle scars. Other soldiers had claw mark scars across their chest and spots where something inhuman had taken a bite out of them. The light could blister, burn and tan flesh, but it couldn’t do that.

“I dunno. Maybe him,” Alexei said, eyeing the golden carriage in the distance. “The Geldling.”

Alina quickly hushes him. General Kirigan tolerates others calling him the Golden General, but he does not take kindly to the Geldling. Sure, the epitaph was based on an old Kerch word for gold, but gelding is also what one did to a prized horse to keep it docile. It was as good as saying their leader is a ballless pet, and everyone knows it.  

Sure enough, one of the heartrenders lifts his veil and glares at them. He might have been handsome once, but his sour expression makes the lines on his face hard.

“Captain Herring may be rough, but he’s not a cannibal.” Alina hopes this is enough to cover over their mistake. The heartrender doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t fight them either. That suited Alina well enough.

“Watch what you say,” she whispers to Alexei. “We have to depend on these people to survive. Don’t make them mad.”

Alexei nods. “Sorry.”

Thankfully, the rest of their time at the dock goes smoothly. Soon, all the soldiers and Girsha gather inside the metal skiff, ready to take off. A tidemaker hoses them all down, making Alina feel like a drenched rat, but the water is important in such a hot place.

Alina makes sure to stand by Mal, gripping his arm for support as the skiff slides along the sand. There’s enough space to move around, but something about the lack of windows makes the room feel unbearably tight. It’s like one big coffin.

Squeak, squeak, Alina tells herself. No one’s going to die today.

The skiff rattles as they pass over marker zero. They’re officially in the Forge. The panels in the side of the skiff slide up. Rows of dark nets allow squallers to force air out without letting the light in. They’ll have to use the tinted mirrors along the sides of the skiff to direct it.

Alina fans herself, wishing the nets could ease the heat. She was drenched just minutes ago, but her uniform’s now bone dry. Sure, the tidemakers periodically release a mist from their fancy containers and push it around the cabin, but that’s like giving a starving man a single bite.

“I bet I can sweat more than you,” Mal jokes, and she’s sure it’s to help distract her. Even the dumbest man in their unit wouldn’t brag about that.

“No way. Sweat more than that heartrender over there, and you have a deal,” she whispers back. It was a hard challenge. The heartrender already smelled like he’d bathed in nothing but used socks for years.

Mal leans back in shock. “Yikes. Are you trying to kill me? I can’t beat that.”

Alexei sniffs beside them, rubbing under his veil. “My lids are scraping my eyeballs.”

Alina reaches over and slaps his hand the way she used to do with the younger kids at the orphanage. “Then stop picking at them.”

Alexei mumbles. He’s a good cartographer, but he also comes from money, and that didn’t always make for a good soldier. Alina wonders if she should have erased his name instead of Ruby’s. This mission called for two cartographers, and Ruby could withstand discomfort better than he could, but Alina wasn’t thinking rationally. Mal was going to go into the Forge by himself, and Alina needed to remove someone so she could forge her own name on the mission papers. Mal wouldn’t give Alexei a second glance, but Ruby had red hair and a slim figure. Alina couldn’t risk Mal having “glad we’re still alive” sex with her after the mission. It was petty, childish even, but Alina couldn’t help herself. If they all survive the skiff, she’ll woman up and tell Mal how she feels. Lord knows hanging in this middle ground wasn’t doing either of them any favors.  

The skiff shakes, and Alexei grabs the walls. “Saints! It’s the sveta.”

The squaller at the helm shushes him. “Just a bump. Don’t call attention to us.”

Alexei’s shoulders slump, but he retakes his position behind the squaller without another word.

Alina can’t help but lean around her squaller to peak in her mirror. She’d heard about calcified roots surviving the Forge long after the crops perished. The real thing must be prettier than the paintings. Instead of a root, Alina finds the fragments of a skull and the front of a skiff.

She steps back, her stomach sinking into her boots. It’s one thing to know the odds, but it’s another to stare the evidence in the face. Better men than them have failed to cross.

The crew stand in silence as the skiff passes the first marker. Alina gives her squaller the proper directions and distances, and soon they pass the second marker. The third. The fourth. Alina allows herself to hope. Just eleven more and they’re home free.

She scratches her arm, and flakes of dry skin come off. No wonder the skiff regulars look like leather. She’d rather go AWOL than do this again. Then again, she didn’t have be here this time either. She has no one to blame but herself.

The skiff rumbles and tilts. It’s just another bump, she assures herself, but something raps against the ceiling. The heartrenders tense up, and the squallers shift their positions.

Oh, no.

She checks on Mal just to be sure, but he’s clutching his gun tight, his head tilted up. It’s the same stance he took when he found that rabbit in a barren forest or when he was about to catch her during hide and seek. He’s sighted something, only this time, that something is stronger than them.

The squaller at the helm brings the skiff to a stop and signals for the shooters and heartrenders to take position. All the non-combat staff – cartographers included – must gather at the center. Alina takes out her knife and her tented mirror, praying she won’t have to use them.

“Protect yourselves if you must,” the squaller whispers, “but don’t get in anyone’s way.”

Alina’s never felt more useless in her life.

The skiff continues to shake, harder this time. Something whines above them. Something answers it’s call from somewhere in front of them. Another whine sounds from behind the skiff. From all sides. How many of them are out there? At least a dozen given the sheer number of cries. No one dares make a sound. The sveta are fierce, but they’re just as blind as a human in the Forge. Maybe if they don’t hear anything, they’ll get bored and hunt elsewhere.

The ceiling dents in with a clank, knocking the skiff to the right. One of the soldiers jumps at the sound, aiming where it came from. The squaller at the helm blows him away, but not in time. The shot blows a hole in the ceiling, letting the light in. The beam hits a tidemaker’s shoulders, carving a smoking black line through her kefta. She screams, tearing off the cloth to expose a blistering gash. A healer pulls her to the side as one her friends tries to stifle her screams with a damp cloth, but it’s too late. The sveta cries draw closer.

Something claws a large hole through the ceiling, the soldiers scrambling to avoid the new beams. Some squallers attempt to blow up a tarp to cover the open areas, but it stops in thin air. No. Not thin air. The tarp drapes over something Alina can’t see with her naked eye. Under the plastic, she can make out its large, pointed wings and snout.

“Blast it,” the squaller at the helm shouts, and the soldiers open fire on the creature. It whines, batting away the tarp, and then it’s gone.

For a moment, no one makes a move. The cabin is utterly silent. Then something flashes across Alina’s mirror, and the next thing she knows, the soldier beside her explodes in a splash of red. On the other side of the skiff, a healer’s hand disappears. He draws back, clutching his now bloody stump as one of the creatures screeches in triumph.

Alina backs up, though there’s nowhere left to go. Oh, saints. She should have never come here. She begs every saint she can think of to forgive whatever sin brought her to this horrible moment. Shooting her fellow man in combat. Wishing harm to the girls Mal so much as looked at. Disregarding Ana Kuya’s rules at every turn. Whatever it was, she repented. Just please don’t let her die at some monster’s hand.

The durasts burst dust in the air. It makes their own people cough, but it helps make the sveta more visible.

BAM!

Another chunk of ceiling caves in, forcing the crew to huddle along the perimeter to escape the light. Not all of them were quick enough. Several soldiers blister and peel, crying as the sveta tear off chunks of flesh from their bodies.

Alina can only stare. It’s too late for prayers. Too late to run. She should have talked Mal into fleeing while she had the chance, and now ... Alina holds out her mirror, a new hope setting in. They might not make it out, but she can at least die by Mal’s side. He has to know how she feels.

Alina slowly shifts through the chaos, dodging shots and beams of light. She finds him by the helm, taking deep breaths as he aims and shoots. Something heavy hits the floor, gurgling. Of course. Leave it to Mal to find the creatures without a mirror.

She shines her mirror in the direction the creature fell, hoping to avoid tripping its body, but to her surprise, she can just make out the sheen of its skin. The colors change as she tilts the mirror, first blue, then pink and maybe green. All the colors of the rainbow. It reminds her of looking through a prism. Not invisible then. The sveta are just reflective.

Alina giggles. Ana Kuya would be so proud of her, committing to her education even as she’s about to die. She keeps giggling over and over, knowing that if she stops, she’ll have to cry. There are just so many bodies around her. They used to be people, and now they’re meat.

Someone grabs her wrist, and a shot of energy courses through her, quieting the hysteria. Mal drags her beside him.

“I’m sorry,” she says, but he’s busy readying his next shot. “I lo – ” She doesn’t get any further. Another soldier’s bullet ricochets off the wall and hits Mal in the shoulder. He doubles over, his gun clattering to the floor.

Alina drops her mirror, pressing a palm against the wound. The blood seeps from between her fingers no matter how hard she tries to stop the flow.

Mal slides to the floor, Alina crouching beside him. The light streams against them, burning her chest and his back. The pain means nothing compared to the loss.

“No. Not like this,” she says, covering Mal’s body with her own.

The pain in her back only lasts a second. It occurs to her that this is not a good thing. It means her nerves have been eaten away, but she’s glad to do it if it means Mal can live.

Something rumbles in the pit of her stomach. She feels like she’s going to burst, and she doesn’t have the strength to fight it.

All around her, the creatures cry and flap their wings erratically. She doesn’t have time think about it as the world goes dark, sinking her into a deep oblivion.

 *****************************

 Alina wakes, draped over someone’s shoulder, face buried in the red cloth of his kefta. She only lifts her head for one moment, but the light’s unbearable.

The light?

“Mal,” Alina shouts. She wiggles to free herself from the Grisha’s grip. The sveta will come back at any moment. She has to find Mal. Protect him. Where is he?

But they’re not on the skiff anymore. They’re back at the dock, the skiff a shredded husk. People rush every which way, some tending to the wounded and some salvaging the cargo from the hold. Mal could be anywhere among them. Then Alina catches sight of the ground. Oh, saints! So many people lay unmoving on the dock, and Grisha and First Army soldiers keep dragging out more. All these people she trained with. Ate with. Sung bawdy songs with when they’d all had too much kvas. Dead. They can’t all be gone. Right? Right?

Alina kicks at the Grisha. She needs to see for herself who made it out. Mal better be among them. Of course, he would be. He was the best tracker Ravka’s ever seen. He’d always find his way back home. Home to her.

The Grisha swears at her, trying to stop her feet with one arm. “Be still.” She recognizes him. The heartrender that had sneered at Alexei’s comment earlier. Alina drives a fist in the heartrender’s back. If Grisha like him had done more they wouldn’t be in the situation. He did it on purpose, didn’t he? He let their soldiers die because someone spoke against his leader. His pride meant more than the supplies they’d get from West Ravka. More than human life.

“Fine.” With a huff, the Grisha drops her flat on her butt, sand puffing in her face. She’s coughing too much to fight him off when the heartrender takes her by her bicep and drags her towards the camp. Another heartrender takes her other arm, his grip gentler than his coworker’s.

“Was that necessary, Ivan?” The second heartrender asked.

Ivan only grunts “Fedyor” as a warning in response. Fedyor shakes his head with what Alina would call fondness if she thought anyone could be fond of something as sour as Ivan.

“Where’s Mal?” Alina asks Fedyor, but he only lifts a brow. Of course, he wouldn’t recognize the name of a common solider. There were so many of them, and Grisha only concerned themselves with their own. “The boy I was with on the skiff.”

“Ah. Him,” Fedyor says. “The First Army tends to their own wounded. He’s in their care.”

Alina knows what that means. He’s laying outside the infirmary tent, waiting for his turn to have an undertrained medic pour alcohol in his wounds then pack them with mustard plaster. If he’s lucky, they’ll still have enough bandages for him to get his own. Having to use the scraps from old uniforms inevitably led to infection, and without supplies from the west, the camp outpost could not provide the steady diet of alcohol needed to survive that misery. Mal is popular, though. She’s sure someone will be willing to sacrifice their stash for his comfort.

Then it occurs to her that she’s not doing the same thing. She’d been horribly burned by the light, and yet her back doesn’t ache. Someone must have removed her jacket while Alina was unconscious, but her undershirt is scorched where the light hit it. Her chest is unusually red, but it’s not blistering or charred. The worst she can say is that she feels like she’s been awake for days.

“Why would someone heal me?” She’s heard it a thousand times before. Healers were too rare to waste on common soldiers. They were for Grisha and those wealthy enough to be a priority. She is neither, and yet when she looks up at Fedyor, he’s gazing down at her with some feeling she dares not define. It was the same look the Grisha gave the golden carriage when it barreled into the encampment. The same look the peasants near Keramzin gave the bones of Saint Felix on his day of worship. If she didn’t know better, she’d call it reverence.

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity when he finally says, “We survived.” Alina doesn’t know what she has to do with that. It was luck. Pure and simple. But then Fedyor closes his eyes and whispers, “Thank you.”

A chill runs through Alina despite the heat. She looks at the tents, the people running around them, anywhere and everywhere but at Fedyor and that look, full of expectations she can never fill. They’ve long since passed the First Army section, but they’re now leaving the main Grisha area, heading up the northmost path. There’s nothing there except for the single yellow tent towering over the rest of the encampment.

Alina pulls back, but it does nothing to stop the heartrenders. “What does the General want with me?”

“Just answer his questions, so we call all get on with our day,” Ivan says.

“I don’t know anything! Let go of me!” She turns to look back at the First Army camp, too far away for anyone to see her let alone help. Not that they could do anything if they wanted to. No one says no to the General.

Fedyor grips the back of her neck, and her whole body turns to puddy. The heartrenders lean into her, holding her upright because her knees can no longer bear her weight. She’s too relaxed to move at all.

Ivan sniffs. “You weren’t supposed to do that for anyone but me.”

Fedyor grins. “Sorry, luv. Desperate times and all that.”

They march her straight into the lion’s den.

She doesn’t know what she expected to see. A jeweled throne and a menagerie of exotic animals like the ones she’d seen in the illustrated book of fairy tales back at the orphanage? Enemy soldiers kept in cages and chained otkazat’sya serving the Grisha like the Fjerdan pamphlet a traveler tried to give them before Ana Kuya kicked them off the duke’s property? But this place resembled the main tent for the First Army. Soldiers clustered together around a round table. A large map hung from a board, thread and pegs marking paths, places and interesting parties. And yet the General’s tent was larger than theirs, made of bulletproof core cloth while they had to make do with spun cotten. They must not need to ration oil either given the number of lamps lit, and the gathered Grisha shone like banners in their blue, red and purple keftas. No olive drab for them.

Most of the room turned to face them when the heartrenders dragged Alina in. Some now look at her with open curiosity and others with incredulous expressions. Soft mummers pass through the crowd until someone raises their hand, and the whole lot fall silent. Saints, Alina never heard a tent so quiet before. Even during lights out, at least one person snored.

Without needing to be told, the Grisha step back, parting down the center to make a path. A lone man strides forward, his telltale yellow kefta billowing around him. Notes of silver, white and gold weave through it, enough thread to stitch three tents of this size together, but he’s not wearing the jewelry she’d expect from his high rank, and his clothes are core cloth like any other Grisha. She’s never seen a high officer without any silk on, no matter how impractical it might be. After all, most never saw battle. Not like this one had.

The Golden General is younger than she’d expected given what others said about him. She’d seen a shriveled man with boney hands covered in warts in her mind’s eye, but this man barely had a decade on her, and his warm blonde hair and fair, flawless complexion were pleasing on the eyes. Too pleasing. Even the most beautiful boy back home had some freckle or ruddiness to his skin, but the General’s looks almost painted on. It’s eerie, and yet she can’t look away. He’s like the very embodiment of the light, except there’s a coldness in his gaze and calm comportment.

He may be light, but he’s not warmth.

That right, she tells herself. Ana Kuya warned her about such things before. One of the orphans she’d grown up with saw a gold coin glittering in some bushes under a hill. He’d climbed down for it, only to be rolled by some travelers. They took the buttons from his coat and the boots from his feet. He came home with nothing but his pants and a gash on his forehead. Ana Kuya warned them all then: not all that’s gold glitters. Sometimes, it burns instead. Gold tempts the desperate, but Alina is not blind. The General only looked like a man. He can boil someone’s insides. Make their flesh rot from their bone as if they were already dead.  Burn them with a glance. And here he is, looking straight at her.

The General stops a few feet away and clasps his hands behind his back. He looks her over, and she doesn’t know whether to be scared or grateful that she can’t read what conclusions he’s drawn. He nods at the heartrenders, and Fedyor rubs the back of Alina’s neck. Her limbs come back to life, panic rising from her core. She wants to run, but there’s no point.

The General stares at her, impassive, and then finally: “Is it true?”

For a moment, Alina believes the absurd. He’s read her thoughts and knows what she said about him being a monster. Then it occurs to her that he’s talking about the skiff. She closes her eyes. What does he want her to say? She was unconscious for most of what went down, and she can barely remember what she was present for. Flashes of her coworker’s blood and blistering arms intrude behind her closed lids, forcing them open again. Maybe it’s best she can’t remember.

She must have taken too long to answer because the General speaks again. “Is it true that you can banish the light?”

All Alina can do is blink. This has to be a joke, but the General’s expression is serious, and everyone around them is leaning in with anticipation. She knows better than to laugh in their faces and question their intelligence, so she makes do by stuttering, “No one can do that.” It takes a moment, but she remembers to add a quick “sir.” She’s not used to being around anyone important.

She braces herself for him to yell at her the way the generals in their army do, but he merely nods. “Then what did happen?”

Alina struggles for an answer. She tries to tell him that she doesn’t know how the sveta got in, or how their ship made it, but no matter what she says, she keeps returning to those burning soldiers. The General frowns, and she knows she needs to come up with something – anything – to appease him.

The General raises a hand to silence her, and when he speaks, his tone is smooth and calm. “It must have been scary out there. It’s one thing to read about the attacks, but it’s another to live it.”

Alina hadn’t expecting any sympathy, so she just nods.

“You must be exhausted.” When Alina nods again, the General continues. “It’s hard to make sense of anything when you hurt so much. I could help with that if you’ll let me.” He gestures beside him, inviting her closer.

He may have asked for permission, but Alina isn’t sure she really has a choice. Still, he’s been nothing but polite so far. She has nothing to lose by playing along.

Alina slowly closes the gap between them, and the closer she gets, the closer she wants to get. It’s like he’s a magnet, and she’s loose filigree coming together for the first time. She feels the warmth now, not in his continence, but all around him. It doesn’t burn. It doesn’t tingle. It numbs the heaviness of her limbs and banishes the panic that’s haunted her since the skiff penetrated the Forge. Before she knows it, Alina’s pressed up against the General. She’s vaguely aware that it’s not appropriate to stand so close to a superior, and it’s definitely not safe to be within biting distance of a monster, but it feels right. She doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

The General doesn’t seem to mind either, staring deep into her eyes like he’s trapped, too. Her reflection stares back at her in his eyes. They’re just so bright and shiny. She has a hard time placing the color. It reminds her of one of the duke’s vases. The blown glass was iridescent and shimmered with every color around it. She and Mal had argued for years over what color it really was. He said purple. She said green. They finally settled things with a good arm wrestle. Green won, of course. Alina decides that the General’s eyes are green, too.

“May I?” He asks, and though she can’t see where he’s pointing, she answers his unspoken request, sliding her hand in his. His palms are rough from life on the road, but they’re warm, and his grip os gentler than Fedyor’s had been. She could hold his hand and stare into his eyes forever.

“What happened?” The General asks in a voice softer than silks.

The words spill out of Alina on their own. She tells him about forging her name on the staff list. The attack. Shielding Mal. The sveta descending on them, and then – “All I could look at was him, but I could feel the light getting sucked away. Everything went black, and then I woke up on the docks.”

The General says nothing, but his eyes briefly narrow. It’s not a threat as far as Alina can tell. Whatever she said seemed to confirm something for him. The General pushes up her sleeve with his free hand, never breaking her gaze. She doesn’t fight it. She’s curious, too. Something happened back on that skiff. It’s there lurking there in the back of her brain, begging to be revealed. She knows once it’s free, it can never be caged again. The thought simultaneously thrills her and makes her shiver.

The General trails one finger up her arm. Something inside her responds to act, rejoices in it. His finger stops and curls around her forearm. She notes that the nail on his thumb is longer than the others. Sharp. He drives that nail into her flesh, and it’s like a thousand arms stream out of her at once.

Darkness surrounds them, putting out the lights. No, the lamps are still on. She can feel their flames licking at the shadows just as easily as she can feel the General’s grip on her arm. All around them, the Grisha shout. She can’t see them so much as she feels where they are in the dark. It the strangest sensation, and yet it feels like home. Everything is darkness.

Everything but him.

The General glows, smiling down at her. A true lamp would illuminate the world around them, but there he stands, the sole bright spot in the blackness. Standing together, it feels like they’re the only two people in the world. Then the General lets go of her arm and the darkness withers, fading into the ground or retreating under Alina’s skin to fight another day.

Alina clutches her chest, suddenly empty inside. Her head swivels every which way, desperate to find that surety again, but it’s gone. The aches have returned, magnified tenfold. She can barely keep herself upright, and soon, she’s on her knees, her head swimming.

“A shadow summoner,” some squaller says, and it’s as if a dam broke in Alina’s mind. She stares at her rough, ruddy hands. They’re not the hands of a hero, and yet it’s true. It’s all true. She can banish the light. She saved the skiff from the Forge.

She’s … Grisha.

Alina frowns, remembering what Mal said when that Grisha girl made eyes at him from the General’s carriage. He doesn’t tumble witches. Alina was glad to hear it then. It meant less competition for her, and she and Mal had exchanged plenty of digs at the Grisha over the years. Surely, he wouldn’t think she’s like the rest of them just because she has powers. She didn’t grow up coddled and self-important like the rest of them. That had to count for something. He knew her. The real her. He wouldn’t be scared of her because of her shadows.

No matter how hard Alina tries, she can’t bring herself to believe it.

The General holds out his hand. Alina stares up at him, sure she should bat it away. She’s not one of his Grisha. She’s a mapmaker and an orphan and Mal’s best friend. But that may not be true anymore, and she’d be a fool to burn any bridges.

She takes his hand, letting the General lift her to her feet. He pulls her close again, so close she can feel his breath against her face. She should let go, but she clings to his hand like it’s the last safe ledge in a rockslide. He gives her a knowing smirk, and she wants to wipe it off his stupid face. She’s had a rough day. She would have clung to literally anybody, but then the General leans in, and she feels that warmth again. His lips brush her ear as he whispers, “You and I are going to change the world.”

Notes:

Whoo! This is my first Grishaverse fanfic. It may be a little late, but it’s here. One shot for now, but I might be interested in continuing this in the future. Hope you enjoyed!