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crimsonophelia · 4 years ago

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hi basil !! can i request for an imagine with zhongli and an adeptus reader? the reader has been in love w him since the archon war but never told him bc they were scared, and when rex lapis “dies” they’re absolutely crushed. but when they see a certain funeral consultant preparing his funeral, they tell him about their friendship w rex lapis and how they regret never telling him how they felt. thank you!

featuring: zhongli x gn!reader

warnings: angst, a little suggestiveness, some god complex stuff if you squint hard enough, typos lol

published: may 14, 2021

form: imagine

a/n: hi anon! thank you for the request~ i’m assuming reader recognizes zhongli in his mortal form and confesses in that way! in canon, it’s kind of dubious whether or not zhongli explicitly told the adepti that he actually isn’t dead, but i’m going to take some creative liberties and assume that he tells some of his adepti friends that he’s alive in person, like so~

Time slowed to a halt, as the body of the magnificent dragon, Rex Lapis, plummeted to the earth from the heavens, like a meteor summoned by Celestia. You felt like it was all a cruel, eldritch dream that the Archons had cursed you with, frozen among the crowd of onlookers, as the body tumbled, tumbled, and fell in a lump at the alter. Not a single sound emerged from the crowd, as they all stared in horror.

To them, their deity, their Archon who had pulled Liyue from the depths of the abyss and ascended it to wealth and prosperity, had come crashing down to earth in front of their eyes. But to you... Rex Lapis was your world. It was not Liyue that he saved from the grasp of darkness, but rather, you, you were the one he rescued. It was you to whom Rex Lapis had shown more compassion than you had ever thought possible coming from any living being—warm hands grasping your cold limbs, pulling you up, up, and up, into the light of day, giving you a purpose. A reason to live.

The body lied there, as Lady Ningguang acted fast, trying to ease the onlookers, her own horror still painted visibly upon her usually cold and composed countenance. The corpse of your god still retained some semblance of life, you thought, scales still glimmering with a slight sheen, mane fluttering in the wind of commotion, almost as if he were glowing with vibrant life not a few moments ago.

Please. Rex Lapis. Please don’t leave me. I have so much left to tell you.

*****

“Master!”, you called. “Wait for me!”

You ran to catch up with archon, who had begun his daily routine of assessing the growth of his blossom trees. Tianheng Shan was a favorite location of Rex Lapis, particularly in the springtime when all the flowers on the treas began to bloom, and the glowing flowers that sprouted from the ground took root and broke up from beneath the soil.

Rex Lapis, hands locked behind his back, looked back at you, as you joined him at his side.

“Hello there, [y/n]. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The archon really did behave like an old-spirited mortal, you thought. He had the mannerisms and idiosyncrasies down to a tee, certainly the polar opposite of the likes of Barbatos.

“I was just about to view the blossoms as well! They should be in season within a week or two”, you responded innocently. This certainly wasn’t an opportunity purely to spend time alone with Rex Lapis. You would never be so silly.

The both of you strolled along the banks of the river, eventually reaching an opening where tens, even hundreds, of pink-blossomed trees wove their way about the bottoms of the cavernous cliffs, some delicate petals already beginning to fall, sprinkling upon the river like memories across the stream of time.

Rex Lapis proceeded past you, craning his neck upwards to get a closer look at the blossoms. As he did so, the hood of his robe fell back down onto his shoulders, revealing long, silky locks of earthy amber resting upon shoulders as hardened as Cor Lapis.

“Quite lovely, aren’t they?”, he mused, almost absentmindedly. “These yinghua are often mistaken for taohua—yinghua do not produce fruit, and their blossoming period is much shorter.” For some reason, you thought, the archon’s gaze seemed to stray elsewhere, somewhere beyond the mass of trees.

“That is why the yinghua is renowned for its beauty. Its life is fleeting, yet so utterly captivating.”

Now, it was all gone. All that was left was a husk—a shell of the god you loved and devoted every ounce of your existence to. A mere gnarled tree that once possessed a beauty that transcended seasons.

*****

You entered the foyer of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, hearing the bell jingle solemnly as the door closed behind you. The place seemed to be rather empty, with nobody manning the front desk. Assorted coffins and various floral wreaths adorned the rooms of the parlor, a rather gauche little showroom of death. The taste and aesthetics reflected quite well the nature of the parlor’s director.

You treaded through the silent shop, wood creaking beneath your feet. The building must be quite old, you supposed.

“Hello?”, you called out. “Is anybody here?”

Before you could take another step, you heard a man’s voice coming from a back room, tucked away behind the main desk and obscured by a curtain.

“Just a minute, please. I will be with you shortly”, the voice called back.

After some further rustling emitting from what you guessed was the storage room, a man stepped out from behind the curtain, slightly ducking below the doorframe due to his rather imposing height.

Dressed in sharp formalwear, hair tied neatly behind his head in a long ponytail, he stepped forward from behind the desk. You noticed a geo vision dangling from the belt at his waist. How familiar, you thought. Something about him tugged at a string deep inside you, but for the life you, you couldn’t put a finger upon it.

“Greetings, how may I be of service to you?”, the man queried, amber eyes penetrating into you. There it was again. Maybe it was his voice, or his gaze, or perhaps just the way he carried himself, that felt so awfully familiar. His words seemed so... warm, even. Like some fond old memory that is slipping off the precipices of your brain. I must be going mad, you thought. One thousand years and still fawning over every handsome man I see.

Clearing your throat, you replied, “Yes, I am here on behalf of Lady Ningguang and the Qixing. We are looking for a supply of flowers to send off Rex Lapis at his funeral next week.” The man eyed you, curiously. “I was wondering if perhaps you could suggest a suitable flower wreath, preferably something in-season.”

Without a response, your odd companion began to walk towards an adjacent room attached to the lobby, hands crossed behind his back, quite like an old man, although he looked to be in his early thirties, at most. Assuming you were to follow, you stepped into a side room filled with vibrant flower wreaths of all sizes and colors.

The man begun to the scan the selection closely, as you stood to the side and watched him work. Oddly enough, the silence in the room wasn’t awkward, but was even quite comforting, in the same way a blanket warms a body.

Settling upon a modest, pink-flowered wreath of bouquets, he turned to you, indicating that he has decided upon a suggestion. He turned to you, those same eyes once again boring into you. Those were not the eyes of a young man, but something much, much more ancient, and for a moment, you stood frozen, frightened.

“Might I suggest the lovely yinghua? They are a personal favorite.”

White. White was all you saw for seconds, and when you opened your eyes, everything looked crisper, like a veil had been lifted. The world felt clearer, your thoughts came at you with greater clarity, but above all, it was no longer the funeral parlor manager that stood in front of you.

It was him. Rex Lapis.

The room started to twist and warp again, but this time not because of the spell of fog that the archon had cast to maintain your ignorance, but rather because of the salty tears clouding your vision, and the pressure of pure relief, joy, and utter agony that brought you collapsing to your knees, right then and there.

You couldn’t believe it. What about the body? Was that a mere fabrication ? Or was this vision before you an illusion, an echo of the past that had somehow manifested itself in front of you? Why would Rex Lapis do this to you, make you endure such pain? If he knew how much you loved him, how much gratitude you felt for him, how much you didn’t want to move on without him��

“Oh Archons, [y/n], please, I’m so, so sorry—”, he uttered. You felt a soft pressure surrounding you, as you became vaguely aware that the man you loved was now embracing you, the both of you huddled on the floor. “Please forgive me, I hate myself for it but I had to do it, and for the pain I have caused you, I’d much rather die, myself. ”

You could barely understand his words over the sound of your own weeping, forgoing all manners and letting your tears run free. You felt your master tighten his arms around your middle, as if scared to let you go, after already sacrificing you once.

You mustered up the strength to look up at him, seeing that now the dragon’s eyes themselves had become watery with emotion, something you had never seen in the archon before. The regret you felt was threatening to burst from your throat, a lump preventing you from being civil, or talking like a proper adeptus, or confessing your feelings to the man who you owed your life to. No more. No more weakness that plagued your heart for centuries. You may never have this opportunity again.

“[y/n], I beg of you, please forg-“

You pulled your savior’s face towards you, and without hesitation, placed your lips upon his. Too long, had this moment been forgone, and the both of you knew it, as the archon gradually deepened the kiss, intertwining his hands through your hair. This was life. The clarity of it all, the energy surging into you from the points where your skin touched, the infinity of your lips melding against his. This is the god you worshipped and would lay your life down for. Without him, there is nothing.

His lips, initially hesitant, grew more confident, more desperate as they clung onto yours. His fingers were soft as they traced the back of your neck, as if trying to memorize each one of your vertebrae. A feral yearning, something only a dragon was capable of, was unhinging behind Rex Lapis’ ministrations, as you proudly latched yourself deeper into him. The silence of the parlor was now filled with heavy pants and the rustling of fabric, as the two of you clung onto each other, one not wanting to depart before the other.

As you felt the breath in your lungs dwindling, having given all of your life and energy to Rex Lapis’ mortal body, you pulled yourself off of him. Streaks of wetness along his cheeks glinted in the late afternoon sunlight filtering through the windows. His hair had become undone in the minutes where he had been attached to you, and his face showed something of a quenched desperation. He was mortal, and he was perfect.

“Promise me. Promise me, that you will stay by my side forever.”

a/n: ohoho i hope you like it anon~ this is a little bit spicier than i usually write but tbh i kinda vibe w it

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin x reader #zhongli headcanons #zhongli imagines #zhongli x reader #zhongli x y/n #genshin x y/n #zhongli #zhongli fanfiction

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spideyspeaches · 4 years ago

Text

Roller-coaster ↬ p.p

gif’s not mine

A/N: My take on What if Peter was in Wandavision? But with a twist ;) Beta read by my wifey @stars-aligning 🥰🥰

Warnings: canon typical voilence? mentions of death. Also the timeline doesn’t really make sense, just pretend everyone is of the same age. OH and Wandavision spoilers :)

WC: 9k (longest one shot I’ve ever written 😭)

Pairing: Peter Parker x ex!Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

"Ben? What's wrong? Why are you looking at her like that?"

"I- I don't. I don't know. She seems familiar."

"Familiar? Familiar how?"

"Like her and I don't belong here. Like we're from another world."

Working with Tony Stark as his intern, then head of the R&D and now working in the labs as the head of the department felt surreal, a fresh breath of air every time he looked at his desk, with his name written on it. It had been Peter’s dream to meet Tony Stark, maybe work with him too.

And then he got bit by a radioactive spider, giving him super strength, super eyesight and apparently super luck too, because though he liked to think that he was working in SI due to his intelligence, the spider bite did play a role in becoming his mentor’s favourite intern, without which he might have not had a chance to meet him hands on.

Tony kept reminding him that even if Peter had not been bit by the spider, he would have still secured a high position in Stark Industries, with his disarming intelligence that rivaled Tony’s own and charmingly trippy personality.

Peter begged to differ. But then again, he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in it’s mouth. Ever since he was a bushy haired, rosy cheeked jittery teenager, he had always worshiped the ground Tony walked on.

Peter remembers the day he got an anonymous letter, which turned out to be SHIELD's handiwork, asking him to join them in their base in New York, even if he insisted that he wasn't interested in being a superspy wannabe. He was skeptical at first, why would the most paranoid of paranoid agents send him a letter in mail? Him, twenty three years old Peter Parker, who lives in a shitty one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn with termite issues and smokes weed like the government is going to ban tobacco and is barely able to take care of himself with the overload of work.

Maybe it was just his Parker luck, or the fact that he was a freelance vigilante who looked after New York in a skintight spandex suit, because the safety of the people was apparently second in priority to the government. They'd rather have people die than have an illegal protector.

Yeah so Peter was salty, and what about It?

Slinging his satchel higher, he saw the sleek black car in confusion, trying to get a look at the number plate before the lift binged on arrival, walking into the open door. He swore he was either hallucinating or in midst of an intense flashback of the events that lead to what people dubbed as the 'Civil War', back to when he had been shaken out of his mind watching Tony Stark eat his aunt’s homemade walnut date loaf that had more salt than sugar.

His thoughts were put to a halt when he entered his and his aunt's old apartment in Queen’s after a long week of Spidey on mission and nearly getting (illegally) fired, footsteps coming to a pit stop. It's not like it's everyday you come face to face with Agent Coulson, Nick Fury and your ex not- really- girlfriend, somehow all in one day all together.

"So… um. What are you- What are you guys doing here again?" he asked, folding his hands on his chest defensively, leaning into his aunt's side as he whispered, "how long have they been sitting here?" from the corner of his mouth.

Fury raised a non-existent eyebrow, looking at him with a dagger for eye, making Peter shift nervously. Agent Coulson looked uncomfortable and You, You looked strangely in your element, sitting on the couch with one leg over the other, a neutral expression on your face.

Back when he was still in high school, when he'd first met you, he used to be in awe of how outgoing you were, seemingly adjusting in whichever situation you were thrown in. You had always accommodated to your surroundings, but with a start he realised that he had never seen you so… You in a while.

Not during your visit to the Avengers tower, not during the first time you came into his bedroom, all alone. Not when he had seen you take down a mugger on your way home from your first date without even as much as batting an eye.

"They were here ten minutes or so before you came home. It's creepy, as if they knew you were visiting," May answered with a whisper, wearily eyeballing them before moving towards the kitchen, leaving Peter unattended to Your and Fury's piercing gazes.

"I'm sure they know my monthly schedule before I do," Peter said, turning to look at the aforementioned agents. "So... you like, work for SHIELD, too?" He asked, wringing his hands to abate the tension in them.

"Yes, she does, but that's not what we're here for, Mister Parker," Fury said in his gruff voice, sitting back with a sauve expression. Peter gulped as Agent Coulson looked him in the eye, finally noticing the thin file he held in his hands.

"Well what are you here for?" Peter asked, mustering up some confidence as he tried not to look at You or the eye that Fury had that wasn’t covered by the patch.

"We need you to come to Westview, New Jersey with us," You said, a final no nonsense undertone in your voice. He shuddered when he heard you, remembering how soft and sweet you used to be. But that was before you disappeared out of nowhere, and apparently that nowhere was with SHIELD.

"Me as in Peter Parker or Spider-Man?" he asked, looking behind his shoulder to make sure May wasn't listening. It's not like she didn't know about his… nightly whereabouts, he just wasn't comfortable with making her worry. She already had too much to deal with, with the nephew by day and vigilante by night thing he had going on.

It was also a little concerning that the three in front of him knew that he was visiting her today. He wondered if his apartment was bugged (well, more than the daily roaches and ants) or if SHIELD had been keeping an eye on him after he had denied their offer, instead opting to stay in SI.

It was probably the second one, although the first one was entirely a possibility. He was going to need to talk with Mister Stark about debugging his shitty one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn.

"We need Peter Parker and his tech skills for this one," Fury said, before shoving the file in Peter's hands and crossing his own, “and my offer still stands.”

"For the last time, I'm not joining your little murderous boy band," Peter grumbled, scrunching his eyebrows as he looked at your twitching lips, as if holding in laughter. "I'm perfectly content with working with Dr. Connors in his little laboratory in SI."

Fury didn’t look convinced and opened his mouth to probably threaten Peter, when Aunt May came in with a tray of cookies. They smelled amazing, too good to be made by her, she probably brought them from Delmer’s.

“Oh- Were you…? I just thought you guys might want to eat something,” She said awkwardly, looking at Peter with pleading eyes.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, May! I would love to eat some of those, I’m famished,” You butt in, taking the tray from her with a smile.

“Um, May, you can um- you know?” Peter gestured, shifting on his legs, hoping that May would get the message before she stood for a minute too long. He didn’t like the way Nick Fury’s eye was looking at him, his tranquilizer gun suddenly visible from his leather jacket.

“Don’t be rude Pete, here May, I’ll help you get that.” You smiled, winking at him and dragging May by her arm, who was mouthing “she’s such a sweetheart” behind her shoulders.

"What if I told you that his man accidently got evicted due to some legal issues? And that now you're legally unemployed with severe financial issues that need to be looked after because the government suspects something illegal brewing?" Fury continued, looking him dead in the eye.

"Are you seriously blackmailing me? Threatening to unemploy me after all that shit you put me through with Mysterio?" Peter defended, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, watching you strutt back into the room, distracted by the sway of your hips in your mom jeans. He tried to shake the image, rolling his head to crack some tension that had built at the base of his skull.

"Mysterio was a mistake, Parker. This one is not; and we really need you for this one. Besides, remember that you're still a vigilante that hasn't signed the Accords of Sokovia."

Peter stiffened that the mention of the Accords. He thought the government was over it after the second amendment after the arrest of Thaddeus Ross, but apparently not.

"You said that last time and I almost died! My ex-girlfriend almost died, my best friend nearly died, heck half of Europe almost died because you Director Fury, apparently trust some superhero wannabe in a green and purple costume and overlook facts that could potentially harm someone. So the answer is clearly no!" he retorted, flopping the file on the table as he resisted the urge to sit on the floor flat on his back.

The three agents were looking at him with an unreadable expression, making him uncomfortable in his skin.

"Well, it's all up to you then." His voice had a finality to it, one that irked him to no end.

"Do I have a choice?" He sighed after a beat, looking at the three of you with a forlorn expression.

"Get your equipment ready, Mr. Parker. We'll be leaving for the camp tonight. You can read the details in this file." He heard Agent Coulson say (he was pretty sure his name was Phil), trying to make sense of how fast everything was going past the chronic tinnitus in his ears.

"It's Dr. Peter Parker," he muttered fruitlessly, blushing under your raised eyebrow.

***

"So, I didn't know you got a PhD. I knew you were smart, still are, considering that you're a PhD at twenty two," You said, sipping on your virgin mojito, and placing the mug in front of you.

Peter had taken you to a cafe after the confrontation, wanting to know more about your whereabouts and how he had not noticed that you were a superspy all of his high school years. You had retorted with a simple "I'm a spy, that's why,” which he found pretty badass.

"Well, yeah, I did my undergraduate and PhD together." He shrugged casually, looking out of the window to avoid looking at you.

You had always been beautiful, but somehow, you had become even more beautiful than the last time Peter saw you.

"That sounds brutal. Only you can manage that," You joked. You weren't going to admit it, but you had missed being with Peter, joking with him and watching his beautiful side profile as he blushed under your scrutinizing gaze.

"So, um. This thing, what is it about?" Peter asked, snapping you out of your daze.

"Huh? Oh it's a long story. Like really long, if this was a TV show it would take five episodes for me to explain." You gestured, dismissing his scowl. "Okay, so you remember that time when that super high security facility was broken in back in december 2019?"

"Which super high facility? There are a lot of break ins happening in high security facilities in America, and it's more than concerning, considering they're supposed to be super high security." He said, fiddling with his own drink.

"Okay, Yeah that's true. It was a S.W.O.R.D facility, and long story short, Wanda Maximoff kidnapped her corpse husband to reenact the dad-knows-best suburban lifestyle with an entire town held as her hostage." You said, looking over your shoulders to make sure no one was listening.

"Wanda stole Vision's corpse? Wait, is this about Westview? 'The Town that ceased to exist'? Is that what happened? Is this some sort of mind control thing? Cause I know she can make people believe what she wants them to..." Peter whispered, leaning in to show that he was interested. You took a moment to admire his front profile, his broken nose and dimpled chin, rosy lips and sharp cheekbones, accidently zoning out on his theories.

Leaning forward, you brought a hand up his face, pushing a stray curl behind his ears, cutting him short of his rambling.

"W-what?" He stuttered, his breath hitching, making the table shake with a wince.

"You have nice hair." You commented with a smirk, caressing his hair one more time.

"You said that in the senior's party too, and well, there's no sex happening anytime soon." He said, rolling his eyes, sitting back in his hair with his hands folded on his chest.

"I like being optimistic." You rolled your own eyes, heart beating a mile a minute at the reminder of your relationship- ex relationship with Peter, "so what were you saying about Westview? I kind of zoned out."

You watched him roll his eyes again, trying not to let your eyes wander around his biceps and the little bit of his collarbones peeking from his shirt, unbuttoned from the top, also exposing the thin chain that he always seems to be wearing. With a start you realised that it was the one you had gifted him on his eighteenth birthday.

"So this town, Westview, it just disappeared right? Behind a barrier of sorts? Is it like, coming from an energy source? Was it created by Wanda? " he asked, ever his inquisitive self.

"Yeah, apparently she's created an alternate reality, sitcom style, with the people of Westview trapped in it."

"So she's basically starring in a fanfiction alternate reality of sorts but a sitcom format? Wouldn't blame her, poor woman's been through a lot." He nodded, shifting in his seat. He could feel your eyes burning a hole in his skull, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Are you staying in a hotel? Or a shield facility?"

"Nope," You answered, leaning back on your chair. "Am I still allowed to stay in your room? With the doors open?"

He watched you with narrowed eyes, tilting his head with a smirk, replying to you with a nod, "alright."

***

"Did you pack your mittens? The extra warm ones with a built in heater? You know you're susceptible to frost bites-"

"May! I packed my mittens." Peter murmured, ducking his head in embarrassment as he raised an eyebrow at your amused smile.

"Okay, okay, that's great. Socks? Painkillers? Extra pair of glasses?" she asked, fumbling around the room like she did whenever he went on field trips.

"Yes, May!"

"Great. Stay safe, okay?" Her eyes softened, holding his cheeks in his hand like he was a seven year old, living with them with a knowledge of death no seven year old should have. Sighing, he leant into her palm, holding his own hand encompassing her small one. Giving her a smile, he kissed her cheek. “Ti amo, May. I’ll call you once I get there, okay?”

She nodded, pulling him into her embrace, though she knew full well that he’s going to forget to call her, too excited to be in the vicinity of multiple certified geniuses and other figures of authority.

***

"Is there anything I should know about? Like anything unexpected?" Peter asked, looking at the camp in awe as the jeep pulled over makeshift gates, a bunch of soldiers surrounding them.

Peter was used to seeing the hustle and bustle of camps, considering all the missions he had gone through with the Avengers, back when Steve wasn’t retired and the newer generation of avengers hadn’t entered.

“Your blood’s radioactive, right?” You asked, turning to face him with a smile.

“Yeah. Why? Is that relevant?” he replied, raising an eyebrow as he saw someone carrying his bags before he could protest.

“Well, Dr. Lewis found out about this hexagonal anomaly, no one really knows what it is, but the source seems to be emitting huge amounts of radiations,” You said, getting off the jeep, pulling Peter out with you. Walking towards the crowded camp, you came face to face with the tent where everything was set up.

“Doctor Darcy Lewis?” Peter said, looking at the place in awe. It wasn’t extravagant, but the technology surrounding the tent, the vans and what seemed to be a broadcasting antenna were all way beyond the regular one used in tech companies, which is funny, considering he’s been working with Mr. Stark his whole teenage life.

“Yup, that’s her, nerd.”

“So, what exactly is this Hexagon? Is it, like, a barrier of sorts? Can everyone go in?” He asked, looking around with glinting eyes, lips twitching in a smirk as he saw the barrier in question. His super hearing caught the static sound it emitted, wincing at the sharp noises. His boots crunched under the snow as he felt the thing pull him towards it, your voice muffled by the noises of the hex.

It was something he had never seen before, like the static of a TV with a lost signal, glowing red in places as if reaching out to him. His senses seemed dull, the world greying around the way it had before he was bit by the radioactive spider. The spider bite had enhanced his vision in a way that he saw colours not visible to the human eye, a technicolour wonder that even Bruce couldn’t solve.

He felt a tug, looking down at his shoes, wondering if he had just imagined it.

“Mom and dad have been, not fighting, just like different.”

He swore he felt a white light flash in front of him, his spidey sense buzzing at the base of his skull, tingling all the way to his spine as he straightened up to dissipate the feeling, shifting awkwardly.

“Only Captain Rambeau has gone in and come back intact so far. It’s emitting a colossal amount of cosmic microwave background radiation, also known as CMBR, and once you get into it, your mind doesn’t really stay your own, so no one has volunteered other than her. Everyone knows the risk,” You said, startling him, a sharp contrast to the voices that seemed to have suddenly accumulated in his brain.

“If you’re going to break the sound barrier, please just take your brother with you!”

‘Sound barrier?’ he thought, looking back at the hex as it flashed red, the tug strong enough to make him stumble in his place. You looked at him weirdly, asking if he was okay, but he wasn’t listening, turning to ask you what the red flash meant, distortion evident in the barrier.

“Captain Rambeau? The daughter of the director of SWORD?” he asked instead.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“Damn.” He sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair, and dragging it down his face.

Walking inside the tent, Peter was hit with a face full of cold air, and the hundreds of monitors nearly gave him a sensory overload. The people running around didn’t help, either. “Where do I keep this?” He asked, pointing to his bag full of equipment that Fury had asked for.

“You can set up over here, newbie,” A new voice said chirpily. Turning around, he came face to face with the Darcy Lewis, eyes widening as he took in her smiley presence, another human who he didn't recognise standing behind her. “Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Doctor D-”

“Darcy Lewis, I know- I’m a fan!”

“Aw look at you, you have a fanboy at your hand,” Captain Monica Rambeau said, strutting in and keeping a hand on her shoulder, confidence radiating off of her every pore.

"And… You are?" he asked awkwardly, looking pointedly at the FBI agent. He saw Darcy hide a snicker behind her hand, patting his shoulder and shoving him forward.

The man fell forward, steadying himself on the table before he flicked a card seemingly out of nowhere. "Agent Jimmy Woo, FBI,” he said proudly, a smile on his cute little baby face. Peter was left staring in awe, wondering how he had done that.

"Wait, can you do that again? How did you do that?!"

"It's cool, isn't it? I could teach you if you want."

"Yes, of course, but how did you do it? It appeared out of nowhere and if you take in consideration the law of conservation of mass, it can neither be created nor be destroyed and it just seemed to have accumulated-"

"It's a trick of illusion. You see, when I opened my palms, I-"

"Peter, let's set things up shall we?" You interrupted their session, a smirk on yours and the other women's faces, shaking your head.

Ditching the bag on the counter, he nodded, willing his heart to stop beating out of his chest. This was the coolest thing that had ever happened to him next to Tony Stark sitting on his aunt’s old futon. And the magic trick.

“This is the coolest day of my life,” he whispered, shrugging when you chuckled at his excitement. “Ned’s going to freak out.”

“Wait until you see the schematics and control panels.” You smirked, making him raise an eyebrow as he blushed, the flush apparent from his neck to his ear. The others scattered just as he finished setting his station up, fidgeting with the radio, when the voice of Hayward boomed across the cubicle.

“Ah, Mister Parker!” he says, a faux smile on his face as he looks at the station, making Peter shift uncomfortably. The weird tingling of his spidey-sense came up again, his hand automatically reaching there to scratch at the itch.

“Here we go again,” Darcy muttered, patting Peter’s back, her eye roll loud enough for him to glance at her.

“It- It’s doctor,” he muttered, hearing a “he gets me” from Darcy.

“Very well, Doctor Parker it is, then. I’m Hayward, welcome to SWORD.”

“SWORD? I thought this was a SHIELD thing?”

“...Fury didn’t brief you?”

“He did! He was just very vague, hence why I’m asking. What exactly have I been called here for?”

The silence that took over was palpable, with you shifting awkwardly as Hayward eyeballed them all, looking at the five of them morosely before saying, “Brief him Monica,” and leaving.

“God, is every higher official such a dick here?” Peter grumbled, watching him retreat, shaking his head as he threw the ball of paper he hadn’t noticed he had been fidgeting with.

“See? He agrees, I like him.” Darcy nodded, pulling him with her towards the briefing table.

“This all started when the town of Westview disappeared after the second blip,” Monica said, pulling up holographs that showed the image of people reappearing from the snap, his breathing increasing in pace as he remembered vaguely of his own reappearance.

The whole situation was fucked up. After stealing Vision’s corpse, Wanda had basically resurrected him, holding and controlling thousands of people, an entire fucking town. Looking at the list of all the missing people, his eyes zeroed on to one particular face. He racked his memory to remember who exactly it was, mouth hanging open when he realised who exactly she was.

“Is that… is that Agatha Harkness?” Peter said, pointing at the woman who had no name written under her photograph.

“You know her real name?” Darcy asked, looking at him with raised eyebrows as he nodded, wringing his hands around.

“Yeah, Wanda told me about her, she’s the witch from the Salem trials!”

“How is she significant to the plot, though?”

“She... she mentored Wanda, before she went to the dark side."

In the time he knew Wanda, she had been the sweetest person ever. She was like an older sister he didn’t know he needed, empathising with him on a cosmic level. They had come close before the events of Thanos happened. She was his person, and they shared a lot of secrets, this one being one of them.

“That’s one connection to her. What about the others? She keeps telling Vision that she doesn’t know what’s happening, but when the drone strike happened, she looked straight at the camera, like she knew,” Monica intervened.

“He tried to deploy a drone strike? In front of her children, after knowing very well that she saw her parents die in the Sokovian attack when she was ten? Is he fucking insane?!” Peter seethed, nearly crashing his fist on the table hard enough for cracks to appear on it.

“Peter, hey, calm down! You breaking things is not going to make the situation any better, okay? He already tried to chuck us out of this, you don’t go around breaking things now!” You said, holding him still as his body shook. You had never seen him this angry, and frankly, you would never want to see it again.

Peter was a sweet person, respecting people’s boundaries and always so understanding. He was the embodiment of good, even after living a fucked up life, he never projected his trauma on the other. He wore his emotions on his sleeves, and your heart clenched every single time, seeing him in pain.

"Listen, that's my sister in there, and she has no idea what she's doing. She needs our help and I'll do anything to help that woman and if you guys even think of hurting her I will make sure each of you regret it," Peter hissed, staring daggers at the silent team members of the room.

“Is there any way to reach there?” he asked, more softly than before. Darcy exchanged a look with Agent Woo and Monica, opening her mouth before knowing better and shutting it. “What?! Is there a way to communicate with her?”

“Follow us,” the brown woman said, breathing deeply as she looked at the other two silently.

"Where are we going?" Peter asked, fidgeting with your fingers. He hadn't noticed himself holding your hands, your lips twitching when you realised he had done that unconsciously.

“Trust me, I don’t know half the things these ladies do,” Woo whispered, and Peter nodded along seriously.

“Whoa, I feel like there’s a secret underground base here! Is there a secret underground base?”

“Well, it’s not underground, and not really a secret anymore,” Captain Rambeau said, unravelling a curtain, revealing a small space with a million monitors and a wooden desk littered with laptops and too many empty coffee cups.

“This is so cool,” You whispered, watching in awe as Dracy lit up the screens, revealing various codes and stuff you didn’t really understand. Peter was already invested, babbling about codes and addresses and hidden files within hidden files, things that flew over your head at the speed of Darcy’s fingers on the keypad.

Leaning on the table with one hand, Your eye caught a flat round metal looking thing on the ground, picking it up and tracing it with your fingers. “Is this… a bullet?!”

“Yeah, it was hit on that suit, which turns out to be 87% kevlar. That happened when Captain shot at it,” Jimmy answered, giving you a smile as you dropped your jaw.

“She went in wearing a bulletproof vest right? Wanda just… manifested a dress made of kevlar?” You wondered, your words interrupted by Peter’s yelp.

“So, remember how Director Douchebag ordered a drone strike on Wanda?” she said, contemplating her words next as everyone turned towards her. “Turns out he’s been planning something else.”

“What’s that?” Jimmy asked, pointing at the screen, which displayed two boxes full of what seemed like cells.

“That’s Monica’s blood work, he’s been tracking it the whole time. The first time you travelled to the hex? It changed your cellular structure on a molecular level, twice.” She said.

A sombre expression took over the older woman’s face, pursing her lips. “He thinks I’m gaining powers.” Monica nodded.

“I may not be a genetic engineer, but from what I’m seeing here, he’s most likely right,” Peter interrupted, a silence taking over everyone. “He’s keeping track of the enhanced, if I’m not wrong.”

Shaking his head, he clenched his eyes when he heard another voice. You watched him weirdly, reaching to ask him if he was okay, before retracting your hand.

“Chill out sis, it’s not like you can kill your dead husband twice.”

“You’re right. He’s been tracking everyone who’s enhanced, including Vision.” Dracy said, typing something on the screen to show you the map of Westview, pulsing red and blue dots appearing in your sight.

“Do you know what his endgame is?”

“Yeah. Rebooting Vision.”

Peter inhaled sharply, trying not to let his face show the anger inside him as he looked at Monica with wide eyes, both of them looking at each other dangerously, both of them realising same thing.

“Then, I’m going in. Someone needs to tell her,” he said, looking at the others for affirmation.

You took a step back, gulping in anticipation of his words. Reaching out with a hand, you stared at him, hoping he wouldn't lash out. "Peter, you have to know, the hex is a dangerous place. You won't even remember who you are so there’s no point in you going in. You won’t be able to convince her to magically leave her hostages, she’ll just see you as an outsider and throw you out-"

"Captain Rambeau went in and she was able to get out!" he argued.

"Peter, I was tossed out because she saw me as a threat. She might not do that to you but going in that thing is dangerous, especially with your mutations-"

"I don't give a fuck about my mutation! You of all people should know how it feels like to lose family, Monica," Peter said, looking at her. The fire in his eyes spoke volumes. No one dared to intervene.

"Peter, your mutation could potentially kill you. You know the risks of going past the barrier due to your enhancements. The radiations are altering DNA to a molecular level, your cells-”

"-are already metastasizing! My spider DNA is going to get me killed some day because my body won’t be able to handle it anymore, so I don't care, I'm going and that's final." He nodded, puffing his chest to show that he wasn't going to step down.

"Fine, I'll come with you then," You said, looking at him as you said that. A lump formed in your throat as you realised that he was so willing to sacrifice himself, and blood pumped in your veins as determination set in along with a rush of adrenaline.

"Do as you please." He shrugged, pursing his lips, but his eyes were a different story. You felt sick, insides tearing themselves up as you took a good look at him and his pallor, the artificial lights illuminating the scar tissues on his face. Ones that you knew were inflicted by his years of being the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.

***

“Maximoff is never gonna negotiate with us,” Hayward said, circling the table as Monica looked at him with disbelief in her expression. “We’ll need all the guns we have here to stop her.”

“We can’t outgun her, but what we can do is try and talk her out of this. Antagonising her is only making things worse. If Wanda is the problem, she has to be our solution!” Monica argued, looking forward.

“She’s already killed thousands during the Sokovian attack. How do you guarantee that she won’t kill another person she finds threatening?!”

“She was guilty about it. It wasn’t her fault, do not bring that into this.”

“Yeah? Well, the guilt isn’t going to bring back the dead children is it?”

"The dead children aren't coming back, but those people trapped in Westview? They can, if you fucking let us!"

"Fine. But someone will be monitoring you."

Negotiations with your boss and commanding team of SWORD concerning the ship was a tough feat. you had finally convinced them to let you and Peter go across the border, but Darcy and Monica were to be on the radio in case everything went amiss.

Sitting in the (illegally acquired) van, you watched Jimmy, who was trying to teach Peter the card trick, invested in the trick yourself. Leaning forward to get a better view, you tried not to let the rush of blood in your cheeks get to you at the close proximity with Peter, heart pounding with every step you took closer to the hex.

“I did it! I finally did it, Y/N, look!” Peter said, showing you the trick, smiling at his childlike enthusiasm.

“That’s great! You should show it to Morgan, she’ll like it.”

“How do you know about Morgan?”

“I know everything.”

You may have been bluffing, but he seemed to have caught on your cue, the awkward tension reappearing as he shifted in his seat, twisting and turning and going back to the magic trick. You tried not to smile, but your mouth never did coordinate with your brain.

“We’re here,” the driver said, parking the van.

“Okay let’s go through this again: Captain Rambeau and Dr. Lewis will be on the radio while you try and get in, stay near a radio as much as you can so we can try and communicate, and do not try to meddle with Wanda,” Jimmy said, going over your checklist.

You were skeptical of the plan, thinking about how successful your mission was going to be, considering how powerful she had become in her own little sitcom. You had heard of her expanding the borders just after you had started driving near it.

“You ready?” Peter asked, taking your hand as you nodded, and wrapped your fingers around his knuckles, before taking a deep breath.

“I’m ready.” You nodded, looking over your shoulders to see the FBI agent giving you a thumbs up, muttering something into the comms. Looking back at Peter, you felt dizzy with the buzzing anxiety, the pull of the barrier strong.

Stepping close to it, you felt electricity buzz in your veins, shuddering at the chilling sensation and sudden exposure to stimuli, your gut twisting the more your hand went in the hexagonal anomaly. You swore you felt your physical being tear apart, your life flashing in front of you in a white hot light, your brain was practically mush with how much force you needed just to get in.

"I thought we would be able to get in easily!" Peter shouts, his screams echoing in your eardrums, mixed with your own screams.

"She's becoming more powerful the longer she stays inside, and so is the hex," You replied, gasping for a breath as you tried to move forward.

With a final scream, you closed your eyes at the static sound bombarded your ears, you couldn't fathom how loud it must be for Peter, sending a look towards him. His eyes were scrunched, hands curled around his head and ears to stop the sound. Before you could comment on his state, your own vision doubled, bright green and magenta lights appearing out of nowhere, the coiling of your gut intensifying, and before you knew it, the strong force pulled you inside, throwing you off on the hard concrete of the road, and everything went dark.

***

“I’m okay. I’m okay. Everything is alright,” Wanda said, repeating the phrase like a mantra as she sat on the couch.

She repeated the phrase like clockwork, just like being a mom to two half synthezoid pre-teens and the gatekeeper of Westview. Snapping out of her daze, she felt something in her brain stir, realising with a start that something had been messing with the barrier-- or, rather, someone.

Closing her eyes, she willed her powers, similar to the ones Tommy had, to look past the barrier, opening her eyes with a flash when she saw a familiar face.

“Peter,” she muttered, the brown eyed boy who she had come to think of as a brother materialising in front of her, dropping on the carpet with a thud as his unconscious form fell on top of Yours. Wanda remembered you from all the stories Peter had told her about.

Crouching down, she reached out to touch you both. Her eyes glowing red as she held a finger to your and his forehead, scrunching her eyelids as she navigated both of your heads.

A lonely young girl was seen sitting on a rock, the wind blowing wisps of her dark hair along with her dress. Suddenly, the noise of clucking of horseshoes could be heard, a woman coming into view as she got off her horse.

“Feeling lonely and afraid at the middle of the night when you’re a young and beautiful teenage girl?” the woman in the cowgirl shoes said, holding her hip as the girl nodded. “Well, don’t worry, every young girl must have a sword at her disposal!”

“A sword?” the young girl asked, tilting her head as she took the object in her hand.

“Yes, a s.w.o.r.d, my dear. Fear not, for the sword will protect you from all the hexes around you.”

The girl smiled, looking at the camera with the cowgirl’s hands on her shoulder. “A sword to protect the young!”

Buy now at your nearest convenience store, terms and conditions apply.

“What are you two doing here and not at school?” Wanda chortled, startling the two who were now very much conscious. The boy moved, fisting his eyes, and he curled his hands to stretch the kinks that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, the varsity jacket scrunching underneath his fists.

“Babe?” the boy groaned, messing up his hair, looking at the general direction of the girl.

Putting on a smile, Wanda folded her arms, biting her lips at how adorable the two of you were.

“Ben? Is that you?” the girl asked, looking at her disheveled frock with a confused expression, finally noticed the woman standing in front of her. “Oh my god, babe, I swear we were at the bleachers not long ago. Did you manifest teleportation powers now?”

“Miss Maximoff! You’re Billy and Tommy’s mom! Babe, we’re in Billy and Tommy’s house!” The guy, Ben said, his voice rising up an octave as he looked at his surroundings.

He couldn't remember much about the Maximoffs, except that his neighbours talk about the weird mom and dad almost everyday in the gossip sessions. Whatever, he wasn't interested in them.

"She turned them into teenagers."

"Well there goes our plan. Do we still have back up ready?"

“That’s right, kids. Now, what were you two naughty children doing out of school?” Wanda asked, helping the two kids get up as the boy blushed, stuttering an apology.

“We- we weren’t ditching, I swear, Miss Maximoff! We were just-”

"-Doing homework! Because… because Ben's a nerd and he doesn't like that he gets behind because of the baseball team!" the girl said, stuttering as Ben nodded along with her.

“Yeah! We weren't making out or anything! Even if we're totally dating."

Their relationship wasn't exactly your normal relationship. It was more of a… mutually beneficial relationship.

Well, so far they had the entire town fooled, having them all think that a guy such as Benjamin Fitzpatrick would ever date a girl like her, who liked her books more than her siblings.

"Hmm, well, thankfully, I'm a cool mom and I will not tell your parents about this… thing. Whatever it was. Anyone want cheesecake?" Wanda smiled, clapping her hands once as she looked at the two teenagers.

Ben's stomach growled at the thought of food. "You don't have to do it, Miss Maximoff, but I would love some," he said, sheepishly looking at the ground, and wincing at another growl.

Wanda chuckled, patting the boys back kindly. "Oh honey, it's alright. Come on, don't be shy, the both of you!" she said, looking over her shoulder and saying, "and it's just Wanda! Miss Maximoff makes me feel old, you know."

They followed her to the kitchen, taking in the interior of the house. Ben's eyes caught something from the corner, it was almost as if it was… flickering? Shaking his head, he dug his fingers in his eyes, wondering if he was still feeling the effects of the time he had hit his head during the baseball practice.

"You okay?" the girl asked, keeping a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"Yeah, probably the aftereffects of a concussion." He nodded, burrowing his brows in confusion.

"Hmm, should probably get that thick little noggin of yours checked by the nurse." She snickered, hitting his shoulders playfully. Her heart was beating fast, he noted, wondering how he could hear it so clearly. The thought that he would have to leave her after she gets a date for prom made him sad.

They may be faking their relationship, but he had caught on very fast and realised that he wanted it to be real. As real as the town of Westview.

Wait, what?

"You know we don't have to pretend anymore, right?" Ben said, looking at the girl as she came to a halt. Miss Maximoff was nowhere in sight, the house eerily silent with her heartbeat echoing in his ears.

"This is the best ship SWORD could ever make."

The awkward silence was interrupted by the opening of the front door, a loud jingle as Agnes came strutting in, a big smile on her face. It made Ben's neck sting weirdly, slapping his hand at the base to nullify the feeling.

"Hello, children! What are you doing, skipping school like the little troublemakers you are?" She grinned, pinching each of their cheeks as her voice took a baby-like tone to it. Ben took a step back, grimacing as she continued pinching his cheeks.

"Um, we weren't- we have no idea actually-"

"Agnes! Oh, what great timing! Were you here for Billy and Tommy?" Wanda came in, a plate full of cheesecake and crackers in her hand.

"Oh, Wanda, Wanda, Wanda! Your little troublemakers are already in my house, or did you forget?" She chuckled, the sound of her laughter taking a higher pitch.

Wanda furrowed her brows, opening her mouth to say something, before closing it, a grin taking over. "Right. Yeah, of course! They really love it there with you, huh?"

"That's right, everybody loves Auntie Agnes!"

Ben looked at his girlfriend again, feeling strangely out of place between the two women.

"Um, Miss Ma- Wanda? C-Can we go now? I feel like-"

"Oh, Ben, don't be ridiculous! Why don't you sit down and take a breather? You look pale, hon." Wanda smiled, setting down the plate and ushering the two kids on the table, both of whom looked at the table with hunger in their eyes. Well, it had been long since lunch break.

"Thank you for the cheesecake Mi- uh, Wanda, we appreciate it," the girl said, promptly digging in after the affirmation.

***

Vision knew something was wrong the moment Agnes showed signs of knowing what was going on. The first time it happened, he was sure his paranoid wife would do something, but she had continued to act as if nothing was wrong with Agnes' behaviour.

Walking down the road in his ridiculous costume, he nearly sighed in resignation, before he realised that he wasn't capable of such human actions.

One more thing that perplexed him to no end was his strangely human behaviour. It was as if someone was forcing him to act more human, some weird force that was so unlike Wanda's warm presence, something more foreign and way out of his realm (like the gum incident. He sure did remember Wanda chastising him for doing this atrocity, surely she couldn't have been the one controlling him? Right?).

His mechanical heart ached for his wife. She had gone through a lot, from what he had read from her thoughts; losing a brother (twice, if the absence of Pietro was anything but a confirmation), and then him (it didn't bother him much. He was a synthezoid, there was entirely a possibility that he could be revived).

He just really missed her, he realised. Their relationship had been strained ever since the boys were born. He didn't blame the drift on his boys, of course. He loved them to no end, would sacrifice himself for them, but he couldn't help but notice the change it brought in Wanda.

The arrival of Pietro 2.0 didn't help either.

His thoughts were interrupted as his feet halted their movements, and with a snap he realised that he had somehow made it to Ellis avenue, the border's static buzzing through his entire being.

"You look lost, buddy," a strange man said.

Looking at the man, Vision tilted his head, looking through the database of Westview to see that the man seemed to be nowhere in the records. How had he made it here?

"I- I'm sorry, who are you?" He asked, leaning against the car door to peer inside, the man sitting rigid. It was only then did he realise that the man's eyes seemed… glazed, almost like he wasn't aware. Looking back at the barrier, Vision gaped at the view in front of him.

The man's car was half inside and half outside the barrier, the slow moving particles seemed to be disintegrating the vehicle, watching in awe as sparks flew the closer the barrier came to the man.

"Listen, you have to get out of here before that thing destroys you." Vision tried shaking the man, but to no avail. His attempts were in vain as the man simply grunted. "Listen! Can you hear me? What's happening? Why is the barrier moving?"

He tried opening the door, but it was shut firmly. Groaning, he punched the door, nearly falling to catch the falling man, who was mumbling some incoherent mumbo jumbo.

"Wanda, what are you up to...?" Vision muttered to himself, realising with a start that the barrier was expanding and the man had come from outside the barrier.

Looking at the muttering man, he quickly moved them both away from the barrier, propping him up against the grass.

"I'm sorry," Vision said, his hands gliding yellow as he touched the man's forehead, his own circuits being bombarded with incoherent noises.

"Oh god! I'm sorry, please save me! Please, this hurts, this- you- you're the Vision!" the man screamed.

"Yes, I'm the Vision! Now, can you stay still? I'm trying to help you!"

"-Please! She's in my head!"

His hands lit up again, the yellow light smothering the man's forehead as he went still again, as Vision retracted his hands regretfully. Opting to leave the man there, he stood up again, startling once again that day when he heard a shrill cry, the body of… Geraldine? Appearing out of the barrier. Shaking his head, he was convinced that he was hallucinating, if that was even possible for a droid, and turned around to walk back home.

(Agatha gave a satisfied chuckle, purple sparks erupting from her fingers as she turned back to Wanda, pretending that that didn't just happen.)

***

"Do you think our school is a little… solitary?" Ben asked, inhaling a puff of smoke from the blunt in his hands. His girlfriend and him were sitting on the rooftop of Westview high, their feet swinging against the edge as she clutched at Pe- Ben for dear life.

Peter? Who was that?

"Did you see that?? Peter was right, that was Agatha Harkness and she's been the one manipulating the people, it never was Wanda! It was meant to be a plot twist, but I totally predicted it."

"Um��"

"What? I'm invested."

Peter?

Y/n? Can you hear me? Please say yes if you can hear me.

She noticed the static sound of the radio speaking to someone. The static noise increased, and Ben didn't seem to have noticed the small portable radio malfunctioning. Shrugging it off, she went back to passing the blunt from her boyfriend.

Boyfriend. The word ignited a flame in her chest. Ben, who she faked her dates with once upon a time, now was her actual, real boyfriend, who she was ditching homework to smoke a blunt with, uncaring of her nearing curfew. Her parents would have her head if she found out.

"Do you hear that?" She asked, exhaling the stale air from her lungs. She knew it was more of the deep breathing than the weed, but it made her feel serene.

"I've been hearing a lot of things lately." He croaked, clearing his throat, sniffing the air as he leaned back, his Adam's apple bobbing with every gulp. His glasses were sliding off his face. She reached to push them back up, smiling at the flush of his face.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, slipping her fingers through his, rubbing a hand on his back. His life had been difficult, she knew about him being an orphan, but she didn't know he was having a hard time with life at the very moment, her heart aching for the poor boy.

"I don't know, I keep hearing these voices in my head. Children screaming, people crying, and this… this buzz at my neck, I can't ignore it anymore! I feel like I'm going insane and I can't keep them quiet! I've tried, but it's like they're trying to communicate with me."

Her eyes softened, hands running through his thick, straight hair as he leaned his head on her shoulder. Suddenly, the height at which they were sitting on didn't matter, she had him in her arms.

"He broke the fourth wall. He's been hearing things, just like Billy."

Wiping away his tears, she kissed his forehead, rubbing her hands gently on his back.

"It's gonna be okay. You're okay, they'll go away soon." She reassured, folding her legs to get up, and pulling him up with her. "It's getting late, and mom will have my head if I'm later than curfew."

"You've broken curfew before." He chuckled, stepping closer to Her, his hands on her hips.

Moving forward, she enclosed her hands around his shoulders, intertwining her fingers at the nape of his neck. Standing on her highest tip toes, she crashed her lips into his, their bodies swaying with the cold wind.

"Awww, they're so cute! Exes to lovers, I like it."

"I agree. Didn't see the fake dating coming though."

"Right?! Wanda should start a production company."

"If Agnes lets these people go."

***

Meanwhile, Monica had managed to find an abandoned shack in the backyard of Wanda's neighbour's house, her body buzzing with a familiar tension.

Opening the shack, she saw the trails of purple, vein like thing running their tracks until they reached somewhere she couldn't see. She didn't notice another person creeping up on her, too busy looking at the trails.

"Snoopers gonna snoop," the voice said, making her jump out of her skin, and keeping a hand on her heaving chest to stop her from hyperventilating.

"Pietro?!" She startled, looking around to see if anyone had heard her. The neighbourhood was eerily silent, leaning against the wall, before deciding against it and squared her shoulders, looking at the man in front of her.

"Yeah, that's me. But who are you? And what are you doing in Margie's backyard?" he asked defensively. She would have found the expression comical if it wasn't for her racing heart and adrenaline filled brain.

"I could ask you the same thing," she said, folding her arms to show a defensive stance.

"I'm here because… I live here?" he muttered, borrowing his brows as his eyes glazed over again, "Yeah, wait, no... I live with my sister! Who lives two houses from here! What am I doing here?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"God, this is so weird. First Wanda was being weird, now I am."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

***

Billy was afraid. He knew that he should be stronger and braver, if not for himself, then for Tommy. His momma always told him that the only thing to fear was fear itself, and he didn't know what that meant, but he knew that he had to be braver to get back to his mom and dad.

"Billy, I'm scared," Tommy whimpered. "I'm hearing voices again."

"It's gonna be okay, Mom and Dad will be here soon," he reassured, just as scared as his brother. They were only twelve minutes apart, but he still felt a responsibility for him.

Mom said that they both reminded of her own brother- Uncle Pietro.

Hearing the door open, he felt a chill crawl up his spine.

"She's here! Billy, she's here!"

"I know! I know! Shh!"

Her footsteps came closer, the cackling of her laughter making his heart pound. His brother buried himself in his shoulders, both of them huddled next to each other, as if the inevitable could be avoided.

"How are my best boys doing?" Agnes' shrill voice rang, making Billy breathe faster.

"We want Mommy," Tommy whimpered, sounding as small as Billy felt.

"Oh, I'm sorry honey, that's not happening anytime soon." She tsked, sounding as apologetic as the villains in the action movies his mom forbade him from watching.

"Why's that?" Billy asked, squaring his shoulders as much as he could.

"You didn't hear? Mommy's dead."

And his world crashed, his brain crowding with darkness.

A/N: Lemme know what you think! 😁😁

#wandavision #wandavision au #wandavision spoilers #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x stark!reader #peter x reader #dark!peter parker #wanda x vision #jimmy woo #darcy lewis #monica rambeau #spideygirl writes #queue tea

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aerkan · 3 years ago

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✨Darkolai supremacy!!✨

!!!!!SPOILERS!!!!!!!

Okay, so I just finished reading the Nikolai duology and... what even was that?! Hello?! I will look away from the hypocrisy and Aleksander slander throughout the whole first and second books, otherwise I’m gonna go mad from frustration. But I can’t let one thing go, why is suddenly EVERY. SINGLE. THING. Darkling’s fault? Like... how are the wars his fault? How is Ravkan economic crisis (which was there even before the Civil war) just his fault? How is Shu-Han and Fjerdan animosity towards Ravka his fault? He didn’t make them hate you! He was working for CENTURIES for Ravka and Grisha. He died for that very same reason (he believed he could protect his people only one way and died fighting for that way, he was not some evil scheming Disney villain - he was a revolutionary leader of an oppressed group, who got tired of the “nice” way and went nuclear) and I will not take any slander of his character. NOPE! Sorry LB, but if you wanted me to hate his ass, you shouldn’t have made him the only person fighting for the oppressed ones. Because when you do that, I stop caring about collateral casualties, which names I don’t even know, that he decided to sacrifice during a f*cking WAR. As a member of an oppressed group myself, I can’t see people from minorities siding with the “heroes”, especially those people that had to fight for their rights and freedom. (just my opinion honestly)

Alright I’m done with defending the Darkling (not really). With everything being said and done in the whole series for this moment, I can only say one thing: Aleksander deserved better. Not only did LB kill him, but she also doomed him to eternal suffering... I just. How can you hate a character you yourself brought to life so much? And he didn’t even get to be recognised by the main characters as anything else than just THE BIG BAD VILLAIN. I’m sorry, but Zoya, are you stupid? IF HE DIDN’T DO IT, YOU AND YOUR WHOLE WORLD WHOULD BE SCREWED! What I’m trying to get to here is, that Sasha was way too good for my girl Alina. She just straight up didn’t do anything for her people, only made it worse, and f*cked away to play house in her stupid little meadow (yes, I’m still salty about those flashbacks. 37 times is enough, don’t you think?!) She was the only Sunsummoner and she just... didn’t care about anything other than destroying the Fold and running away with Malware to raise orphans. THE. HEROES. DIDN’T. DO. SHIT. FOR. GRISHA! They, ultimately, made it worse for them and themselves. How exactly is stopping obligatory drafting gonna help with that war you are fighting? Hmmmmmmm????

So with all this getting on my nerves, I came up with excellent solution to this stupidity. DARKOLAI. Okay, okay hear me out! They are perfect! Aleksander will be his cold logic, protectively possessive, I show love through murder usual self and Nikolai will be the bright funny kind compassionate self. But Nikolai is older than Alina, has connection with Grisha already, served in the First army (was in battles and saw the real war - I’m sorry but cartographer probably doesn’t end up with a gun on the battlefield very often) and is capable of doing the necessary thing even when it’s not morally correct. They would discus the best course of action, then make out, sleep together and face king’s court in the morning. And there would be the sweet sweet friendship between Aleks and Alina that I’m craving!!! They could talk boys together! No stupid Civil war, just Grisha magic shenanigans, politic dilema, Genya Alina and Aleks talking shit about every male inside the Little palace, and sometimes little murder!

YOU CAN KEEP MALINA IF YOU WANT IT SO MUCH LB, BUT GIVE US POLITICIAN HUSBANDS AT LEAST DAMN IT!

#the dakling #grisha triology #darkolai #darklina #leigh bardugo #nikolai lantsov #alina starkov #tgt #please somebody write a fanfic #I'm begging

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zafirosreverie · 4 years ago

Note

What about a fic/imagine where after Agatha's gf rescues her from being trapped as Agnes, Agatha has nightmares of being trapped as Agnes as well as nightmares from the trial and reader comforts her? Thanks!

Hope you like it :)

Warnings: angst (with a happy ending). Also, this isn’t exactly friendly with Wanda, sorry for that. But if I were related to any of the people in Westview, I don't think I would consider her a “hero”.

Your hell will be theirs. I’ll make sure of that (Agatha x reader)

You woke up when you heard a sob and you felt your girlfriend tense beside you. You turned to find Agatha still asleep but with tears rolling down her cheeks. It broke your heart seeing this powerful and usually bold, funny, sarcastic and hot woman, like that, reduced to a tangle of sobs and sadness. She looked so fragile and small and helpless. Nothing to do with the version you knew of your girlfriend.

And you hated it. You hated that you weren't there to help her, you hated that you let her go alone, you hated that they had hurt her so much, you hated that you couldn't stop the nightmares. And you hated the two witches who were responsible for breaking her.

You actually didn’t know Evanora, the woman has been dead for so long (good, because you would have killed her yourself if she was still alive), but that didn’t stop you from hating her with all your being. She tried to murder Agatha, her own daughter, just because she was more powerful than her. Who cares if it was dark magic? Instead of teaching her how to control it, she decided it was easier to kill her. What kind of mother does that?!

When you started dating Agatha, she didn't like to talk about her past. You didn't know anything about her life, or her family, or where she came from. It wasn't until your second year together, after she made sure you were really serious about her, that she finally started to open up to you and told you her story. You fondly remember how she had to take the computer out of your hands to prevent you from buying a ticket to Salem and trying to find the corpse (which probably no longer existed) of her mother to burn her bones.

Then, she traveled to Westview.

She promised to be back soon, and you, of course, believed it. You trusted her and she always kept her promises. But after a few months without news about her, you started to worry. That’s when you heard the news.

You saw how Wanda Maximoff kidnaped an entire town, mentally controlled people and forced them to have her own nightmares, grief and fears, just to have a “beautiful” life herself. You couldn’t believe it. And then she just flew away without taking responsibility for her acts! (You thought about Ultron and the so called Civil War and what she did, and deep inside you weren’t surprised at all).

Without Agatha there, nobody stopped you from buying a ticket and the next thing you knew, you were outside Westview. It was like a ghost town, and you didn’t blame people for running away from it. But you didn’t think about it much, you just wanted to find Agatha.

It wasn’t hard, really, her house was the only one that looked like someone still lived in there. But when you knocked the door, it wasn’t Agatha who opened. It looked like her, sounded like her, felt like her. But it wasn’t her.

It was Agnes.

And your heart broke in the moment you realised she didn’t know who you were anymore. But you loved that woman and the world was going to discover it! You started to flirt with Agnes, which was a surprise for her (everyone else had left the town, after all) and soon you were dating her too. She let you stay in her house and And you took advantage of it to search the house, knowing that Agatha must have something that could help you bring her back. It took you several days, but in the end, you managed to open the basement door and found her spell books.

You weren't a magical being, but that didn't stop you from trying. Agatha had told you once that potions were like cooking. And thank goodness you were an excellent chef.

It hurt you a bit to let Agnes go, you really had grown fond of her, but to hell with everything, you wanted your girlfriend and you would have your girlfriend.

When she was free, she threw herself to your arms, crying like you’ve never seen her before. It took her some hours to calm herself, but when she did, she told you everything. She admitted that she tried to steal Wanda’s power, she told you how she acted friendly with the other witch to win her trust, and how she lost against Maximoff. You listened to her, hating Wanda more with every word that Agatha said.

The worst part, was that the stupid witch didn’t seem to regret it. You remembered watching the news, you saw how she smiled at someone, like she did something good, like she was happy with the result. As if she was being a forgiving and benevolent goddess. Now you knew who she was smiling to. She was smiling at Agatha. She was so proud of what she did to her.

And it sickened you.

Because she knew. She knew what her powers were doing. When Westview’s people were free, they begged her for mercy, they begged to stop the pain, to stop the nightmares. They told her it was a complete torture, worse than death. She knew the pain she was causing to Agatha. And she didn’t care. More than that, she was proud of it. (And she still claimed to be a hero?)

What she didn't know (and you didn’t think she’d care anyway) was the price your girlfriend paid for it.

For the past 5 months since you freed her and took her to your house, Agatha has been having nightmares. Every. Single. Night. Some were about her trial in Salem, some were about being Agnes again. It didn’t matter, both were horrible and she’d end up crying on her sleep, desperately hugging you like a lifesaver. Just like now.

“Aggs” you whispered, moving her gently “Love, wake up” you tried again.

Agatha just hugged you tighter and hid her face on your chest. She was shivering.

“Aggie” you said, kissing her temple and rubbing her back “Aggie, wake up”.

You kept leaving kisses all over her face, your heart breaking when you tasted her salty tears. After a few moments, she frowned and slowly opened her eyes. She relaxed when she saw you smiling at her.

“Did I wake you up?” she asked

“No” you lied “I wasn’t asleep”

“Liar” she gave you a sad smile. She hated waking you up with her nightmares. You shouldn’t be having to deal with it. With her.

“Innocent until proven guilty” you joked and kissed her forehead

“I-”

“I know” you interrupted her and she nodded.

She never had to talk about her nightmares, you already knew what they were about, and she was grateful you didn’t force her to relive them by talking about them. She played with your hair, just enjoying having you by her side.

“Y/N?” she asked after a moment

“Yes?”

“Would you stay with me forever...if I prove that I can be good?” she whispered.

You lifted her head to make her look at you, rage blooming on your chest. How can someone be so broken?!

“I’ll stay with you until my last breath” you promised

“Even if I’m not good?” she sniffed

“Love, If you decided to set the entire world on fire, I’d bring the fucking gasoline” you said.

Agatha blinked before she smiled and kissed you deeply. You pinned her to the bed and attacked her neck. She giggled when you locked eyes with her and made her a promise.

“Your hell will be theirs. I’ll make sure of that”

#x reader #reader insert #imagine #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x y/n #agnes x reader #agatha harkness x you #request #not my gifs

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sokoviaaccordsarticle16 · 3 years ago

Note

For the salty ask meme: 3, 9, 10, 19

3. Have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?

Yes, but never a mutual, and not really as much within the MCU fandom (partially since I’m a bit more selective with who I follow now). But back when I was more into Star Wars… WHOOF I would see some absolutely horrendous hot takes.

9. Most disliked character(s)? Why?

Steve Rogers. @spintwinwb knows what I’m talking about (YES I’m dragging you into this too, bb). Look, I find Steve Rogers to be both a fairly bland character to watch, and also a terrible friend. He is actively a bad friend to Bucky! Even ignoring Endgame! Steve rescued Bucky in TFA, sure, but he also ignores him for Peggy immediately afterward, then takes like… 5 minutes to mourn once he “dies”, doesn’t visit Bucky in Wakanda at all once he drops him off there, and of course, abandons him immediately for Peggy in Endgame. He doesn’t even interact with Bucky once he’s undusted, except to give him an awkward bro-hug. I do not for a second believe his friendship with Bucky was anything other than one-sided. He helps him out in Civil War, sure, but you kinda get the sense he’d do that for any of his friends, if only out of obligation.

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

As much as I genuinely loved FatWS, I’m pretty disappointed by how it wrapped up Bucky’s arc. I’m not sure if this was because of the pandemic cutting some plot lines short or what, but it was a bit disappointing that the show opened on Bucky’s lingering trauma from Hydra, implied that Hydra was still active, and then… did absolutely nothing with it. Bucky’s journey never really felt like it went anywhere, and I’m sorry, but I don’t think one sternly worded pep talk from Sam is enough to make me believe that’s he’s all copacetic now.

19. What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?

Errr within the MCU fandom I really cannot stand when Bucky and the Winter Soldier are two distinct personalities. It just takes away a lot of the appeal if the Winter Soldier is an entity that can be so cleanly separated from Bucky, and it also kinda ignores a lot of how the brainwashing/torture would naturally change a person over time. I also really dislike when the Winter Soldier thinks of himself as “Winter” in his internal narration. It’s too cutesy, and the fact that he doesn’t have a name anymore (just a title/role) is so dehumanizing and interesting - if he’s just going around thinking of himself as “Winter” (aka a name) that side-steps a lot of the more subtle horrors of his situation. I haven’t seen that as much in HTP though - it’s more applicable to fics that present Bucky’s time in Hydra in a marginally more healthy (or at least less actively terrible) light.

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noladyme · 4 years ago

Text

My Only Sunshine - Chapter 6

Liv is as human as they come – faults and all. After a dark experience in her past, she is determined to live life on her own terms, and never let anyone claim her as theirs again. This becomes an issue, when she meets a 1000-yearold vampire, who is dead-set on claiming her as his own.

CHAPTER 5

When we returned to the suite, Carl was gone. Eric sat with his elbows on his knees; staring in front of him. “Pam, give us some privacy”. Pam lingered at the door for a moment, before speaking. “I don’t want a little sister”, she sneered. “There. I said it”. For a second, Eric sent her a confused look. She left the room, and closed the door behind her.

For a long moment, I just stood there; waiting. Eric sat still as a statue, making me more uncomfortable by the second. “Is everything ok?”, I said. “Sit”, he said. I walked over to the other side of the coffee table, and sat down on the couch there; worried. “Did he find out I can’t be glamoured?”. “No… Carl doesn’t know anything about you, or your past…”. “What’s that supposed to mean”.

Eric met my eyes with a hard expression. “Carl had information for me about Godric”, he said. “Apparently, he felt obligated to tell me – as his new business partner – that Rose and Stan are going behind my makers back… Trying to start a civil war”. “So… you have a witness… proof”, I said. “We do…”, Eric said. “But it won’t do Godric much good, because apparently, he’s broken vampire law”. I looked down at my feet. “What did he do?”. “You know what he did. You were there”. He’d connected the dots.

I closed my eyes, and sighed deeply. “Godric was trying to protect you… He didn’t want me to tell you, because…”. “Because he knows I’ll die before letting the Authority execute him”, Eric said. “Doesn’t change the fact that you should have told me”. “He made me swear… He saved my life, Eric. I was pretty much dead, beat to a pulp; and he saved me, by giving me his blood”. “But first, he fed on you”, Eric said. “It was part of our deal”. “Yes, well… Try as he might, Godric is still a vampire. And your blood is… it’s hard to refuse, once you’ve had the scent; let alone, taste”.

We sat for a moment longer in silence. “I’m not going to apologize for not telling you”, I said. “I swore to Godric I wouldn’t tell anyone about what had happened. At the time, I didn’t know why…”. “That’s why he wanted to speak with you yesterday… To make you promise again”, Eric said. “No… Last night, he told me why he didn’t want you to know… But he didn’t make me do anything”, I replied. “I made the promise of my own accord. To keep him and you safe… And Nora, I suppose. I didn’t think you’d want her hurt either”. “That’s so very… human of you”, he muttered.

I didn’t know how to respond to that, but luckily Eric was in mood for a subject change. “We have an event in a few hours”. He got up to stand, and I followed his lead, moving towards my room. “Wardrobe preferences? Dinner or dessert…?”, I asked. His lips twitched into a sly smile. My slight attempt at getting him in a better mood, had apparently worked. Eric followed me to the door, and turned me around; wrapping an arm around me. He slipped a hand underneath my robe, to stroke the inside of my thigh. “Candy. Arm-candy… That purple number I found in the bottom of your suitcase, should work”. “Eric, that’s a slip!”, I said. “So?”. His fingers travelled north, soon reaching my folds; which were already wet. It didn’t take much for Eric to get me going. “I can’t just wear a slip in public… Oh, wow…”. Eric let his long finger between my labia and in to me, and used my slick to moisten his fingertip; before stroking at my clit. “I really need to… fuck, that feels amazing”. “So warm and sweet…”. His words came out in a growl. “And wanting to be ravaged”. The last part came with a teasing smile. “Not that sweet”, I whispered, and took a hold of his invading hand, to lift it to my mouth. I closed my lips around his finger, and tasted myself on it – sucking – all while keeping my eyes on Erics.

I backed away, letting the finger escape my mouth with a small pop. Eric gave me an anticipatory look, as I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his pants, and kneeled on the floor in front of him; pulling the fabric down over his erection. As tall as he was, I had to stand on my knees to reach Eric with my mouth. He drew in a gasp, as I stuck out my tongue, and let the head the head of his dick rest on it for a few seconds, while I stroked him gently up and down. “Solsken…”, Eric groaned, when I closed my mouth around him, and sucked him deeply in to my mouth. Eric was tasty – sweet and salty at the same time – and the soft skin stroking against my lips, as I moved my head, was like brushing my lips against velvet. I hummed around him, and smiled up at him with my eyes. He placed his hand on the side of my head, playing with my hair between his fingers. The sounds of grunts and moans from above me, egged me on; as I was bobbing my head back and forth – making swallowing movements and sucking in my cheeks. I cradled Erics balls in my palm, and massaged them; soon feeling them tense up.

Suddenly, Eric took a firm hold of my hair, and used his other hand, to raise me to my feet. “You’re asking for it…”, he growled. “Bed’s too far away”. “What do you mean? It’s right…”. Eric threw me against the wall; before lifting me up to straddle him, and thrusting into me – hard. “Eric!”, I croaked. With wild abandon, Eric pounded in to me. He wasn’t trying to drag anything out this time, and the sheer force of his thrusts made me worried I’d be walking funny afterwards. He was in fact ravaging me. With wanton grunts and groans, Eric had his way with me like this; while I whimpered from the delicious assault. He kissed and nibbled at the skin on my neck, without extracting his fangs. I would have gladly agreed to him feeding on me, but remembered what he had told me about having gone overboard earlier. I held on hard to Eric as he fucked me, cursing breathily into his ear; while scratching my nails across his back. I would have left marks, maybe even very deep ones; had he not been healing so soon. We came at the same time; me with a loud moan, and Eric with a guttural growl.

“So. You’ll wear the purple dress”, Eric smirked. “Not happening”, I chuckled. He lifted me off him, and set me down on the floor again. Steadying myself against his tall frame, I got on my toes, and kissed his lips.

---

I was wearing the purple slip. After Eric literally having tried – in vain, of course – to glamour me into putting it on, I obliged. I’d put a black sequined mesh number over it, making me feel a little less exposed – but still sexy as hell. Heels were apparently required again, but I was getting in to the habit of wearing them.

The event Eric had mentioned, was another party. This time, all of the sheriffs were attending, apparently; as there was a line to get in to the large building – one of those large warehouses where rich people had their terrible art exhibitions. “What is this thing?”, I muttered to Pam. “Another mingling situation”, she said. “Everyone running for sheriff will be kissing each other’s asses, to get votes”. “And my job is…?”. “Looking edible, and not falling over… Oh, and try not to die”.

Eric clearly had zero patience for waiting in any lines, and walked straight up to the door with Pam and me in tow. The girl standing there gulped when she saw the tall Viking. “Sheriff Northman, Area 5; with party”, Eric said. “I am sorry, sheriff; but there is a line”. Eric hunched over, and looked the girl in the eyes. “I don’t see a line”, he said with a soft voice.

“Are you trying to glamour the staff, Northman?”, Carl said; having appeared in the doorway. “You know me, Carl”, Eric said. Carl let out a roaring laughter, and held out his arm, gesturing for us to step inside. We entered the building, which was already full of people; both vampires and humans. Most of the latter were dressed much like myself – meals on heels. “I hear you’re paying for this shindig”, Eric said. “It was a chance for me to clear my conscience”, Carl said. “After all, that unfortunate event involving someone we both know, did happen on my turf, last year”. We headed towards a large buffet table, set up with human drinks, and what looked like carbonized blood. I hoped it was TruBlood. Both Eric and Pam took a glass; and I stood behind them, like a good little blood-bag. Eric sent me a discrete look over his shoulder, letting a sly smile break the mask of the cool debonair.

“Do you have a show set up for us?”, Eric asked. At the far end of the wall, staff was hanging up some frames and screens, for some sort of installation. “Yes well, speaking of said event… The human in question just so happens to be a photographer. I thought I’d throw him a bone…”. Carl ran a hand through his well-coiffed hair. “Wasn’t he glamoured, after what happened?”, Pam asked. “Of course he was. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to clear my guilty conscience… Oh, here he is now! Thomas Porter!”.

I felt my knees give, and almost fell over; when a pair of hands caught my waist from behind. “Whoa, there, miss!”, a cheery voice said. Eric spun around; his eyes aflame. “Please let me go”, I whimpered. I stumbled forwards, and Eric caught my arm. I couldn’t meet his eyes, simply stood shivering in place. “Looks like you drained a bit much from miss Sunday, here”, Carl smiled. “Thomas, do you mind?”. I turned around, and looked at my former assailant. “Of course!”, Thomas said, and grabbed a glass from the buffet table. “Here you go, a drink will freshen you up”. He held out the glass to me. Come on. It’s just one drink, as friends. “I…”, I breathed. Eric pushed me to stand behind him. “Stay away from her!”, he growled.

Carl held up his hands to calm down the situation. “You’ll have to forgive sheriff Northman, Thomas. He’s a bit protective of his human”, he said. “I know how it is”, Thomas said, and rolled his eyes smilingly. “Sheriff Northman, thank you so much for hiring me to restore that picture. It was like having a piece of history between my hands” “That’s right!”, Carl said. “I heard you two had been in touch. You’ve never met before, though. Have you?”. “I never had the pleasure, no”, Thomas said. “But I’ve met miss Sunday before. When she came to pick up sheriff Northman’s picture…”. He winked at me, and I felt bile rise in my throat. Erics stance was taut; he was ready to pounce on Thomas. Just as I noticed him about to bare his fangs, a voice interrupted him.

“Eric!”. Godric was standing next to his son, and Eric instantly froze in place. “Inte nu”. “Du borde ha gjort det då…”. Godric met my eyes with his own saddened ones. I parted my lips, but couldn’t speak; so simply shook my head. ”Gentlemen, I don’t speak Swedish, but this is a party… Not Thanksgiving dinner with the family”, Carl chuckled. Thomas cleared his voice. “Well, I need to go make sure the pictures are hung in the right order…”, he said, and gave me a final smile, before walking away. “And I have to go make sure the ice-sculpture doesn’t melt!”, Carl said; disappearing just as quickly.

Eric was clearly trying his best to control himself. “Pam, take Liv back to the hotel”, he said. “No… I’ll be fine”, I muttered. “I’m going to kill him”, Eric snarled. Godric gave his son a hard look. “You will not”. “He is a monster, and him being here could get you executed!”. “He doesn’t even remember what happened!”, I said. Erics jaw was clenched, and his eyes read bloody murder. There was a long pregnant pause, before Pam decided to speak. “With all due respect, even I feel fucking uncomfortable now”. A young, beautiful waitress walked past us, with a tray of drinks. “I you’ll excuse me…”. She pressed her glass into my hand, and followed her intended meal.

“Your child is as willful as mine are”, Godric said, a smile ghosting his face. “She is as loyal as yours are as well”, Eric croaked, and looked at his maker meaningfully. “Which is why I did not want you to know”. Godric looked at me with an almost hurt expression. “I wish you hadn’t told him”. I stood there with Pam’s glass in hand, before finally snapping out of it, and putting it on the table. “She didn’t. I had to find out from Carl… Not only are you throwing away your post as sheriff, you also fed from an insignificant hum in a dry state; before giving her your blood!”. I tried not to let my face show, what Eric’s words where making me feel. “Everything you’ve taught me, and now you are breaking your own rules!”. “She is not insignificant, Eric… You know that; you’ve tasted her yourself. Her blood is precious”.

I clenched my jaw, and a choked groan escaped my throat, as I stood there, and let myself be spoken about. Godric turned his eyes to me. “I am sorry. You have done so much for me; and yet I still allow us to speak of you in this way”. I nodded, but did not immediately reply. “I hope I have not offended you”. “No, sheriff Godric. You haven’t offended me at all”, I said quietly. The ancient vampire looked up at Eric, who had a sour and yet guilty expression on his face.

“Godric, you will get arrested… killed!”, Eric said, breaking the tension. “If I do, it will be my end. I will not let you to go down with me”, Godric replied. “I will not allow…”, Eric began. “You will… or I will command you”. Godric put his hand on Erics shoulder. “It will hurt this human if you…”. “I don’t give a fuck about that!”, Eric roared. Godric smiled softly. “Yes you do”. “Varför ville du då inte låta mig bli av med honom?”. Hurt traced Erics voice. Godric shook his head. ”Eric, as your maker, I command you to not act on this matter”. Eric nodded grudgingly. Isabel appeared from the crowd. “Show’s about to start”, she said. “You need to make an appearance”. Godric nodded. “We will speak later”, he said to Eric, and to me, it seemed; as he gave me a slight smile, before walking away.

We stood for a long moment, not saying anything. Around us, sheriffs from the different areas were conversing, most of them obviously looking for support to win another term. I wished another sheriff would come speak to Eric, to interrupt the silence between us. Finally, Eric looked at me. “You need to remember your place…”. “Don’t act all pissy with me, because your dad yelled at you!”, I sneered. Eric grabbed my arm, and seemed about to speak again, when that weird classical techno music began again, and Pam appeared; wiping her mouth, from a stray droplet of blood. “Am I interrupting something?”, she asked, not even pretending to care if she did. “No”, Eric said, and let go of me. “You’re gonna want to see this… both of you”.

Quickly trying to regain my composure, I followed Eric and Pam towards the installation. Up close, I saw that the pictures in the frames were of exotic dancers – on, off and behind stage. The pictures were all hung up in threes. One of them as they prepared for their performances; one mid-performance, on stage; and one after – as the dancer was either catching their breaths behind stage, getting a drink, or having a smoke. I recognized a few faces of former co-workers from Sugar and Spice, on some of the pictures. Thomas was talented. He’d managed to capture the rawness of my former profession beautifully and devastatingly.

“Everybody, gather round!”, Carl said, from the small stage set up below a large white screen. Godric stood to the side of the stage, with Isabel and Stan; representing the hosting Area. A waiter came over to Carl, and handed him a microphone. He took it, and chuckled. “I forget, not everyone in the room have as good hearing as some of us… It’s with great honor and privilege – and due to the fact that I paid for this thing – that I can welcome you to this event tonight. I hope you are all enjoying the drinks. You have probably noticed that willing donors are posted throughout the room, if the TruBlood-cocktails are not to your liking. I had a taste of a lovely female, by the name of Stacey, a few minutes ago – and I recommend her highly… Being from a dry state myself, I’m happy to take part in the local attractions”. He smiled leeringly. “Without further ado, I’d like to introduce you all to a very talented artist; that not so long ago moved to Dallas, to set up a new studio here. He is the man behind the pictures on the wall here; which are all for sale, by the way… Thomas Porter!”.

Thomas sprang onto the stage to applause from the humans, and nods from the vampires. Eric tensed up again. Thomas took the mic from Carl, and nodded nonchalantly at him. “Thank you, sheriff Rockford”, he smiled, before turning to the audience. “For the last few years, I’ve been trying to capture humanity in its rawest state; and found that it was no more pungent than in the strip-clubs of America. The installation you’re about to see, is called Truth. Hit it…”.

Heavy rock-music began playing, and the lights went down. On the large screen, pictures began revealing themselves to the beat of the bass and drums. Close up portraits of dancers flashed, and then slowly, in series of three – as they were hung on the wall – were pictures of them before, during and after performing. Pam looked amused as she gazed up at the screen; clearly enjoying the pictures of the women more than the men. Eric, on the other hand, showed no emotion.

I knew what was coming before it happened. A series of closeups of a familiar face flashed across the screen, before a picture came up of a woman holding a cigarette between her fingers, and looking at the camera through a mirror, as she was applying lipstick. I had been wearing my red sequined bra that night, and a pair of frilly black booty-shorts. No shoes. The next picture was as I was on stage, with a seductive grin on my face and one leg in the air; snatching a 10-dollar bill from a patron, with my toes. “Flexible…”, Pam muttered smilingly. Eric shrugged in agreement. “When was this?”. I was finding it hard to breathe. Looking up at Godric, I could see that he also remembered exactly when these pictures were taken. Forgetting for a moment how angry I was at him, I grabbed on to Erics arm. “Eric… Oh, fuck!”.

The final picture popped up. It had been taken from a distance; shortly after Godric was supposed to have glamoured Thomas. I thought he’d left the alley, but he must have stayed behind – hidden, somehow – and taken the photograph. On it, Godric was kneeling on the ground, with his arm around my back; and his open mouth to a gash on the top of my breast. It wasn’t the only wound I had. My entire body was covered in bruises, and my cheeks were stained from my mascara running.

There was a murmur of voices, before Stan’s voice roared from the stage. “Where was that picture taken?”. He knew very well, where it was taken. Carl held up his hand. “Stan, is this really the time…?”, he began. “This was on your turf, Rockford! Wasn’t it?”. Stan wasn’t letting up, and Isabel was looking more and more worried by the second. Godric kept his eyes on the floor. “Stan…”, Isabel said. “California is a dry state!”, Stan boomed. “Godric broke both human and vampire laws!”.

Fangs popped out everywhere, and Rose and the rest of the vampires who had gathered around Stan at the opening-ceremony, stormed the stage to surround Godric. Eric and Pam sped onto the stage, and stood in front of Godric; guarding him. There were flashes of vampires running to take a side. In the midst of the chaos, humans were running scared for the doors; and I was frozen in place, terrified.

A pair of abnormally strong hands strong hands for a human clamped around my arm, and pulled me towards the exit. “Come on!”, Thomas said. “No!”, I croaked; having somewhat found my voice again. “I’m trying to save your ass! It’s about to be a bloodbath in here…”. He yanked at my arm, forcing me to follow him.

“Everybody, calm down!”, Isabel yelled from the stage. “The Authority has been contacted, and this will be handled properly, by the right chain of command”. “Bullshit!”, Stan growled. “As deputy to Godric, I still outrank you”, Isabel said. “Stand down”. “Fuck you! He’s going down…”. “You won’t lay a hand on him”, Eric snarled; his body taut, and ready for a fight. Godric stepped forward. “It’s alright, Isabel… Eric”, he said. “I will hand myself over to the Authority, when they arrive. I will stand trial”. “Godric, no!”, Eric said. “Silver me”, Godric said. “I am sure Stan and Rose brought chains”. Rose smirked, and waved over a pair of humans, who were carrying silver chains.

I went to run towards the stage, but stumbled in my heels; and Thomas pulled me up to stand again by the waist. “Don’t touch me… You don’t even know me!”. Thomas pulled me close, holding me flush against his body; and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “You didn’t think I would ever forget you?”. I pulled my head back, and met his eyes. They were deep, cold and penetrating. I drew in a big breath, and screamed. “Eric!”.

Every vampire on the stage turned to look, and Eric sped towards me. He grabbed Thomas, and threw him against the wall. With surprising gentleness, I was scooped into Erics arms; and he held me against his chest, as I fought to breathe calmly. “I’m not going to let him touch you again”, he breathed. “I won’t let anything happen to you”. Through my tears, I was confused by seeing Stan run to Thomas’ side, and help him back on his feet.

“Enough!”. A short, balding vampire in a suit, and carrying a silver tipped cane, had entered the room; with what looked like a SWAT-team at his heels. “Fuck”, Eric said. He put me down on my feet, and tucked me in to his side. “Who’s that?”. “Someone you don’t want to know…”. I nodded slightly.

“Sheriff Godric…”, the angry looking vampire said. “Magister”, Godric replied, and stepped down to greet him. He sighed heavily. “What the fuck…? I was in the middle of dinner, and suddenly I’m called out for this shit?”. He looked up at the screen, which was still displaying the picture of Godric feeding from me.

“I have to get you out of here…”, Eric muttered. He looked towards Pam, who was at our side in the flash of an eye. “Hotel. She doesn’t leave the suite. If I’m not back before dawn, you leave Dallas as soon as you can”. “Eric, I’m not leaving you”, Pam said. “If you try to stop them, they’ll kill you…”. Eric looked at her with hard eyes. “And you…”, he said. “I don’t want you here for this. Do as you’re told”. Pam looked down, and nodded. “Eric, are they gonna hurt Godric?”. He didn’t respond. “I’ll tell them… I’ll tell them he was trying to help!”. “No, you won’t. I’m not risking your life as well”. I grabbed on to his jacket, but he tore my hands free, and brushed his lips against my forehead. “Go”. “No, Eric. I…”.

Pam’s arms were around my waist, and before I knew it, I was in the back seat of the limo we’d arrived in; dizzy, from having been whisked away at vamp speed. “What’s happening?”, I croaked. Pam looked worried for the first time since I’d met her. “Stop talking…”. “Is he coming back?”. “I said, stop fucking talking!”. She snapped her head in my direction, and I saw blood in the corner of her eye. She was crying.

---

Pam was pacing the floor of the suite, constantly picking up her phone, and then putting it down again. For once, she was the one fidgeting. I was seated on one of the couches, not moving; save for the shudders of fear streaming through my body. Fear for Godric, myself; and Eric.

“Stupid, stubborn… fucking Viking!”, Pam said. “He can’t leave me like this. If he dies, I’ll kill him!”. “Yeah…”, I agreed in a whisper. “Well, get in line…”. “And then he just sends me off to babysit his human”. I frowned at her. “I’m not his human”. “He’s paying you a shitload of money”, she said, raising a disbelieving brow at me. “You’re his”. “I’m my own; doesn’t matter how much he’s paying me. No one owns me”. I sighed. “Look; money or no money, I don’t want him dead any more than you do… Even if he is a dick on occasion”.

Pam looked at me in confused wonder for a moment, before grabbing a sandwich from the mini-fridge, and tossing it on the couch next to me. “Eat…”, she said. “I’m not hungry”, I said. “Bullshit. Eat”. I didn’t have the energy to fight her on it, so simply opened the plastic wrapping, and took a few bites from the sandwich; before getting up to go to my room and change. “I’m really sorry about what happened to your dress the other night”, I said, as I passed her. “It probably cost more than I make in a year, but I’ll pay you back for it… somehow”. “Liv…”, Pam called after me. I turned to face her. “For the record; I don’t hate you… Not that much anyway… And you have nice tits”. I raised a brow at her. “Thanks… I guess”. Pam gave me a slight smile; and I closed the door behind me.

I got into the fluffy robe, washed most of the makeup off my face, and brushed my hair; needing to keep busy. I was tired, but didn’t want to sleep. I knew I’d have nightmares both about the evening’s events, and what happened to me the year before. I already had to fight away the memory of seeing myself on that screen, beat to a pulp.

Hearing the main door to the suite open and close, I sprang for the bedroom door; opening it. Eric was stood there, holding Pam in his arms; and gently stroking her hair. “I was so worried”, she sobbed. “Shh… I’m here now”, Eric said, and pulled back to smile down at her. “Inga tårar”. “Fuck you. I’ll cry as much as I want. I could have lost you!”. “Everyone is ok”. I didn’t speak, simply took in the scene; smiling at the gentleness of it. Eric looked at me over Pam’s shoulder. “Pam, go find someone to eat. You must be starving; those drinks back there were atrocious”. He kissed the top of her head, and she wiped her eyes, before leaving the room.

I timidly stepped in to the room. “Is Godric ok?”, I asked. “They’re setting up his trial and sentencing for tomorrow night”, Eric said somberly. “Before the sheriffs’ announcements”. “That soon…? Doesn’t a trial take several days?”. Eric shrugged off his jacket, and threw it over one of the recliners. “Not for us…”. He stood with his back to me; and I stepped over, and put a hand on it. “I’m so sorry, Eric… I’ll testify… anything…”. “No”. He turned around, and took my still outstretched hand. “I can help. I was the one…”. “No…! Liv, they won’t care what happened to you with that photographer; and if you let it slip that Godric couldn’t glamour you, they will kill you”. “But maybe…”, I tried. “Why do you care?”, Eric said. “You’re not mine… not Godric’s… You have no reason to help us”. I met his eyes again. “I don’t know. I suppose… I don’t want you to get hurt”, I said quietly. “You know how you tell me I have no sense of self-preservation?”. Eric narrowed his eyes at me. “I think we might have that in common”. “And you want to protect me…”, he said. I nodded. “I know you’re plenty capable of taking care of yourself; but…”. Eric’s expression hardened, and he let go of my hand. “I am. Implying anything else is insulting”. I swallowed hard. Warm and sensitive Eric was gone. “Of course…”.

My old phone rang in my room. “I should probably take that…”, I muttered. Eric gestured standoffishly for me to go ahead. I picked up the call. “Liv! You promised to call me…”, Bills voice boomed through the receiver. “Are you alright? Do you need me to come to Dallas?”. “No, Bill. Everything is ok”, I said. “I’ll be back in a few days. Fuck, why are you all on my case about this?”. “Because we care about you. I care about you”. “I’m fine!”, I sighed. In the blink of an eye, Eric had snatched my phone from me, and put it on speaker. “Yes, Bill. Liv is perfectly fine; in so many ways”. “This conversation is between Miss Sunday, and myself”, Bill said. “Eric, give me back my phone!”, I hissed. I jumped for the phone, but he held it up in the air; seemingly enjoying the sight of me jumping up and down. Looking down, I saw that the sash on my robe had opened, and Eric was looking at my breasts bouncing. I punched him in the chest. Eric simply smiled. “Liv!”, Bill barked. “Eric, put her on, right now!”. “Liv is currently unavailable, as she is still in my employ. Feel free to tell Sam Merlotte the same thing”, Eric said. “And that job is letting you feed on her, and have sex with her?”, Bill said. “Yes”, Eric said.

I felt like I’d been slugged in the gut by a sledgehammer. I should have known that was what this was all about; especially after hearing him speak the words he had earlier. An insignificant human. I clenched my jaw, and sent Eric a venomous look. “Bill… Mr. Northman is right; I’m his for the time being”. Eric flinched slightly when I said the word his. “I’ll see you soon. Thank you for calling”.

Eric hung up the phone, and tossed it on the bed. “I have a meeting in 20 minutes”. “Will you be needing my services, sheriff Northman?”, I asked, not meeting his eyes. “No, not tonight”. “Then, I realize I can’t rescind your invitation into this room, but please get out”. Erics face dropped, and he took a step forward. “Get the fuck out”. The vampire recoiled from my words. “This is about what Bill said”. I couldn’t hide my anger and hurt anymore. “This is about what you said… And the fact that I was stupid enough to think I was anything but another fangbanger to you”. He stood up straight, towering over me; looking anywhere but at my face. “I guess it’s my own fault. I just got confused about everything, because you seemed so upset about Sam and Bill…”. “Bill Compton cares about you… Sam Merlotte cares about you…”, Eric sneered. “And I care about them. They’re my friends”. Eric raised a brow at me. “Is this jealousy, Eric?”, I asked. Suddenly, he had his hand around my throat; and stared angrily into my eyes – his fangs bared. “I don’t get jealous about humans”, he hissed. “Especially those which aren’t mine”. “No… I get that, now”, I hissed. “I’m just a well-paid bloodbag, right?”.

Eric seemed stricken by my words, and quickly removed his hand from my throat. After a short second of regaining his composure, he seemed to be back in business-mode. “You will stay in the suite. You don’t leave, unless it’s with me or Pam. And get some sleep. You look tired and anemic”. “Yes, sir”, I said. I walked over to the door, but before Eric could say anything else, I closed it in his face.

I sat on the bed for a long time, just letting myself feel. After a while, I heard the words I had heard that night, a year before. This is all you’re good for, anyway. Lay back and take it. You’re mine… Then the tears came – unrelenting and with deep heaving sobs. I was such an idiot to think I ever mattered. Even Godric had only saved me, because he wanted my blood in return. What I was, was nothing more than a stripper, a bloodbag; and a prostitute to a man, who didn’t give a shit about me. I slapped my own face, to snap out of it. There was nothing wrong with that. I was doing a job, and it was paying well. What stung, was the fact that I’d lied to myself; letting myself think that I’d mattered to him. “You’ve watched Pretty Woman too many fucking times”, I chided myself.

I crawled up under the duvet on the bed, and even though I’d only shared a bed with Eric for two nights – well, two days, if you were getting technical – it felt lonely to lie there. I fell into a restless sleep.

---

I woke a little before sundown, still rattled and sad from the happenings the night before. Eric was gone; but Pam had sent me a message letting me know to stay in the suite, unless she came to get me.

I picked at the stale sandwich I’d brought with me into my room, and then called up Sookie. “Hello?”. I heard glass being moved around, and sounds of cooking in the background. “Sookie? Shit, sorry, I forgot you were probably at work…”. “Hey, sweetie! Don’t worry about it. It’s a slow shift… Sam says hi!”. “Tell him hi back”, I said. “How are you doing? Bill told me about that phone call, but he didn’t go in to detail”. Bill Compton, always the gentleman. “He’s not coming out, is he? I can’t deal with any more vampire-bosses right now…”, I muttered. “Things not going so well with Eric? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”. She sounded worried and angry. “Not physically. He just…”. I sighed deeply. “Sookie, we had sex”. There was a long pause, where all I could hear was Lafayette yelling out orders, and chairs being moved around. “Sook’?”. “You had sex… with Eric Northman… Was it good?”. “Sookie!”, I yelped. “I’m sorry… But… Well, was it?”. I could hear her smile in her voice. “Yeah… It really was”, I said, my cheeks burning red, and Sookie sniggered. “But now he’s treating me like just another fangbanger… I didn’t come out here to be his on-call prostitute. I thought maybe…”. I couldn’t finish my sentence.

I heard Sookie sigh heavily. “He is a big butthole of a vampire…”, she said. “Look, you’re absolutely not the first woman to fall for his tall, blond and mysterious thing… There ain’t nothing wrong with that”. “Then why do I feel like shit?”, I asked. “Because society has told us, that its wrong for women to enjoy sex…”. “Sookie Stackhouse, the feminist… I like it!”, I said; finally feeling a smile trace my lips. “I wish… I wish I’d never come out here… That I never met that 6’4, incredibly good looking, charming and… fuck, Sookie! I was really beginning to like him…”. “You’re only human… Liv, you have done nothing wrong, don’t let him get to you. You just chin up, and finish that job… maybe quit it with the sex-part, though. Get the money, and move on… Take me to a nice dinner when you get back, you’ll be able to afford it; and then you can tell me if…”. “The carpet matches the drapes?”. “Liv!”. Someone called for her in the background. “Sweetie, I gotta run. Call me or Bill if you need anything, ok?”. “I will. And, Sookie…? Thanks”. “See you soon”, she said, and hung up.

While in the shower, I made a decision. I was going to do what I had been hired to do, even if I hadn’t been completely aware of what that meant, when I said yes. But I was also going to do as Sookie had said. There wasn’t a chance in hell, I was going to let that big butthole of a vampire get to me anymore; he was going to get what he paid for, and nothing else.

While drying my hair, I called Pam on the phone Eric had given me. “What?”, she replied, after the first ring. “I need your help”, I said. “In more ways than you know. I repeat… What?” “I want to earn my money, and do the job I was hired for… I guess I’m asking WWGD…?”. “I don’t speak church”, Pam replied. “What Would Ginger Do?”.

I felt a gust of wind, and suddenly Pam was stood in front of me. “Will it piss Eric off?”, she asked. “Maybe… Is that a problem?”, I asked. “He ruined my dress, took away my room; and then almost died on me. No problem at all”, she smirked, but then raised a brow at me “One thing, though… Take it back ”. “Take what back?”. “You know what…”, she sneered. I sighed heavily. “Fine… You’ve never, ever pooped".

---

A few hours later, I was in couture again; at least Pam had told me it was. My chest was bound as tightly and as high as humanly possible, by a black satin corset-top; but when Pam had seen me exit the room after having put it on, she spun me around, and bound it even tighter. I had on a short skirt in faux leather, and strappy high-heeled sandals, that I was sure to twist my ankle in, at some point. I’d done my make-up and hair as I used to, during my dancing days; and I knew I looked both fuckable and eatable. Because of this very reason, I’d put a robe over my clothes. Pam looked hungry.

I was finishing painting my nails a dark color, when Eric entered the suite; wearing another suit – this time, with a shirt underneath. He looked every bit the powerful vampire-sheriff he was. ”What is that smell?”, Eric snarled. “I’m doing my nails, sir”, I said. He took three long strides towards me, and looked down at my freshly painted nails. “You’re keeping me locked up here, I needed to do something to pass the time”. “Doing as you’re told is part of the job, sunshine”, he retorted – letting whether this time, he meant sunshine as a term of endearment, or an insult, hang in the air. “Sir, yes, sir”, I said quietly, and screwed the lid back on the polish, blowing on my nails. Eric took the bottle from the table. “Where did you even get this?”, he asked. “I told you not to leave the suite”. “Pam”, I answered.

Eric shook his head in annoyed defeat. “The trial is in an hour; upstairs. The Authority figured out you’re the one on that picture; and they want you to testify, despite my insistence that you can’t remember anything”. “You told them that?”, I asked. He looked at me with warning eyes. “Yes, and you’ll repeat those very words to the Magister”. “I’m not going to lie! Are you crazy?”. The Viking-vampire tensed his whole body, bared his fangs, and roared at me. “You will do as you’re told, miss Sunday; because that’s what I hired you to do!”.

I wanted to scream, throw something, or even punch him in the face; but that last part would probably hurt me more than it would him. Instead, I stood my ground. If he wanted an obedient little fangbanger who did as she was told, and groveled at his feet; he’d get one. I got off the couch, and shrugged off the robe; exposing my outfit. “Yes, master”, I said. Erics eyes widened, and he turned to face his progeny. “Vad fan håller hon på med? Vad har du gjort?”. ”She asked for The Ginger. I thought you’d want a bit of an upgrade from that”, Pam said, amusement in her voice. I raised a brow at her. “Hey… I wanted to piss him off, not get killed”. Eric rolled his eyes. “We don’t have time for this. We have a trial to attend”, he said, and grabbed my arm. “Let’s go”. “I can walk myself”, I said, and pulled my arm out of his grasp, before grabbing my purse. He clenched his jaw, and opened the door for us to leave the room. The first thing that happened after I stepped out into the hallway, was that I almost fell over. Pam caught me by the arm, and pulled me upright. Eric had the decency to keep his back to me, as he laughed.

---

The top floor restaurant had once again been rearranged for what seemed like a party. I don’t know what I’d expected form a vampire-trial, but this was not it. The vampires present were all dressed to the nines, some of them in fashions that seemed to stem from decades before. There were very few humans in the room; probably to avoid having to do a mass glamour when the trial was over.

Eric strode confidently through the room, with people stepping aside as he went. I heard murmurs, and felt eyes on my back as I followed. “… the human Godric fed from”, I heard someone mutter, as I passed a group of sheriffs and their entourages. “Wasn’t she a stripper?”. “Northman likes them flexible and half naked. Haven’t you ever been to Shreveport?”. “… seems like the type”. I looked back at the group, and had to stop myself from hissing at them. I wasn’t out to get killed after all. Pam grabbed my arm, and made me keep up.

Walking up to Isabel at the center of the room, Eric solemnly nodded at her. “Is he in the building?”, he asked. “He’s been silvered all day in the magisters quarters… I would have stayed with him, but they wouldn’t let me”, Isabel said, a pained look in her eyes. “I know… You’ve been a good deputy to him”, Eric said. “But I should have been there”. “What difference would that have made? They would have found out eventually”. “No… Last conference, I should have been there. I could have stopped it”. Eric let out a frustrated growl. “You can’t blame yourself”, Isabel said. “All we can do now, is give testimony to Godrics character. Maybe we can claim the picture was fabricated… Have your human say it was a misunderstanding”. Eric gazed back at me. “She doesn’t remember what happened…”, he said, giving me a meaningful and warning look.

The hell I didn’t. I remembered everything.

---

#eric northman #eric northman fic #eric northman x oc #eric northman smut #true blood

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thechildofstark · 4 years ago

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The Problem With Civil War

Civil War was supposed to be a Captain America movie. It was not a Captain America movie.

However.......

The problem with it being a Cap film is that Steve (+ his team) are supposed to be the ultimate good guys. In all the previous Hero Title films (Iron Man Trilogy, Thor Trilogy, Etc.) the guy whose name is on the poster is the guy the audience is supposed to root for. However, because of CA:CW’s marketing and story arc, it was very much a Steve & Tony / Steve vs. Tony film, while trying to simultaneously portray Tony as a secondary character.

This post isn't about Team Cap or Team Iron Man.

The catalyst for the story of Civil War is...........interesting. (in the comics, its different. and a whole lot easier to understand the reasoning of both sides of the argument. but that's a post for another time.)

Tagging/registering/tracking every mutant/mutate/superhero/powered person is objectively a very bad idea. but so is running amok with no supervision in other countries and destroying property whilst literally wearing the American flag.

There are big problems on both sides.

The issue I find most people have with Tony is that they find him an entitled sellout who only cares about himself and that he committed war crimes, and the problems I find most people have with Steve is that he defended a baby Nazi and went on an violent international rampage in direct violation of the UN because his dead terrorist ex-boyfriend may or may not have murdered a whole bunch of people.

Ooof.

The main reason I think people get very annoyed/attached a specific side is because they are still projecting the characterisation from the earlier movies.

Iron Man 1 and The First Avenger? I love them. No notes.

Obviously yes there are issues in-universe but these are flawed characters with complicated issues and stories and so on, and I like them that way.

If I wanted a Nice Unproblematic Superhero I’d rewatch the Christopher Reeves Superman films. That is not why I am here today.

But by the time we get to Civil War, Tony and Steve have become caricatures of the ideals that they represented, so that the studio can make a movie.

Morally, Steve is in the right. Legally, Tony is in the right.

Ethically? I don't fucking know, they both suck equally in that regard.

Okay to be fair, Tony does try to help Steve like.........so often in the film. Because Steve is the Protagonist and he is Right even though half his actions don't actually fit with his previous characterisation/character arcs/basic human logic.

CA:CW was supposed to be a movie about Steve Rogers. But it failed in the single regard that the story wasn't about him. Even other Hero Title movie, the main character either does something, or has something done to them, and then they react to the situations and there are gratuitous explosions and a life lesson and probably a kiss near the end. But this film had the kiss nearer to the middle ew Sharon why and while plenty of shit got blown up, plenty of civilians and local law enforcement also got mashed by/because of the title character.

That is not how the lead in a superhero movie is supposed to behave.

And the film also continues down the general path of giving Tony shittier and shittier character arcs. The war he behaves in his own movies vs the avengers films? it’s a complete values dissonance. It is literally not the same character. Probably the closest to consistency we get is Iron Man 3/Age of Ultron but even then the differences are pretty startling. At the beginning, Tony was, idk, a realistic if fictional person. But the time we get to CA:CW all we have is an avatar for the writers to manipulate, damn character consistency, damn reasonable behavior and logic and everything that the audience has been told about him in the past.

Same with Steve. Heck, same with everyone in the entire damn movie. Barely anyone acts or reacts in a way that either A) previous behavior would suggest, or B) an actual human person would act or react.

Yes. I know. It’s fiction. I can suspend my disbelief.

But like........damn they fucked Clint and Natasha over.

The creators were trying to recreate a well known and well liked comic book story arc, capitalize on the growing divide in parts of the fandom over preferred characters/character ideologies, and do so without using the expanded universe and added context which made the original comic book arc so fucking good.

They tried to split the Avengers in half, only to realize that they had split the Avengers in half, and then when Infinity War came along, they basically had to write a plot where both sides did their thing without sharing a single second of screen time together, because the whole -

S: you tried to kill my best friend

T: he killed my mother

S: actually he was brain washed

T: but you knew and didn't tell me for years

S: well I was worried you would react badly

T: I wouldn't have

S: you literally tried to kill him

T: yeah I'm sure you be totally fine if you saw your parents being violently murdered and the guy was right there and your teammate lied about it and you were very sleep deprived to boot

- drama would start up again.

ANYWAY

the point is, I used to really like both these characters - I still like the comic book versions tho - but then they got way fucked over. I'm extra salty about Steve, because this was supposed to be his movie but loads of the screen time was given over to other shit and he literally commits so much crime and murder and has absolutely zero moral or emotional consistency. especially when it comes to Bucky and Wanda vs. everyone else.

Also with Tony, there is so much of an issue with Telling vs Showing vs other characters in-universe opinions of him I genuinely don't even know what the creators want me to feel about him anymore.

uuuuururhrhrhrhrhrhrhghfjjhdhjf.

tl;dr -

I saw this movie like six years ago and the way I feel about it has changed a lot over time. I used to be team iron man, could you tell? But the basics of it is this should have been an Avengers movie if it had to exist at all, there are so many cool Captain America stories worthy of being put to film, and this really wasn't the most perfect option. Civil War has so many problems, and I can even begin to try and list them here.

But I'm making this post because I just followed a really cool blog who happens to hate on Tony a bunch (I don't really mind consciously) but that annoyed me out of habit, so I started examining why I liked him as a character, and it mainly boiled down to A) some of the comics are cool, and B) CA:CW said I had to pick a side and Steve did so much dumb shit I just went with the easy option.

the blog doesn't seem to be a huge fan of Steve either.

my current stance is that they both got fucked over and if you want some solid positive Marvel content go read Runaways, or the Hawkeye comics.

The Hawkeye comics are the best.

#literally only one person is going to read this #anti tony stark #anti steve rogers #pro Tony stark #pro steve rogers #cacw #civil war #captain america civil war #marvel #disney #mcu #hawkeye #clint barton #natasha romanov #wendy mayomoff #bucky barnes #marvel comics #team cap #team iron man

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tasteofsmut · 4 years ago

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Tasteof Smut Fest Masterlist!

It’s September, and we’ve now come to the end of the Taste of Smut Fest! Us mods @eva-eleanore, @tasteofshapes and @veelawings would like to thank everyone who participated in the fest by creating such gorgeous works or who left kudos and comments for our amazing content creators - THANK YOU for this precious August gift! We hope that you’ve enjoyed this fest as much as we have! Here’s the MASTERLIST OF ALL WORKS sorted alphabetically by ship.

Albus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy

It starts with an inkpot by @penguinanimagus / vivi1138 (FIC) Albus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy

Senses: taste, smell, hearing, touch

When you have a crush on your best friend, sometimes all you need is a little push in the right direction. Being locked in your dorm, unable to see or be seen, might just be the perfect opportunity to confess.

Blaise Zabini/Ron Weasley

Down Into My Sensory

TheUltimateUndesirable

/ @ultimateundesirable (FIC) Blaise Zabini / Ron Weasley

Senses: hearing, sight, touch

A boring tasteless marriage with Hermione leads to Ron being enraptured by his sense when he finally feels something more again. That something is shagging Blaise Zabini. What's Ron going to do about being married to his high school sweetheart and finding himself without her? Go with it all like he has been and or finally move on from what was clearly a mistake.

Charlie Weasley/Hermione Granger

Bared Before Him by articcat621 / @articcat621 (FIC) Charlie Weasley/Hermione Granger

Senses: Touch, Hearing

One Saturday afternoon, Charlie offers a suggested activity that she just can’t turn down.

Draco Malfoy /Harry Potter

Long in the Baking, Never Quite Done by @p1013 / p1013 (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Taste, touch

“Hi, Luna.” Harry toasts her with his glass. “That looks lovely.”

She curtseys back. “Thank you, Harry. It’s to keep the wrackspurts away. How’ve you been?”

“Good. I brought cakes.”

“Wonderful. I’m assuming Ginny sent you in here?”

He smiles. “She did.”

“Warned you about Draco?”

“Yes.” He takes another drink. “Though I don’t know why she felt the need. We’ve been civil for years.”

“Does she know you fancy him?”

Harry chokes.

Centric Dreams by SensibleRen (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Sight, Hearing

Draco keeps having dreams about no one else other than Harry Potter. Each dream continues to come true the following day, until Draco has a particularly interesting one.

Woodsmoke by @underscoresally / underscore_sally (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Senses: smell, touch

After the war, Harry questions Draco and Draco demands answers he isn’t quite prepared for. But the warmth of a late-autumn fire and the smell of woodsmoke have a magic of their own, and as the answers come, so does an understanding.

Prepare the Brush for Me (I’m Craving With This Need) by @clemandben / Ladderofyears (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Sight, touch and scent.

Harry Potter is feeling artistic. Draco is his canvas.

Arôme d'Amour (Aroma of Love) by @slytherholic / slytherholic (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Smell

Harry's in for a surprise when he's hit with a perfume that attracts only the true soulmate.

With You, Always by acupforslytherin / @acupforslytherin (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: hearing

All his life, Harry repeatedly hears one same calming tune in his dreams. No one seems to recognize the mysterious song, until one day, Harry catches Malfoy humming it when he thinks he's alone.

all the feelings that you're making me feel by M0stlyVoid / @bonesliketambourines (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch

Harry should have known that ‘clean bill of health’ he got after a spell rebounded off him in a raid was too good to be true, especially with Draco Malfoy involved. He never expected this, though, but he finds to his utter shame that he could bloody well get used to it.

esto quod es, fortis et liber by @drgngrl87 / DragonGirl87 (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Smell, Taste

One fateful late-night run ruined Harry Potter's life...or did it? When the wolf in him threatens to turn life as he knows it upside down, he's left with no choice but turn to Draco Malfoy for help. Can his former Hogwarts nemesis fix his problem? And more importantly, will they be able to keep their hands and paws off each other?

Tracing Body Lines Unexplored by Veelawings / @veelawings (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch, Sight

Harry had teased him a few days ago, made a crude joke about Draco’s Slytherin scarf that he couldn’t even remember at the moment, but it had led to this. To Harry naked on his crisp white sheets, green eyes masked by a green tie and waiting for Draco to follow up on his promise. That he could make this scarf Harry’s favourite thing in the world.

(Or — gentle body worship, but kinky)

Even the Night by tackytiger / @tackytigerfic (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Taste Touch Sight

I'm so bad at this

Two boys meet on a rooftop

Read and find out more

Featuring lots of cigarettes, a Midsummer sky, close encounters in a bath, and plenty of fireworks.

the first language by saltwatergarden / @talkingtravesties (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch

There are some things that Draco just knows about Potter. For instance, he hates the press. He loves his friends deeply and would die for them. He's terrible at fending way his simpering fans and the stories about how powerful his magic is are more than just stories. He also hates being touched. Or does he?

Honey Just Put Your Sweet Lips On My Lips by angrywitchpolice / @angrywitchpolice (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Taste Smell Touch Sight Hearing

Harry and Draco’s first time together, lost in the sensations of each other.

A Light for Another's Dark by p1013 / @p1013 (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch

Every touch leaves a memory. For Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, this is literal. When Harry Potter goes missing, Draco is asked to use his ability to Read the memories embedded in the objects he touches to help find Potter. While following his trail, Draco's only certain of one thing: what he learns about Harry Potter affects Draco's life more than he wants to admit, and, more worryingly, not just his life, his heart.

They Glow (Bright) Under the Moon's Light by @zandragorin / ZandraGorin (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Senses: Sight, Touch It took some time but now Harry's finally realized that Potions isn't as bad as it once seemed. Of course, this realization has nothing to do with a particularly gifted (and good-looking, fit, gorgeous) Potions Professor. None whatsoever.

Don't Waste Your Eyes on Jealous Guys by EvAEleanor / @eva-eleanore (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Hearing, Touch

For two years now, Harry’s life has been different. Not only does he work in New York City as the Auror liaison to MACUSA on and international murder case, but he’s seen more of Draco Malfoy than he’d ever thought possible. Working with him, and spending time with him after work. During all of this time, Harry has watched him going back to his shitty boyfriend over and over again. The worst thing about all of this, he’d fallen in love with him. Maybe there’s hope for him though. Maybe for just one night...

Pottering with Potter by keyflight790 / @keyflight790 (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Hearing

Harry doesn't know why he has a wireless show either, but he's going to make the best of it.

Here’s To You by Drarrymadhatter / @drarrymadhatterstuff (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry

Senses: Sight and Taste

Harry’s in a muggle bar drinking to Sirius’ honour on what would have been his birthday. Draco comes into the bar after a horrific blind date in need of a strong drink. Together they take on the cocktail menu and experiment with taste and sight.

Crimson Neon by xanthippe74 / @xanthippe74 (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Smell

Winter, 1999. Harry thought going to New York would help him get his head on straight, but all he has to show for it are sore feet and a fridge full of takeaway containers. And now he’s homesick on top of everything else. It doesn’t help that his mysterious neighbour in 2C keeps cooking dishes that remind Harry of home and all the people he lost or left behind.

The familiar face behind the door of 2C is only the first surprise. As the bleak winter eases into spring, Harry discovers that happiness isn’t as out of reach as he thought… as long as he can find a way to hold onto it.

another heart whispers back by slytherco / @slytherco (FIC & ART) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Taste, touch, smell, sight, hearing

At twenty-five, Harry Potter is still a virgin and sorely lacking in options to change that state anytime soon. To help him find a plus one for Ron and Hermione’s wedding, and maybe kill two birds with one stone, Harry’s friends set him up on a series of blind dates. The only problem is, there’s something not quite right with each of their candidates.

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” ― Plato

In which Harry learns that some things are worth waiting for, that looking and seeing are two very different things, and that his heart’s song has been heard a long time ago.

Sun Stroke by peachpety / @peachpety (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch

Draco, Harry, and a handful of friends take a summer holiday at the beach. With the help of a sultry sea setting, encouraging friends, and a fisherman's jumper, Harry and Draco's mutual attraction swells and things get hot on a salty summer night.

Every Inch Of You by Ladderofyears / @clemandben (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch, Sight

When Draco returns after a year at the Koldovstoretz School in Russia he has gained some weight and now has quite a prominent belly. He feels shy about his new physique, but Harry thinks that his lover looks just as gorgeous as ever.

Cooling Down by prolix (shal) / @prolix- (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch, Taste

Harry needs to relax. Draco needs to cool off. Together, with a little bit of ice, they manage to do just that.

Your Music To Create by GayAFSlytherin / @gayafslytherin (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Touch and Hearing

Harry has taken up piano as a coping mechanism. However, he really wants to be part of a bigger group so he signs up to be the solo Pianist for an orchestra. What he doesn't know is that Draco is going to be the solo Cellist for the orchestra as well. They're both fascinated while watching the other play and, unexpectedly, by each other.

The Scent of You by tsundanire / @tsundanire (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Senses: Smell

After a chance encounter leaves his new sense of smell reeling, Harry discovers that being a werewolf has more to offer than he'd ever imagined.

Espresso Patronum by tasteofshapes / @tasteofshapes (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Harry potter

Senses: Taste, Smell

When Draco reappears five years after the war and opens a wildly popular coffee shop, Harry’s pretty sure that Draco’s Up to Something. He just has to prove it.

Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Royal Purple Polish by littymcgritty / @littymcgrittywrites (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Senses: Hearing

Tell me, have I lost my mind again?

I get the feeling you might feel the same

Tell me you can feel that love, feel that love again

In which Draco and Hermione try love for a second time. Sort of.

All Tied Up by sunflower_swan / @sunflower-swan (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Senses: taste, touch, hearing, smell

It is Draco's birthday. Hermione has a (sexy) surprise planned, but he will have to wait to find out what it is.

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy by MissELY / @misselylux (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Senses: Hearing

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger have a series of unpleasant, confusing, and electric encounters during the Death Eater trials after the war.

"And once again, for better or for worse, the sound of that voice is enough to fell her."

Limbic System by dirtymudblood / @dirty-mudblood (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Senses: Sight (and also smell)

There are very few things that are unexplainable. Quantum entanglement, antimatter, the Fermi Paradox to name a few.

Add to the list; Hermione Granger’s inability to orgasm.

Love is Blind by Aneiria / @aneiria-writes (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Senses: Sight

‘Draco, we need to talk about what happened,’ Hermione said now, placing a cup of tea next to her partner as he sat hunched over her kitchen table. She gently laid her hand over his, guiding him towards the handle so he could drink. ‘I have to complete our report for the DMLE.

Draco Malfoy grimaced and shook his head. ‘There’s really no need, Granger,’ he said, but she pushed on anyway. Draco had acted as bravely as any Gryffindor today, and she wanted to know why.

‘For all we knew, that curse could have been an Avada. You could have died, but you jumped in front of me without hesitation.’

‘Of course I bloody did; I’m your partner!’ he snapped back, looking in her direction with his sightless silver eyes. ‘That’s the first thing we were taught in Auror training, remember? Always have your partner’s back.’

Because Six Ate Seven by VexLonely / @vexlonely (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Senses: Sight

"Draco Malfoy had started gardening for stress relief, but looking down at his delicate failures, he seethed.

He had never seen Number Seven out in the garden, had never crossed their path in the posh St. Mungo’s housing where they lived. He blamed the wizarding world for enabling his antisocial tendencies. With a floo inside most apartment units and apparition at one’s fingertips, who needed to linger in a hallway?"

sandalwood and gardenias by secondbutton / @kissingturians (FIC) Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Senses: Smell

A balanced fragrance of sandalwood and something musky and earthy followed him like a shroud. Draco Malfoy smelled like a magical forest’s best kept secret. Like the moment following a storm when the sun peeks back over the clouds and living beings stop what they’re doing and pause to marvel at being able to roam outside again. It was a crisp top note with more robust undertones, and just a hint of sweetness. She thought she might love the scent if it lived on anyone else other than him.

Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood

Fingers in her hair by Hypallepse / @hypallepse (FIC) Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood

Senses: Touch

Whenever Luna is having a nightmare, Ginny is here to take her in her arms and distract her by brushing and braiding her hair. But while Luna is reminded of her mother, Ginny thinks of something else entirely.

Take a trip into my garden by sassybipotter / @sassybipotter (ART) Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood

Senses: Touch, Sight

How do you announce your engagement to the world? By capturing the ethereal beauty of your fiancée and sharing it with the world.

Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson

How to Pull a Publicity Stunt, and Everything in Between by @triggerlil / triggerlil (ART/FIC) Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson

Senses: Touch, sight, hearing, a bit of smell and taste

Ginny and Pansy live on the edge of the spotlight—constantly straddling the line between living private lives and being bonafide celebrity sensations—when they finally step into the spotlight, they decide to take full advantage of the attention.

a little chocolate now and then by Pineau_noir / @pineau-noir (FIC) Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson

Senses: Taste, Touch

There are few things Pansy Parkinson holds dear, but first and foremost is her girlfriend, Ginny.

Harry Potter/Ronald Weasley

Sun Kissed by @static-abyss / static_abyss (FIC) Harry Potter/Ronald Weasley

Senses: touch, sight

Harry notices the freckles the first time they meet, the light dusting across Ron's face as he stands there in his maroon knitted jumper with the yellow R in the centre. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd swear he could trace the tendrils of a lightning bolt from Ron's nose down to his cheek. Something warm settles in Harry's chest at the knowledge that, perhaps, Ron carries a piece of Harry, no matter how unknowingly. It's proof of a connection between them, the first real tangible relationship Harry's ever had that is good and whole and wanted.

Harry Potter/Scorpius Malfoy

Underneath Your Clothes by Ladderofyears / @clemandben (FIC) Harry Potter/Scorpius Malfoy

Senses: Sight

When Scorpius wears a pair of very small, very lacy and very revealing pair of purple satin knickers to work, Head Auror Harry Potter is driven to near distraction.

Harry Potter/Severus Snape

These Scars We Bare by MiriMora / @mirimora (FIC) Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Senses: Sight

Harry is a photographer by profession, and he's working on a new series to be revealed in the fall. He has one last subject that he'd love to capture for his series highlighting the brave individuals who bear scars from the Wizarding World's two wars with Voldemort, but he's pretty sure he's going to have some convincing to do if Severus Snape is ever going to agree to step in front of his camera, even if they are friends now. Further complicating matters, he's also harboring some unrequited feelings for the prickly Potions Master. Or so he thinks…

Hermione Granger/Severus Snape

Vanishing Inside Us by @dwell-on-dreams / HogwartsToAlexandria (FIC) Hermione Granger/Severus Snape

Senses: Sight, Hearing, Touch, Taste

Sometimes, the only thing that matters is how the other feels. And this time, Severus knows he has to show how he feels too, or it won’t work anymore than it did the first time around.

Hermione Granger/Sirius Black

Lucky Dog by realjane / @thesuperjane (FIC) Hermione Granger/Sirius Black

Senses: Taste, Smell, Touch

Thanks to a new marriage initiative for the betterment of wizard-kind, SIrius Black finds himself wed to the woman of his dreams. He has no idea that she's been dreaming of him, too. Maybe this arranged marriage thing isn't so bad...

Lily Evans/Sirius Black

French Braid by heirblack (FIC) Lily Evans/Sirius Black

Senses: Touch and smell

A nice, relaxing, and lazy day in the Gryffindor dormitory leads into a bonding session over hair.

Narcissa Malfoy/Rabastan Lestrange

Memories That We Made Will Never Change by @malfoylestrange / Houseofmalfoy (FIC) Narcissa Malfoy/Rabastan Lestrange

Senses: Sight and touch

They fell in love in the midst of the first wizarding war, and when he went to Azkaban she moved on with her life and her family. Now he’s back,and the memories and regret that Rabastan Lestrange brings up in her are stronger than ever.

Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

would you just look at me by HogwartsToAlexandria / @dwell-on-dreams (FIC) Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Senses: Sight, Touch

Moony's been in a mood, and therefore isn't the best version of himself either lately, which is code for, 'Sirius is a mess when Remus won't talk to him' really.

Severus Snape/Sirius Black

your arms, around my lungs by HogwartsToAlexandria / @dwell-on-dreams (FIC) Severus Snape/Sirius Black

Senses: Hearing, Touch

Even when they hate each other, even when they argue more than they talk, the sound of Sirius' regular breathing still brings Severus solace when the nightmares don't want to go away.

#tasteofsmut fest #tasteofsmut fic #tasteofsmut art #tasteofsmut masterlist #hp fests #hp events

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justsomeoneunordinary · 4 years ago

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Dark Fic Recs

@rhodee asked me for some dark fic recs and since this is one of my favorite tropes, I know quite some. I wanna make clear from the beginning that those are dark fics. Means stories with fucked up/morally dubious/voilent content. And not salty “Team Cap was mean to me, so I become evil now” kind of fics. If you’re interested in the latter, I am the wrong person to ask.

Some of them are much darker than the others, but you should read for each one carefully the tags and/or the Author’s Note, since some have special twists in the end that aren’t mentioned in the tags.

Basically: know your limits.

Dark!Tony fics (my personal preference)

Faster, Colder, Sharper by Penned (WinterIron)

Tony is kidnapped by Hydra. When the team gets him back, he has changed far more than they suspect. More than even the surface shows.

Bucky though, he notices it all.

A de-aged Tony fic with Bucky as a caretaker... of sorts.

Radioactive by Valmasy (WinterIron, Series)

The pain is all-encompassing. It’s all he can think about. It’s all he feels. It’s all he breathes. It’s all he lives. Like a barbed net, its sharpness swallows him whole, over and over and over. Tony’s mind tries to hide, tries to save itself, but the pain finds him even then. It burns away at his resistance until all he is crumbles, until he’s nothing but ash and dust.

Attack dog by salytierra (Stony)

Steve doesn't swim in self-delusion. He knows that he is sick and that his owner is even worse. He is aware of it every time he rips some nameless guy’s throat out and feels the crunch of bones under his fingers. He is aware of it every time the rush of adrenaline at seeing life slip away from a stranger’s eyes hits him and gets him bothered and panting in ways that have nothing to do with physical exhaustion.

But it feels so good…

His owner’s approach is less personal. His shots fall clean and take out several foes at a time, his figure elegant and so graceful he looks like a god among savages. He is power incarnated, cold and burning like a sun at the same time… and Steve tries not to focus on him when they are fighting together, least his knees go weak and his technique falters. It’s fine though. They will go home afterwards and his owner will fuck him on the hard floor, with most of their gear still on and a vicious grip in his hair.

Anatomy of a Moral Man by ShyOwl (Stony, WIP)

At a young age Tony understood he was not meant to be a hero and the world, he believes, is far better for it. With his rule now set in stone, his life is finally settling down. That is until something was found buried underneath the ice.

Tony may not be a hero but that did not stop him from falling in love with one.

In Restless Dreams by charocalwinter (WinterIron, WIP)

When he discovers what he believes to be the truth about his parents’ recent deaths, a powerful and morally ambiguous Tony Stark sets out to get his revenge on Steve Rogers. How does Bucky Barnes fit into this feud and why isn't anybody giving him a pair of socks?

“It isn’t often that Tony Stark finds himself unsure of anything, but this situation has him doubting his every thought, his every move … with Rogers comes James, and that boy is muddling Tony’s mind.” ~ interrupted excerpt from ch 4.

A Pound of Flesh by jellybeanforest (Stony)

To save Bucky, Steve volunteers to work off his debt to the Carbonell crime family. Unfortunately, he is unsuited for the role of enforcer, unable to beat and murder those in the same position as Bucky. He is brought before the mob boss, Tony Stark, who demands his pound of flesh in the wake of Steve’s failure. But upon seeing the attractive blond, Tony proposes alternative employment, one that won’t require him to harm others: Becoming his kept man.

“This isn’t an offer I make often, so you should be flattered – count yourself lucky, even – that I am extending you this rare opportunity.”

“To be raped repeatedly?”

“To have a second chance to work off your debts after you failed so spectacularly the first time. But I don’t have to. I could just use these knives I’ve brought along, carve up that pretty face of yours like a Thankgiving turkey, which would be a shame, really. Then I suppose I’d have to pay a visit to your little friend. This entire exercise has been a waste of my valuable time… perhaps I’ll take an arm for my trouble,” he muses. “So, tell me, Rogers, is Barnes right- or left-handed?”

It’s an offer Steve can’t refuse.

Take Away (everything I am) by salytierra (WinterIron)

“Everyone I kill deserves to die.”

“True. But try to explain that to Captain Justice and Faith.” He takes a gulp of the scotch right out of the bottle and flops down on Tony’s lap, straddling his hips. “He cares too much. You and I? – We do what needs to be done.”

Tony circles his waist with both arms and pulls him closer, opening his mouth when Barnes offers him the bottle and swallowing the bitter liquid dry.

“Nobody ever believed I was able to care. So why should I?”

“Coming from somebody who is expected and probably should care more but doesn’t really give a fuck? – I’ll drink to that.”

Operant Conditioning by dracusfyre (WinterIron, Series)

In which Tony is HYDRA and Bucky’s handler.

in another country (people die) by pprfaith (FrostIron)

“The world is not your playground, Stark!” Fury yells at him one time, after he maybe brings down a building or two and Tony just laughs because, seriously, yes it is.

on the bleeding edge by esama (Pepperony, WIP, abandoned (still good tho))

Tony Stark goes back in time and becomes a super villain.

Almost Perfect by One and Five Nines (Obani) (Stony, Comic)

A powerful enemy invades from an alternate reality, but the only thing he really seems interested in is Steve Rogers

Eventually by One and Five Nines (Obani) (Stony, Comic, WIP)

Tony is godking of the wasteland. Steve is not.

Victim!Tony fics

Deliver Us by romanoff (FrostIron)

Loki comes back for revenge. Tony Stark is his captive.

“Why,” he tries, voice failing “do you want me.” He coughs into the ash.

“A king needs an advisor. A king needs concubines. A conquering king must learn the ways of the natives or risk expulsion,” he wipes blood from the sceptre with the end of his coat “and I’m rather fond of you, I think. Even in the face of death you use your wit, you charm with your tongue. It reminds me of myself, maybe, one or two millennia ago.”

Terms & Conditions by Penned (WinterIron)

Tony Stark is desperate and trusts too easily. Bucky Barnes takes advantage of that.

A mob AU with no powers, featuring a very dark, very off-kilter Bucky.

(reverse) Kidnapping by AngeNoir (WinterIron)

Tony Stark is wallowing. He has a right to - he's just finished the funeral preparations for his parents in New York. He didn't expect them to live forever, but still...

And then he falls asleep from his bender.

And wakes up in a nightmare.

(Is it a nightmare?)

Anything (and Everything) - remix by Penned (WinterIron)

The Soldier will do anything to make Tony happy, with or without his explicit consent.

Heavily inspired by Shi_Toyu's IronWinter Holiday Exchange fic "Anything." This is a much darker version of that story.

like flowers soaked in monochrome by deathsweetqueen (Stony)

Steve Rogers woke up to a world where everyone he loved and knew had forged on without him. But this world, it's nothing like he's used. It wants something brutal from him, something unforgiving. There are so many compromises to make. There are too many monsters behind kind smiles.

But if it means keeping Tony safe, if it means protecting him, he's willing to do whatever it takes.

He can't be soft.

After all, the weak are meat; the strong do eat.

Sins of Omission by Kiyaar (Stony, WIP (tbh I still haven’t started reading this story, but the tags and summary sound perfect!))

A Post-Civil War, Pre-Secret Invasion AU where Steve is dead, Tony's a mess, and everything sucks.

In which Tony deals poorly with Steve's death, falls off the wagon, sees ghosts, and misses a lot.

Oh, and the Skrulls are about to invade.

That’s it. Read all warnings carefully and enjoy!

#fic recs #winteriron #buckytony #stony #stevetony #frostiron #lokitony #pepperony #only one pepperony tho :(#dark fics

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catscraftsandcommentary · 4 years ago

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thoughts on tiny!Steve/werewolf!Bucky shrunkyclunky AU

Because I’m too fucking lazy to actually type it into a proper fic and edit it and do all the fancy-ness that it would take to, y’know, make it a properly written story.

Vaguely fantasy/colonial setting, somewhere with lots of forests. Steve lives in a small town called - of course - Brooklyn, with best friend Peggy (local beauty and hell on heels.) Also with various non-friends Rumlow (sheriff), Rumlow’s minions, Alexander Pierce (mayor/governor of the area), and various townsfolk. Who often don’t like Steve because he’s constantly poor, constantly sick, constantly fighting and/or preaching about how their normal behavior is terrible.

Peggy thinks he’s great. Rumlow, who wants Peggy, despises him.

So at some point, Steve does something to piss Rumlow off more than usual. For a while, I thought about “stopping Rumlow when he won’t take ‘no’ from a girl at the local tavern and Steve reads him the riot act/starts a fight with him (these are pretty much the same thing, lbr.) BUT, sudden better idea, Rumlow comes up with some new, ridiculous plot to get Peggy to change her mind about him (never gonna happen, bro), but Steve ruins it somehow.

Like Rumlow commissions something for Peggy (clothing? art? jewelry?), but then extorts the artist to get out of paying, and Steve, who is PISSED, tells Peggy, who refuses the gift very publicly AND calls Rumlow a thief, extortionist, etc.

Hell. On. Heels.

So Rumlow immediately blames all his problems on Steve, and sentences him to banishment, permanent, on penalty of death. If he’s not out of town by sunrise, Rumlow will be glad to skip the wait.

Except oh yeah, Rumlow and the bros are going hunting tomorrow, leaving at dawn, so they’ll have to check in that Steve’s gone - and that Peggy isn’t hiding him - before dawn, so, y’know, he might want to get moving.

Cutscene to Peggy’s house, where she’s trying to talk Steve out of a suicidal second confrontation with Rumlow, or a more political confrontation through Pierce (who did, after all, appoint the bastard), or whatever other dumbass, noble idea he comes up with. She makes him pack a bag (or more likely, packs one for him), and tells him to go straight into the spooky old-growth forest a ways from town. Not the nice, civilized woods where Rumlow et al usually hunt, or along one of the roads to one of the other towns, but

“You head straight into the heart of that forest, Steve, because so help me, that is the only way you’ll be safe from him. And if you see any wolves - hell, if you hear any wolves - you say that Margaret Elizabeth sent you with a message for Natalia of the White Wolf’s pack. And that message is pay your debt.”

And no, she does not explain any of that to Steve before she bundles him out of her house and on the path to the forest road.

Oh, did I mention that, according to general knowledge in this AU, magic isn’t real, except for maybe small good luck charms and similar. Which plenty of people still scoff at. So telling Steve to talk to wolves is...suspicious.

Second aside, a while back, Peggy saved Natalia from an angry mob, took her family’s home, let her recover in her own bed, and then accidentally fell in love with her. Oops. Before, of course, Natalia had to return to her own pack. Now they have a secret on-again, off-again romance. (I haven’t thought about WHY Peggy didn’t just run away with Natalia immediately, other than it wouldn’t work for my story. Shh.) And of course, Natalia promised to someday do the same for Peggy.

Cutscene to forest, next morning!

Bucky and his wolf buddies are out cruising the forest, as you do, when they sense a Disturbance In the Forest *cough force cough* and decide to check it out. Upon smelling some humans they’ve collectively termed “those fuckers,” they decide to fulfill the threat they issued at their last meeting and be done with the problem.

Namely, they gave Rumlow and his crew the same ultimatum that he’d given Steve, except that Rumlow had a history of terrorizing and killing everything (and everyone) in the forest, whereas Steve just wanted to protect people.

They herd the horses and hunting dogs to the edge of the forest near the town, leave the bodies in a pile, and are ready to continue on, except...there’s still one human somewhere in the forest. And these shitty scumbags had been following their trail. Time to figure out what’s up.

They reach the edge of a clearing, and all the wolves sort of melt out of the undergrowth at the edges, while Bucky, in his big fucking white wolf form walks out to the edge, transforms, and then stalks out in his best Murder Strut (TM).

And yes, this is “built like a brick shithouse” Bucky from Civil War, and yes, he is entirely naked, and still covered in blood, so Steve’s brain goes immediately offline.

Steve backs up until his back hits a large tree, waving a large knife at this seriously threatening (but hot) impossible fucking being, because werewolves do not exist. Right?

Right?!?

Bucky just casually pins Steve’s arms over his head, disarms Steve and tosses the knife away (without even looking where he tosses it, which Steve finds inexplicably really hot), and leans in to smell him.

Now, when Bucky reached the clearing, he recognized from the scent that this was a potential mate for him - and possibly a very strong mate too. Mates, in their world, are more “you are compatible with this person” than “this is the only person you can ever love EVER” and the strength of the potential bond can vary as well. (Just like some relationships are stronger than others.) But basically, Bucky realizes that whoever’s in the clearing, they could be good together. They could be goddamn AMAZING. And yeah, he wants to smell some more of that.

Steve is...more than a little overwhelmed by suddenly having a giant wolf turn into the hottest man he’s ever seen, who’s now pinning him to a tree and huffing him, but he does manage “Natalia.”

At which Bucky choke-grunts. The fuck?

“I have a message for Natalia. In the white wolf’s pack. From Peg-from Margaret Elizabeth.”

Vaguely grumpy at not getting to nose up his mate, but also very curious as to where this is going, (because how does this tiny gorgeous human know his second or her mate? Yes, Natalia is Bucky’s second-in-command), Bucky finally lifts his head. “I am the White Wolf, and I speak for Natalia. What is her message?”

Steve stares up the man towering over him and snarls, “Pay. Your. Debt.”

Bucky grins, slow and wicked. “Gladly. But not here.” He steps back, lowing Steve’s arms, and then...somehow, suddenly, Steve’s arms are around his shoulders, his legs are lifted around his waist, and Bucky is cradling Steve to his chest while telling his pack “bring his things.”

And then everyone is racing through the forest, faster than Steve has ever seen anyone move before and what the fuck did Peggy get him into?

After an hour or two of running (being carried) through the forest, Steve finally puts his head down on White Wolf’s shoulder, tucks his face into his neck, and tries to rest. He didn’t get any sleep, he spent the whole night hiking through dark, unfamiliar forest, he’s pretty sure he can stop worrying about Rumlow hunting him down - in the most literal sense, yikes - he’s tired.

Also, being carried is kind of soothing. There’s a rhythm to it. And wolfman smells nice. Mm...

Bucky is perfectly happy to have his newly-found mate fall asleep in his arms, and he’s very loathe to put him down once the pack reaches their den. (I still can’t decide what I want the den complex to look like. A castle? A big house? A fort? Maybe it’s a cave system that has been smoothed out and built into like hobbit holes. Or the Holds and Weyrs from Pern.)

But he finally decides to lay Steve down, feather-soft, into his own bed and tuck him in warmly. After all, Natalia vowed to repay Margaret in kind for what she’d done to help her, and part of that had been sharing her bed. There are guest rooms, but they’re so far away. This is closer. Warmer. More convenient. Better for his mate. And he’ll explain everything as soon as he wakes.

Steve does wake up and demand all the details EVER, as well as actually meeting Natalia and hearing how she knows Peggy (to make sure that this “white wolf” isn’t making shit up). Bucky gladly complies. Natalia is more salty about it, but she deals.

Then Bucky commences doting on his new mate. While trying not to come on too strong. Mostly failing. He...may have left out the bit about being able to smell that they’re mates. So he’s just trying to keep Steve interested enough in werewolf life/forest life to stay there and not, say, ask to go back to the human world (or back to his town even) since Rumlow and his men are dead.

Steve finds everything fascinating, and since Bucky always responds immediately to his cues - verbal and nonverbal! - he doesn’t have a problem being wooed. He might even, actually, like to be wooed a bit faster. Or more carnally. Not that he knows how to hint that.

Peggy eventually shows up sometime and is cute with Natalia, aka Natasha.

Steve slowly settles into life as the Kept Human Boy of the most badass werewolf alpha ever, who loves his tiny feral little mate and WILL tear your throat out if you even look at him funny.

#stucky #steve/bucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #shrinkyclinks #my writing #original post #fanfic #catscraftsandcommentary writes

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what-a-messsss · 4 years ago

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2x3 rewatch

I keep forgetting that Brach is still in S2. Oops. Also, I apparently went to check something in S6 last time I watched something, so it started at 6x2 instead of 2x3 and I yelled. But anyway, on with this mess. “Death Came in Like Thunder” apparently. It sure did.

Ah yes, let us not forget that Branch is MANLEH. This shall be proven to us by him murdering his cousin, Trunk, with big ax. Chop chop, Branch, kill Trunk. But oh no, must also show that he is People Smart, so must also lose because this makes him likable. And many white people clap. Yaaaay. But be sure to say, “I let him win, Ferg,” while your competitor is right next to you, so he almost surely heard you. Good good.

Oh Ferg. Could you look more gormless if you tried? (I mean, probably not, since presumably that was the goal of the actor, so he would have been trying. But still.) Bb.

Heh, nice thematic cut to Walt also chopping wood. And YAY, Henry’s gorgeous truck (and gorgeous self). I’m just going to take a moment to appreciate the fact that Henry rolls up and just helps himself to some of Walt’s thermos of coffee. Because of course he does. But I do so love these touches that they put in that do underline the fact that they are married have been besties for going on 40 years. Also, I love this jacket of Henry’s. The woven top, jean jacket sort of one? Yeah, top 5 costume pieces of his for me. (Also on that list, all basically tied with each other, basically any pants he wears. I am reminded, when they cut back out to a full body shot. Because I am very shallow, and he is very pretty.)

Haaaaaa. And of course Cady talked to Henry before she talked to Walt. Walt is a butthead. And, yeah yeah, she just found out that he’d been lying to her for over a year, but that just proves my point that Walt is a butthead. And we’re back to this whole idea that she left her phone, which just... ugh. No. But Henry’s face when he says that she said that she is safe, and he’s so worried, but still willing to respect her boundaries.

“She is an adult, Walt.” “She’s my daughter.” For fuck’s sake, you jackass, your ADULT daughter; that’s the whole flipping point! Also, that little emphasis on my daughter, pfft. If you didn’t want to feel like she preferred her cool dad to you, maybe try being less of an AAAAAAASSHOLE. And, like, respecting her. Even a weensy little bit.

“Etta Place” I don’t remember if we find out why that’s the ‘assumed name’ that Cady chose, but I’m intrigued. Wait, I just googled. Looooool. She spent years with Butch and Sundance. Nice.

Walt is such a soft touch with teens. *snack crackle pop* that kneecap back into place. Vic starts this scene saying, “The 911 operator,” though, which is interesting, because I was kind of under the impression that Ruby was the main dispatcher, so it would be kind of heartening if she actually had back up with that. ...Or maybe they’re just far enough out that a cell call made would be picked up by a tower farther out and have to be routed back in to the station/them. I have no idea how that actually works. Another rabbit hole for me to totally not go down. Hopefully. Shit. They’ve apparently upped the fine for trespass since the show, though, because it’s $750 (or 6 months in jail) now and Walt says it’s $500.

And once again, we see Vic actually wearing gloves while investigating a suspicious death, and Walt just squinting into the distance helpfully. I suppose “things got bad” in Basque country around WWII, but there has been friction there that dates back before the Spanish Civil War, or even the Carlist Wars the previous century. It did get gnarly with the dictatorship of Franco, and the formation of the ETA in retaliation, though, so yeah. (Francisco Franco is also on the list of people who anybody with a time machine should go back and beat the shit out of.)

Shit, I forgot about the animal death.

Knock knock, no answer. Better just wander in without a warrant. I know that the guy who they know lives there is dead, but still, no fricking warrant; I suppose the worry of a poisoning could count as probably cause?

Gods, but there are moments when I do absolutely adore Vic, and they are usually when she’s taking the piss out of Walt. “Reclusive bachelor chic; you and Marco have the same decorator.” Looool. But also, sad, because Martha has only been gone for a little over a year, and Walt is not the kind of person who would, like, change stuff and get rid of her things, so that’s kind of odd. Maybe Henry and/or Cady went though and put away some of her things to try to help Walt move on? But damn, the ‘excuse you’ look on Walt’s face when she does say it, pffft.

AND AGAIN, Vic wearing gloves, Walt with his bare ass hands picking up the picture of Picasso’s Guernica; can you at least *pretend* you’re a cop, *some* of the time, buddy?

Lol at the barrabilak; they are pretty well by the Rocky Mountains, so it’s probably not all that surprising that Walt’s had some “Rocky Mountain oysters” before.

I had forgotten that Vic had four brothers. But her comment about Sal going off to look after the sheep and how if someone had told her that one of her brothers were dead she “wouldn’t care about any damn sheep,” I don’t know. It kind of annoys me. It’s totally in character for her, which is good, but I think it’s part of what can annoy me about her character. Different people grieve differently, but also, I know she’s only been in Wyoming for a year or two, tops, but how is it so hard to fathom that someone one would be concerned about their livelihood, even in the face of personal tragedy? Just, seeing beyond her own very narrow experience doesn’t seem like something she’s very good at. It would be one thing if she’d framed it as “this is suspicious, and here’s why I think so as a cop,” but it was, “I wouldn’t react that way personally, so it’s sus.”

Sure, be suspicious because there’s a suspicious death and family members are always suspects until ruled out, but approach it like a cop. Or at least think about it from more angles than just your own, not terribly similar experience. You’re a white city cop who can’t (or won’t) adjust to being in BF rural-ville, but these are immigrant shepherds whose family come from a homeland where the cops were just as likely to kill you as answer questions, and you’re side-eying a guy for going to make sure that their meal ticket doesn’t get obliterated?

I need to keep reminding myself that I really did want to like Vic. I really did. She just... they don’t make it easy for me. Maybe she’s serving as an avatar for audience who don’t know about some of the culture stuff, and the audience get answers from her ignorance? But honestly, I wish they’d picked a different way to handle that, if that’s what they were trying to do. Her response to Henry being salty about Thanksgiving still really pisses me off. Because it was shitty and racist, and... do we really need a character basically rolling their eyes and saying, “It was so long ago, why don’t you just get over it,” about something that is intrinsically tied to the genocide of so many people? Why are Indigenous people just supposed to “get over it” but “Remember the Alamo” and “Southern Pride,” and shit? Fuck’s sake. Honestly, that might have been the moment when they lost me on her character. She has moments where she’s awesome, but they never really address her being fucking racist or give her a chance to grow into a better person. Which sucks a lot. Fuck. Ok, that was a lot. Sorry. Back to the actual ep.

AH, nice of you to beam in from the campaign trail, Brancheroo!

Uh, so I paused it to look at pic in the newspaper, and then being me, started to look at the articles surrounding the pic. And the one with the headline “Fans Injured At Local Game” is actually about the Stewart case? From 1x3? I’m guessing that somebody went to the trouble of writing up an article for that for some S1 ep after it and they just plugged it in because when not paused, you might catch “Sheriff Longmire” there and that’s all they need. Especially since the text starts to repeat after the first paragraph. (I am the worst pedantic little shit.) Ooooor, maybe even though it’s S2, it’s hardly been any time since 1x3? The date on the newspaper is March 31, 2012, so there’s a timeline hint.

Awwwwww, once Walt points out the bird, Ferg knows exactly what it is. Occasional twitcher, are we, my lad? “A red-tip meadowlark,” indeed. Oh bb; Ferg’s face when he sees Walt looking at the pic of him with Branch in the paper.

“You go too fast, you miss the little things.” Every once in a while, he actually sort of mentors Ferg. I wish he did more of that, especially since we see later how capable Ferg can be.

Go suck an egg, Branch. Why does she get all the “good” assignments? Maybe because she was actually on the job when they found the body, not campaigning.

OPE. Lizzie’s gift. Yeah, I’d probably choke on that coffee if I were you, too, girl. Better hope that there wasn’t perishable food stuffs in that gift, because that has been in there for a whiiiiiile, hasn’t it. Wait, was Ferg in the office when Lizzie dropped off the gift? Because his face said more than just “Did somebody give Vic a present?” Suuuuper subtle with that whole pushing the drawer closed with your foot there, Vic. Pfffft.

“Cyrano Caballero” How daaaare that skeeve take Cyrano’s name in vain?!?! (I have a thing about Cyrano de Bergerac. It’s quite possibly my favourite play, and I adore the character, and have exactly 0 chill about it at all. I find Brian Hooker’s translation of “The Ballade of the duel at the Hotel Bourgogne Between de Bergerac and a Boeotian” with “Then, as I end the refrian, thrust home,” vastly superior to any other translation that I’ve heard or read, though for the rest of it, I will grant that there are others to be preferred. But that version of his Ballade is exquisite, and I will not be swayed. Holy shit, FOCUS. That is so very much not the point.) It’s not even a throw away line in this ep, it’s just a random, very well chosen, if utterly appallingly insulting, company name. It’s actually incredibly clever for what the business is, and if it didn’t make me so stomping mad, I would applaud whoever came up with it heartily.

Vic’s face listening to this jackass’ spiel is a thing of beauty. “A good woman goes a long way of easing the obvious stresses of your daily life,” the jackass says, cutting his eyes at Vic when he says “obvious stresses,” and I caaaackle.

What is it about this guys’ horrible glasses that just makes him so much more hate-able? I’m not entirely sure, but kudos to whatever costumer put those on him, because they are perfect. In the ‘I want to punch him’ way of perfection.

And after all of that about Walt’s “lady friend,” Vic brings Lizzie’s present. Womp womp. That went super well. Yuuuup, run while you can.

Poor Ferg. Branch manipulates him, Vic ignores him, Walt shuts him down... Poor guy just can’t get a break.

I actually kind of like this motel manager--the one who “doesn’t judge people” and is a stickler for warrants? At least somebody in this county cares about warrants. Also, those doors are actually really pretty. Nice colour, and the carved scrollwork designs are nice.

What an odd shot: the one when they’re coming out of Walt’s office after talking to Skeevy McGrossFace and Rosa. It’s a weird sort of shaky-cam stepping back, just preceding Branch walking, and then turns to follow him when he sit’s on his desk. But it’s a really different style of shot than I can remember, so much so that it’s a bit jarring, especially after the series of nearly stationary close ups that we just had. Weird. [18:42-18-50]

Cady! I haven’t made much note of her costuming before this, but it seems notable that’s she’s only in monocromatics. Especially next to Fales in muted tones, but still some colour, and surrounded by the colourful grafitti of the alley where her mother was stabbed. Nice way of setting her apart from everything.

SHEEPIES! Ooooo, that wagon is so cool. Ah dang, the way that Sal corrects Walt’s pronunciation of his brother’s name is so gloriously passive aggressive. Good for you, my dude. Names are important, and people should have the respect to make the effort to get them right.

Aaaaaand Walt, the definition of Do, Don’t Tell, just shoves the guy to keep him from drinking the possibly dangerous water, rather than, like, using his words. Walt’s gonna Walt.

Iiiiiiiii am a mess, truly. It cuts to an architectural model and I start giggling like a 6th grader, because I know it’s going to be a Jacob scene. He’s not even on screen yet, ffs. HANDS. I’m fine. Totally fine. (That’s totally a lie. I just rewound to the beginning of the scene because I kept giggling too much to pay attention. What the hell.) First time we’ve seen one of the chips, which at this point must be a marketing mock-up, since nothing is built yet. And he actually types, not just doing the hunt-and-peck thing that is sometimes easier on a tablet.

Looking at the weaving that is up on his wall (maybe a rug?) I’m hoping that the prop people actually did buy from Northern Cheyenne artisans. They apparently did most of their filming in New Mexico, so I hope they made the effort to get the patterns right, and buy from the actual tribe they’re supposed to be portraying, I guess? And now I’m distracted by the fact that the random hanging light behind Jacob is at a weird angle?

Look, ever since I realized that the “Hey,” that Jacob does is apparently just A (thanks to it also happening in That Damned Xmas Movie) I am endlessly amused (and charmed) whenever Jacob does it. I don’t know why it makes me so happy, but it does. (This is legitimately embarrassing. How much trouble I am having focusing. Beyond my normal focus issues, which, as shown above, are already impressive. Because thiiiiirst.)

“My boys at the lumber yard did just throw you a campaign rally.” I love how Jacob is basically apparently not just his secret angel-investor, but also a sneaky campaign manager. Did Branch just think shit like the rally just happened? He’s not fricking Ferris Bueller; somebody organizes those. And apparently it’s either Jacob himself, or someone who Jacob appointed to do so.

“I thought you were just a casino developer.” You have noooo clue, Brancheroo. “I prefer to remain a silent partner. White people get nervous when Indians start taking back their land.” Oooooope. Especially interesting because there are previsions for the Tribal Council to purchase land to be Tribal land (Section 6 of Article IX of the Tribal Constitution), but this seems more along the lines of personal acquisition. Though maybe not, because “on the board” doesn’t necessarily equate to being the owner.

The set up of Jacob’s office is so interesting. Functionally for the show, it’s probably for better shooting angles, so that we can see more of Jacob behind the desk while Branch is sitting in front of it, but from an in-the-verse decorating standpoint, bit’s fascinating. He has this focal wall with the gorgeous wall hanging, flanked by floor to ceiling window, but instead of having his desk centered on that wall and directly facing the bulk of the room, it’s at an almost 45 degree angle on a huge rug, and it’s so unexpected. I kind of love it, and want to analyze it for days. Also worth noting is that pride of place is given to the Hotamétaneo’o headdress which is on a stand centered in front of the wall hanging.

How fucking tired must Jacob be. He’s used to Walt... Walting, but then Branch comes in, who he is literally spending his own money to support in his bid for sheriff, and he pulls the same shit of assuming that he’s behind Bad Shit. And then Branch frames it as “bad P.R,” so he’s there to “discuss it with [him] privately.” And then basically threatens him with Walt. I swear. ...there is something a little amusing about Walt being used as the stick in the carrot and a stick method of negotiating. He certainly is enough of a blunt object most of the time.

Oh fuck you so much, Branch. Playing the “can’t give you details about an ongoing investigation” card as though you have some professional or moral leg to stand on after basically blackmailing Jacob with Walt’s vendetta is just such shit. You don’t get to look down your nose at Jacob’s quid pro quo pragmatism when you were the one who came to him for financial backing. You sanctimonious little shitheel. If you didn’t want to deal with Jacob, you shouldn’t have taken his $100k. He’s a business man, and you’re an investment, and not a quixotic one.

“He’s probably the only person to have died from [hemlock] since Socrates.” And then Walt’s incredulous look and her, “Alright, I googled it,” were subtle comedic gold.

Ooooooo, that was a nice little shot. Not quite foreshadowing, but showing Branch’s suspicions and sort of inviting the audience to share them. Walt says his bit about the Army poisoning “Indian wells” to kill them off and get their land, and then we see Branch fiddling with the Four Arrows chip and narrow his eyes considering and slip the chip into his pocket, looking suspicious. It’s a really neat little moment of visual storytelling, no lines, literally three seconds long, just sort of snuck in there, but super effective. Really nicely done.

And again, Cady is in monochromatics. And, shit, just gave Fales Henry’s name. Aaaaaand right after, she realizes that the junkie was killed and realizes that it had to have been one of her dads (or so she thinks).

Sal’s monologue in the cell is a good emotional payoff that plays off of Vic’s comments towards the beginning of the episode. I see the narrative worth of her making them, and how the structure of the episode benefits from it; but seeing those writing elements from the outside of the show doesn’t make me able to like her as a character who said them in-universe. And then the threat Sal makes of vengeance on someone who killed one he loves also underscores the stuff with Cady’s investigation into her mother’s death very well. As much as I gripe about the writing *cough S6 cough finale cough* there really is some damn good writing in this show, and I don’t show enough appreciation for it.

Huh, and now there’s a sort of inverse of that weird shot preceding Branch from earlier, but this one is much more effective and less off-putting. This one [33:00] precedes Walt as he walks back into his office, still a medium close up, but it’s much steadier, and the way it is framed, it does quite a bit to convey his mindset, and he walks out of the shot and we see the three deputies following him in like baffled ducklings, making the shot serve another purpose, too. Which honestly makes that earlier shaky follow shot of Branch even weirder, because this one was so much better.

And then Walt has his creepy little speech about how someone would want to watch the light go out of their eyes and not caring if you get caught. I do appreciate that when he’s talking about the psychology of killing with poison he doesn’t just call it a “woman’s method” which media so often does. It might have been the writers keeping who the killer was abstruse, but it was still more gender neutral. Especially since according to The U. S. Department of Justice's report on Homicide Trends in the United States (1980 to 2008) of all poison killers in that time period, 60.5 percent were male and 39.5 percent female. (Table 5 on page 10.) So that long held idea that even Sherlock Holmes was written to have that poison is “of course” a woman’s weapon is pretty crap.

Awwww, the good old days when Walt paid attention to animals. ...I am still bizarrely salty about the fact that he never named his horse. What a good pupper!

And then we have a classic example of Sneaky!Walt, which always takes people quite by surprise, because he’s usually as subtle as Miley Cyrus.

Also because when he does this, it tends to be pretty fucked up, in a Make Someone Think They’re About To Die way. And then he does His Thing, where he just lays out all of his suppositions, with no proof, only the terror of her thinking that she’s been poisoned and you’re withholding medical intervention to get her to confess. And is, irritatingly, correct about his theories. But I’m pretty sure this qualifies as coercing a confession? She thinks she’s fucking dying. Even Vic looks at him like it’s fucked up, and her moral compass where he’s concerned is... skewed.

They way this reveal was played out, (”How’d they find her so fast?” “Hard to say...”) is somewhat ambiguous as to whether it’s supposed to be that Branch went there to tell Jacob or not, but I kind of doubt it? I kind of figure that the meeting that Jacob was having when Branch rambled in was already with Rosa signing the paperwork. Jacob is smart. So, HAH. Little good your “can’t comment on an ongoing investigation” schtick did.

And then the news that someone in law enforcement has been asking after Henry.

“Lizzie was waiting for you here tonight. You should talk to her, Walt. She seems to think she is in a relationship with you.” ....omgs. The tone. I mean, yes, the blisteringly glorious SASS, but how does one not read that as incredibly shippy? Howwwww?

“You are an honest man, Walt. I would like you to stay that way.” Oh Henry. When did you decide that you weren’t? Was it when you hired Hector? Or was there something before? ...I feel like there were things before that. Hello darkness my old friend.

“It is not your job to protect me.” “It is my job...” THOSE WERE THE DAYS. Those were the fucking daaaaaays. And the emotions on Henry’s face after Walt says, “That was my right,” as though Henry cheated him of something. I am so deep in OT3 feels I cannot even see daylight here. The feels of them having been an OT3 and then Walt pulling this shit, and Henry having to defend his own “right” to avenge Martha? It wrecks me. “A good woman was murdered. A bad man is dead. End of story.”

#Longmire #Walt Longmire #Cady Longmire #Henry Standing Bear #Branch is such a tool #Jacob Nighthorse #The Ferg #Victoria Moretti #Episode commentary #How many tangents did I manage to go on this time?#so many #Martha Longmire #I ramble about shots and framing and narrative too.#It took me so long to do this.#I am such a mess.

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corisanna · 5 years ago

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Over 100 Years of Generational Pandemic Trauma with a Side of WW1/Depression/WW2 Trauma and Frugality: 1917-2020

This will be more personal than I usually get on Tumblr, but for some reason, I wanna share it. I wanted to put it in words with a bit of research as a way to process it and maybe get some other stories from other people.

...

So the other day, Mom and I were talking about illness and reactions to the threat of widespread, dangerous illness while watching pandemic coverage on TV. (Yes, we talk about weird social stuff a lot. A lot.) Mom casually said she and her sister were distressed every time they got even a little bit sick and tried to hide it from my grandfather because he seemed to react to illness with anger. Huh, we said, How odd.

“Maybe he was angry at the illness, not at you?” I guessed.

“Hmmmmmmm,” Mom said doubtfully.

So we were taking a break from talking and someone on TV brought up the 1917-1918 flu pandemic.

“Oh, hey, didn’t Great-Grandpa live through that?” I idly asked.

Mom blinked and went utterly still. After a minute of staring blankly, she said, “Oh. Oh.”

“What?”

“He wasn’t angry. He was afraid,” Mom said.

“Who? Oh, Grampa?”

Mom nodded, face in an expression of epiphany.

I started thinking. It turned into diving into family history and history in general.

Okay, so. Let’s back up for some context.

...

2000s back to 1950s back to 1940s back to 1930s back to 1914: Habits from World Wars and the Great Depression

First of all: I know for a fact that my mother, born in the 1950s, was raised on Depression/WW2 Era food frugality. My grandparents lived through both and were old enough to remember them; Grandpa was around twelve on Black Tuesday and Gramma was around two years older. Grandpa and his brother were in the military during WW2.

The things Mom was raised on:

Very simple recipes, all based on salty canned/jarred food that had been cooked to Hell and back. SO MUCH SALT. SO MANY PEAS. Grampa was especially focused on canned food; he likely ate mostly canned food when deployed and on kitchen duty. Treating sugar and salt like gold. Stretching meals that had meat with potatoes and gravy. A backyard pseudo-Victory Garden Gramma and Great-Grandma canned veg from and orange trees that Grampa obsessed over keeping healthy and productive; the garden was dominated by tomatoes to be stewed even into the 1980s and the obsessive care for the orange trees had them massive and healthy when I was a kid in the early 1990s. Butter was for holidays; the rest of the year was margarine (”oleo”). Leftover grease was strained and saved. SO MUCH JELL-O and relish IN SO MANY RECIPES, possibly because it hadn’t been rationed. (You know all those weird old 1960s-1970s recipes with gelatin and odd stuff? Look at when the recipe-makers were kids.) Did you burn your food nearly to charcoal? Eat it. Food was absolutely not to be wasted.

Shoes were to be worn until mending or tape couldn’t hold them together anymore. Weird little broken things were saved in a junk drawer as possibly useful for scrap-- broken rubber bands, screws from something that had broken, old keys, bent nails-- and metal cooking pans were to be used until they started ruining food. Boxes, scrap paper, newspapers, and magazines were to be bundled up and saved.

(source)

And so on.

For other rationing information, see the “Make It Do” tag on Sarah Sundin’s blog.

But my grandparents’ frugality goes back another generation. There was no formal rationing in WW1 in the US, but there were massive propaganda campaigns to reduce consumption of certain things. People were encouraged to have “meatless” and “wheatless” days. Weird recipes for “Camouflage Cookery” appeared.

(source)

WW1 “War Gardens” were the predecessors of Victory Gardens. Canning the produce from the gardens was patriotic. And so on.

My grandparents improved bit by bit as Mom grew and Grampa made more money at better jobs and the economy recovered. One of the first things they caved on was having coffee all day every day as some kind of personal victory, but still never with cream or sugar. Mom and I keep suddenly realizing some of their habits were tied to rationing.

Generational drift has kept a lot of those odd little habits. Mom hates vegetables that aren’t salty and cooked to floppiness. Eat freezerburned food because it’s your own damned fault it got freezerburned. Wear shoes until they fall apart and unless they are flip-flops that become 100% unusable, keep the worn out pair until our next pair of shoes wear out “just in case” the new shoes get damaged. Shoelaces are saved when the shoes get trashed. Clothes get ripped beyond repair? Fight the urge to save the cloth for “something.” Recycle things to near-obsession. “Waste not want not,” but for very specific things.

I explain all this to establish that we have already identified patterns in hardship coping mechanisms within our family.

Now we have identified another.

1917-1918 Influenza Pandemic

My great grandparents-- the parents of my maternal grandfather-- were European immigrants who lived in Chicago during WW1 and the pandemic. My other grandparents likely did, too, but I have very little information about them. My GGF’s occupation would be considered non-essential in modern times, but I’m not sure about 1917-1918. I don’t know what he did during that time; though I know there is a Draft Registration Card for him, I have no proof or anecdotal evidence that he served in the military. So he was likely home with his wife and baby. During a time of fear of bringing illness home enhanced by propaganda,

real(?) news,

(source)

and gradually escalating sanitary measures imposed by the local government.

(source)

So. Terror.

Mom and I talked about him. Obsessive about handkerchief use and washing. Strict standards for cleaning. He didn’t live with Mom’s family, so she doesn’t remember much else relevant. And Great Grandmother? She focused on the food and frugality.

But their son, my grandfather? Also obsessive about handkerchief use and washing. So unreasonably obsessed with cleaning that Gramma threw up her hands and said, “Then you do it!” and Grampa, a man in the early 1950s, did it without complaint. Silverware and dishes were never to be shared or used twice and must be washed immediately after use.

He was born during a pandemic and raised by a father who had to keep his family safe during a pandemic. And a world war. And the Great Depression.

How could my great grandfather’s parenting not be affected by all that trauma?

How could my grandfather not be affected by that parenting from trauma?

How could my grandfather’s parenting not be affected by all that trauma, plus trauma from serving in WW2?

How could my mother not be affected by that parenting from trauma?

Mom said she and her sister were distressed every time they got even a little bit sick and tried to hide it from my grandfather because he seemed to react to illness with anger. Huh, we said, How odd.

“Maybe he was angry at the illness, not at you?” I guessed.

“Hmmmmmmm,” Mom said doubtfully.

“Oh, hey, didn’t Great-Grandpa live through that?” I idly asked.

Mom blinked and went utterly still. After a minute of staring blankly, she said, “Oh. Oh.”

“What?”

“He wasn’t angry. He was afraid,” Mom said.

“Who? Oh, Grampa?”

The chain was greatly loosened by my mother, who was a sheltered white girl who literally didn’t know who Martin Luther King Jr. was until everyone started talking about his assassination because my racist grandparents and their social circle controlled her access to media about the Civil Rights Movement so tightly. (The deprogramming of all their underlying racism is a completely different YIKES discussion for another day.) Grampa didn’t serve in Korea, she didn’t have any brothers to get roped into Vietnam, they were very middle class when she was old enough to notice such things, she never really wanted for anything. Just lived a very privileged white girl life.

A charmed life until her mid-30s.

And she still inherited a lot of frugal and cleanliness/sanitation compulsions from my grandparents, which she then passed down to me. Diluted twice over, but very much there. And very useful, now that we are low-income and disabled but still live in a run-down but big house capable of storing extra stuff. If one or both of us has a flare and can’t shop? We just turn to the freezer and pantry and the garage cabinet. Because always having a month’s worth of food is... just how it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?

Buy extra nonperishable food when it’s cheap whenever you can afford it. It’s better to have too much than to have not enough. Mind your hygiene. Wash, wash, wash anything that gets saliva or nasal discharge on it. Wash your hands before, during, and after food prep. Wash your hands in general. Grow your own vegetables and make sure they’re nutritious ones that’ll keep. Some things Are Not To Be Shared. Anything like double-dipping is a crime against humanity. Don’t lick the stirring spoon, or wash it immediately after if you do. Correct people who don’t cover coughs and sneezes and either make them wash their hands if they used them or do not let them touch you. If you get sick or poor or disaster/war breaks supply lines, you’ll be glad to have enough food to live on for a month. Buy extra nonperishable food when it’s cheap whenever you can afford it. It’s better to--

2020 Coronavirus Pandemic: Distilled Generational Habits and Coping Mechanisms

I still have the recipes Gramma carefully saved from the Eagle Brand canned, shelf-stable sweetened condensed milk that was given to her family by local welfare workers in the 1930s.

This is why when panic buying started in early March 2020-- before people started taking the possibility of long-term shutdowns seriously-- one of the first staples I went for was shelf-stable milk. I remember being surprised that there was so much of it on the shelf. Huh.

Fresh potatoes were gone, but the canned and dry/instant potatoes were untouched. Huh. Tons of Gramma’s recipes used “potato flakes.” Don’t they know that fresh potatoes have a much shorter shelf life? Huh.

Fresh tomatoes were picked over, but the canned diced/stewed/paste/sauce were still well-stocked. Huh.

Bread and bread products like tortillas were gone. The flour was untouched. Huh. I didn’t buy any because we already make sure we have a good amount of flour on hand. Same for salt, sugar, yeast, baking soda, and baking powder. Like, we have an in-other-times-(by-which-I-mean-January)-excessive amount of salt, sugar, and baking soda. Prepackaged bread crumbs were untouched; we still had a good amount of panko at home but I got two more boxes because they were BOGO and surely people would soon realize this was good to have for a bit of shelf-stable variety.

Buy extra nonperishable food when it’s cheap whenever you can afford it, Gramma may as well have whispered to me.

I should’ve bought dried split peas to make soup with the leftover ham hock we have in the freezer. They sold out the next week with all the pasta. Which I hadn’t even considered because Mom is diabetic and controls it through diet alone. Pasta is a no-no here.

I was so busy with sorting out *vague gestures* life in general during a pandemic that I delayed going through my seed stock; I didn’t realize some of my staple veggie seeds were so old because I started my garden so late last year that I just bought seedlings. I’m guessing seedlings are gonna sell out. So I was late to go hunting for seeds online, but now they’re in the mail. My usual tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini, cucumbers, and winter squashes, along with things I hadn’t seriously considered before: Green/soup peas. Black-eyed peas. Carrots. Onions. I usually try to grow fun things mixed in with staples but not this year.

Remember to use sunflowers as wind and sun breaks, Grampa may as well have whispered to me. In hot and sunny places, they can make or break a garden. I learned that the hard way when I moved out west. They bring the bees, too.

Okay. I can do this. Thanks.

Conclusion

That meme of the person going “wow I wonder what it would be like to live through a major historical event-- WAIT NOT LIKE THIS NOT LIKE THIS NOOO” has me thinking even more than it usually does. This pandemic has made me acutely aware of how “macro” history’s threads are woven into the “micro” history of my family. It has made me more curious; if we’re shut in for longer, then I may actually get to poke into Mom’s side of the family more. Gaining extra context for things fascinates me-- and could be a great distraction when I’m not able to garden. I’ve already learned a lot.

I really wish I could talk to my grandparents and great grandparents about this. I can already see that I am going to have some habits permanently ingrained in me as compulsions, the same as pandemic and economic disaster did for them.

And I really understand my grandfather’s difficulty controlling anger at an invisible, microscopic enemy and what it could do to your family.

The only difference? I have twenty years of therapy behind me as a tool. I hope that’s enough.

Because yeah, there is anger in my anxiety.

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threadsketchier · 5 years ago

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I saw a post claiming Leia and Han being terrible parents to Kylo or Luke being an asshole to Rey isn't far fetched because in Legends Luke was a terrible father and Han abandoned his children after Chewies death and Leia was so consumed by her job and it makes me so sad are they right I didn't read legends

It’s an exaggeration with a grain or two of truth. Leia was eventually Chief of State/President of the NR in Legends, and even before that she was intensely tied up as a Councilor - yeah, she was really fucking busy. HOWEVER, that didn’t mean she had zero time for her kids. Also, she had her adopted sister/personal assistant/handmaiden Winter as a dedicated caretaker of the children, so the kiddos always had someone stable in their young lives. Also also, HAN SOLO WAS BASICALLY A GLORIFIED FUCKING STAY-AT-HOME DAD AND HE LOVED IT. Even Chewie was a giant hairy uncle to those kids. Did they get kidnapped almost every single subsequent book they were in? OF COURSE. But for all the wild adventures they had, it was obvious they still had a loving and very privileged life.

Yes, Han was written as fucking off for a while in grief after Chewie died. Yeah yeah I get it, he was hurting, Chewie WAS his OG bro. It did suck a bit that he regressed to being a smuggler similar to how we see him in TFA. HOWEVER AGAIN, this was temporary and didn’t last very long in the overall frickin’ 19-book-long series. It’s not like he never came back to his family. Ultimately, Han’s human too, it’s understandable for him to crack under a loss of that magnitude for a little while.

Luke being a terrible father, LMAO. Yeah, let’s see where he beat up and cut off his son’s hand. ;p I didn’t read much past the NJO series so I don’t have first-hand recollection, but the impression I get from the subsequent series is that they had periods of time where his relationship with Ben was strained, but good grief, he was far from a “terrible” father. They eventually went on the tropey “parent/child road trip adventure” across the galaxy spewing glorious snark at each other and I think a lot of personal healing and reconciliation/understanding happened between them (because of course, manpain from the Mara fridging). AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, at no fucking point did Luke ever, EVER not love his son. If he made mistakes, he never meant to hurt Ben in any way, and it’s fucking hard for a man deeply grieving the loss of his wife to not make some mistakes along the way. Let’s cut him some fucking slack.

AKA, Legends also had no excuse to come up with STUPID PLOTS that required the characters to go through hell multiple times instead of actually doing more interesting shit without wrecking families, so yeah, I’m almost just as salty about that as I am toward Disney!”canon,” but YMMV. I know folks who love Legends point out that at least the core Squad™ trio survives until the bitter end, but they lost Chewie, Anakin, and Jacen along the way and tortured the galaxy under endless brutal wars and strife for decades longer just for the sake of continuing to churn out media, so Legends is just as guilty as pissing me off as the new shit. Bless fic for giving me what I want.

WITH THAT ALL SAID, I still would NOT use the dumpster fire of Legends as an excuse to justify Han, Leia, and Luke being shitty parents because they fucking weren’t. They made the best of bad, bad situations and at no point were they ever callous or neglectful toward their children, the most precious treasure they had after all the pain and struggle they went through during the Galactic Civil War.

#mind the salt i just hauled a whole freighter of it off of crait #my meta #star wars #legends eu #disney star wars #sw negativity

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pulpwriterx · 5 years ago

Text

WOODS

Just a little Reylo smut for Valentine's Day. But with a sense of humour.

Rebel Base: Six Months After the Events on Crait

Rey closed the door of the large, semi-permanent tent that was her only home in the world and followed the moon out into the woods.

She had a place she went to, a little clearing where there was soft, sweet grass under a big, beautiful, sheltering tree.

Even when it rained, the grass just under the tree was dry.

Rey went to her special place and looked up at the stars.

She tried to reopen her bond with Kylo Ren.

Where are you, Ben?

Are you still furious with me?

I hope you have some peace of mind, now that Snoke is dead.

Both the day that she gave Ben his scar, and the day they altered the Balance of Power in the Galaxy were Thursdays.

So, every Thursday, she would come to her special place, and ask those three questions to the stars.

“I am on my command ship, in my bedroom. We are near Coruscant. I was furious with you, but now I’m only angry with myself. I didn’t explain any of my plan to you; I was too general. Because I wanted you to join me, and I figured we would iron out the details, later. I have been able to see and to think much more clearly, now that Snoke is dead. Some of the changes I have made on the planets in my dominion have been for the better. I have personally executed despots. I have brought order and civilization to the places they ruled. Not to mention access to food, clean water, and decent housing. I am an autocrat, but I have no desire to punish, terrorise and dominate the people I rule over.”

Rey felt Ben’s fingers entwine with hers until her hard little hand was engulfed in his.

She turned.

He was also looking at the stars, and he had put something on.

A black bathrobe.

“I thought if I showed up stark naked, you would think I was trying to seduce you.”

A smile tugged the corners of his mouth.

“I don’t want to talk about religion or politics, right now. I’m too tired.” Rey told him.

She wanted him to hold her, but it was nice, holding his hand.

“That’s because my mother is training you. You know what I learned from my mother? Endurance. Being tough and hard isn’t enough. You have to have endurance. The strength to go on, and do what you must. Never falter. Never retreat. Never surrender.”

Rey nodded.

“She doesn’t talk about a lot of religion and politics, does she?”

“My mother doesn’t like labels. Or rules. She likes to get things done. My Uncle trains monks. My mother trains soldiers. Teachers. Diplomats. People who have to get things done in the real world. Where there’s no Dark Side and no Light Side. Just what you have to do and the skills you need to do it. I wish she could see that we’re doing the same thing, in different ways.”

They both looked up at the stars.

“You know, before my Uncle blew up the building we were sitting in, I was going to kiss you. When we were in that elevator and you were giving me the standard Luke Skywalker lecture? I kept looking at your lips because I wanted to kiss you. If you would have taken my hand in Snoke’s throne room, I would have kissed you. I still want to kiss you.”

Kylo Ren put his arm around Rey, and she put her head on his shoulder.

“There are orange hairs on your black bathrobe. Short ones. Do you have a cat?”

“Yes. Hux and I share a common room, and a cat. Her name is Milicent. We also have a small private kitchen. He eats my food and I drink his Arkanian mead. Armi never cleans the cat box so the cat always shits where I keep my mask.”

Rey laughed.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I understand that the Resistance is made up of people. You need to understand that in the First Order, we are also just people.”

“That you’re just a man, even though you’re Supreme Leader Kylo Ren?”

“A man who aches to kiss you.”

Rey thought about it.

He probably had never kissed a girl, before.

He went right from the Jedi Temple to the rigorous, torturous Sith training.

Rey was a woman of the world; she’d had some boyfriends on Jakku.

It wouldn’t hurt to let him kiss her.

To show him how to kiss.

“Well, sometimes when you talk to me about the Galaxy? I wish you’d just shut up and kiss me.”

Rey was going to say something else, but Ben had taken her into his arms and kissed her.

Things changed.

She was in the arms of a man who knew exactly how to kiss a woman, especially how to kiss a woman like her.

Their lips parted.

Ben’s eyes were still closed.

“Ben?”

“Don’t talk.”

He kissed her again, and this time, he laid her on the sweet soft grass like an empty dress.

Rey put her hands inside his bathrobe, touching his strong, broad chest.

One of his arms was around her waist, the other curled around her body and as they kissed he stroked her breast, letting the pad of his thumb roll around her nipple, touching her through her clothes.

Her nipple hardened under his fingers, jumping to a peak for him.

The jolt between Rey's legs rolled her thighs apart, just a little, and she felt Ben getting hard against the inside of her thigh.

Their lips parted, again.

“Why did I think you were some kind of inexperienced Jedi Monk?”

“I don’t know. Before I was a lusty, rampant satyr of a Sith Lord, I was a lusty, rampant satyr of a ruthless pirate and hotshot flyboy. But you’ve got me half-right. I was a virgin until I was 20. Now I have to make up for lost time.”

“I think you should get off of me, Ben.”

“I should. But is that what you really want?”

She had never seen him smile, before.

He had a beautiful smile.

His unconventional male beauty had never been so apparent to her.

It distracted her.

So did his fingers gently rubbing just the right spot on her panties.

“No, no, don’t touch me there. Please.”

“Why is it that when you say that, your tone of voice says don’t stop touching me, I need you to keep touching me, I haven’t had a man’s hands on me for so long that I forgot what it feels like? All those flyboys in the Resistance, why are you starving to death at the buffet?”

“My vows.”

“More of that Uncle Luke bullshit. You’re getting pretty moist for a woman who cares about her vows. Did my mother ever mention those vows to you?”

“No.”

“Well, she’s your Master now, and all my parents ever did was fight in the kitchen and fuck in the bedroom. Leia Organa would never expect anybody fighting a war to do something so stupid as to be chaste.”

He had a point.

But Ben had stopped touching her.

“Why did you stop?”

“You told me to stop. So I stopped.”

“Now I do want you to get off me.”

“Alright. I will. But can I kiss you, one more time?”

“Fine.”

He grabbed her ankles, pulled her forward, pulled her leggings down, and entirely off one bare foot, settled her legs around his shoulders, and kissed Rey, in an eloquently intimate manner in her most intimate of places.

Of course, never in the history of any Galaxy has any woman ever said to any man, especially a man she was involved in a midnight makeout session with, now listen, mister, you had better stop licking my pussy, or I will contact the authorities.

Rey didn’t, either.

Indeed, she tangled her fingers in his thick dark hair and encouraged him.

“That was a dirty trick.” She told him.

After.

“You said I could kiss you again. I never said where.”

Rey suddenly came out of her afterglow, and sat up on her elbows.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Ben, I do not want to watch you play with yourself!”

That was a lie.

His black bathrobe was open, and the sight of his long white body and of his big sinewy hand stroking his cock was perversely exhilarating.

“Would you like to help? Seeing as how you’re drooling, just a little.”

She laughed.

“I might as well. Don’t pull my hair. I didn’t pull your hair. If you start yanking on my hair, I’ll stop.”

He did not pull her hair.

Ben was a very big boy, and Rey enjoyed herself, quite a bit, more than she liked to admit, sucking the enemy off.

The dense manly scent of him filling her nose, the heaviness of his balls in her hand, the hard heaviness in her mouth of his big, meaty cock, salty and stiff and her fist hardly able to fit around him, so long since she tasted a man’s heat.

So long that she wanted it to be Ben's.

They lay together, on the grass, again.

Now he held her in his arms.

“Are you asleep?”

“No. You give great head. I can’t stand girls who spit.”

They looked at each other, and the stars.

“Rey, did you say, 'Oh gods, meat!', right before you sucked me off?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Oh you sweet, hungry Little Rebel Girl! You can eat my meat any time you want.”

Rey laughed, a little.

She had undone the mighty Kylo Ren with a kiss.

Of sorts.

Kylo took her hand again.

“Rey?” he asked.

“Yes?”

He brought her hand to his lips, and kissed it.

“Can I fuck you, now?”

She started to laugh.

She had expected him to make some corny pass at her, and say something stupid, and ruin the whole thing.

But he had said what he said, instead, and it made her laugh.

“What was that, again?”

“I mean it. I really need to fuck you. I’m hornier than I was before. I’m fucking hard again. You have to let me fuck your sweet, pretty little pussy. Please? Pretty please?”

Rey laughed, again.

“You’re a real goofy bastard, you know that, Kylo? And you’ve got a filthy mouth.”

“Yeah. Ben is too. We’re a couple of horny goofballs.”

“Are you any good?”

Now Kylo laughed.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Kylo?”

“Yes, Rey?”

“How come you’re not fucking me, now?”

They both laughed.

“How do you want it?”

“How do I want what? Your gigantic monster cock? Well don’t put it in my ass. I won’t be able to sit down for a year!”

They could barely speak, they were laughing so hard.

Finally, they stopped.

“First, I’m going to take off the rest of my clothes. And then? I think I’d like you to be on top of me. Like you were, when we were kissing. That was nice. It felt good.” Rey told him.

Kylo Ren took off his bathrobe, and Rey took off her clothes.

She lay down on the grass, and opened her arms to him, and he kissed her, again.

Somewhere during that kiss, he started fucking her.

Slowly

It was nice.

It felt good.

She put her arms around him, and raised her knees up, and his eyes were shut but Rey’s were open, and she studied his face, and moved her hands over his body.

Then his eyes were open, and he was smiling at her again.

“Rey?”

“Yes, Kylo?”

“How do you like this long, slow, deliberate fucking?”

“It’s nice. It feels good. But it’s kind of boring. What do you think?”

“Well, some girls like getting fucked like this. I get bored doing it.”

Rey laughed again.

“Will you stop being such a goofball and fuck me like you mean it?”

“Yes ma’am!”

All the sudden goofy Ben turned into a raging inferno of violent hot lust, and he was fucking her like he was the Devil, himself, and she was his favorite witch.

“Oh gods, Ben! Don’t stop! Keep fucking me just like that!”

“Okay.”

She would have laughed if he wasn’t stroking the hot spot inside her with every thrust.

“No! Oh no, Ben, you have to stop!”

“Why? No implant?”

“No! I have one. But you’re going to make me squirt!”

“Squirt, killer. Come for Kylo. Squirt all over my balls.”

She did.

Somewhere in the throes of her orgasm, Kylo Ren had his.

They lay together in the grass, star-crossed lovers, their bodies entwined together.

“Rey?”

“Yes, Ben?”

“Why don’t we meet in person on Thursdays? I’ll find a place. You have an X-Wing. I have a TIE fighter. No one has to know.”

“No religion or politics?”

“None.”

“OK. We will."

“You know what? Now that I know how to make you squirt? The next time I go down on you, I’m going to finger you, so you squirt on my face.”

“That was really dirty. If I go and wash up in the stream, can that be right now?”

“Don’t go wash. I want to eat your cunt when it’s dirty. Then, can we fuck again?”

“You are so bad! Yes. We can fuck again. But this time I want to be on top.”

“Your wish is my command.’

#ben solo #ben solo lives #reylo #star wars fanfiction #kylo ren #rey

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