#this is shrike and he has fucked up bones

[owain-glyndwr-dot-html]

ough

[thegnomelord]

Ahhh! The Harpy Gaz fic was so cute. But that section at the beginning has me thinking about Ghost, who is interested in reader hybrid that has a very unusual courting ritual(s).

Like, apparently, pandas have a weird hostage situation. The female runs and hides in trees while male competitors fight for her. They will follow her around and try to steal her away until she's ready to mate. It's theorized that this little battle actually stimulates the mating cycle. Similarly, female ferrets don't ovulate unless they're being mauled half to death. (Doesn't sound pleasant to me, but to each their own) my thought here would be more like Ghost's total confusion as to why you seem to like fighting him so much.

Or one of my personal favorites, certain birds and pufferfish (and probably many others that idk yet) have taken to terraforming. They'll create intricate designs and illusions with sand, rocks, sticks, bones, whatever you can think of to attract a mate. The structure they create doubles as a sort of nest. Bowerbirds are particularly keen on displaying an assortment of blue things specifically.

Ooh or shrikes, imagine Ghost's reaction to seeing his favorite food impaled on a sharp object (maybe a combat knife). Tbh, that would be a little threatening. Opening the fridge and seeing a steak or something stabbed with a combat knife and a little note saying, "For Ghost, I hope you enjoy 😁❤️"

Sorry for the little rant, I have an unnecessary amount of knowledge about animal mating rituals.

- 👑 anon

No, no, as a fellow animal nerd I find this stuff so interesting!

I think Ghost would be weirdly into the knife being impaled in his food. Especially if you attempt to feed him with the knife, like sticking small chunks on the tip and expecting him to eat off the knife. And while he acts aloof he's hard in his pants because there's something hot about you using a dangerous object so tenderly with him (also weapon kink idk)

I really love the idea of reader being some deep sea monster or of some species that has a "fuck or die" mentality. Like some anglerfish or spider sexual dimorphism thing where if you were to court your own kind they'd be like 4-5 times your size and wouldn't hesitate to eat you. So you're very crafty and your courting rituals are weird as fuck.

Like Ghost is reading up on your species mating habits and seeing you tie up your mate and if they can't get out you fuck? And if they can you die? Should he be worried? And like he's rethinking every enemy takedown simulation you two had when you needed to tie him up like; were you courting him? was he courting you? what?

Or an especially powerful monster that has a tendency to make nests out of bones, to show how strong they are. So Ghost just walks into your room to see it covered from floor to ceiling in bones of all kinds of creatures with you looking at him like a puppy lol

Or or some kind of mercreature monster reader having a ritual where they pull their mate down to the depths away from competitors, because if it's not dark and cold and you're not drowning your mate won't want to fuck, and Simon's wondering if he needs to buy scuba gear?

[bucca2]

angel of small death (könig x reader)

the new recruit gets on könig's nerves.

3rd person, König's pov, she/her pronouns for reader, rivals to lovers, romance, slow burn, König does not trust pretty women who act interested in him, reader is determined to jump this man's bones

1k words

tw: none really, just swearing and König gets a boner at the end

besties I don't even know what this is. I was listening to angel of small death and the codeine scene by hozier and went "yeah we all love when König is creepy and stalkery and insistent towards the object of his obsession affections, but what if his love interest was the one pursuing him". enjoy this lil tidbit before shrike ch3! I'll probably write more about these two, it's a fun dynamic.

König knows how to read people.

It was a survival instinct. Reading into every micro-expression, every intonation in a voice, every shift of the shoulders. As a child, it served him well predicting what torment his bullies planned to inflict on him. As a soldier, he knew how to read his coworkers and establish that he was not to be fucked with. He had a reputation, and he was proud of it. Perhaps it was a little isolating, being the giant boogeyman of the base, but loneliness was not new to him. He knew how to deal with loneliness.

He doesn’t know how to deal with her.

The new recruit flutters onto base entirely unlike a soldier of her caliber. Flutters is really the only way to describe her, regardless of the way she moves physically. She’s the definition of a social butterfly—whether her candor is genuine, or a mask to hide a deep well of insecurity and anxiety is anybody’s guess. But there’s a grace to the way she manages to endear herself to nearly everyone, regardless of the friend groups and casual cliques the soldiers have formed.

Except König.

Oh, bite him. What was he supposed to think when she full body slammed into him coming around the corner, and then looked up at him with that mischievous glimmer in her eye?

“Whoa, you are one huge motherfucker!” she says, the profanity slipping out of her without hesitation. If she were any other woman, perhaps some nice little civilian lady, her wide smile and twinkling eyes would have turned him to mush. But instead, it puts him on his guard. The boys who bullied him as a child hurt him with their fists. The girls cloaked their insults with honey, with cloying little chirps about his size before crushing what little self-confidence his height afforded him. Just some awkward lanky giant who takes up too much space.

He glares down at her, eyes boring into her from behind the hood. “Watch where you’re going, recruit.” He stalks off down the hallway, but not before he hears her tut and exclaim “what crawled up his ass?” to the coworker she was walking with.

He doesn’t want to know anything about her. He’s not interested, he tells himself, in learning about who she is. But he learns anyway, from hearing snippets of conversation around the base.

She’s on the young side for their line of work, but she’s good. She’s a dead-on shot with a gun, and a whiz with throwing knives. Her specialty, of course, is sniping. König bends the metal fork he’s eating with in his fist when he hears this particular tidbit. Of course, she has the job he wanted when he first joined special forces. Of course she would be outstanding in the one thing he wasn’t allowed to do.

He tries to avoid her—it irritates him, how goddamn pleasant she is. Friendly, outgoing, warm. All adjectives that nobody would apply to him. He was hoping his cold initial reception would keep her away, but she seems almost determined to pop up wherever he finds himself. If he’s eating with the others, she’s nearby, perched on a table and making everyone near her laugh. If he’s at target practice, she’s there, shooting bullets through the same hole punched in the target almost every time. (He has to admit, that does impress him. He knows enough to recognize a master at work.) If he’s getting coffee to stave off his sleepiness, she’s at the coffee maker, engaged in conversation that annoys him with its peppiness.

He somehow makes it a whole week without having something resembling a proper conversation with her, and he was liking it just fine that way. Alas, there’s a mission briefing, and now she’s walking up to him beaming, hand outstretched.

“Hey, big guy! We haven’t been properly introduced yet, have we?” König looks down at her hand, then back to her face.

“König.” He watches with a nasty bit of smugness as her smile falters for a moment and she drops her hand.

“König, huh? German for king.” It happens so fast, he can barely register what’s happening. She steps closer to him, her voice lowering a whole octave. “Impressive callsign for an impressive man.”

The room suddenly shrinks, and the low chatter of the others filing into the room and exchanging pleasantries fades away. She’s close, so close to him that if he weren’t wearing a mask, he’s sure she would feel his breath. She runs a single fingernail across his torso, right over his pecs, and an involuntary shudder runs through him.

“The name’s Monarch.” He watches, frozen like a marble statue, as she looks up at him through her lashes. It’s undeniably sensual, but there’s the faintest touch of venom in her teasing tone. Her eyes are still as bright as always, but there’s a sharpness to them. He’s only seen this look on her in one situation: the split second between her letting out her breath and her pulling the trigger on a sniper rifle at the range. It’s calm. Collected. The deadly gaze of a confident predator before she blows a target’s head off. He wonders if she’s imagining his head exploding right now.

For the first time in a long time, he feels vulnerable, laid bare in this perplexing and irritating woman’s gaze. Monarch. He’d snort if he wasn’t trapped like a mosquito in amber. Of course she’d have a callsign like that. He’d thought her a butterfly this whole time: fluttery and pretty, but ultimately harmless to him personally.

Now, he feels like he’s staring down a checkmate.

“I look forward to working with you,” she purrs.

In an instant, the moment is gone. Whatever bubble she had encapsulated him in pops, and the mess of overlapping conversations and shuffling feet surges into his senses, like someone pressing the fast forward button. He blinks, and she’s already moved away, bouncy and energetic as she greets another coworker. He’s never been so confused in his entire life.

He sits down before anyone can notice his throbbing hard erection.

if you want a visual on what I was imagining when Monarch touches his pecs, it's exactly what Black Cat does in this video (time stamped)

yes, I did at some point have the thought "this would make a really good plot with Ghost" but I think Ghost's thing is that he's stoic and keeps people at a distance because he doesn't want to get close to someone and put them at risk. with König he doesn't trust people who are sweet and kind to people all the time because he has trusted people who were kind to him before, and they took advantage of him. alas, this König did not have a Thorn in his life. but Monarch is a thorn in his side!

also. monarch. butterfly. monarch as in king. my brain is so huge (I have impressed myself by coming up with the most surface level metaphors)

I'm not overly pleased with how short this is, but I was trying to capture the attitude of these two characters, so it's kind of like establishing a certain mood. I have PLANS for Monarch though. she's a freaky little lady.

as usual, please send me your feedback, brainrot, literally anything you have to say about these two I want to hear!! I mean this so sincerely. they live in my head rent-free. (also if you want to be tagged drop a reply)

one last thing before I go: I love troubled birds so much. you can't convince me that the one in the moodboard (moodboards are so hard to make, wtf? I have renewed respect for authors who make moodboards as their fic images) and this one are so Königcore

[chen-chen-chen-again-chen]

WIP Wednesday & Countdown to EGF (6 days!)

Hi, hello, hola!! How are you lovelies doing today? Thank you for the Wednesday tags, @confused-bi-queer and @cutestkilla, and for the Sunday tags, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @larkral, @shrekgogurt, @raenestee, @fatalfangirl, @shemakesmeforget, @hushed-chorus, and @aristocratic-otter! I've been away from Le Tumbs for the last few days and I am still sloooowly catching up on all the delightful things you've all been making and reccing!! ❤️❤️❤️

My Good EGG / EGF fic continues apace.... Have one of the rare snippets from Ch. 4 of the draft that isn't just fucking: 😆

“Is it a dealbreaker if I’m a night owl?”

“I think you’d make a very handsome, very judgy owl,” Simon says. He sounds sleepy, and he arches a little whenever Baz’s thumb circles his skin. “If I was a bird, I’d be - dunno, one of those birds with the weird frog mouths.” 

“No,” Baz says. “You’d be a shrike. A butcher bird.”

A smile lifts up the corner of Simon’s mouth. “You really took it to heart when I said that killing things is my love language.”

If you haven't seen the tantalising glimpse of art that @shemakesmeforget shared for SSS, please CHECK IT OUT. I laughed manically when I saw it and it continues to bring me joy~

Tags and a slightly spicier snippet behind the cut!

So, one of the great joys of re-reading a draft that has been sitting for a while is finding bits and pieces that still tickle my funny bone:

"Tell me about things that you’ve killed.” 

Simon laughs, confused. “Are you - does that get you off?”

“No,” Baz says frankly. “But it’ll keep me from jumping on your dick before I’m ready.”

Smut peddling tag: @erotic-grope-fest

A buncha hello tags! I am sleepy so if I forgot anyone please consider yourself tagged (and loved) ❤️ @artsyunderstudy @captain-aralias @dohrnaira @facewithoutheart @ionlydrinkhotwater @ileadacharmedlife @imagineacoolusername @johnwgrey @martsonmars @moodandmist @nightimedreamersworld @onepintobean @sailorblossoms @tea-brigade @thewholelemon @theimpossibledemon @whogaveyoupermission @tectonicduck (I AM DOWN TO CLOWN AND READY TO CRAFT ON SAT 🪡📍🧵✂️)

[redemptioninchaos]

💬 + Rivan and his Patrons (for Aurora) + Shrike (for Sergio) + Joseph Valkyrie (for Lot)

Aurora: "Rivan and his patrons reek of death. I can sense such strong necrotic energy from that dragonborn from far away. Such an aura turns my stomach, despite me being a fiend. Perhaps that means I've retained some of my humanity.

"This isn't to say that they're completely unpleasant to be around. Rivan is a gentleman for having protected me against DAIL, and I have his patrons to thank for being the source of his power. If my assumptions are correct, the Father of Flesh and Mother of Bones consume the souls of the lives they take, thus denying them an afterlife. Had DAIL not manipulated and abused me for half a decade, I'd have felt sorry for them when Rivan felled them."

. . .

Sergio: "I dunno who the fuck the Devil a' Manhattan is, but I'm deadass when I tell you that he's a legit daemon. He was tearin' through Laboras left and right, and he was feelin' some type a' way afta my girl died. I thought he was finna body me, too, since I was technically part a' the Laboras. But he...*hugged* me like he knew me, wanted ta protect me. I told him if he wanted ta help me, he'd kill the rest a' the Laboras. He said, 'Of course. Anythang fa you, my sweet.' If I wasn't so broken up by Liv dyin', I'da checked him right then. But when we got ta that last room...he killed 'em all. He *ate* some a' them ma-fuckas.

"Afta Ariadna died, I thought I'd neva see him again. I...I ain't want to. But when I was about ta get took by Manny's cartel family in Philly, he showed up again and rocked they shit. He saved my feline ass again." He sighed. "I don't know what's scaria, a daemon who eats ma-fuckas or the fact that daemon's the closest thang I got to a friend." He paused. "Wonda if he like cars."

. . .

Since Lot has no idea who @dimensionhoppinghybrids's Joseph is, he has nothing to say about him

[bonesandthebees]

Should have put this in the pervious ask, but it was getting long. [“You know, I understand if you’re not exactly okay with what we’re doing,” Phil said after a moment. “No one’s going to hold it against you if you don’t want to be involved in this.”] I’m sorry, but you can no longer convince me this isn’t Phil testing the waters to see if Wilbur would be willing to work along with their plan.

And rip Phil because he accidentally trigger a metal breakdown. And Wilbur’s entire spiral is so bone-chilling. I can feel the adrenaline pumping and it’s so sad and heartbreaking, but some part of me is screaming FINALLY at the top of my lungs. Especially with this line [“Clara above, I hate being a fucking thing.”]. I love this line so fucking much.

Anyway, Phil has now realised he’s triggered a panic attack and I’m not sure if he’s seen one before (I know Tommy and Niki have). But it’s so important that whatever ulterior motives Phil may or may not have had, they are thrown out the window the second Wilbur starts hyperventilating. He’s trying to get Wilbur to stop pulling his hair and hurting himself and to get his breathing to slow down, but Wilbur isn’t even having it yet because he’s not gotten to his point.

[“Clara above, I hate being a fucking thing.”] [“You’re not a thing,” Phil said / “No, you’re going to breathe because you’re a person who needs to. That’s all you need to focus on right now, okay?” / “People get angry,” Phil told him in a low voice after his breathing had started to slow. “People get upset when they’re treated unfairly. People want things, like answers for why things are the way they are. / “You said you wanted those answers, and I wish I had them for you but I don’t,” Phil continued, finally letting go of his wrists. “But the fact that you want them means something.”]

Don’t mind me having EMOTIONS about Phil talking Wilbur down and convincing him that he is a person (because he is). Don’t mind me figuratively sobbing about Phil using Wilbur’s anger and question and every example he can find in every interaction they’ve ever had to prove to Wilbur that he IS a person because he behaves just like one. He brings back the whole ‘doesn’t need to breath if he’s not serving Clara’ thing, he emphasises that Wilbur was treated unfairly, he brings up the fact that he wants answers, all to prove that Wilbur isn’t a fucking thing, because he’s a person and hearing him say that about himself with such sadness is both heartbreaking and infuriating.

Oh and I love the callback to [“You shouldn’t be the Pythia, or you don’t want to be?”] followed by Wilbur answering that question now, when he couldn’t/wouldn’t then. [“I don’t want to be the Pythia anymore,” he whispered.] What if I screamed? What if I shouted “FINALLY!!!” so loud my neighbours could hear? Then what, Bee?

[Phil was smiling. Not like he’d been waiting for this, not like he knew all along, but instead his smile was smaller. Sadder. But it was still a smile. / “Then you don’t have to be. You can just be a person.”] and Phil not being loud about it like Tommy might have been. Him not having been waiting for it because he shouldn’t have to be, because it’s not a happy celebration, it’s so fucking sad. It’s a miserable conversation that he even has to tell Wilbur he could be a person. Has to convince him of that fact.

But then, BUT THEN [“Wilbur,” he whispered, and the shrike crooned in relief.] HE GIVES PHIL HIS NAME, BECAUSE HE DOESN’T JUST WANT TO BE A PERSON, HE WANTS TO BE WILBUR!!! HE WANTS TO BE HIMSELF!!! And Phil not being ready for it because he wasn’t trying to get Wilbur’s name, he was just trying to help, but then repeating it in the softest way possible. Bee, you Sandduo is gonna kill me. THE HUG!!!

(2/?)

-🌲

oh yeah phil was 100% testing the waters there to see how game wilbur would be for the plan

i'm so glad you liked that line!! I actually thought of wilbur saying that line a few chapters ago, but in whatever scene I was writing when I thought of it I knew wilbur wasn't at a point where he would actually be able to say that. so I saved it, and was so glad I was able to use it during that convo because it's such a good damn line

that entire conversation between wilbur and phil was so hard to write, but so satisfying at the same time. because phil is trying to give wilbur solid reasoning for why he's a person. not just by saying he is, but providing examples. proving it to him.

I was so happy with the callback to phil's question a few chapters ago. finally, FINALLY he admits it. it only took 25 chapters.

it's not a happy celebration at all. it's horrible witnessing just how much shit wilbur's been put through and where his mind is at. but phil at least is relieved that he seems to be taking his personhood back.

THE NAME SCENE WAS SO GOOD AAAA sandduo I love them so much

[florenceisfalling]

through the thick smell of copper, piss, and chemicals, anti still faintly smells jett's cologne on his skin. at the thought of it, bile rises in the back of his throat, but he rather quickly forces it back before glancing at the peroxide and considering taking a swig of it.

brushing the thought off with a roll of his shoulders, anti kicks at the arm of the body below him. the gold bangles on her wrist chime against each other, in the same gentle tinkling tone that drew him to her at that bar in the first place. that makes a cold chill trickle down his bare spine, goosebumps appearing in its wake.

he kicks again; its more of a nudge, really. as if that'll do anything. he feels like a sad child finding a bird on the porch, its hollow little bones crushed from impact. the image seems to ricochet around the inside of his skull. remembering little rhymes with friends forgotten, he nudges once more, even gentler now. wake up, warbler, where's your trill? a sharp-eyed shrike has come to...

anti sighs something close to words then glances at the mess soaking her leggings. his hands, already rinsed of blood, slowly gather paper towels into a wad to awkwardly drop between her thighs. not the grace he hoped to demonstrate with her tonight. a waste on every count, really. didn't fuck her as intended, didn't hurt her for any worthwhile amount of time as unintended, didn't spare her selflessly, or spare her for later stringing up selfishly. didn't even get the chance to make her something for dinner, and that pitiful thought makes him give the plastic container of cleaner a second thirsty glance. he doesn't remember when the last time he had internal burns was, but surely it wouldn't be the worst decision he's made all night. still, he looks away.

one set of towels soaked through, he drops another handful and pushes them against the floor with his boot and a groan. the rest of the roll will be to scrub hydrogen peroxide into the floorboards. with no decorum left, anti pours from the bottle directly onto a splatter of blood and watches it foam up and hiss like a rabid cat. to work he goes.

the more cleaner he spills out onto the floor, the more he's in awe of the blood's tenacity. he's sure part of the scent's pervasiveness is just the little fleck of dried blood right above his lip, right in the curve of his philtrum, but it's still a wonder how heavy it seems to linger.

still, somehow, not enough to cover awful overpriced cologne. he wished she hadn't noticed it. all she was trying to offer was a nice compliment. curling too closely around him as he tried to clean up the place, you smell like oranges and flowers. what followed was a knife from the dishwasher finding its way between her ribs, that warbling shriek shaking out from her chest, then a lamp smashing against her unsuspecting skull, the shattered lightbulb leaving lacerations in her cheek. he moved entirely on unrestrained impulse. he didn't mean to. but that didn't matter. all that mattered was that her limp body had started seeping life onto his floor before he could process what he'd done, or how to fix it. he didn't know if he could. he'd never seen a face that he cared to keep around crushed so thoroughly.

really, anti tries not to look at her face much. but it's still soft, on the side pressed to the floor. her mouth rests slightly agape and brow twists in the slightest hint of pain, but far less dead.

he throws all of the used towels into a trash bag, finding one unused left over. a few drops of peroxide still sit in the bottom of the bottle. he considers, then tips the container against the last towel before he can even decide what he's doing for certain.

he follows the curves of her brow, her eyebags, her dimples and jawline. the blood wipes from her face easier than he thought. his trembling fingers comb her hair forward, blood somewhat hidden in the black strands. it covers the cuts in her flesh, though not the sizeable chunk of exposed and damaged brain matter. maybe if he got lower...

he sinks onto the floor, where the remaining peroxide hisses against his dirty coat. there. from here, his head even with hers, body pressed flat, she looks just as beautiful as before. she's laying comfortably in some other better world where anti left a bludgeoned jett at his ugly little house and made this woman dinner instead.

he puts his arms around her waist, like they'll sway to some slow song together. she'll be stiff and cold soon, but he can imagine warmth if he tries. he pulls her closer, and her lifelessness obliges to his memory of her laugh as he presses his ear against her collarbone, curls his knees close to his chest like a fearful child cradling a doll, and closes his eyes, pretending he's in another world too.

[selachiixiv]

In the bedroom below his Empyreum office, Hyacinthe jolts awake, long ears twitching intently. His mate sleeps soundly beside him, although that is in part by Hyacinthe's own design - when he had set up the magics on this space, he'd deliberately made it so only he could pick up sounds from upstairs. Mostly because he is perfectly likely to receive some form of business visit at odd hours, and if Sorn's crashing there with him, he doesn't need to wake up barking. Besides, the two's link is such that if the death priest needs help, the wolf will know whether or not he can hear it. It wouldn't matter if he were upstairs or across the sea.

He carefully extricates himself, wrapping a long robe around him that only somewhat obscures the glow of his bones in the low light, and makes his way upstairs. He's not worried that his visitor will come downstairs - people only even know that there's a downstairs at all if he gives them that information, and accessing it without him is limited to Sorn, Shrike, his fellow hunters and family, his healers, Morokiyo, Anais (in case Hybris has come with them in tow), and, through a great deal of cussing, swearing, and yelling while finagling with the anti-voidsent wards, Fran. At the top of the stairs, with the bookshelf door between himself and whoever has come to visit, he pauses, reaching the senses of death out and finding no sign of true life.

Then he pushes the door open and steps through, staring around in the dark room and picking out the Lalafellin form rifling through his papers.

"Ah. The Unrelenting. Decided to crawl out from whatever rock you were hiding behind to be a household pest?"

The Ascian makes a noise like an abused squeaky toy and nearly leaps several feet in the air, spinning to stare up at Hyacinthe. The golden glow of the priest's bones stands out starkly where his skin is visible, casting strange shadows along the planes of his face.

"You! Where are you keeping your secrets! These are all menus!"

If Hyacinthe weren't annoyed, he could almost laugh at the absurdity of the demand.

"I don't keep those in this office, Unrelenting. Just because you're prone to foolishness doesn't mean the hunters are."

This seems to completely baffle the Ascian, and Hyacinthe would like to consider that a positive, but there are things he unfortunately knows after this many years, and that one of them is that an idiot with dark magic is far more dangerous than anyone smart, since smart foes will at least use smart strategies. A fool? A fool will burn themselves down without hesitation and burn you with them.

Still, he has to bite back amusement to instead focus on the low flame of deep annoyance.

"I know you for a coward among shadows, Unrelenting. A worm who ran from consequence when your master's plan did not succeed, and a fool who did not strike at my brother when he was weak."

The eerie blue-gold glow crawls up the walls of the priest's office, skeletons cast in it despite their lack of physical presence.

"And now there's a worm in my paperwork. Why is there a worm in my paperwork, Lues? You came here for secrets?"

The Ascian begins carefully trying to shuffle towards the door, looking around at the shadows with an expression fighting desperately for seeming impressively adversarial but mostly getting across incredible trepidation.

"I - I'm not telling you what I'm looking for! You're going to tell me! Or I'll go ask your little girlfriend!"

The priest would be lying if he said he didn't have to stomp down the protectively territorial rage at the Unrelenting attempting to threaten Shrike, but he manages it, turning the fury in his throat into the combined smugness of almost wanting to see the Bramble King fuck him up and the knowledge of how stupid even going over there would be.

"The Intercessor is there tonight. But by all means! Go! I'm sure we can source a suitably sized coffin. Perhaps your bones will have what you seek etched into them for me to read."

The Ascian's expression tips into fear, moments before he slams through the unlocked door into Empyreum and sprints into the night, swallowed by the blizzard that cares not for the encroaching spring here in Coerthas proper. Hyacinthe begins to give chase, but by the time he reaches his gate, swinging wildly in the wind, there is nothing to chase any longer.

Only snow, and his own footsteps, and his rage spilling out into the night. When he turns back into the door, his mate is there, summoned by the strength of his own anger and holding a blanket out for him to walk angrily into, which he does, allowing Sorn to gather him up and carry him back into the warmth, back down to bed, to soothe the fury out of him while he makes the necessary linkshell call to make sure Androc knows there's a chance, however vanishingly slim, of Lues showing up to bother them.

And then, having done what must be done, he curls into his wolf and attempts to return to resting.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 18 - Sleepless Night [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Midnight texts make things complicated.

Series Masterlist

Okay.

Everything considered, maybe you shouldn’t have barged in guns blazing to your fake boyfriend’s mission.

Especially because the said fake boyfriend thought you were a sweet civilian but as long as you kept your ski mask on, you figured you would be fine.

Even if it felt a lot like pushing your luck.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked and you looked around the hall to check whether there was anyone else, then shrugged your shoulders.

“I was in the area,” you said, “So, who else are we killing?”

“We’re not killing.”

“Speak for yourself, I just killed that guy over there.” You pointed over your shoulder “Killed him hard. HYDRA?”

“Aren’t you a sniper?”

“I can be whoever you want me to be,” you said with a grin and Bucky blinked a couple of times, shifting his weight.

“Why aren’t you on some rooftop if you’re a sniper?”

“Change of scenery. How do you know my alias?”

“Why would you help me?”

“I’m a nice person—“ you started but as soon as you saw someone lunging out of the shadows you pointed your gun and pulled the trigger, sending the guy to the ground.

“Most of the time,” you completed your sentence and Bucky raised his brows.

“Right.”

“You’re still taken?” you asked and he stared at you as if he was at loss for words, then pulled himself together and walked past you.

“Oh come on, I just saved your ass.”

“I had it under control.”

“No you didn’t,” you rushed to catch up with him, ��And you didn’t answer my question. You still got a girl at home?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just curious. Is she pretty?”

“Do you always flirt with people you don’t know?”

You opened your mouth to retort but before you could, you heard a voice behind you.

“Buck, what the hell man?”

You looked over your shoulder to see Sam gawking at you and Bucky cleared his throat.

“Um….Sam, Shrike.”

“Okay, what is she doing here?”

“Beats me.”

“I was around,” you answered helpfully, “So who are we killing?”

“We’re not killing!” Bucky and Sam said at the same time and you held up your hands.

“Jesus, fine. Who are we maiming?”

“Did you tell her—“

“I didn’t tell her anything.” Bucky cut him off, looking uncomfortable for some reason. You hummed, clicking your tongue.

“I’m just here to help.”

“Why?” Sam asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m a huge fan?”

“Try again.”

“I’m hoping he’ll get with me.” You pointed at Bucky with your thumb, making him shake his head. Sam raised his brows, a grin pulling at his lips.

“Oh is that right?”

“Don’t.” Bucky said while you heaved a sigh.

“Listen guys, not that I don’t enjoy this but this is basically a HYDRA building, so you might want to make it fast, whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Can you wait at the door while I get—the thing?” Sam asked Bucky and he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Great!”

“I didn’t say you could come.” Bucky said and you scoffed.

“I gotta tell you, I was hoping you would say that to me in a completely different context.”

Sam let out a chuckle, “Oh she’s good.”

“Unbelievable.”

“I don’t even want to know what you’re trying to get, okay?” you asked, “I just want to make sure no one dies.”

“Because you’re a nice person?” Bucky asked, his voice full of doubt and you thought for a moment.

“Eh, I have my reasons.”

“But she has a point, we need to make it fast.” Sam said, “Let’s go.”

“Seriously?!” Bucky groaned but rushed after him with you following his lead. After you all reached the end of the hall, Sam kicked the door open and you quickly peeked inside to see a computer in the middle of the office.

Ah.

They were after some sort of a file.

“Don’t let anyone in,” Sam said and closed the door behind him. You leaned your back to the wall, flipping a knife in your hand and Bucky stole a look at you.

“Why Shrike?”

You turned your head, “Hm?”

“Why do they call you Shrike?”

You clicked your tongue, “Oh you wouldn’t get it,” you said and he tilted his head.

“Try me,” he said, “Looks like we’ll be here for a while.”

I kicked a target out of the window and he fell on top of a steel spike from a construction site.

“I like knives better than guns,” you lied and Bucky scoffed.

“You’re a sniper.”

“So were you, but look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have a favorite knife.”

“I can’t look you in the eye, your mask has goggles,” Bucky retorted, making you smile.

“My turn,” you said, “Is your girlfriend pretty?”

“The prettiest,” Bucky said without even hesitation and you had to hold back your aww.

“Does that mean I don’t have a shot?”

“That’s exactly what it means.”

“Maybe I’m prettier,” you taunted and he shook his head.

“Impossible.”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face under the mask, “Loyal type, aren’t you?”

“Not a cheater at least.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh, “Well that’s a shame,” you said, “Lucky girl.”

“Nah, I’m the lucky one.”

“Maybe I should—“ you started but stopped talking when you saw a shadow by the hall.

“I call dibs,” you said before Bucky could even object, then grabbed and pulled the figure around the corner. He almost punched you but you dodged it, sending him back with a kick on the chest.

“No killing,” Bucky called out calmly and you groaned, dodging another punch as you did a backflip, then grabbed your opponent by the hair and slammed his head in the wall, making him pass out.

“Don’t be so vanilla, Barnes.” You commented as you made your way back to him, and tilted your head when you saw the way he was looking at you, almost—

Impressed?

No it wasn’t it, it was something else.

“Huh?” he asked, then tried to pull himself together, “Wh— I’m not even going to ask.”

“I’m just saying, there’s nothing wrong with liking it a little rough,” you grinned, “On the missions, that is.”

He scoffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“You can kill someone and flirt with someone else within minutes?”

“What can I say, I’m the whole package,” you stated, “I mean, not that it works on you, Mr I’m-in-a-relationship. So are you in love then?”

“Forgive me if I don’t want to share any details of my relationship with a homicidal maniac who apparently has a thing for bad pick-up lines.”

“How rude,” you pouted, “I think they’re really good pick-up lines.”

You could see the way he was trying to suppress a smile and you flipped the knife in your hand again, his eyes automatically following your movements.

“You won’t take off that mask, will you?” he asked after a beat and you shook your head.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t like the consequences if you saw my face.”

“Will you tell me who you work for?”

“Nope,” you said, “I don’t want to end up dead. My superiors have a strange idea of discipline.”

“Why are you helping us?” he asked again but before you could come up with an excuse, the door opened.

“It’s done, let’s go.” Sam said and you pushed yourself off the wall.

“We should do this again sometime,” you said and nodded at Sam “Captain.”

Sam smiled slightly. “Thanks for the help.”

“No problem,” you said and turned to look at Bucky.

“Until next time, soldier,” you said and walked away from them, smirking to yourself.

                                               ***

So maybe that was a heat of the moment decision, and maybe Chloe was going to kill you if she ever found out about what had happened but good news was that your cover wasn’t blown.

And Bucky was fine.

You turned the vacuum cleaner off, wiping at your brow and put your hands on your hips, looking around the apartment.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You let out a squeal and turned around to see Keith standing by the doorframe.

“Keith, what the fuck?!”

“What are you doing?”

“How did you get in?”

“I’m a spy. I heard vacuum cleaner and I thought someone broke into your apartment, so I had to check.”

“You thought someone broke into my apartment to clean it?”

“Someone’s gotta,” he commented, making you glare at him before you unplugged the vacuum cleaner. “I’ve literally never seen you clean, what is happening?”

You flung yourself on the couch so that he could sit beside you. “No wonder I don’t do this shit, it’s boring.”

“But why are you doing it?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I’ll invite Bucky over.”

“So what?”

“I can’t have the apartment look like this,” you motioned around, “The guy grew up in the…. Everyone’s apartment must be spotless era.”

“He’s been here before though—“ Keith started but then covered his mouth, “Oh shit, now I get it. You’re gonna jump on his bones.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Not even a word, Keith.”

“I have lots of words,” he said, “Number one, you do realize guys don’t care about the apartment, right? I have never once gone to a girl’s apartment and walked out because she hadn’t vacuumed the place.”

“Jesus.”

“Also, if you’re trying to go all wife material—“

“Shut the fuck up, I’m not.”

“I’d like to remind you that it’s a fake relationship,” he grinned, “Are you going to dress up like a Stepford Wife too?”

“I hate the day I decided to become your friend.”

“You love me,” he shot back and you slipped a little on the couch, “But hey, do you actually want to?”

“Want to do what?”

“To sleep with him?” he asked, “Or is it just the mission?”

You tried to keep your expression stable, excitement filling you at the thought of sleeping with Bucky.

Tonight.

Oh God, you felt like a lovesick girl instead of a serious spy.

“It’ll help the mission,” you lied through your teeth, “That’s all I’m focused on right now.”

“Aren’t you a little curious about how the most ruthless assassin of the century is in bed though?”

You let a grin pull at your lips, “Maybe?”

“Ha! I knew it!” he said triumphantly, “So how detailed will your report be, exactly? Asking for a friend.”

You threw a pillow at him, “You’re terrible.”

“Mm hm,” he checked his watch, “Ugh, I gotta go to base. But if I don’t see you before tonight, just…”

“I don’t want any gross advice, Keith.”

“Remember,” he said, “You have a cover to maintain.”

You pulled your brows together, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means your cover probably likes missionary and soul gazing and stuff in bed. Complete opposite of you, so don’t be like yourself.”

“How do you even-?”

“I have it on good authority that you like knife play, Y/N,” he said, making your jaw drop, “And your cover is a sweet small town girl.”

“Did you talk to Julian?!” you exclaimed and he made a face.

“No,” he said, “You have a knife collection, you idiot. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“Bullshit, who told you—“

“Ryan,” he said, “The agent you slept with and dumped, before Julian.”

“He was boring.”

“It’s beyond me why you thought it was a good idea to sleep with him,” he shook his head, “Anyways, I’m out.”

“Why do you have to go to the base, exactly?”

“I have to brief the General,” he said as he walked to the door, “I was supposed to do that yesterday but he was busy with Julian. I think those two are planning something.”

You frowned, deep in thought.

“Tell Chloe I said hi!” you called out and he saluted you, then left your apartment. You pursed your lips and stood up, looking around.

“I should probably dust the place,” you mumbled to yourself, “Where the fuck do I get one of those feather dusters?”

                                                ***

Unfortunately, Tara needed you to cover her shift that day so you had to change plans. Normally you were supposed to meet Bucky for your date, but when Tara told you there was an emergency, you couldn’t say no to her.

Keeping yourself busy at work, even if it was just a cover, helped you to get your mind off the nervousness you were feeling about tonight.

You had never been this nervous before, which came as a shock for you. Bucky was just a target, and you knew better than anyone how to manipulate targets but—

You really, really wanted this. Regardless of it being a part of the mission or not.

So you had just finished with the inventory and closed the cash register when the wind bell chimed by the door and you turned your head, a big smile lighting up your face.

“Hi!” you rushed to throw yourself into Bucky’s arms and he caught you, lifting you a little to kiss you on the lips.

“Hi darling.”

“I’m almost done.”

“No worries, I can wait,” he said and you went behind the counter to hurriedly place the jars on the shelves so that when Tara came back tomorrow morning they would be all ready.

“Sorry about falling asleep last night,” you said, an image of you killing that HYDRA agent in front of Bucky flashing in your mind, “Did you stay up late?”

“Just a little,” he said and you bit down on a smile, he really wasn’t a good liar.

“Oh? What did you do after I went to sleep?”

He waved a hand in the air, as if looking for words, “Um—I—I was with Sam.”

“Sounds fun.”

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

“Actually I went on a mission,” he said after a beat and you turned to him, raising your brows.

“A dangerous one?”

“Not really,” he said, “But I wanted you to know, because…”

You stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t really know about the relationship rules so I figured honesty is the best way to go,” he said, making your heart skip a beat, “I think I accidentally flirted with someone last night.”

The words “No you didn’t.” were at the tip of your tongue but you managed to control yourself and tilted your head.

“…Oh,” you ended up saying, “With who?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Remember how I told you there was this spy I kept running into?”

You really needed to control your expression.

“Yeah?”

“I mean she flirted with me, I don’t actually think I flirted back but I wanted you to know just in case.”

You smiled slightly, “Bucky, it happens.”

He let out a relieved breath, “Okay,” he said, “Okay, good.”

“I mean as long as you don’t have a crush on her or anything.”

His hesitation lasted only for a second, maybe even less than that but it was there. Your heart skipped a beat and you frowned before he spoke.

“Of course not,” he said quickly, “Not at all, I don’t even know her.”

Was that possible? Could he be attracted to your real self as well as your cover?

Or maybe even more than your cover?

“Alright then,” you said with a smile, “I just don’t like competition.”

“There’s no competition, I promise,” he assured you and you shifted your weight, then placed the last jar on the shelf and turned to him.

“So then,” you said as you both left the shop and he threw an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Did you know she would be there?”

“I had no idea,” he said while you approached the motorcycle, “She ended up helping us but I don’t know what she’s playing at.”

“I think I have an idea what she’s playing at, if she flirted with you.”

Bucky chuckled and pressed a kiss on top of your head, then tilted your chin up.

“Darling….”

“What? I’m pretty sure flirting existed back in the 40s, and you know what it means.”

“What happened to it happens again?” he asked you with a grin and you shot him a look, then grabbed the helmet from him.

The road to your place was pretty short, especially with the way Bucky was riding his motorcycle. Soon enough, he pulled over in front of the building and you tried to ignore how excited you were, it—

It was finally happening.

Who were you kidding? This had nothing to do with the mission, you really, really wanted him. Your heart felt like it would break your ribcage and you took a deep breath, then got off the motorcycle and placed the helmet in its place.

“So,” you said as he got off the motorcycle as well, then pulled you closer, “Any plans for tonight?”

“Nope.”

“Any accidental meetings with hot spies?”

“Mmm, I don’t know any,” he taunted you, making you smile.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Oh totally. Besides, I’m happily going steady with the prettiest dame in the world, remember?”

You thought you would melt right then and there, and stepped closer to him before standing up on your tiptoes.

“Right answer,” you muttered after kissing him on the lips, and tugged him by the hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Upstairs,” you said, leading him into the building and he followed you as if he was hypnotized. You grinned when you got to your door, adrenaline rushing through you and you opened the door, then pulled him inside by the shirt, locking lips with him. He easily lifted you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he kicked the door shut and you pulled back to giggle.

“Bedroom,” you pointed at the room at the end of the hall and he pulled you into a kiss, walking there, still carrying you. You let out a squeak when he dropped you to the bed but then sat up when the thought hit you.

“Oh God damn it—“ you pushed him slightly to get off the bed and he looked up at you as you stumbled to the drawer.

“Is everything okay?”

“More than okay,” you grabbed the lingerie set from the drawer, then turned to him, “Just— close your eyes and don’t go anywhere, alright?”

“…Okay but are you sure—“

“I’ll be back in a second,” you said, running to the bathroom with the lingerie set clutched in your arms and you let out a breath, looking yourself in the mirror.

Even your eyes were shiny with excitement.

You shook your head at yourself and quickly shed your clothes to get into the lingerie set. You tilted your head, checking the garter belts and the corset, then pressed a hand over your chest to calm yourself down and walked out of the bathroom.

“Are your eyes closed?” you asked with a smile as you got to the bedroom and he nodded, holding a hand over his eyes.

“Cross my heart.”

You let out a small laugh and pulled at your hand so that he could open his eyes. As soon as he did, he blinked up at you, his jaw slightly agape.

For a second, there was absolute silence in the room.

“Is this a good silence or a bad silence?” you asked, for the first time in your life you were insecure about how you looked half naked in front of a partner, “Because I’m—“

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when he grabbed you by the waist to get you under him, making you squeal.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed out and you pulled him into a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

                                                   ***

You had no idea why you woke up. In fact, considering how peaceful you felt, it was a wonder how you woke up in the middle of the night.

You could almost feel the warmth surrounding you as you leaned in to press a small kiss on his bare chest, then grabbed his shirt in the dark and put it on to walk to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Surprisingly he didn’t wake up, instead he mumbled something under his breath, his dog tags shining under dim light coming from outside.

You felt like you could lie there and just lose yourself in the bliss, and the mission— no, everything else could wait.

You pushed your hair behind your ear after putting your phone on the counter, then you went to the sink to fill yourself a glass of water, and finished it in three big gulps, a smile which was impossible to stop pulling at your lips.

No one, target or a boyfriend, had ever made you feel this way.

Maybe you could just tell him. After tonight, after absolute happiness, you could just tell him and maybe he would understand, maybe you two could have a future, maybe—

Your phone vibrated on the counter, interrupting your thoughts and you frowned slightly, then touched the screen to open the text.

From: Julian

We may have found something. Good thing you didn’t get too attached.

The smile was wiped off of your lips in a second and your stomach dropped as you stared at the text message.

“Fuck.”

Chapter 19

[youreyeslookliketheocean]

youreyeslookliketheocean’s DSMP Fic Recs!!

Figured it was about time for one of these... :)

Mostly SBI-centric because they’re my favorite dynamic. I’ll probably add to this list as time goes on, and I also want to go back through my ao3 history and find some lesser-known fics I really enjoyed to rec them all. But for now...

* oneshot  ** unfinished work

** the lights go out (my heart goes still) by curseworm

With his old home unwelcoming and his new one gone, Tommy is alone. After hours of staggering through the freezing snow, he finds a cabin.

Technoblade’s cabin.

He hides himself away in the deepest corner he can find, taking only what he needs to survive, wasting away in the cold and the dark. He’s petrified at the thought of being found out, terrified of what he thinks Techno would do to him.

When Techno finds his injured teenage brother huddled in a filthy little cave beneath his basement, the rage he feels is immeasurable. The voices demand blood, and blood he will give them. Dream won’t be getting away with this one.

(On the other side of the world, in a country that floats on a man-made lake, Philza gets himself in a bit of a pickle.) 

** The hearth down under by Crystalquill

A tiny change gives Tommy the courage to flee to the Nether instead of the cold tundra, finding an unlikely ally in the midst of a fiery hellscape.

But tiny changes can alter the course of history. The SMP will never be the same.

(Lots of cool Nether worldbuilding in this one!!)

to be a wanderer, wandering by hydrangeasheart

Tommy's feet drag in the snow.

It's so, so cold. He's so cold. His toes are freezing. His exposed shins feel like they’ve been cut open-- even the one that’s bandaged. His wings have gone numb, which is almost, almost good, because now he can’t feel the shifting, broken bones inside of the left one, just under feathers and muscle.

He doesn’t know why he’s still walking.

-

Or, Tommy leaves the exploded ruins of Logstedshire behind, and walks until he finds somewhere safe.

And things keep going from there.

(A canon-divergent AU, splitting off somewhere around when Tommy started hiding out below Techno's house.)

that’s, like, a hundred miles by No_one_you_know (and then “as long as i’m here”, and “he’s my brother, i just raise him”)

Dream would kill him. Dream was going to kill him- he was going to- no, he wouldn’t. Dream was his friend- friends don’t hit each other- Dream was supposed to take care of him- Dream /was/ taking care of him.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. He couldn’t clear his thoughts as he stumbled to the family computer, pulling up a tab on google and frantically typing the name into the search bar.

The words Technoblade Watson stared back at him, the little black bar at the end of the letters blinking slowly, mocking him.

Why, of all people, did it have to be Technoblade?

in short: the one where dream sucks as a parental figure, tommy runs away, and visits his least favorite family member technoblade.

passerine by thcscus(blujamas)

Do I really need to put the summary here? Pretty much everyone knows this fic. Also, though, if you enjoy this one you should totally read thcscus’ connected fic, “shrike”!! It’s only at 2 chapters right now but it’s already really good and has this dark, foresty aesthetic I love...

not with a bang but with a whimper by dip_dyed_ghost

He knows Tubbo doesn’t care about him anymore. He knows that. He’s been shown that. But it doesn’t stop Tommy from caring about him. He brushes the pads of his fingers over the compass’s glass and wonders how he’s doing, if he’s tired of it all yet, if he needs help. He watches the way it points strongly in the direction over the ocean. He hopes he’s alright.

Even after everything, he hopes he’s alright.

During his exile, Tommy finds a drugged and hurt Tubbo on his doorstep. He can’t not help him.  

(This one has a neat take on potions, in my opinion. Also it’s only 4 chapters so it’s a quick read!)

take this compass, follow it home by lightning_anon

Tommy's a fuck up, he can't pay attention, and never sits still. He taps his hands, pushes people away, and has never had a best friend. He's a screwed up, forgotten kid lost in the foster system. He's also just been placed with a new family. Tommy knows how this goes, he never ends up staying long. After all, no one wants a fuck up like him.

Why would this house be any different?

Or: the obligatory sleepy bois foster fic, but with a focus on the neurodivergent kids that inevitably get lost in the system.

(Genuinely want to see more books like this in original fiction. It’s part of what inspired my newest og wip, “To Build a Home.” So sweet and I feel like I had my eyes opened to some neurodivergent tendencies I never knew existed. I read this in a day and can’t rec it enough.)

bloodlines by youreyeslookliketheocean

Tommy’s an orphan on the run from his previous guardian. Philza’s a king who prides himself on keeping his kingdom in an era of peace. Wilbur’s the crown prince, and Techno’s right beside him as his adopted brother. When Phil’s kingdom of Pogtopia is threatened by the bloodvines—a strange, brainwashing plant infecting many of the surrounding kingdoms—the four must work together to keep the kingdom, and their family, safe. --- A royal au sbi fic... + the bloodvines, for spice.

(Yes I’m self-promoting. But, in my defense, I’m very proud of it. If you checked it out it would mean the world to me :’))

Heat Waves by tbhyourelame

Dream has always held a gentle admiration for George, but when their nuanced friendship trickles into his sleeping mind, he awakens to a new world of conflicting emotions and longing. Lost in the midst of a heat wave, he continuously listens to a song that works itself in to the very core of his heartache. Floridian nights, unsent messages, spiraling infatuation, and terrible, terrible weather.

Another fic I think pretty much everyone knows about. Listen, listen... I was once an idiot who said “Oh no, I’ll never read Heat Waves. It’s irl, not characters, and it’s probably cringe”... No. I was so wrong. This fic is wonderfully written, with a pretty quick moving plot and great characterizations. You do need an ao3 account to access it, though. Just to let you know. (Also read “Helium”, unfinished and hasn’t updated in awhile, but it’s the continuation). 

Guitar Strings and Keyrings are What it Takes to Build a Home by Anonymous

Techno was adopted by Phil when he was 12 years old.

He'd been enjoying his morning before Phil came to him asking if he would mind them taking in another kid. Against his better judgement, Techno agrees and ends up with two new foster brothers who he was determined to not get attached to, no matter what.

Tommyinnit’s unbeatable method of avoiding sudden death by eneliii

“I uh,” Tommy starts, not knowing how to break this to the hero lightly. He hates to be the bearer of bad news. “I think your powers are broken? It’s not a bad thing of course, but like, I swear you tried to mind control me and it like, totally failed. Which is fine, honestly, don’t feel insecure. Everyone’s power stop working sometimes… I think.”

Sheesh, this is very awkward. Why is no one else talking? Why is Philza looking at him like he grew three heads? Why is the Blade staring at him so intensely? Why is Willow still frozen?

“Did I, did I hit a nerve? Yikes,” Tommy hisses, “Well um,” He steps back, bracing his legs and bending his knees, “This was like super fun, but I’m - I’mma head out.”

or,

in which Tommy manages to annoy the hell out of Phil, Techno and Wilbur by being both impossible to catch and irritatingly endearing.

or or,

a crack fic where Tommy is a vigilante and Phil, Techno and Wilbur are the heroes hunting him down.

(Feel like I am obligated to say how incredibly funny this fic is. Seriously. I have a distinct memory of sitting on my neighborhood park’s swing, giggling hysterically, while reading this. Well...until the end... but we won’t get into that...)

** bones in the ocean by bunflower

“Your reputation precedes you, y’know.”

“Does it, now?” Philza watches him coyly from where he’s now leaning against the wall, arms folded around his chains and gaze half-lidded, his lips curled in an arrogant, cat-like smirk.

“The Angel of Death, the ferryman of the Styx, the terror of the western seas. One of the most feared captains ever to sail, and yet, I have to wonder… how did a man like you end up all on his own? We searched the area where you were found—not another soul in sight. So,” He fixes him with a long look, allowing the silence to hover like a dark cloud, the words rolling off of his tongue with all the venom and smugness he can muster, “—tell me, Philza. Where is your crew?”

OR: Technoblade is a naval captain, and Phil his unwilling prisoner. Somehow, they manage to come out of it as friends in the end.

(Is this fic considered popular like passerine/Heat Waves now? Cause I feel like it’s reputation precedes itself, at this point... Pirate au.)

****

Okay! That’s it for now. Like I said, though, I want to add to this over time and also dig back for some older things I’ve read. Also, if you have any recs feel free to send them in! I’m about to go back to school and therefore might not have time for reading fun stuff, but whenever I get the chance I’d love to check them out!!!

Happy Reading!!

[bibliocratic]

litany An exploration on endings. Or: all the ways it could have gone wrong and right.

jonmartin, spoilers for 200, content warnings in the tags

--

This is not what she thought victory would feel like.

Basira’s fingers tense and smart with overexerted aching when she stops to stretch them out. There is a geography of broken blood-vessels under the bruising that lies puddle-splotched over her hands which scrabble and claw talon-bent at the rubble. They are scored with scratches and tears where her exposed and dust-ruined skin has snagged on fractured brickwork.

She uncovers a foot first, as she pushes up and over the twisted mental of a window frame with an exhausted clatter. A trainer, the white doused with mud, the trailing laces caked stiff and russet. More heaving and hauling, her breath purging from her faster now – maybe, maybe, maybe, but she has lived too long now to believe in miracles. Overturning a fire-blasted section of what could have been once part of the imperious and grand stone stairwell, she reveals the leg the trainer is attached to, pulverised and off-angled by the weight of the collapse, the fabric of it drenched in soot. She peels back a cascade of plasterboard with a grunt, and there is a twisted pelvis, shattered ribs caved in under an acrid-smelling jumper. She’s not surprised at the dull punch of revelation, when she digs out hunched shoulders, coils of hair turned grey-white like swans’ down with the dust.

Martin is obviously dead. She hopes it was quick, fears it was not. His body lying stringless is curved around something, clutching it to him with his bruised and broken fingers. It takes many minutes of labouring, her spine seizing with complaint, sweat pooling at her brow and under her arms, but eventually she reveals Martin’s tender quarry, bundled up against his chest, blood-soaked from a wound long congealed. His own long and bloody fingers clenched and moored into the weft of Martin’s jumper.

She doesn’t need to check his pulse. She is cursed with enough sentiment to do so anyway. Crouching for a moment in the thick of the settling devastation, the fug of dust coating her nostrils, before she murmurs ‘I’m sorry’.

As she stands, she takes off her coat to lay it over them respectfully, the only shroud she can offer.

When her voice is composed, its cracks flattened out, she shouts the others over to tell them to stop searching.

--

The knife does not go in easily. There is force behind its thrust, a manic wave-shock of hysteric intent, and Jon’s lips part in a gasp as skin and sinew and flesh split. The noise wrenched from Martin is soiled with ruin, tremulous and saw-toothed, and he will never be able to forgive himself.

Jon’s eyes close. Peace of a sort granted to Magnus’ last and most beleaguered of Archivists.

And then they open. All of them, like the unfolding back of petals during blossoming, a meadow’s expanse of sight flowering on his face.

“No,” Martin whispers, the refusal almost lost over the tumult of the building around them. He pulls the knife out, and it drips onto the floor, making damp the material of his trousers. “No, nononononono.”

The wound presses together like lips, and then it is gone.

“I think it’s too late for that, Martin,” the Archivist says in that calm and reasoned voice of his.

--

It is a surreal, poorly-rendered mirror of before. A way the record of the world has slipped, juddered aground in a repeat. For all they have both changed, outgrown the casings of the people they were, for all they have endured both together and apart, it is a sick homecoming of sorts to stand again a second time round at the entrance to his hospital ward.

She’s brought supermarket flowers bunched in plastic, the last of a bad crop and too late to get the freshest, the stalks of baby’s breath drooping, the petals on the carnations mottled slightly and past their glory days. Jon lies submerged in sleep, the focal point in a placid storm of machines and wires. This coma chemically induced with no inkling of the supernatural, a last-ditch effort by the doctors to reduce the swelling on his brain. To give the body a chance to heal from the damage sustained during the collapse, his frame bludgeoned and punctured like a shrike-caught mouse, the smoke that has snarled like brambles in his lungs. The almost comically neat wound punched into his chest, nicking his heart.

She hopes his sleep is dreamless.

It takes him weeks to wake up.

“… Georgie?” he finally gasps out on an otherwise uneventful Thursday. His vocals are ribbed and scored with smoke damage. He’s sluggish as he blinks and turns and groans at the complaint of his body around him. “What – er?”

“Hey Jon,” she replies. “Good to have you back with us.”

She lets him acclimatise. Without his glasses, he squints and peers owlishly, like an inquisitive bird, absorbed by the novelty of his environment, the mundanity; the hospital-blue curtain that’s been pulled back around his bed, missing a few rungs and so hanging lopsided in places. The wilting flowers on the side table. The IV needles threaded into his arms.

“Did it work?” he asks finally.

“We think so.”

Georgie doesn’t add more. The conversation is one she knew they’d have, but it still feels like stepping out on frozen water. She is waiting for it to give beneath him, for the drop and drown in the unmoored cold.

His relief muddies in increments. His brow crinkling with a frown, glancing around again at the other beds. Their occupants dredged up and out and recovering from their private terrors, bringing the lessons of their landscape with them.

“Where - ?”

He looks up at her. The ice cracking.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Jon,” she says.

--

“We made it. L-look, see, we’re – I don’t know where we are exactly, b-but that doesn’t matter, does it, because we’re together, yeah? We’re together and that’s… that’s what we promised.”

The blood is drying on his trembling fingertips, the crevices of his palm, and it flakes off like decaying leaf-fall. The front of his clothes is clogged and sodden, the slick slow to harden. The weight in his arms is making his shoulders scream but he can’t let go.

“We – we did it,” he repeats hollowly. Desperately. “We did it, s-so you can come back now. You can come back. Together, you promised.”

The winds of this new world blow as cold as the old one did, and it is Martin’s only reply.

--

“It’s for the best, Martin,” the Archivist says.

“Shut up,” his furious watcher snarls. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t play st – Like him! Like he would! Using his voice.”

“It’s my voice. It’s me, Martin.”

Martin doesn’t respond to that. Their arguments are cyclical as roundabouts. He tells Martin he loves him. Martin tells him to fuck off.

The place where Jonah Magnus met his End, crumpled up on the dais of the Panopticon, has been cleared of blood. It distressed Martin to look upon, as evidence of his ascension rather than his capacity for brutality, so the servitors saw to its removal. The body he gifted to the mulch of the bone gardens, and the wailing growths flourished beautifully with the nutrients it bore.

The screams beyond the walls of the Panopticon cut off faster as he hastens them towards the End. He observes a world in its twilight. There is still torment, and it is unendurable and unfair but it will end under his reign, for good and for ever, and he will ensure that there is no more.

“You don’t have to stay,” the Archivist says. Considered. Gentle. “I know… seeing me like this is not what you wanted. I want us to be together while it ends, but I won’t force you.”

“And how is it any better out there?”

“It’s not,” he admits. “Here, I can keep you safe. I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy.”

“Well, you fucked up there then,” Martin snaps.

His anger is righteous and flint-spark, makes barriers that almost waylay his grieving. He looks at him, and for a moment, his gaze shakes. He will see nothing less than he expects to see, a man, unkempt from travel, a bit grubby. Coarse hands he has held, lines he has attempted to smooth. In many ways, this makes it worse.

Martin turns away, and the Archivist lets him go.

He needs time and they have more than enough of it now.

--

He is inconsolable when they dig them out. A horrible, anguished keening like he’s being struck, a gasping that violently gags and stoppers in his chest. His face twisted, blotching, his eyes swollen, and the picture he makes is ugly, rent-open, decimated, bawling into the body he’s crushed up against him. Rag-doll limbed. Ashen.

They can’t make him let go. His cries transform and degrade into wails, garbled wordless, the horizon of language lost. They aren’t even sure if he knows they’re there. The sound pouring out of him is frenzied, delirious and anguished by surviving the unsurvivable alone. He fades hoarse through the ruin he has made of his throat and then he just weeps into Jon’s chest, and still he will not let go.

Melanie’s the one that stops him using the knife the first time. Wrestling it from his grip more out of surprise than shock at Georgie’s shout, and her anger is poisoned with her panic, throwing it to one side and hearing it clatter, snarling that I’m not going to fucking bury both of you, you hear me, don’t even think about it, fuck you, you think this is what he would have wanted, you think we want to lose you too?

Martin doesn’t reply.

They are not fast enough to stop him the second time he tries.

--

There are two men, strangers to these parts, who moved into the village from elsewhere like seeds caught on breeze. They plant their roots in uneasy soil. They talk to no one, versed in polite but guarded pleasantries, their greeting smiles to-the-point and weathered like coastal walls to withstand even the most inquisitive of questioners.

The one who is tall has the pared-down appearance of someone who has lost a lot of weight through some wasting that gnaws upon him. A gauntness that accentuates the furrows and gulleys and crags of his face, worsens the snow-stark white of his hair. The one who is short has been formed naturally sharp in features, although the brown of his eyes is mellow, prone to distance and otherwise unremarkable. The rumour mill, that tumbles in cycles of chatter that rolls from suspicious to musing, supposes some great and devastating fire to account for the injuries on his hands and the exposed skin of his face and neck, the pocked divots like scattered spark burns, ragged scars from shrapnel of some kind.

The one who is short limps on a sturdy walking stick, fashioned from an oak branch divorced from its tree in a storm. Any travel ventured upon is slow and demonstrably an effort. His free hand clasped in the hand of the one who is tall, who decks himself in layers even in the mildest of weathers, whose eyes are biting as hailstones, awashed grey and framed with bruising as though his dreams are rarely kind.

They re-painted the outer walls of their house last summer, when the temperature wallowed sticky and dense and glorious. The tree in their garden has fruited its first pears, few and stunted but a start that promises better crops come next year.

There is the hope that the strangers are happy.

If they are, it remains nobody’s business but their own.

[sparkbeast20]

You’re my Treasure (Mammon X MC) Pt14

The Blue Lotus petals (series)

As a fan of Beauty X Beast pairing, Showing your “true self” to Lover or (Monster Love) Tropes. I figure to make a (More Demonic Forms AU/head canon) story for each brothers. Heads up each brother’s Story is long as fuck. So, I’ll be posting them as parts and finishing one brother before moving on to the rest of them.

(spoiler for lesson 1-60)

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 Pt8 Pt9 Pt10 Pt11 Pt12 Pt13

Warning: Swearing, Demonic nature.

Previously

“Make sure you save some for the three, we wouldn’t want to be in their bad side, if they came back hungry and expecting food waiting for them.” Belphie tells the others, and thinking what taking the older brothers too long to get back.

“So…… The question is Leviathan, are you willing to use that book. Just because we’re near a lake that doesn’t mean you can fit in it! Remember your form is the biggest out of the seven of us”

“I. DON’T. CARE! you two can’t get along even in old selves, Now I WILL use this if I have to.”

Just on Lucifer’s first reaction on seeing Levi hold the book, Mammon immediately knows that book is something shouldn’t be use lightly.

Lucifer and Mammon both have the same thought. GET THAT BOOK AWAY FROM LEVI! Lucifer can talk Levi out of this, while Mammon is waiting for a moment to strike.

Lucifer took a deep breath, and calm himself and stood straight, and reach out with his hand at Levi “Levi, give me that book….” As he slowly walks towards him but then a voice screams at him

Don’t beg you fool

Every ounce of his mental and emotional control is slowly slipping away.

“Leviathan…... PLeASE….” He’s voice started to fluctuate from his normal to his demonic one, trying to hold his frustration of this whole situation he grins his teeth so hard that it starts to bleed as he waits for Levi to hand over the book. He was hesitant for a moment but seeing Lucifer like this, hurt him.

As he about to hand over the book, in a spilt second Mammon tackle and pined Levi on the ground, leaving the book on the ground as Mammon main focus was making sure that Levi didn’t utter a word of the spell from the book and end up like Lucifer. Speaking of which.

“MAmmON……” Both brothers quickly whip their head toward the eldest “WaTcH….. OveR …..ThEM….”

“Lucifer! What are you? ~” before he could finish, a shadow engulfs Lucifer as he sinks into the ground, Mammon quickly knows what’s going and rushes to stop him from leaving.

In that moment Mammon can see a tear fall from the corner of his brother’s eye and mouthed I’m sorry, before complete disappearing into the shadows.

He was too late, once he got there the shadow disappear under his feet. Mammon shrike at ground where Lucifer was standing a second and start digging into it, hoping find Lucifer.

“Lucifer. Lucifer. LUCIFER!!! You can just do this! LEAVE!!” all the emotion of not wanting be near him were instantly gone and replace with worry, anger towards himself and desperation to keep Lucifer from leaving them.

After ten minutes of digging a hole that can fit a person in Mammon stop and pants heavily, not because of digging he did but with his heart is beating fast and need to calm himself.

This isn’t what he wanted; he wants space away from his brothers so he could finish this whole thing. Not Lucifer leaving and dealing with demonic self on his own, and not tell him or Levi where his going. And there’s Levi who he took a quick side glance to see how’s his little brother is doing; not great, Levi has both hands at his eyes pushing the palms into them trying to hold back the tears and failed at it as he lay on his back blaming himself for was happening.

“I can’t have Levi like this, crap Lucifer, you pompous ass! you’re really leavin’ me in charge in like this!” he refuses to let this happen, sure at times he wandered what would happen if Lucifer disappeared, and he was left in charge. In short no so good, he can’t imagine all the responsible and work goes with not to mention, the others won’t listen to him. He might not say it or denied it but he would tell Lucifer that he is first born for a reason and he accepted that.

Right now, he has to step up and fix this. First, he has to change back, the question is how?

All he remembers what the beast said to him, that its going take time to change back, but maybe could try, at least he can try.

He tries to focus on changing back, like the way he did in his demon form. Then he felt a slight pain on his arm and stop for a moment.

“Shit! That hurt, but I think it’s workin’ I just have to bear with it. I can do this!!”

He went back on focusing on changing back, by each pasting second, he can feel his bones shifting and the wings on his arms which has been there for a week, slowly moving on its own like it use to then without warning his arms and wings tore apart from each other causing him shrike in pain catching the attention of Levi, who was shock and called out to Mammon, but he keeps going. Soon he stood on his hind legs and his body started to shirk a little bit, and with one final break his back straight up and he fell on all four exhausted from the change, he pants to catch his breath.

Levi quickly rushes over to Mammon’s side and start rubbing his back to comfort him.

“Mammon, a-are you, o-okay?”

“Yeah…... I’m-I’m okay” startle Levi quickly stumble back and start stuttering

“You-you-you c-c-c-can t-t-t-t-t-talk!?!” confuse Mammon raise his arm and shock that his talon is more human, then he quickly got up and pant his body to check. He did it…... well almost, he’s still in his demonic form, but closer to his regular demon form with his body more humanoid and his wings aren’t attached to his arms anymore. Then he tries to feel his face, and his eyes narrow in disappointment to feel that he still has a beak on his face.

“You got- Whatever…… YOU!” Mammon turns and points at Levi who stiffed by that “I’m gonna kill ya once this all over, right let’s get back to the others, we need their help to find Lucifer”

Before Levi could respond, Mammon flaps his wings and start flying and swooping grab him by the shoulder in second start heading back to the cave with Levi screaming his lungs out.

“G’AAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

You, Asmo, and Beel are examining all the things in Mammon’s treasure cavern while Belphie is sleeping in the nest and Satan in waiting outside of the cave for the three older brothers to come back.

“I haven’t fabric like this in centuries, I don’t why Mammon was collecting them and just stashing them here in this old, filthy, and dark place like this”

“I’m surprise that these things survive after centuries has past” you add to Asmo chatter, while looking at old statues of Mammon’s demonic form. “So…… what Mammon and I saw almost a month ago…... that was you guys in your true forms?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say “true forms” but more Demonic form” Asmo hesitant to answer your question fully, with Belphie chuckling at Asmo in his sleep.

“y/n, has Mammon ever hurt you when you two are alone?” Beel asks as he stare at the claw marks around the cavern.

“Well, he did pounce and pinned me down, after he transformed, but the he started cooing at me and preening my hair. Like he was happy to see me, even after he change, which I want to say, wasn’t what I want to see again anytime soon”

“That’s strange? We are always feral and violent toward human in those form, I mean that’s way there’s bones and skull scatter all over the floor” Asmo point at a skull near your feet, then quietly step away from it.

“Okay, get that, but why Mammon acted like that to me?”

“Maybe…... you’re an exception because you two are a couple” Asmo comment causing you blush and try to hide it.

“No, that can be it, I mean your demons surly you don’t have the concept of what like mates or something”

“I don’t know about that, Mammon really made sure that you didn’t wake up when he tries to leave this morning. Maybe it can happen, he did bring you here where all his treasure is safe, it could mean he sees you as something precious to him even if his in that state of mind”

Before you could say something, you heard Levi scream above you, causing all of you expect for Belphie to look up to the hole of the cavern, then you saw a humanoid white crow who is carrying Levi flew in and drop Levi on to a sleeping Belphie who groans in pain of sudden body drop on him, and Crow monster landed beside.

“Mammon!?! You could have at least gotten a bit closer than that!” Levi yelled at Crow monster.

“If ya hadn’t scream all the way here, I would’ve been more~”

“Mammon…...”

The thing turns his head towards you, even from afar you can tell who it was.

“Y/n…...” Mammon face soften, as his voice whisper your name, in a gentle and low tone. After hearing what that form is and what it can do from his brothers, your heart start beating fast hearing Mammon’s voice again after a week of cooing, purring and squawking. And now he looks closer to his normal self, you couldn’t help but start tearing up. You ran towards Mammon who open he’s arms welcoming you.

Once close enough to him, you jump and wrap your arms around his neck, as you nuzzle your face on his feathery neck.

“Mammon, I-I can’t believe it, you can talk and-and~”

“Shh…. It’s okay, its me. I’m fine” he uses one arm to support your body, and the other at you back embracing you close to him.

“How?” he pulled away to look you in the eye.

“It’s Lucifer”

“So, what your saying is that are, our dear older brother just ran- vanish into the shadow with the book of the sins, and said to “Watch over them” to you and not Levi”

“HEY! As much I wanted to hear those words from him, I don’t want the responsibility of looking after ya and them. Satan, and beside I came he to asks for help. I don’t know want to do or even a way to find him”

All look worried at what they just heard from Mammon and Levi about Lucifer little disappearing act, as he, Satan, Belphie and you are thinking to how to find the first born.

While Levi and Asmo are pacing around the nest with Beel stomping his foot on it, distracting themselves from worry of losing Lucifer.

“Can we track him down, by scent?” you tell them the first thought you had.

“Babe, I can’t track him by smelling him. I’m not a sniffer”

“But Beel is!?!” everyone stops what they were doing and look over to Satan.

“I can do that; all I need is something that has his scent”

“You mean this” Mammon shows a fabric of Lucifer’s clothes “it been stuck in my claw and I tackle him on the ground, when I…... got piss off at him for nagging at me”

Mammon hand over the fabric to Beel, and took a whiff of it, and start following the trail.

“Wait!” Beel stop and turned around to see who stop him. “What happens if we do find him” Belphie asks, knowing fully well that there should have a way to trap or subdue him.

Mammon though that by this time Lucifer could have finish the spell and his fully changed at this point, judging for experience he knows how dangerous these forms are, especially Lucifer.

“I can use my pact with him” you snap Mammon out of he’s train of thought.

“WHAT!?! No! yer not coming with us”

“I can sit around and do nothing” you argue at him, then he snarls in annoyance of your stubbornness.

“y/n that’s just a temporary solution. We need is to make sure that he doesn’t go anywhere but here in the woods” Satan voice his concern on your idea.

“I’ll keep him here” Mammon said causing all of you to look at him in shock.

“Mammon you can’t~”

He places a hand on the side of your face as he looks at you deeply with his demonic eyes, which felt both terrifying and warmth at the same time.

“Y/n if he’s the same at me where I was about a week ago, he just needs to control this. And if that’s means keep him company for a week or so. Then I’m willing to do that” without any other option you eventually nod and lean closer to his palm.

“Okay, now here’s the Plan” Satan start discussing about how to trap Lucifer and make sure that he and Mammon stay in one place and not make the same mistake as before.

[bigskydreaming]

ANYWAY.

Current mood is contemplating an AU wherein Boone (yes that Boone, its been too long since a Dick and Boone shitpost so off we goooooooo) anyway, so AU wherein he graduates from his League of Shadows training around the same time Dick becomes Nightwing, and since I headcanon Boone having known who Dick really is for years because he’s not a complete dumbass and Dick Grayson is a fairly high profile figure and it doesn’t take a genius to look at a picture of him and recognize him as “aka Freddy Lloyd,” I mean, they did live together for weeks or even months.....

POINT IS, so Boone is all done with his training and sees Nightwing bigwigging it up with the Titans and then sees there’s a new Robin in Gotham, and all these thoughts come together in a perfect storm for Boone to be like LETS PLAY “WHAT IF I GO FUCK WITH FREDDY!”

SO. In this AU Nightwing and Shrike’s confrontation slash reunion happens before he ever moves to Bludhaven to be a solo act and when he’s still based out of New York, and actually takes place in Gotham during a period when Bruce is out of town on an extended mission or something, as this Shrike figure starts stalking Robin and Jason is like UMM HELP GIRL, I mean not that I need it CUZ I DON’T, but like if you want to come help with this weirdo I guess that’d be alright, we could hang, its cool.

So Dick trainsurfs down to Gotham all quick like a bunny and is like waaaaaait a minute, this guy calls himself Shrike? That’s weirdly specific, I knew another Shrike once......and Jason’s like maybe this is the same guy? And Dick’s just all umm no, he’s dead. He like, died and stuff. He made like a corpsicle. Definitely not him, its gotta be someone else....oh fucking hell, its Boone. Of course its Boone. Why did it have to be Boone?

And Jason’s like who the fuck is Boone?

Dick shushes him distractedly. Nobody. There is no Boone, only Zuul. Eat your vegetables.

Jason: You are the weirdest person alive, and that’s saying a lot, I live with Bruce. What is going on right now?

Dick: Nothing? *examines himself in a mirror that is actually just a broken piece of window glass procured from yon surrounding rooftops* Hey how does my hair look? Is it wavy enough? I feel like it could be more wavy.

Jason: Is your hair - what? Dude, is this Boone guy like your ex-boyfriend or something?

Dick: Please. As if. He wishes. Also I knew him when we were like twelve. Or eleven. Maybe ten. I forget. It was definitely pre-pubescent though.

Jason: That’s not a denial.

Dick: Its also not an admission and also stop being smart and insightful, its rude and I did not ask. Besides, its not like I’m trying to look good for Boone, eww, he’s a loser, I would never. I’m just trying to look BETTER than him.

Jason: Ahh. Well. That’s different then.

Dick: See? You get it.

Jason: Not even a little bit. If this is what puberty does to you I want no part in it.

Dick: Too late. Its already begun. I spy hairs on your chinny-chin-chin.

Jason: What kind of bizarre Three Little Pigs segue is.....who ARE you right now?

Dick: Stop victim-blaming me for my discombobulation! I haven’t seen Boone in years and he could be here any second now and he already has the lead, I can not let him confront me in a state less than poised, suave and sophisticated, its just the RULES.

Jason: Well you’re off to a stellar start. Why is it so important you win this whatever this is with whomever Boone is and also are you still going to therapy? I feel like maybe not and maybe that was a mistake.

Dick: You’re a terrible little brother, just the worst. And okay, look. Its complicated, see. I met Boone at a very specific time in my life when both of us were kinda floundering in that verb kinda way, not like the Little Mermaid kinda way.

Jason: Stop using similes. I’m begging you. It hurts.

Dick: THE POINT IS......we were both.....kinda lost, at the time. Aimless. Looking for purpose. And one of the things we both ended up kinda turning to in search of that purpose was like.....our natural competitiveness.

Jason: Wait. You’re competitive? You? OMG THIS IS BRAND NEW INFORMATION.

Dick: I hate you. You are a blight upon the wheatfields of my soul. NOW IF YOU’LL EXCUSE ME, I WAS MONOLOGUING. Okay. So. Boone and I, we kinda fell into this cycle of eternal competition, that was intensified by us not really having anything else that was OURS at the time, so it became sorta like....the only thing that mattered? If that makes sense?

Jason: Weirdly, that’s the first thing you’ve said all night that DOES make any sense. Okay. I’m keeping up. Continue.

Dick: So it was like constant one-upmanship. If I snuck in somewhere without a trace, he had to sneak in better. If he was unmoved by being surrounded by dead bodies and gore, I had to be more unmoved. If I escaped from a deathtrap in half the time expected, he had to halve that when it was his turn, and if he made it through an obstacle course while bleeding from a leg I had to beat him while bleeding from both legs, look it was this whole thing.

Jason: Wait, and you knew this guy when you were ten? Where the fuck did you two even MEET? Jason Voorhees’ Little Daycamp of Horrors?

Dick: ANYWAY. The point is everything is about competition with us, it always has been, and like, he’s the only person who was ever able to keep up with me at least at the time and just like I was the same for him, and so we hated each other because we were both mad at the world back then and hated everybody and everything, especially the one and only other guy who kept showing us up, but at the same time, we were closer to each other than anyone else in the world at the time because we were the only ones on each other’s same page and able to stay on that same page so there was like.....weird solidarity in that? Idk. I TOLD YOU IT WAS COMPLICATED.

Jason: No, its okay, I get it. So what happened?

Dick: Oh, our mentor died and Boone thought it was all my fault. His name was Shrike too and given that Boone’s here now and calling himself Shrike, I’m guessing he still does.

Jason: .....uh huh. Was it your fault?

Dick: Only a little bit! It was mostly gravity. That bitch.

Jason: Ooookay, not touching that one. So. In conclusion: he’s.....here to kill you then? Or he’s not here to kill you then.....?

Dick: Oh he’s here to kill me, but ONLY if he can beat me first. If he can’t beat me, then no, he’s not here to kill me, just whine, wangst and moan at me.

Jason: And by beat you, you mean at.....having wavy hair?

Dick: At EVERYTHING. Ugh, were you even paying attention?

Jason: Oh yeah. I’m SO glad we cleared all this up. Next time, just simplify and explain he’s your childhood frenemy turned actual nemesis.

Dick: Huh. Yeah, y’know what, that does pretty much cover it....

Jason: Who you totally want to bone due to unresolved and conflicting feelings stemming from your brief but intense time together in your formative years as well as and compounded by your neurotic obsessive attraction to hyper-competent individuals who challenge you on physical, mental and emotional and even moral levels.

Dick: What the....a) you’re wrong, b) STOP STEALING MY PSYCH TEXTBOOKS and c) you could not BE more wrong.

Jason: Your hair looks flat and lackluster. He’s totally gonna beat you there.

Dick: You’re the actual worst. 

[vonbaghager]

just throwing my ideas onto my blog so they’re not buzzing around in my head anymore. DBD fan-killers: The Barber, the Abomination and the Ignited.

EDIT: And a new one, the Faceless.

The Barber, spawned entirely from a single mental image in which I imagined a killer that uses a straight razor as a weapon, cleaning it off by grinding it against a sharpening strop tied to the other arm.

Short lore blurb: Was an Old Time-y Barber, the ones that did both haircuts and surgeries. His own failing health had him search for occult methods to keep himself alive, using drawn blood as sacrifice. Eventually dove deep enough into occult lore to find out about the Entity, and became enamored with both the idea of eternal life in its realm, and with the creature itself. Strove to catch its attention by using the surgical prowess he’d learned to craft “masterpieces of agony” on unwitting victims, hoping that their pain and terror would draw the creature to him. Eventually, he received an anonymous gift: An immaculately-crafted straight razor that grew sharper as it cut flesh and bone until the victims didn’t even realize they had been cut until a single solid blow or attempt at exertion blew open all of their wounds at once.

Eventually fucked up and caught the attention of an Angry Mob, but by then had earned his place in the Entity’s Realm and fled into a foggy night, never to be seen again.

Base stats: 115% movespeed. 32 meter terror radius. Medium height (Freddy height).

Active Power: Masterpiece of Agony. Base cooldown: 5 seconds. Enter a special animation with a 1.5 second charge time, during which the Barber cannot make a normal attack but gains speed, up to 130% for up to 5 seconds. Lunging out of this state causes the Barber to madly swipe the razor out, striking every Survivor in the path of the lunge, afflicting them with a special status effect: Agonized. The Barber is greatly slowed for 1 second after the ability ends, whether he lunges or not.

An Agonized survivor’s bloodstains and grunts of pain are magnified until the status effect ends. If an Agonized survivor performs any strenuous action, such as fast-vaulting, dropping a pallet, or missing a check when repairing a generator, the Agonized state ends and the Survivor becomes injured while screaming in pain, potentially alerting the Barber. Being struck by Masterpiece of Agony while already Agonized harms the survivor as if they were attacked, meaning performing a strenuous action will drop them to dying. Agonized can be cured in the same manner as Deep Wounds.

Passive power: Sadist. The Barber’s movement speed and lunge distance is increased for every Survivor currently Agonized, hooked, or dead.

Unique Perks:

A Shrine to my Love: Your adoration for the Entity brings you comfort when you are closest to it. The cooldown of your missed attacks is reduced by [25/30/40]% while within 13 meters of the Basement. The wiggling of a survivor in your grasp has a [moderately/greatly/tremendously] reduced effect on your movement while you are within 13 meters of the Basement.

Serrated Hooks: You’ve made creative additions to the Basement, increasing the hold it has over its victims. A survivor on a Basement hook has their chance of escaping it on their own reduced [greatly/tremendously/completely], and is painfully aware of this fact*. A survivor pulled off a Basement hook is affected by both Hemorrhage and Broken for [16/20/24] seconds.

*the survivor receives a notification about the Serrated Hooks upon being speared on one, which lingers until they’re freed. Survivors rescuing their fellows from the Basement are also alerted to the Serrated Hooks.

Grasp of the Shrike: Yes, they will do. They will do nicely. The diamond atop the ring, as it were. You and the Entity become Obsessed with one survivor, clinging to them tightly and never letting go. The Obsession takes [0.5/0.8/1.0] extra seconds to unhook. Whenever the Obsession dies, another random survivor becomes the new Obsession after 13 seconds.

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

The Abomination, based on the video game archetype of “really fat guy with a grappling hook” that’s really just Blizzard but leaks into other games now and then.

Once a gluttonous ruler in the past, he wished for his feast to never end, sparing no expense to have food brought to him from all over the world even as his subjects starved in the streets. When death came for him, he fought with every fiber of his being to remain in the world of the living, tearing his soul free from death’s grasp and forcing it back into his bloated body. He continued to live, but did not belong, beginning to rot and decay even as he brought in the greatest doctors and surgeons to restore him, using the very people he neglected as replacement parts for his increasingly aberrant body.

Never one to waste food, the remains of those slain to restore him were added to his menu, and soon he discovered a love of the taste for the humanity he became further and further divorced from. Ironically, he became a much better ruler the more monstrous he became, if only because the healthy and fat citizens made for better parts and better plates, but eventually it was found out just where the criminals of this prosperous land were disappearing to, and the hideous ruler was threatened with a second death.

Knowing death would not let him escape a second time, he fled from his prosperous land, but soon encountered a problem: he had not stopped rotting, and without a supply of fresh parts, he would succumb sooner or later. He spent his every last coin and gemstone seeking a cure for this condition, slaughtering those he met upon the lonely roads as he fought to remain whole, and eventually he found a solution. He would never again taste the succulence of the world he was leaving behind, but the new world held a banquet for him that would never grow dull. He wished for a feast that would never end, and the Entity granted it.

Base stats: 110% movement. 44 meter terror radius. Large size (Plague height)

Active Power: Glutton’s Grasp. Base cooldown: 8 seconds. The Abomination is slowed as it lets down a lengthy meat hook and begins loudly twirling it around. Any survivor that comes too close to the Abomination in this stance interrupts it but is damaged by the hook as if attacked. Attacking while in this stance flings the hook up to 10 meters outwards, which is blocked by terrain. If a survivor is struck by the hook, they scream and are pulled 5 meters towards the Abomination and become slowed for 2 seconds. If the survivor is pulled directly adjacent to the Abomination, its middle splits open to unveil the Great Maw, which bites into the survivor, damaging them and causing them to become Mangled for 1 minute.

The hook can also interact with certain props. Striking a partially repaired generator stuns the Abomination for 0.75 seconds as a current runs through it but damages the generator as though it had kicked the gen, causing it to regress. Striking a dropped palette stuns the Abomination for 2 seconds as it pulls the wood into the Great Maw, chewing it to pieces.

Once per trial: The Abomination can stand over a survivor who has been hooked at least twice and use the Great Maw to swallow them whole, sacrificing them instantly and becoming hasted for 2 minutes.

Passive: Corpulent Corpse. The Abomination is considerably wider than other killers, making it difficult to sneak or dash past it if it’s in a narrow enough area.

Unique Perks:

Varied Diet. Even the most luxurious banquet can grow boring without variety. Each time you strike a survivor with your basic attack, gain a token, to a maximum of 4/6/8 tokens. Each token grants you 1/2/3% increased movement speed and vaulting speed. Striking the same survivor twice in a row causes you to lose 2 tokens. 

Hex: Abattoir. This Hex turns the lockers within the trial into deathtraps for your victims. An injured survivor hiding in a locker bleeds profusely, creating a noticeable pool of blood. If a survivor lingers in a locker for 20/15/10 seconds, they become injured, or are pushed into the dying state if already injured.

Starved Rush. The scent of their flesh, the smell of their blood, it calls to you, driving you into a frenzy the longer you go without it. You enter Bloodlust [slightly/moderately/considerably] faster and do not immediately lose it if you break a pallet.

--------------- 

The Ignited. Had the mental image of someone undergoing an Oni-style rage transformation, except they burst into flames.

There’s not much of a story for this one tbh. Probably someone who was burned at the stake and called down horrific vengeance for their unawful destruction, becoming what they were accused of (a vampire, a witch, a werewolf, etc). The alternate tale that I like more is that they were just a pyromaniac that finally decided to burn down their own house with them inside so they could feel what their victims felt.

Base stats: 105% movement. 16 meter terror radius. Medium size (Blight height)

Active Power, Kindling form: Choking Smog. Base cooldown: 20 seconds. Unleash a cloud of black smoke the Ignited can perfectly see through, but which is completely opaque for survivors. The smoke spreads outwards to cover a 11 meter radius, choking survivors inside of it, causing them to loudly cough. Survivors in the smog are Exhausted and slowed. The cloud lingers for 6 seconds.

Passive power (Cinder Form): Building Inferno. The Ignited is unaffected by the trial’s fog. The Ignited can interact with piles of tormented kindling that spawn throughout the trial, gathering energy from each of them. The Ignited can also gather energy by damaging generators and survivors, and hooking survivors. At maximum charge, the Ignited can activate the secondary power to explode into their Wildfire Form. All the survivors receive a notification when the Ignited enters Wildfire Form as it shrieks in agony and rage.

The Ignited in Wildfire Form has a terror radius that covers the entire map, moves at 130% speed, and becomes taller than the Plague. A pillar of fire and smoke travels up from its body to signify its position at all times. Wildfire Form lasts for 1 minute, after which it drops back to Cinder Form.

Active Power (Wildfire Form): Pyroclasm. The Ignited charges up briefly and then blasts an incredibly wide cone in front of it (roughly equal to its FOV but only 6 meters in length). Survivors in the area are damaged, generators in the area begin regressing, and dropped pallets in the area begin burning and will be fully destroyed after 5 seconds unless a survivor slides across them. Survivors injured--but not downed--by Pyroclasm gain a unique status effect: On Fire! Survivors who are On Fire glow softly with flame and their auras are revealed to the Ignited, shouting and screaming as long as they remain On Fire. On Fire lasts for 1 minute, until the survivor is put into the dying state, until they vault a pallet or window, or until they stop moving and spend 3 seconds patting themselves down.

Unique Perks:

Smokesight: The fog thickens in your presence, though it’s no impediment to you. The trial fog is [slightly/moderately/considerably] thicker, though you see through it as if it were two stages lighter.

Hex: Fear of Failure: To build a tower so tall just to see it fall before you, it is a feeling that can invoke despair in any, and one this Hex enhances to self-destructive levels. If you kick a generator that has been repaired above [75%/50%/25%] progress while your totem still stands, the last survivor(s) to work on that generator shriek in frustration and are highlighted for 3 seconds if they are within [24/32/40] meters.

Hex: Trap in the Blaze: Lock them inside. Seal the windows, bar the door. Let them burn. Let them burn. Let them burn. When the exit gates are powered, this Hex flares to life if there is a dull totem for it to inhabit. The switch to the gates is partially infested by the Entity, slowing all attempts to touch it. Interacting with the switch takes an extra [3/4/5] seconds. Abandoning the exit switch causes it to slowly regress.

--------------- 

The Faceless. what if there was a stealth killer even more humanoid than the pig?

Not sure of a backstory here. Either a member of an ancient species trying to avoid total extinction, or an envious human who altered their own bodies with strange chemicals, vile magic, and horrible operations until they could look like anyone they wanted. 

Base stats: 110% movement. 32 meter terror radius. Large size (Demogorgon height in true form).

Active power: Assume Guise. The Faceless loudly and grotesquely reshapes its body into the shape of a random survivor in the trial, letting all survivors within the terror radius hear the cracking and squishing just before the terror radius abruptly vanishes. The noises are noticeable enough to be heard a short distance outside the terror radius, akin to the Wraith or the Spirit vanishing. Any survivor within a 15 meter radius is briefly highlighted by Killer Instinct after the transformation is complete. While disguised, the Faceless has no terror radius and is treated by the game as though it were a survivor. If its aura becomes revealed by any perk or item, it appears as though it were a survivor, even if the perk or item reveals the killer’s aura only.

While it can crouch and sprint as a normal survivor, the Faceless cannot interact with props like a survivor can, with the exception of vaulting pallets or windows. It cannot open chests, repair generators, or sabotage hooks. When it assumes a survivor’s shape, it cannot copy any items they hold, nor can it pick one up or use them. If the survivor its copying is injured, it is not. Its voice as a survivor is ever-so-slightly distorted.

Assuming its true form is a horrid affair, stunning the killer for 2 seconds as it bursts from its former body. After transforming back, the Faceless is hasted for 4 seconds and Assume Guise is placed on a 10 second cooldown.

Active power (disguised form): Backstab. If the Faceless performs the healing action on a survivor using the secondary power button, it acts as though it’s healing them for 5 seconds, after which it suddenly strikes, afflicting the target with Deep Wounds and Hindered and beginning its transformation back.

Unique Perks

Hex: False Friendship. This Hex confounds and distorts your aura, leading your prey to blunder into your grasp. While the totem stands, any time your aura would be revealed, it appears as though it’s a survivor aura, and the survivor(s) reading your aura are highlighted by Killer Instinct for [8/12/16] seconds if they’re within 40 meters of you.

Subtle Sabotage: Your machinations are much more insidious than that of your brutish kin. After kicking a generator, the generator becomes Sabotaged for [60/80/120] seconds, regressing continuously even as it’s being worked on, effectively halving the speed it’s repaired at. A sabotaged generator loses this status if it fully regresses, or if the survivors working on it succeed [2/3/4] Great skill checks on it without abandoning it. Sabotaged gens are highlighted to the survivors, and survivors working on a sabotaged gen are aware of how much longer the status will last and how many skill checks are required to undo it.

Calming Emanations: Let them have their hope, if only so it’s more spectacular when it shatters. Each uninjured survivor reduces your terror radius by [18/20/22]%.

[ghost-in-the-stalls]

Neil Josten's Playlist Part 6 - For Himself

Masterpost and link to the playlist in its entirety here

A lot of the songs Neil keeps are just for him. Sometimes you need to be in your feelings a bit and music is the only place you're comfortable doing that.

2. Shrike - Hozier

After he initially found Hozier, this boy didn’t listen to anything else for weeks straight if he could help it. Shrike I think is just a song that he loves the sound of. Pretty much the only thing we know in canon about Neil’s music taste is that he doesn’t like loud music. Which is incredibly vague and generalizing. To me, that tells me that Neil maybe is actually someone who tends to pay most attention to and by most effected by the sound of a song than the theme or lyrics or genre or anything. If he doesn’t like the sound, he doesn’t like the song. But a sound that appeals to him? Oh boy, he won’t be able to let it go. Shrike is like that for him. It’s gentle and smooth and I imagine he doesn’t pay too much attention to the lyrics or meaning. He just lets himself get lost in the sound.

11. Best Part - Daniel Caesar & H.E.R.

Not too much to say about this. It’s soft and beautiful and smooth, and I think Neil would greatly appreciate the sound. It’s a bit too soft for him to associate with Andrew, but he doesn’t need the association to enjoy it. Neil listens to it on his morning runs when the sun is only just rising and the world is still moving slowly. But he also listens to it on slower mornings when Andrew convinces him to forgo the morning run in favor of breakfast and coffee on the couch with the cats.

17. Dreams - Fleetwood Mac

Like some others on this list, this is a song that catches Neil wholly for its sound. Like the title, listening to this song feels a little like getting lost in a dream. There's just something very soft about it, and those are the kinds of songs that catches Neil's attention. He likes that he's found something he can get lost in for a time without losing himself.

27. Hallelujah - Rufus Wainwright

As incredible of a song this is, the origin of Neil's connection to it isn't anything super emotional. The foxes made him watch Shrek. He became very attached to this song and would listen to it on repeat for weeks afterwards. They all got so sick of it. His aux cord privileges were revoked. Matt doesn't need to start CRYING while he's DRIVING Neil, THANK YOU.

As for his connection to it, a big trend I'm seeing in the stuff that I think Neil listens to is that a lot of it is very emotional. Sad songs, moving melodies, beautiful ballads. I think Neil listens to music to help him feel his emotions - like really feel them. He's so good at compartmentalizing and shoving everything down and away (as per the trauma of running for the better half of his life), I think listening to emotional music - like really listening to it all - as a means of getting in touch with the emotions he's always shoving aside would be a great coping mechanism for him. To that degree songs like this just strike a cord with Neil, even if there isn't any parallel to draw between the lyrics and his own life. A song is a package of emotion that Neil can hear and unpack and process at his own pace while retaining a safe degree of separation.

30. Obstacles - Syd Matters

Not a whole lot to say about this one. Neil finds it somehow - either through one of his foxes or just on his own - and he finds it incredibly calming. He keeps it close. It makes him hopeful even on days when he can't bring himself to look in the mirror. The steady melody and repeating words help him get lost in something other than his own thoughts.

35. Ashes On Your Eyes - Deb Talan

This is one Neil found on his own. It doesn't remind him of any of his foxes, though, or his mother. It's one of the few songs he has just for himself. It serves as a reminder that he's going to be okay. He has a great support system, but sometimes he likes to find comfort in himself just to prove that he can still do it. Songs like this keep him going on those days where he doesn't want to bring his problems to others.

37. Rivers and Roads - The Head and the Heart

This is one Neil gets his hands on in his final year at Palmetto, but it isn't just about Andrew for him (like most of the others from this year). This one is about all his foxes - his family. It's about how lonely he feels even when he has a whole group of people he lives and plays and interacts with on a daily basis. They aren't his people; his people are scattered everywhere. He only learned how to be a real person after he met them. Now he needs to learn to do it on his own. There's a special kind of pain that comes when he thinks of how much he misses each of them.

39. Unsteady - Ambassador X

This song is one Neil thinks of often when he's having bad days. He'll still always end up having some days where he doesn't feel like a real person, and on those days it can be hard to ground himself - to keep from floating away and giving up on everything he's built to run back to being nothing. What helps him most on those days is not being alone. It takes him a long time, though, to learn how to communicate what his needs are on those days. It's pretty lucky that Andrew can read him so well, but during the years when they aren't living together it becomes very hard for Neil to find the words to ask for help. This song helps him with that. The chorus is so short and to-the-point but is still such a bare-bones lay of emotion and need that it centers Neil enough to realize that he doesn't need to explain himself or mince his words when he's asking for help. He just needs to ask.

42. Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) - Green Day

The downside to having the music taste that Neil does is that sometimes he latches onto something that is apparently a bit cheesy or overplayed, and the foxes gladly tease him for liking it unironically. This is definitely one of those songs. It doesn't matter to him that it was basically everyone's 8th grade graduation song (he didn't get one of those anyway, Matt.) He listens to this and thinks of the passage of time and how hard it's going to be when his foxes are scattered all over the country while he's stuck alone in Palmetto. But they'll be happy, and he'll be happy soon enough after that. They'll all move forward but it doesn't mean they'll lose each other (he has to repeat that to himself on bad nights).

The completely serious way he listens to this song is funny to the foxes at first, but Nicky is the first to break down crying when it stops being funny. He's also the only one to break down crying, but that doesn't mean the others don't get emotional too. ("Jesus, Neil, you got a whole team of collegiate athletes getting emotional over the time-of-your-life song. How much more of a fucking weirdo enigma can you be??" -Andrew at some point probably)

47. Everybody Hurts - R.E.M.

Neil has some pretty intense, pretty specific trauma. Plenty of people in the world have experienced terrible things and it isn't a competition. Neil knows this. However, he's also painfully aware that he's someone who pulled the right numbers in the shit lottery. Sometimes it helps to hear this song.

He knows that maybe his own life experiences were not anything close to what the songwriter had in mind, but it still helps. It helps to remember that he isn't the only person in the world who has terrible days. It even helps to know that people outside of the foxes have bad days. It helps to find a way to feel connected to the larger population of the world. It's a definite new thing for him - feeling like he's allowed to belong in the world - but it's very comforting at times.

54. Lights Up - Harry Styles

((I wish I could remember who made a post once saying this was a very Neil song because that was how I first heard it and I wish I could credit that person. Alas, it was over a year ago when I first read the books and didn't recognize any usernames yet :/ if anyone knows who that is lmk!!))

There are a lot of things Neil doesn't know about himself. There are a lot of things from freshman year and before that he still feels some level of guilt for. But ultimately he doesn't regret a single choice he's made. There are a whole lot of things he's still figuring out about his life. He heard this song and really vibed with the sound and what it was saying. Not much more to say than that. He's found himself in a light that he's happy to stay and figure himself out in.

66. Here Comes the Sun - The Beatles

Mary was a bit of a Beatles fan. There were several of their songs she'd play on their long drives when they weren't being immediately tailed.

This wasn't one of them. She skipped this one, every single time. Neil fully understands why. For all the indulgence she gave herself in the music she listened to, this one seemed to cross a line she couldn't handle.

Now Neil listens to it on morning runs and good days. And he lets himself feel okay.

71. Fall on Me - R.E.M.

Neil's had plenty of people trying to hurt him throughout his life. He's never really gotten help from people he was supposed to get it from. And now he has a whole family of people who have experienced similar abandonment.

Sometimes that pisses him off.

Sometimes he just really wishes the world was a softer place. Andrew would say it's dumb to wish, especially for something like that. And he'd be right. But it doesn't stop Neil from thinking it sometimes.

73. Hat and Feet - Fountains of Wayne

Sometimes you're just beaten down and worn out. Just once in a while, Neil wants to let himself feel this without feeling terrible and lost for it. This song helps with that.

Sometimes you're just a hat and feet, and that's okay.

[archivingspn]

2018: Twitter- pasladeuxieme, battingpractice, and TeamFreeWillBT

Context: After the SPNUK 2018 J2M panel question about eyefucking being a stage direction in scripts between Dean and Cas, several factions began engaging in discussions and arguments about the intent behind the spn writers’ word choice. In response to this, on May 8th 2018, pasladeuxieme tweeted out a series of tweets and screenshots from 8x02′s yellow pages to show where they remembered seeing the use of “eye-fuck” in the script as shorthand for an intense stare for the brothers, Sam and Dean.

pasladeuxieme: “Was telling Bri while I couldn't remember one between Dean and Cas, I could vaguely remember seeing 'eyefuck' in the stage directs of one of the scripts we have - found it :p ‘[image:

"What's Up, Tiger..." Yellow Pages 7/26/12 9. 2  CONTINUED :                                         12

SAM So things like that don't ever happen again.

Ms. Tran takes that in the pain of Eunis still fresh. Then-- she EYES Kevin.

MS. TRAN Prophet of the lord, huh? (then, a warm smile) That does have a nice ring to it.

A note of approval-- Kevin smiles sweetly...

MS. TRAN I'll get packed. Ms. Tran makes for her bedroom.

Dean turns to Sam--

DEAN We're gonna need a new safe-house, since Crowley's been to the cabin--

MS. TRAN (stopping in her tracks) Safe house? I thought we were going after the tablet?

DEAN We are. You're taking a trip to the demon-free zone.

MS. TRAN And risk letting Kevin fall into the hands of this Crowley, again? (then, firm) I don't think so.

Sam and Dean exchange an EYEFUCK-- here we go.

SAM Ma'am, Dean's right. Crowley-- he's not just a killer. He trades in torment. And if he can find a way to separate you from your soul? He'll take it to Hell and roast it 'til there's nothing but black smoke...]’”- 9:19 PM May 8, 2018

[source]

pasladeuxieme: “So many EXPRESSIONS being swapped between these hunter sibs. 5 dollars says Dabb wrote these stage directions with a thesaurus at hand ‘[image: "What's Up, Tiger..."   Yellow Pages   7/26/12   10.  CONTINUED: (2)                                              12

MS. TRAN So, a soul is more valuable than a life?

SAM Ma'am, a soul is forever. Your life is just a vessel... (then) It would really be best if you left this to us.

Ms. Tran takes a good long beat to consider that. Then--

MS. TRAN I understand. (then) But it's not my soul I'm worried about-- it's my son's.

She's STRONG. Sam and Dean trade an OMINOUS LOOK-- fearing the worst. Then turn to Kevin.

DEAN Gonna back us up here, Kev? (then) We came all the way out here to pull her ass out of the fire and now she wants to jump back in.

KEVIN Like I can tell her what to do.

Sam and Dean exchange a KNOWING NOD.

DEAN Coming with has conditions. Hex bags to keep you off the bad guys' radar. And you're gonna have to ink up.

KEVIN Do what now?

SAM You too, short stop--]’” - 9:24 PM May 8, 2018

[source]

battingpractice: “wait i found it ‘[image: (then) Sunshine and sandy beaches.

Satisfied, Dean goes all-in for the PIB. Kevin processen that for a beat-- watching Dean take a fork to the pie.

KEVIN Dean. My Mom's all alone-- And surrounded by Demons. (then) Can you really not understand why I want to make sure she's okay?

That stops Dean COLD-- fork hovering by his mouth. Dean looks over to Sam-- remembering his own Mother. Sam gives him a slight shrug, knowing the kid's right.

Dean eyes his pie, perched beautifully on the end of his fork-- he wants that bite so badly.

DEAN Son of a bitch.

Dean STABS his fork into the PIE, moving out of the BOOTH. Kevin SMILES, victorious, and we're on the move--]’“ - 9:26 PM May 8, 2018

[source]

pasladeuxieme: “Here's an eyefuck involving everyone's favorite King of Hell ‘[image: SAM all good-- just need to come up with a Plan B.

Then-- a familiar VOICE from off-camera.

CROWLEY (O.S.) what, pray-tell, could possibly have been Plan A?

The boys BURN-- and TURN to see CROWLEY.   Standing smug.

CROWLEY Bring the prophet to the most dangerous place on earth, memorize the tablet and then-- va-moose?

That one's pointed at Sam-- a weary eye-fuck from the boys.

CROWLEY Oh, and salutations, by the way.

BLACKOUT.

END OF ACT TWO]’”- 9:27 PM May 8, 2018

[source]

battingpractice: “Meanwhile, the same episode's direction for D-C is "Dean locks eyes with Cas, FIRM" which ends up as an actual eye f-u-ck but was not actually spelled out that way in the script ‘[image:

DEAN No. (then, to Cass) Cass, we're getting outta here. We're going home.

That word hits Cass hard-- something about it makes him visibly ANXIOUS.

CASTIEL Dean, I can't--

DEAN Yeah, we can. Tell him.

He's talking to Benny. The monster shrugs.

BENNY Purgatory's got an escape hatch, but I got no idea if it's angel friendly.

Dean locks eyes with Cass, FIRM.

DEAN We'll make it work. (then) I need you, Cass. And if the Chompers wanna take a shot, I say let 'em. We ganked those bitches]’”- 9:32 PM May 8, 2018

[source]

pasladeuxieme: “Not an eyefuck but here are some Destiel-y stage directions around the iconic "too much heart was always Castiel's problem" 😢 ‘[image:

what's Up, Tiger..."   Yellow Pages   7/26/12   28. CONTINUED: (3)                                             25

ALFIE You know, there are some in Heaven who still believe that, despite mistakes, Castiel's heart was always in the right place.

DEAN You one of 'em?

ALFIE I think... too much heart was always Castiel's problem.

Alfie moves off and we hold on Dean-- the angel's words hitting home. CUT TO--

EXT. CLEARING - PURGATORY - DAY (FLASHBACK)]’“- 9:49 PM May 8, 2018

[source]

pasladeuxieme: “No textusl eyefucks in 9x23, but check out the stage directions for Cas reacting to Metatron advising Dean is dead - "Castiel reacts - stunned" got turned into everything Misha did there.... ‘[image:

"Do You Believe in Miracles?" Pink Pages 4/16/14 39. 44  CONTINUED:                                                    44

METATRON Ah. So, Gadreel bites the dust, the Angel Tablet, arguably the most powerful instrument in the history of the universe, is in pieces... And for what, now? That's right. To save Dean Winchester. (then) That was your cause wasn't it? You draped yourself in the flag of Heaven but, ultimately, this was all to save a human, wasn't it? Well, guess what? He's dead too.

Castiel reacts, stunned, as-- CHUNK! His arms are suddenly CUFFED to the chair.

METATRON And you're sitting in my chair.

45        INT. ABANDONED PLANT - NIGHT                45

Dean bleeds out on the ground. Alive, but barely. Sam tears up bits of his shirt to fashion a tourniquet. All business.]’“ - 2:48 AM May 9, 2018

[source]

Context: Three years afterwards, May 20 2021, TeamFreeWillBT made a different thread on three additional instances of eyefucking plus the ones found in 8x02:

TeamFreeWillBT: “Eyef*cks in the Supernatural scripts 8.02 What's Up, Tiger Mommy? 13.08 The Scorpion and the Frog 13.21 Beat the Devil ‘[image:

A note of approval-- Kevin smiles sweetly...

MS. TRAN I'll get packed. Ms. Tran makes for her bedroom.

Dean turns to Sam--

DEAN We're gonna need a new safe-house, since Crowley's been to the cabin--

MS. TRAN (stopping in her tracks) Safe house? I thought we were going after the tablet?

DEAN We are. You're taking a trip to the demon-free zone.

MS. TRAN And risk letting Kevin fall into the hands of this Crowley, again? (then, firm) I don't think so.

Sam and Dean exchange an EYEFUCK-- here we go.

SAM Ma'am, Dean's right. Crowley-- he's not just a killer. He trades in torment. And if he can find a way to separate you from your soul? He'll take it to Hell and roast it 'til there's nothing but black smoke...]

[image: SAM all good-- just need to come up with a Plan B.

Then-- a familiar VOICE from off-camera.

CROWLEY (O.S.) what, pray-tell, could possibly have been Plan A?

The boys BURN-- and TURN to see CROWLEY.   Standing smug.

CROWLEY Bring the prophet to the most dangerous place on earth, memorize the tablet and then-- va-moose?

That one's pointed at Sam-- a weary eye-fuck from the boys.

CROWLEY Oh, and salutations, by the way.BLACKOUT.END OF ACT TWO]

[image: As Dean turns the key in the lock-- it opens with A CLICK to REVEAL-- BONES. A WHOLE DUSTY SKELETON'S WORTH.

SHRIKE Bart's bones. You burn them, he dies too. THAT'S my leverage. (then) You're on the wrong side of this, boys-- (a loaded beat) Just gotta ask yourselves if you can live with that.

The boys eye-fuck. Can they?

BART (O.S.) He's right, those ARE my bones.

Sam, Dean and Smash look up-- THERE'S BART! Standing next to Shrike.]

[image:

GABRIEL My tank's a little low right now. Getting vengeance took a lot out of me, and even on a good day, I-- (sheepish, defensive) I have a long refractory window, okay? (then, confident) But archangel grace? It's like, the Four Loko of angelic emissions. It'll be more than enough to get the job done.

Off Gabe's confidence, our heroes eyefuck. It's go time.

QUICK CUTS:

--Our heroes LOAD UP for battle, dressing/ARMING themselves for Apocalypse World. Angel blades, knives, guns. Apocalypse World-appropriate clothing.

INT--MEN OF LETTERS - LIBRARY MOMENTS LATER   4]’“- 7:39 PM May 20, 2021

[source]

TeamFreeWillBT: “9.05 Dog Dean Afternoon ‘[image:

DYLAN --and it's not like we could go to the cops--

OLIVIA --so now we look like total douche bags *cause we have to wear sunglasses inside.

Olivia and Dylan removes their sunglasses to reveal... puffy, bloodshot eyes, surrounded by dead tissue? It looks like textbook gangrene. As Sam and Dean eyefuck--

DEAN (PRE LAP) Necrosis?

INT. MOTEL - DAY

Sam sits in front of his laptop. Dean looks over his shoulder, bottle o’ beer in hand.]’”- 7:39 PM May 20, 2021

[source]

8.02 What's Up, Tiger Mommy?

Written by: Andrew Dabb and Daniel Loflin

9.05 Dog Dean Afternoon

Written by: Eric Charmelo and Nicole Snyder

9.23 Do You Believe in Miracles?

Written by: Jeremy Carver

13.08 The Scorpion and the Frog

Written by: Meredith Glynn

13.21 Beat the Devil

Written by: Robert Berens