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irismoonrise · 2 years

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A Warrior’s Cry

Summary: While battling Hybern’s lost allies, Cassian and Nesta are separated on the battlefield. Cassian’s worst fear comes true as Nesta is injured in battle. (Nessian One-Shot set 200 years after ACOSF)

Read on AO3

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: Nesta x Cassian

Warnings: Major Character Injury, Descriptions of Blood and Violence

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this. I really wanted to write a fic like this for awhile and finally got up the courage to do so. Im open to more Nessian prompts and questions so feel free to ask away.

The battle was bleak but harsh. Hybern’s lost allies had attacked with deadly precision. When Rhys and the other High Lords of Prythian chose a battleground they usually chose it well. But nothing could have prepared them for this slaughter. The Allies had used the last 200 years to plan this battle in their favor. They had littered the ground with mines made of faebane, even going as far as to grow the grass that lined the battlefield with it. By the time everyone realized what was happening, it was too late to back down. No amount of faebane anecdote could nullify the amount that clouded the air.

The Illyrian legions and Seraphim forces took to the ground as many were being shot out of the sky. Nesta had ridden in leading her fellow Valkyrie on pegasuses granted to them by Helion years ago but quickly followed suit. The new weapons made of ash wood with bullets laced with faebane were a shock to everyone. They were proving to be utterly lethal.

Mud mixed with blood splashed upon Athena’s white coat as Nesta rode her into a group of Allies. Smoke went up in plumes from the battlefield and the clinking of swords and firing of weapons drowned out the sound of the fallen still clinging to life.

Nesta swung Ataraxia with great force, downing two men before they could even swing their own swords. She had traded in her Illyrian leathers years ago for the gray and royal blue of the Valkyrie. Emerie, Gwyn, and her had argued over the design for what felt like decades before they finally decided on one that felt unique to them and emphasized their strength.

She had lost sight of them ages ago and could only pray that they were holding up on the battlefield. She had also lost sight of Cassian as the overhead forces took the field. After being mated for over 200 years, she couldn't help but feel terrified at the thought of losing him here. Their daughter Amelia, had stayed behind in the camps with Elain. Though she proved to be a great warrior, she and Cassian had insisted she wasn’t ready for this kind of battle–and they were right. Nesta couldn't imagine their daughter being out here, what would happen if she got hurt or worse.

Far off in the distance, she could make out the blonde braid of Mor’s hair as she fought relentlessly against a male almost twice her size. A glimpse of blue caught Nesta’s attention to the right of Mor–there stood Azriel gutting their enemies with the swiftness of a cat and the stealth of a shadow. She had no idea what front of the field Feyre and Rhys had taken, only that they undoubtedly took it together with Nyx closely by their side.

The sound of Ataraxia’s blade slamming against the males in front of her did little to calm her mind. She took him down and quickly rode further into the battlefield. Athena was again swarmed by more soldiers. Nesta reached for her short blade at her side and exerted all her focus on taking down their enemies and getting through this battle. Finally taking down Hybern’s lost allies and sympathizers, an era of potential peace–the calm before the next storm.

Nesta was so focused on what lay in front of her that she didn’t feel the shudder up her back as an enemy sharpshooter aimed their weapon for her. Though the mile between them made it difficult to get a clear shot of her vital body parts, he aimed anyway and landed a calculated blow in Nesta’s abdomen. She hissed and nearly screamed as it tore through her flesh but kept battling the soldiers ahead.

She managed to take down five more soldiers before another shot rang out, hitting Nesta a few inches below her collarbone. Blood sprayed all over Athena’s white coat. Nesta dropped her short blade, her left arm going limp from the pain and the faebane quickly taking effect. Before she could attempt to raise Ataraxia again, another shot rang out. This time it hit Athena, causing the pegasus to flare its wings and rear up. Another shot aimed at Athena’s chest struck, causing her to let out a wounded cry. The angle caused Nesta’s foot to get stuck in the stirrup and as Athena went down, so did she.

—

Cassian took in the destruction left by the battle around him. Bodies covered portions of the field, a variety of broken wings and limbs sticking up at odd angles. Fires smoldered from blown mines and parts of the ground laid bare. He had landed from the sky miles away from where the battle had started, losing Nesta in the process. Gods he knew she could handle herself, but he worried for her.

He continued to patrol the now calm field doing a quick estimate of casualties and eyeing the weapons of fallen enemy soldiers. He prayed that Nesta was okay and heading back to the camp, back to their daughter and family.

He hadn't spotted Rhys or Azriel but assumed his brothers made it out of the battle in one piece by the quiet and calm feeling at the thought of them. The faebane weapons and grown field had shocked all of them. They had been taking the anecdote in preparation but were taken aback at the amount that coated the plants in the ground and settled into the air. As soon as Cassian felt it, he felt weak–almost sick but he powered through.

The casualties were great but Prynthian had again emerged victorious. Now all he wanted to do was go home, rest, make love to Nesta until they were both hoarse, and enjoy peace while it lasted. Anything to chase the thoughts of those who would be grief-stricken as their loved ones didn't return home.

Cassian, Ferye’s tense voice filled his head.

Feyre? Is everyone-

It’s Nesta…She’s hur-

Cassian took off into the skies before Feyre could even finish the sentence.

He landed outside their tent, shaking the ground with the impact of his landing. As he stood to his full height, he took in the figures of Emerie, Mor, Gwyn, Azriel, and lastly Rhysand standing in front of the opening to the tent. Their battered faces were pale and held grim expressions. He began to storm towards the opening in the tent but Rhys stopped him. All the stars in his eyes had disappeared, and Cassian thought the worst. He could already smell the tang of Nesta’s blood leaking out of the tent.

Rhys leveled his stare. “Amelia, Elain, and Feyre are already inside along with Madja. They’re doing everything they can. She was-”

Cassian pushed past Rhys into the tent before he could say another word. And there on a cot set in the middle of the space lay an unconscious Nesta. Cassian could feel eyes on him but could only focus on the paleness of Nesta’s skin, the way her hair had dimmed, and how her chest struggled to move up and down. There were cloths stained with her blood scattered around Madja as she worked to dip a fresh one in the red-tinted water of a basin. Elain hovered over Madja with a smaller bowl in her hands that looked like it contained removed bullets. Feyre knelt on the other side of Nesta, holding Aria close as his daughter held Nesta’s hand and sobbed over the state of her mother.

“Dad?” Cassian snapped out of his stupor long enough to look at his daughter. He was met by her eyes, her mother’s eyes, framed by the dark waves of her hair and emphasized by the slight tan of her skin. Her wings laid limply folded to the side as if she was too depressed to keep them up.

Feyre moved away as he knelt next to his daughter and took her in his arms. Her tears stained his fighting leathers as he rubbed her back in an attempt to calm her. After several moments he repositioned her so she could place her head on his shoulder as they observed Madja’s magic working to heal Nesta’s internal wounds.

Cassian asked to whoever, “What happened?”

Gwyn answered. “I found her on the field partially under Athena. I knew she was bleeding out and managed to maneuver the pegasus off her legs. I flagged down Nyx and he winnowed us here.”

Cassian took a second to absorb the information knowing that everyone tensely waited for his reply. But he looked at Nesta’s pale face and asked, “Will she be okay?”

Madja leaned over Nesta’s abdomen, face tense with sweat gathering at her temples as she focused her magic on the shredded hole left by a bullet. “I was able to remove the bullets and any leftover fragments. The faebane residue mixed with the ash wood is making it very difficult to properly heal the damaged muscle but I am cleaning and closing the wounds at an albeit slow pace. The weight and impact of the pegasus falling on her fractured her pelvis and her left fibula. I already mended the bone to the best of my abilities, she’ll have difficulty walking for a while but should recover just fine.”

Cassian let out a long sigh that he didn’t realize he was holding. He felt Amelia relax slightly beside him and take in a deep breath. Nesta was going to be okay, he had almost lost her but she will be ok. He quietly thanked the Mother for sparing Nesta’s life, for giving them more time together, for letting their daughter have a mother for a longer time than they each had with theirs.

Everyone slightly started as Nesta stirred and groaned as she slowly gained consciousness. Cassian was quick to move closer and take her hand in his. Her now dull eyes focused on him, she moved her mouth to speak.

Cassian attempted to calm her. “Shhh, don’t talk. Everything’s okay, you're okay Nes. I’m here, everyone is here.”

Nesta’s gaze caught on Amelia as she moved closer. Her eyes filled with worry as she took in Amelia's tear-stained face and sad smile. “I thought I lost you, mom. I love you so much.”

He let go of Nesta’s hand at that moment. She weakly and slowly reached up to Amelia’s face, placing her hand on her cheek. Amelia let out a choked sob as Nesta attempted to wipe away her tears. It was as if it finally hit their daughter that Nesta would be ok, she wasn't going to be losing her mother today–not yet.

Nesta’s eyes drifted back to Cassian as Amelia started to move away. He took the opportunity to move closer, placing his brow against the side of her face and taking her hand in his once again. He inhaled her sunkissed winter scent and mentally thanked the Mother again. He sensed the movement of everyone excluding Madja leaving the tent.

As he looked into Nesta's eyes, he saw their past and their future. How she had pushed him away, how they came together as she healed from her past, and their extravagant but intimate mating ceremony. The joy they felt when finding out she was pregnant with Amelia to the birth of their daughter months later. He thought of those nights spent in each other's company as he tried not to fall asleep while she stayed up reading past dawn. The times when Amelia was small enough to squeeze in between them, her little wings slightly fluttering as she dreamed. He remembered falling asleep watching Nesta hold their daughter close. Cassian looked to the future and cherished all the little things in it. Nesta was his world, his everything. And after coming this close to losing her, Cassian let his tears fall.

He closed his eyes and took in a shaky breath. “You scared the hell out of me, Nes. I thought ‘this is the moment I lose her, the love of my life is being taken from me.’ I started making mental vows to Amelia and promising to love her with twice the amount of love to make up for what she would’ve lost from you. I was already giving myself reasons to go on and not fall into that place of numbness. The thought of living my life without you terrified me. A world without you, is a world without my soul. But here you are, my strong Valkyrie who always persists. I love you, and Mother above, please don’t scare me like this again.”

Cassian could barely make out Nesta’s face through his tears but the squeezing of his hand in hers made him blink rapidly to see her face. As she became clearer, he noticed that she was crying too. And in her eyes lay the answer to all his problems, all his worries–the words that could heal everything in his heart.

I love you too.

#nessian #nesta x cassian #acosf #nesta archeron #acotar #nessian fanfiction #ao3 #nessian fic #nessian one shot #acowar #a court of silver flames #acotar fanfiction #sarah j maas

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imherongraystairstrash · 1 year

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Dontou have hc with them with alex during the first years post chot?

Hello! I have SO MANY Alex hcs! Though I will say, it was hard to limit myself to when he was so young, so I included some older Alex hcs as well because I just couldn’t help myself hahah

-After Kit’s death, Alex used to sleep with their cat (Marie Purrie) even though Cecily had forbidden ever since they got the cat. When Cecily found out about this, she turned a blind eye

-He has nightmares until he’s about 5 years old. For the first year, it’s every night and he wakes up screaming and thrashing. Slowly, he begins having them less, but they are still constant until he turns six (that is, a little over two years after chot). While he stops screaming in his sleep, the dreams are still incredible vivid. Sometimes, when they’re especially rotten, he’ll slip into his parents room to seek their comfort. He doesn’t like waking his mother, so he sort of sits beside her bed until Cecily inevitably wakes from nightmares of her own, and notices him there. Of course, she reaches out and immediately folds him into her arms. Alex loves sleeping in his mother’s arm because he rarely gets nightmares when he’s with her.

- Alex has always been interested in being a warrior (His name fitting, as it means “defender of men”) but after the events of chot, he becomes obsessed with the idea of saving people, kind of like Kit was. Only instead of saving them through science, Alex wants to save them through combat fighting. As a child, he reads about weapons religiously and it always seeking guidance from the older shadowhunters around him, to help make him a better warrior.

Older Alex:

-Gabriel and Cecily get him a pet dog once they deem him old enough to take care of one (that is, when he’s about twelve or thirteen years old). She’s a border collie that has mostly black hair, though she has a bit of white on her snout and paws. Alex named her Helia. Nobody knew why; Alex always kept the reason to himself: it was in homage of his science-loving brother, since Helium is the second element in the periodic table, and Christopher was the second child.

-I think something changed in Alex after chot; I feel like if there were an alternate universe in which he was never kidnapped and Kit never died, Alex would have been completely different: happier, more carefree, sarcastic and a bit flirty. But because the events in chot happened, I think of him being more like Alec (funny enough) and Julian in the sense that he’s more quiet and puts high expectations for himself.

-Alex’s worst enemy is himself

-He’s INCREDIBLE with the bow and arrow. Just amazing. He never misses, even if the shot seems impossible. His arrows go at a deadly speed and hit their mark impeccably. At fifteen years old, the Clave awarded him with a medal for being one of the best archers in his age range (14-18) in recorded Nephilim history. Alex was embarrassed, not liking the fact that he had to stand in a room full of people staring at him as he received the medallion.

I’m going to stop here in case I’m boring you hahah

Thank you for the askk 💕💕

#chot spoilers #tsc #tlh #alex Lightwood #gabriel lightwood #cecily lightwood #chot #Ana hc #anon asks

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silverwings-stories · 9 months

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🌼DaisyClan: Moon 24🌼

“Why don’t they just demand that Minkstar backs down?” Minkstar froze as Icyback’s angry hiss cut through the evening’s silence. She caught a glimpse of the she-cat’s lashing white tail around the side of the warrior’s den. Minkstar couldn’t see who she was talking to. Her whiskers twitched indecisively. Minkstar knew she should just keep walking and pretend like she didn’t hear anything. But before she could get her paws moving, Icyback spoke again.

“They were chosen by StarClan, right?” The she-cat said, her voice low but threatening. “Shouldn’t they be allowed to continue their leadership?”

Another voice answered haltingly. Minkstar recognized it as Woodfur’s. “Well . . . technically Daisyst - Daisyrunner - was chosen to lead us to our new home.” Woodfur didn’t seem to know which side he was on. Minkstar had never heard him sound so unsure. “Maybe, since that’s done, they can . . . retire?”

“RETIRE?!” Icyback spat, making Minkstar’s fur bristle. Since when had the former loner been so passionate about Clan politics? The she-cat was always proud, but until now, she’d mostly kept to herself. “DaisySTAR is still so young - half Minkstar’s age, at least!” Minkstar was surprised by how much Icyback’s comment stung her. Yes, she was older than Daisyrunner, but she wasn’t any less competent. Does Icyback think I should retire? Minkstar wondered. Of course, I’ve thought about it, but I still feel like I have a lot more to offer my Clan. I can’t go to the elder’s den yet!

“Keep your voice down!” Woodfur was scolding Icyback. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that maybe, Daisyrunner’s time as leader is over.” Minkstar heard the white she-cat prepare to snap back, but Woodfur went on. “But we won’t know for sure until StarClan tells us.”

But . . . will StarClan tell us? The unwelcome thought squeezed its way into Minkstar’s head. What would they do if StarClan didn’t give them a definite answer about DaisyClan’s leadership? They’d given Minkstar her nine lives, yes, but they’d also tried to tell the cats that Daisyrunner wasn’t gone for good. Gone . . . but not lost. The visions of the shadowy creature stealing a daisy seemed to have a clear meaning now. StarClan seemed to favour both Minkstar and Daisyrunner. But if they didn’t choose, the Clan would.

Minkstar stayed crouched in the shadow of the warrior’s den as Icyback and Woodfur went their separate ways. Her gaze swept across the camp, watching from afar as her Clanmates prepared for their night’s rest. Who would they each choose? Minkstar couldn’t help but wonder. But it seemed, in this instance, there was no clear choice.

>>>

Notable Events

Rabbitpaw is now a warrior, called Rabbitspot.

Although they still haven’t received a sign from StarClan, cats are starting to take sides about who should be leader. Icyback has taken Daisyrunner’s side, complaining about Minkstar behind her back.

And that marks the end of Year Two in DaisyClan! But the drama is far from over . . .

If you want to see more of my work, I also have an alt account where I post non-clangen art and a YouTube channel.

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful day!

#clan generator #clangen #warriors oc #warrior cats #original character #warriors #daisyclan #daisystar #minkstar #woodfur #icyback #leader #starclan

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wills-woodland-warriors · 1 year

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Clubmossclan’s legacy

ClubmossClan was formed by MossPatch, a very seniory warrior, recruits nine farm cats into a clan after his best friend SpeckleDaisy died unexpectedly, and her last wish was for him to create a safe place. They share a border with BeeClan.

In the thirteen years this clan thrived it dealt with many wars with BeeClan, rebellions, and murderers. Starclan’s attempt to aid the clans, and the favouritism the stars held, led to the clans tearing themselves apart.

The greatest leader was QuickStar, who pulled the clan through many struggles.

During a battle in which the clan was torn in two opposing groups, BerryClaw saved many cats and was made deputy and later led for two years as he tried to repair clan relations with BeeClan.

BerryStar found two dead BeeClan cats, both of which were found in a badger den reeking of sickness. The medince cats couldn’t identify any specific sickness, and were so covered in lavender that the scent of the wolves was completely covered.

He wanted the warriors to have a proper burial so he took them back and they buried them. The cats who buried them got sick, and it spread far faster than greencough.

It wiped out the clans, leaving only a few cats in each clan.

it originated in the cliffs clans, PineClan, BriarCla, SunClan, WhisperClan, AshClan, LilacClan, which all fell quickly while consumed with too much pride to help eachother.

BeeClan was the first to fall in the northern clans.

ClubmossClan fell last. The clan broke off into isolated groups, occupying three camps.

In the abandoned camps, a body pile is seen. The bodies are unidentifiable, all rotted down to bones, torn apart and scattered by predators.

Very few clan cats survived, and they decided the land was cursed.

They left after BerryStar fell, all nine lives taken by sickness. He led the clans to a new territory, deeper into the forests and up the cliffs.

The five clans

The four grandchildren of QuickStar went on to make their own clans, each as leader.

SongTail formed QuickClan, which live in the mountains and are considered the most docile of all the clans. They are frequently killed by the rushing waters and rough terrain.

WhiskerRapid stayed to lead ClubmossClan after the plague of greencough that wiped out almost all the clan.

FadedRump went on to start TipClan. Sneered at and called the “blessed” clan, these cats face very little challenges in the lushest territory.

CrowLily went on to start DownyClan. This clan is full of rivalries as they all fight to be the strongest.

The remaining BeeClan cats formed TumbleClan under the guidance of the ClubmossClan cat TumbleEyes. This clan is being haunted by a large pike that lives in the deeply flooded plains after a riverbank burst years ago.

Years ago, SongStar did something to drive the four clans apart, and now they do not speak of the original four.

I start keeping track four years in (aka in new saves), after these four leaders have died. The “plague” was actually my save file deleting.

WolfCough

Symptoms: wheezing, high body temperature, dizziness, sores appearing on joints, aches, previous scars tear open, foaming mouth, incredibly aggressive and attack anything that moves. Some say they appear undead, coughing blood

Passed through: fluid (saliva, mostly)

Treatment options: blazing star, borage, bright eye, chickweed, feverfew

Recovery status: 3/10 usually recover, with kittypets having the highest recovery rate

Kittencough (Fading-kitten-syndrome) is frequent in these clans because of the tough territories. This would be normal if it weren’t for one thing: the paranoia of wolfcough returning, which leads to most kits suspected of having kittencough being killed in fear of it turning into wolfcough.

this is the plague/history I have mentioned in a few of my previous profiles and most of my upcoming submissions, and is needed to read the story I’ll be posting soon. Sorry for the long post lol, I’m aware this is mostly me rambling. (tag list: @residents-of-the-darkforest @ambitiousauthor @liberhoe)

#clangen #clubmossclan #clubmossclan 2.0 #tumbleclan #quickclan #clan worldbuilding #clan overview #wolfcough #downyclan #tipclan

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l0velyinc · 1 year

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ooo, i'd love to hear 3, 8, 10, 13, 20 for the ask game. whichever questions you feel up to answering with however many of your stories/worlds you want to answer with because they're all so good ;w;

THANK YOU!! For the questions and my first asks <3

I’ll respond with all my stories, (minus any of the ARPG folders (technically not my lore haha.))

3.) ANY RECURRING IMAGES/ELEMENTS?

Almost all of my stories have similar vibes: found family, animals & biology, religious & cult-y vibes, psychedelics, etc. Specifics include:

. VIAJE : EYES, Diseases & Curses, Hearts, Stars, The Moon & Sun, Tarot Cards, Lots of Birds, Aliens & Cosmic Horror Vibes, Oh and religious imagery… lots of it… too much of it…

. SACRELIGIOUS : Dogs & Cats (obviously), Scars? Scratches?, Trees, Islands, Books, Candles, Calligraphy

. LAKE SHORE DRIVE : 1970’s to Early 2000’s Music, College? Small Town, Rivers & Lakes, Scientific Latin Names for animals??? I dunno like Saturday morning cartoons but with hidden jokes parents would enjoy. And music, lots of music.

8.) WHAT INSPIRED YOUR WORLD BUILDING, IF ANYTHING?

OOOH SO MMUCH!! I wish I could just say: EVERYTHING but I feel like going into specifics would be best!!

. VIAJE: Religion, I love learning about other religions & cultures & traditions! “Anthony Bourdian’s Parts Unknown” was surprisingly a huge inspo!

“Mad Max (Fury Road)” & “The Haunting of Tram Car 015” had some light inspiration to it, the latter of two made me discover the whole Afrofuturism genre, the former helped me realize I wanted this world to be after an apocalypse!

RECENTLY I have been inspired by Jordan Peele & Wes Anderson films, Peele for themes & storytelling, Wes Anderson for well… visuals?? Colors??? The obvious stuff.

. SACRELIGIOUS : I watched a youtube video about the genre of talking animal books. Ones like Plague Dogs, Watership Down, Warrior Cats, & Guardian of Ga'hoole (for clarification: I have read none of these books…)

BUT I did end up liking the youtube video and I do intend on actually reading these types of books… But that’s the main inspo behind this world. Animals can talk to each other, they are confused about human lore, and they read the bible- oh no-

this one is also based on religious themes (less so than Viaje, ironically)

. LAKE SHORE DRIVE : Look, I watch Zootopia once and hear me out- I LOVE worlds with talking animals so any world with talking animals is an inspo here: Sing, Robin Hood, Spongebob, (and very very very very minor inspo includes: Smiling Friends & Bojack Horseman…again very small amount)

Also did I mention 70s to 2000s music?

10.) IF YOUR STORY IS TITLED, WHY DID YOU CHOOSE THAT TITLE?

. VIAJE : This one has been through SO many changes. GLORIOUS would technically be its “true” name, it’s the name of the overall lore Viaje takes place in. It was inspired by both a song lyric & from a show I was watching where it was just part of the dialogue. I thought it was a super fitting word!

VIAJE used to call Urban Renaissance, but I couldn’t find a good way to shorter it (don’t like long names) so I had called it Sacreligious at one point (but again, too long, didn’t fit well), then I looked up words in Spanish (made sense for the lore) and VIAJE just sounded perfect (it is “Journey” in Spanish),

I could also shorten it to “Via” which still fits. Technically the FULL title is: “Buen Viaje” (“have a nice trip”).

. SACRELIGIOUS : Was originally gonna call this story “GOD” (cause, y’know, dog spelt backwards). But that was around the same time I changed Viaje’s name so… they stole it… I still call it “GOD” for short (or DOG in certain places to prevent questions)

. LAKE SHORE DRIVE : Both the most fitting and most unfitting name out of all of them. Was originally gonna call it “Animalia”, but a few people on toyhouse had the same idea… so I wanted to make something more fitting for myself. And I was listening to the song at the time and uh…. it’s LSD. and I have the humor of a 12 year old.

13.) HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN WORKING ON THIS PROJECT? WHAT HAS CHANGED FROM THE OUTSET?

. VIAJE : Oh since 6th grade I think? Okay technically GLORIOUS was made towards the end of highschool, BUT THEN a few years ago I merged it with a story I loved dearly. So it still technically is the same story I had in 6th grade, although extremely different. The bones are still there! *stare at Eve & Adam*

. SACRELIGIOUS : Lol I think, not even a year? I mean I’ve had bits and pieces for this story here & there, but the complete story I’ve only very recently started writing.

. LAKE SHORE DRIVE : Same age as Viaje. Whoever didn’t fit in that story was turned into a furry and thrown into this small town! (or they just… were always a furry and started here.)

HOWEVER the character of Nora is fairly recent? I always knew I wanted at least one human in the story, but I didn’t come up with the full story of Nora until a year or two ago! In fact, she was named THIS YEAR! Before then, she had many “fake” names.

20.) YOUR OCVERSE JUST GOT A MOVIE TRILOGY (A LA HUNGER GAMES STYLE). HOW HAVE THEY HORRIBLY MANGLED YOUR MESSAGE/THEME SO THAT THE MOVIES ARE NOW A SHOWCASE OF WHAT THE ORIGINAL WAS CONDEMNING?

This is THE best question!

. VIAJE : Any pro-capitalist, pro-controlling religion, pro-patriarchy, status quo following trash. Dear god, if they give Jesus’ dad any redemption arc, make Deja straight, or worse… white wash… I would DIE, like actually. Any merch would kind of go against the vibe too? (there is no currency in their world) If any large studio got their hands on this I’d be MAD.

If it were made into a trilogy… actually that might work there’s a lot of little small stories. But Deja & Jesus would probably only be in one movie. The rest would HAVE to be other characters, those two got one goal and would not span a trilogy lol.

. SACRELIGIOUS : Any life action adaption would kill this story, Old Yeller Style. It would never be trilogy material because this story is extremely short. It’s a very clear beginning, middle, and end. Stretched out like that would make it so unwatchable.

I feel like, if it were to be really cringe, they’d throw Church into a love triangle or give them a musical number (I’d start crying, for many sad reasons)

I also feel for this story, and Viaje, the religious aspect (like the warning of cults and the negative commentary on evangelical christianity) would get destroyed, which would make me sad as they are both sort of a callout on toxic behaviors in religious spaces I’ve seen growing up.

. LAKE SHORE DRIVE : There’s no way this could be a movie (or at least an interesting one). I’m thinking this might turn into something like Sing or Secret Life Of Pets? Jukebox musical, pop culture references, family friendly cartoon movie. It’s meant to be a “meh” story, but seeing it produced by a studio would make it extra mid (and thus me extra mad)

Also any romantic relationship for Nora, dear god, the implications. OR WORSE one of those carnivore vs herbivore stories (ugh I can’t take anymore bad racism allegories.) OR EVEN WORSE they have Nora look for her “human parents” (any storyline like that would make me gag, Sadia & Russell will always be her parents and are the only parents that should matter.)

A POSITIVE NOTE:

Thank you for the questions and I can’t wait to finish the profile codes for these stories’ characters so I can show off more lore!!! >:)

#love.txt #oc #ask

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robin-the-blind-sniper-rifle · 2 years

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Onestar’s Confession is easily the worst super edition BY FAR. I asked for this book as a gift before I knew how horrible it was via the leaks, and by the time I got it it was too late, but that doesn’t mean I condone ANYTHING that happens in it.

I haven’t read the book yet, but since I have it I will, and I’ll post a more in depth review later on. As someone who has gone to school to study literature, particularly children’s lit, I feel like I need to say something on it once I’m finished. However, I will make a statement on why I think it was written the way it was.

For starters, no one wanted a super edition about Onestar. Last year, Leopardstar’s Honor was the first super edition to be written via the “choice of the fans” through a site poll. When the new poll came out for this year’s super edition, it was Riverstar, Onestar, and I think Ivypool. Everyone wanted a Riverstar book. He won the poll by a long shot. So why is his super edition slated for 2023?

I think they thought everyone would vote for Onestar because he’s “such a popular character” (known for being horrible so why wouldn’t we) and since they most likely already had a general plan for this book, it would work out when Onestar won the poll. Well it backfired.

Considering the Erins pretty much don’t read their own writing, they wouldn’t remember that Riverstar is a genuinely interesting cat that came up with the mentoring system, and that they pretty much assassinated Onestar’s character after The New Prophecy Arc and caused him to be hated by lots of people. The most I’ve seen him be his old self was in parts of Crowfeather’s Trial and at the end of A Vision of Shadows and that was a HOT minute ago.

In short, this book had tons of backlash before it was even published. Hell, I remember hating it the minute it was announced because I didn’t think we needed a Onestar book, let alone another WindClan super edition. WindClan has four super editions at this point, only one less than ThunderClan’s five. Every other clan only has two. Not to mention the major leaks that came out the day before it released.

Pretty much what I think happened was that they saw the backlash, couldn’t change the schedule at this point, and said “fuck this thing I don’t really care how it goes, they already hate it so much.” They could easily have retconned Whitetail x Onestar by either ignoring it, passing it off as a mistake from before, or, I don’t know, just NOT MADE HER HIS APPRENTICE.

But unfortunately, this book definitely got the “I don’t care” treatment from the Erins, and while I know publishers and Harper Collins ridiculous demand for these things had a hand it, the Erins still wrote it. After the awfulness of Spottedleaf’s Heart, this is a disappointment from Warriors. They’re going to need to do a LOT to make up for this.

I’ll probably add more to this once I’ve actually finished reading, but these are my initial thoughts.

#warriors #warrior cats #onestar #onestars confession #spoilers #long post

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ofdetonation · 2 years

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FAMILY PETS + FUTURE ANIMALS.

Thinking about it. Gotta write it. ALSO will extend this if there are specific animals for specific verses (say, he and his partner get one together in the future).

I ended up writing a lot, so I’ll go ahead and add a read more, just to be safe!

PET ONE : ADZUKI (SHIBA INU).

TIMEFRAME : AGES 0 - 6. PRESENCE : CANON TIMELINE.

When Katsuki was very young, Mitsuki had a wonderful Shiba Inu named Adzuki (アヅキ, literally “red bean”) for his beautiful red-tinted coat. He was more white by the time Katsuki remembers him, having been about 7 years old when Katsuki was born.

This dog absolutely ADORED Katsuki. He was a very tolerant dog, surprisingly aloof when he wanted to be, but extremely lovey to the whole Bakugou family and mainly to Mitsuki and Katsuki. The cutest part about Katsuki having gone through his formative years with Adzuki was that he couldn’t really say Adzuki at first, so he’d shorten it to Kiki (so it’s アヅキ, A-dzu-ki, to キキ, Ki-ki). It’s by the age of 3 that he’s able to say Adzuki more confidently. Mitsuki would often let Katsuki tag along for walks with Adzuki, and while not an inherently toy-driven dog, Adzuki was happy to indulge in a bit of tug-o-war with Katsuki.

Unfortunately, Katsuki didn’t get much of a chance to form a lot of memories with Adzuki because of how old he was; Shiba Inus have a general life expectancy of 12-15 years, and he was already 7 when Katsuki was first welcomed into the world. When Katsuki was about 6 years old, Adzuki was dealing with deafness, blindness, and arthritis from his older age. He lived to nearly 13 years old.

PET TWO : HIME (AMERICAN SHORTHAIR, GREY TABBY).

TIMEFRAME : AGES 13 - 31. PRESENCE : CANON TIMELINE.

For a long time, the Bakugou family didn’t really have another animal under the pretence that none of them were equipped enough at the time to take care of one. Eventually, Masaru and Mitsuki agreed to having a cat in their lives, and spent plenty of time making room to welcome the newest member of the family: Hime.

Hime (姫, literally “princess”) is a very spoilt American Shorthair cat, very fitting of her name, and is probably one of the most affectionate cats you’ll ever meet. She LOVES people. And one would think she would be influenced by the combination of Mitsuki and Katsuki’s personalities, but that couldn’t be further from the truth - her personality actually mirrors Masaru’s a lot more, very calm and even passive. She just likes to get cuddles. Be warned, though, her fur shows up on literally anything and everything and it takes a LOT of effort to get it out. (Not that she cares. She’s just there for cuddles. Oh, you will cuddle her, won’t you?)

The main reason for getting Hime was to help support Katsuki through some things while not overwhelming him with the loyalty and dedication of a dog; cats are generally more independent and like their own time, which Hime does from time to time. She was just barely 9 months old when they first got her. She would be about 5 years old when Katsuki goes into his second year!

Though Hime doesn’t go with Katsuki when he moves out into his own place after graduating from U.A. High, she does stick around until she’s nearly 18 years old.

PET THREE : TAKEO (RUSSIAN BLUE).

TIMEFRAME : 19 - ??. PRESENCE : CANON TIMELINE.

When giving Katsuki Bakugou a chance to have his own animal and name it, it probably shouldn’t be to anyone’s surprise that he picked a name like Takeo (武雄, meaning “warrior, brave” roughly). Takeo is actually quite a sweet boy once you get to know him; but initial meetings aren’t always the smoothest of rides.

A typical Russian Blue personality is a nice balance of sweet, but shy; affectionate, but not clingy. Takeo happened to be a more fierce kitten of the lot when Katsuki was looking for a cat, and with one look at this tiny little 14-week old menace, the Bakugou decided it HAD to be him that he adopted out of the lot. And yes, he very much lives up to his name: when I mention that Takeo is not good at initial meetings, it’s because he generally has that fierce personality that makes people wonder if he was at all a feral cat. (Thankfully, he’s easily bribed with those cat paste treats!)

Once you get past that, though, Takeo is the kind to sneak into your lap at random intervals through the day and firmly headbutt you until you pet him. And then he’ll make biscuits on your lap. He will generally pick Katsuki over anyone else, though, so don’t be too upset if this boy leaps off your lap to follow his human into the kitchen with the promise of a snack.

That being said, Katsuki did end up getting Takeo a friend...

PET FOUR : MORIKO (BENGAL CAT).

TIMEFRAME : 19 - ??. PRESENCE : CANON TIMELINE.

Moriko (森子, roughly meaning “forest child”) is the truly wild one of the two. Having adopted her at 3 years old and not long after he adopted Takeo, Katsuki’s main idea was to ensure that Takeo was learning decent behaviours and wasn’t alone when he was out doing hero work. Getting a Bengal was a risky play on his part; while inherently independent and friendly, they are also very active and athletic, needing a lot of stimulation to avoid getting bored. Thankfully, Takeo seems to provide to Moriko’s every need, and they’re practically inseparable.

She’s the real people person. Moriko is the first to welcome whoever walks through that door, though be careful, because she’s also VERY adventurous and will take a moment of weakness to weasel her way out through that same door! She is also quite energetic and loves to play in comparison to her younger brother, so if you want a cat to spend a whole afternoon playing with, Moriko is your cat. And hell, she’ll even curl up on your lap whenever.

Between her and Takeo, she’s the one less likely to tail Katsuki everywhere. She strives for independence and spending time with everyone! If you are hoping to get one of Katsuki’s cats to cuddle with you for an indeterminate amount of time, your luck will be with Moriko. Just be prepared for those murder mittens making biscuits, because no matter how often Katsuki trims them, they are just SHARP. All the time.

PET FIVE : POCHI (BERNESE MOUNTAIN DOG X AUSTRALIAN SHEPHERD).

TIMEFRAME : 20 - ??. PRESENCE : HANA & KATSUKI. @cheribomb

Upon much insistence from Hana, Katsuki caves and adds a new addition to the family: a 12-week old Bernese Mountain Dog x Australian Shepherd puppy. Their initial idea is to make her a sort of guard dog and enlist her in puppy school classes to make sure this happens, and she’s actually a great guard dog, but she’s also... Well, a sook. A tart. A lovable goof, if you will.

The name was Hana’s idea. Considering that Katsuki was trying to pick something more intimidating (looking at something that sounds like his full hero name) to try and get her to live up to that guard dog idea, Hana got the naming rights to the young puppy. Since she has a beautiful blue merle coat that makes her look all spotty, Hana settled on Pochi (ポチ) - which was the English equivalent of naming her Spot. Katsuki learned to not mind it considering it suited her anyway.

Pochi gets along perfectly with Takeo and Moriko as well! They often all curl up and sleep together on the same bed, much to Katsuki’s chagrin, since he spent good money to make sure they all had their own.

If anything, this dog is spoiled through and through, and Katsuki keeps ending up making exceptions to rules or throwing them out completely. He tried not to have Pochi on the couches. It lasted a day. He tried to argue no leftovers to Pochi. This lasted a bit over a few months, but now Pochi gets her own little bowl of food from Katsuki as long as it’s dog-safe. And, of course, Pochi was originally never meant to share the bed, but this changed within minutes of bringing the puppy home - and now she’s welcome at the foot of their bed whenever she wants.

Pochi might not live very long - Bernese Mountain dogs only live for about 6-8 years, and she does take after that parent a bit more - but dammit, if she isn’t the most spoiled and yet well-trained dog possible.

#long post /#💥 ⬦ ゜◝ ARROGANT BOY | CALM LIKE A BOMB. ╱ hc.#💥 ⬦ ゜◝ I’D DEFEND KATSUKI BEFORE MYSELF TBH. ╱ ooc.#💥 ⬦ ゜◝ TASTES LIKE STRAWBERRIES ON A SUMMER EVENING | AND IT SOUNDS JUST LIKE A SONG. ╱ bond: cheribomb.#/ each time a bond n i settle on an animal for them i'm putting em here

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munsons-maiden · 3 years

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𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐢𝐧

Here’s an enemies to lovers oneshot 😁 I hope you enjoy! - Love, Kiki 🖤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Loki x female reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | All the pent up hatred you and Loki feel for each other leads to a fight to see who's the better warrior - which quickly turns heated in a whole new way. Because after all, love and hate are two sides of the same coin.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | enemies to lovers, smut, bantering, a bit of angst

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU’RE 18+ YEARS OLD!), thigh riding, unprotected sex (please stay safe in real life and use a condom!), a bit of angst (with a happy ending)

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♡

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 🖤

“If you place your feet a single inch further apart, the next gust of wind will just sweep you off them,” a dark voice drawled behind you in the most infuriatingly mocking tone, and with a flourish, you whirled around, opened your hand, and your dagger whirred through the air and lodged itself in the doorframe mere inches from Loki’s face.

He didn’t even flinch, you had to give him that.

One dark eyebrow raised, he commented, “A terrible throw.”

“If I’d wanted for the blade to hit home, it would have,” you replied through gritted teeth. Loki’s smirk widened, and a predatory gleam flashed in his eyes as he pushed himself away from the doorway to the training rooms and began to stroll towards you with slow, measured steps.

You straightened your posture, unwavering as you shot him a withering glare, unfazed as he prowled closer. If he thought he could play cat and mouse with you, he’d been wrong.

Hatred seared in your gut like a writhing snake as you watched him slowly draw near.

Though even you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked, with his dark hair brushing against his shoulders, looking so glossy and soft, and that mischievous dark smirk which kept playing on his lips. And the way the black leather of his Asgardian attire wrapped tightly around his toned body, leaving you to wonder how he looked beneath all these layers of fabric, if his body was as lean and strong as the fabric made it look like.

The flash of deviousness in his captivating eyes pinned you to your spot and made your heart beat a little faster. Loki looked as if he knew exactly which thoughts had been flashing through your mind, and it made your body heat with fury.

He’d been like this ever since your first encounter; bickering, infuriating, always trying to prod you with his well-placed quips until you snapped at him. Making you loathe him even more than you already had for what he’d done in New York, unworthy of the chance your teammates had given him.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than to criticize my fighting techniques?”, you asked, and your voice was dripping with sweetness and sarcasm.

“I wouldn’t go as far as calling it a technique,” Loki quipped, “But not really, no. And it’s truly entertaining how easy it is for me to throw you off balance. A single comment and you start throwing knives at me.”

“Did you mistake my attempt to murder you as a compliment?”

“It certainly makes me wonder what else you will do if I keep taunting you.” He had the audacity to wink. And still, he was prowling closer with measured, deliberate steps, like a predator stalking its prey. And still, you didn’t budge. You wouldn’t take a single step back.

“I can’t be the only one who’s ever thrown a knife at you,” you retorted.

There was only one last step left between the two of you. You raised your remaining knife, the point trained to his neck, silently daring him to come closer.

Loki’s sly smirk widened, and he spoke, “Rude, but true. Though your attempt at murdering me was either the most half-hearted one, or the clumsiest. Judging from the unbalanced fighting stance and the hilarious movement of your elbows, my guess would be the latter one. Are you trying to make your opponent laugh themselves to death with your little dance moves?”

With that, Loki raised his hand and in a flash of green, one of his own daggers materialized out of thin air, its blade softly meeting your own raised one with the tinkling sound of metal grazing against metal.

“You’re all talk and no action,” you said lightly. “Coming here, watching me train, criticizing me. But we’ve never fought to see who’s the better fighter, so you either know you’d lose…or you’re too scared to find out. Which one is it, Loki?”

His eyes flashed, growing imperceptibly darker like an ocean beneath a sky veiled by storm clouds, before he purred, “You won’t stand a chance against me, darling.”

“If you call me darling one more time, I’ll cut your throat.”

“Not with that fighting posture, you won’t. All you’ll achieve is breaking your wrist trying.”

That was the last straw. You could feel heat rise in your cheeks as your blood began to boil with loathing and the overwhelming urge to slap that sneer from his face. You gritted your teeth. “Fine. Let’s fight and find out then. If I win, you’ll leave me alone.”

The mischievous grin turned even darker. Menacing. All it did was fuel your already blazing rage.

“Very well,” he drawled. “And if I’m the glorious victor? What do I get?”

You raised your brows. “The satisfaction of having another reason to fall on my nerves should be enough in the case of your victory. But don’t you worry about that. I’ll whip your ass.”

He snickered. “If that’s what you want, you could have just asked nicely.”

You could tell he was waiting for your own witty retort, but you saw your chance and acted on it. Lifting your hand in a flourish, you pushed Loki’s own blade aside and raised your knee to kick him in the gut – or, even better, his groin – but his reflexes were fast as lightning, honed by centuries of combat practice like the sharp blade of his daggers.

Green light flared – and Loki was gone. Before you could even frown in confusion, a foot locked around your ankle from behind, and your left leg was pulled from under you, effectively sending you tumbling to the ground with a small gasp of surprise.

With Loki’s low laugh ringing in your ears, you were quick to roll around to catch your fall and jump back to your feet, seething, “I must be a powerful opponent if you have to resume to trickery to win against me.”

You didn’t wait for an answer. In a fluid motion, you pulled your remaining spare knife from its hiding place at the hem of your pants and, both of your knives now clutched tightly in your fists, you lunged at him. Loki, though, was quick to block them with his own, flashing you a wicked grin through the crossed, glinting blades.

“I’m the God of Tricks,” he taunted, “If you didn’t anticipate them, it’s your mistake rather than mine.”

His sentence morphed into a huff as you loosened the weight with which you’d pushed against his blades, and when the sudden loss of counterweight made him stumble slightly forwards to regain his balance, you raised your knee. This time, you hit home, right in his groin, eliciting a satisfying little hiss of pain from the trickster, and twirled to add a kick into his chest for good measure. Loki, though, was quick to compose himself, and dodged out of your way with a whirl of his own.

“I’m starting to think they only call you the God of Mischief because the title God of Chattering was already taken”, you teased with a sly grin mirroring his own, but your clap-backs only seemed to spur him on further.

Sparring with Loki felt a little like dancing, you realized; quick-paced with light steps, the game of hunter and prey, graceful parries and swift attacks in a push and pull like the tides of an ocean.

A swing of his right dagger, which you caught, answering with a rapid thrust of your left hand, the blade already aimed at his stomach – only for Loki to catch your blow with the flat side of his right dagger’s blade and knock your own knife from your grip. It clattered to the floor, and the sound mingled with your hiss as you swung your hand with the remaining knife at his shoulder. Loki, though, had already anticipated the move, and dodged the blow, whirling around to come up behind you, one arm locked around your waist, the other holding his dagger against your throat. Cold metal grazed against your exposed skin.

For a split second, both of you remained like this, his firm chest pressed flush against your spine in this strange embrace, and you could feel Loki’s racing heartbeat thudding against your back, his heavy breathing against your own ribs.

“Ready to give up, darling?”, he crooned, and his breath ghosted over the bare skin at the crook of your neck. You involuntarily arched your back a little with the sensation of it, the pleasant shiver it sent through your nerves, making the skin tingle where his warm, laboured breaths caressed it – hoping he didn’t notice the goosebumps blooming on your exposed skin in response, betraying you.

Focus, a voice in your mind hissed, snapping you back to reality. You hate him. You despise him. Show him who’s the better fighter.

“Never,” you spat, tightening your fist on the hilt of your remaining dagger before you threw your head back against Loki’s nose, all the while raising your foot to slam it down on his. As the back of your head made contact with his nose – and the heel of your foot smashed into his own – he hissed with pain, and his grip around you loosened enough for you to whirl around and ready yourself for another kick.

Loki’s reflexes were way faster than your own, you had to admit that at least to yourself. Before you could even start the kicking motion, he lunged, barrelling into you and sending both of you slamming into the wall which was only a step behind you, and the force of the impact knocked the remaining dagger from your hand and sent it skittering over the floor and out of your reach. Damn it. You realized too late that during the fight, the two of you had moved to the edge of the training room. A stupid mistake, to let your surroundings slip out of focus.

“Letting your surroundings slip out of focus is a rather rookie mistake,” Loki commented sweetly, echoing your thoughts, and you narrowed your eyes in disdain as he placed one fist, still clutching his dagger, on the wall beside your head, raising the other so the second blade’s cold tip brushed against your collarbone. Cornering you against the damn wall.

Loki’s face was only inches from yours, and his scent was overpowering, wrapping its tendrils around you; sweat mixing with the faint smell of leather and something herbaceous, like a meadow in spring, to form the most intoxicating fragrance and cloud your senses. His face was close enough for you to feel his warm breath fan across your cheeks, and his eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, were locked on yours with an intensity that made the air between the two of you sizzle with an electricity which seemed to resonate with the sudden tension in your body.

“What?”, Loki teased, and his playful tone had grown huskier, “No witty clap-back, darling?”

“I despise you,” you hissed, swallowing against the tip of his dagger pressed to the hollow above your collarbone, all the while you kept trying hard to ignore the rush of elation which scooted through you at his sudden closeness, the hungry look in Loki’s riveting cerulean eyes. Trying, and failing miserably.

Loki’s lips curved into another smirk, and the devious spark danced in his eyes like the flame of a candle as he leaned closer still and purred, his tone low and husky, “You know what they say. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin. As long as you hate me, you care about me. And you hate yourself for it more than you could ever hate me.”

“You’re the one coming down here to watch me train in the middle of the night, Loki. That doesn’t look like hatred to me.”

“I never said I hated you.”

A few heartbeats of stunned silence followed, in which you scanned his face, looking for any signs of a lie. But you were only met with sincerity…and something else. Something dark and hungry and, for the blink of an eye, a flicker of tenderness as he watched you, waiting for your reaction.

“Well, can’t say the same thing for myself,” you finally scoffed, but your voice sounded strained, the quip as half-hearted as it suddenly felt.

“You can’t fool the God of Lies, sweetheart,” he murmured, and the tip of his blade slid upwards, over the sensitive skin of the column of your throat before Loki placed it underneath your chin to tilt your head slightly upwards.

“You’re not a mind reader,” you hissed.

“And you’re not as subtle as you think yourself to be. The mask is slipping all on its own, darling,” Loki crooned. “I can see how ragged your breaths are,” he purred, leaning closer, so close that the tip of his nose was nearly brushing against yours, so close that you breathed in each other’s air, and your own breath hitched traitorously in your throat as your heart seemed to stumble in the confines of your ribcage. “Your pulse,” Loki continued with a rasp, his voice growing darker, lower, with every heartbeat as he slowly trailed the tip of the dagger’s blade from its place beneath your chin to follow the line of your jaw and to the point of your pulse pounding wildly below your ear, cool metal caressing your heated skin as you felt your heartrate spike with the delicious touch, “Your pulse is racing.”

Loki’s eyes on yours were mesmerizing, his pupils blown so wide that the beautiful cerulean colour of his irises was eclipsed to mere rings encasing these oceans of darkness. You could feel every single nerve in your body come alive, ablaze, beneath the intensity, the desire shining in these captivating eyes, and the trickster’s blade which, barely grazing your skin with its cold touch, wandered down the column of your throat. This time, you couldn’t suppress the shiver running through you at the sensation, and you tilted your head a little to the side with a sharp exhale, still holding Loki’s spellbinding gaze.

“And your stunning eyes are dilated, darling,” Loki continued. His own breaths were laboured as well, you noticed. The exertion of the fight? Or was it something else?

“Adrenaline”, you breathed, and the sensation of the cool caress of the tip of Loki’s dagger on your neck made your voice falter with another shiver skittering down your spine, the feeling of embers glowing in your core, flaring to life.

The wicked smirk grew wider, and the twinkle in these mesmerizing ocean eyes as they briefly travelled down to your lips, slightly parted with your faltering breaths, before they snapped up to hold your gaze once more, told you Loki wasn’t fooled. “And the throbbing for me between your legs?”, he asked sweetly, his voice rough and barely above a whisper, “Is that caused by adrenaline as well?”

His lips were hovering not an inch from yours, and you felt the gravity of his enthralling closeness, like strings drawing you towards him, tugging you closer and closer like the pull of a magnet.

“Is this turning you on, your knife against my throat?”, you murmured with as much disdain as you could muster against the haziness Loki’s closeness, the feeling of his lips nearly brushing over yours, his scent, his searing gaze, were instilling in your senses, luring you deeper into the haze of this spell he’d put on you, clouding your every rational thought with longing.

“Well, it’s a lovely sight for sure to have you all panting and sweaty beneath my blade, darling,” he rasped, and before you could contemplate what you were doing or stop yourself, you closed the remaining whisker’s breadth between the two of you and crashed your lips on Loki’s.

A part of you had anticipated for him to push you away, but he didn’t – it didn’t take him even a split second to return the kiss. His hand which had been resting against the wall beside your head shot up to cup your face, the dagger he’d held tinkling as the metal hit the floor, as Loki began to move his lips against yours with a greed that knocked the breath from your lungs and made your legs quiver with the force of it. The sound which tore from his throat when your tongue brushed over his lower lip and you opened your mouth for him, made your core throb with desire, a need which sizzled through your body like liquid flames.

It was bruising and fierce, and the sensation of Loki’s hand sliding into your hair at the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your strands to slightly angle your head back while he let his tongue delve into your mouth, teeth clashing, and the cold edge of his remaining dagger’s sharp blade still pressed against your throat made you utter a low moan. Loki’s body was pressed flush against yours, his weight pinning you against the wall, and when he bucked his hips into yours, a growl escaped his lips at the feeling of his hardened length rubbing against your thigh through the layers of fabric.

Your lips curled as you smiled viciously into the kiss while your hands found their way to his shoulders, clutching him firmly while your knee shot up to slam into his crotch, but despite the distraction of the feverish kissed you were sharing, the lust addling his mind, Loki had anticipated your scheme and dodged, just as your elbow slammed into his side and you scurried away from him, darting to the discarded dagger closest to you in the centre of the room, its blade catching the glow of the lights overhead.

“What was that about using trickery?”, Loki hissed from behind you.

“Two can play this game,” you quipped sweetly and reached for the knife’s hilt, fingertips already brushing against the smooth surface, when a force dragged you backwards before your fingers could close around weapon, and your frustrated growl echoed through the air. You had the mind to whirl around as you were pulled backwards with the force of Loki’s magic, raising your left leg from the floor and wrapping it around his waist while he pulled you back towards him, the force of it making the two of you tumble to the floor, and this time, it was you who came up on top.

It was a stalemate – you had him pinned to the floor, straddling his waist while your hands pushed down on his chest to keep him in place, while his dagger’s blade had found its way back to your throat.

“I’m impressed how low you’ll stoop to win,” Loki purred, infuriatingly unfazed.

“So you agree kissing you means stooping low?” you seethed with a grin, pressing harder against his chest, but your words morphed into a low groan as Loki bucked his hips, and the sensation of his crotch rubbing against the sweet spot at the apex of your thighs made you feel as if he’d set you on fire.

“And still you enjoyed it enough to get all worked up beneath my touch”, he crooned.

“Will you ever shut up, just for once?”, you spat in reply as you fought the desire for him which kept clouding your senses and shifted, straddling his left thigh to keep him from moving his hips against yours.

A mistake, you soon enough realized at the devilish grin which lit up his handsome features.

“Make me,” Loki challenged with a sultry snicker, and shifted his thigh slightly beneath you, enough to cause some friction against your throbbing core, and it took all of your strength to bite back the moan which threatened to spill from your lips and betray your need. For him.

“Does that feel good, darling?”, Loki drawled with another shift, the movement of his thigh grazing your clit sending another wave of pleasure through you, much stronger than the first one, and the embers in your lower belly flared in response.

He was tricking you, using your arousal against you, to distract you and regain the upper hand, but the sensation of his thigh rubbing against your groin, paired with his dark voice which, hoarse with the strain of his own arousal, seeped through the air like honey, was too addictive to make you stop. It only made you want him more. Another shift, and you rutted your hips against his thigh with more vigour, relishing the sensation bolting through your aching core as you felt your walls clench around nothing. This time, you didn’t even try to bite back the loud moan which filled the air, knowing what these sounds tumbling from your lips would do to him in return, judging by the remarkable tent in his leather pants.

You rolled your hips against his thigh once more, feeling your arousal soak your panties, savouring the cold bite of Loki’s dagger which was still poised against your throat, firm enough to elicit a pleasant sting of cold and the sharpness of the blade, and slight enough not to actually hurt you, you noticed, as Loki watched you intently, his gaze never straying from yours.

With a smirk, your hand shot out to stroke his hardened length through the leather of his pants, palming him, watching how his lips parted with the most sinful moan beneath your exploring touch. In a swift motion, you swung your leg back over his waist to straddle him once again, and began to rut your hips against his in slow, languid movements, making the both of your groan in synch as your heated core pressed against his erection and your hands roamed over the soft leather covering his sides. There. You gave him another devious grin as your fingers closed around the hilt of the dagger he’d kept hidden beneath the fabric at his waist, pressing the blade against his own exposed throat.

“How many more hidden daggers will I find underneath all this leather?” you hummed, groaning as he rolled his hips against yours, and your fist tightened around the dagger’s hilt with the pleasure ablaze in your core, sending shockwaves through your whole body. The ache for him, to feel him inside your soaked walls, was starting to get unbearable.

“That depends entirely on how thoroughly you search for them,” he panted with a seductive, breathless smirk that did nothing to quench your arousal.

“Good,” you quipped, and slid the dagger beneath the hem of his attire before ripping it upwards to slice through the leather which covered his chest. It gave away under the sharp blade as if you were cutting through butter, ignoring Loki’s gasp of surprise at the sound of the ripping fabric.

“That was finest Asgardian leather.”

“As if I cared,” you hissed as you pressed your own blade to his jugular, where it glinted against his pale skin, savouring the expression in his darkened eyes as you used your free hand to push the remaining scraps of fabric away from his chest, not without taking a split second to admire the defined lines of muscles rising beneath his pale skin, the way his abs flexed with every laboured breath he took.

Your free hand roamed over his exposed chest, dipping to his waist as you felt for more hidden knives, and you could feel how much effort it cost him to suppress another groan when your fingers kept dancing over his bare skin, soft under your touch.

“Maybe I lied,” Loki crooned as you let your hands travel to his other side and beneath the torn leather, still searching for another hidden knife, “Maybe that’s what I wanted you to do all along, darling. Do you enjoy touching me while I’m helpless and panting underneath you? Do you enjoy this surge of power rushing through you at the sight?”

He thrust his hips up, his crotch meeting your soaked core, and it took all your strength not to double over with the pleasure scooting through you, ripping through your nerves like your blade had through the leather of his attire only seconds prior.

The truth was…you did enjoy it. Not only enjoy – you relished in it, in the way you could feel his arousal for you, evident in the hardened bulge in his pants and the lust-blown gaze he kept so firmly trained on you, following your every movement, the way his beautiful black hair was sprawled around his head like a crown forged of the blackest metal.

It was a dangerous game you were playing. Everything Loki was, everything he stood for, the spell he’d cast over you with fleeting glances and the witty bantering, the enticing words his silver tongue spun for you, leaving you wondering what else he could do with it, the timbre of his smooth, dark voice seeping into your mind to keep you awake at night like the luring song of a siren…He’d invaded your mind, and the hatred you’d so carefully built for him was the last guard to keep him from conquering your heart as well. You couldn’t let it get that far. And you couldn’t forget the intoxicating feeling of his lips against yours which had left you yearning for more.

Lasciviously slowly, you let the tip of your stolen blade trace the curve of Loki’s collarbone before you trailed it downwards over his firm chest, watching the muscles ripple and flex as he arched into the caress of your sharp blade, watching how the trickster’s lips parted with a silent moan.

“Now who’s getting off the knife pressed against their opponent’s skin?”, Loki breathed, and you could tell he was restraining a groan. A shame. You would need to work harder to hear it.

“Both of us,” you murmured, “Judging from the hitch in your breath, and the tent in your pants.”

He chuckled darkly, and it was a sound so lovely and sinful that it made your heartrate spike once again.

Loki’s free hand wandered up your thigh, over the fabric of your pants, and the pad of his thumb grazed over your clothed core, the arousal soaking the fabric of your panties.

“Fuck,” you whispered, and your hips snapped forwards to meet his touch, desperate for more friction.

“I’m inclined to comply if you ask nicely. Tell me, darling, are you wet for me already?”, he purred with another searing stroke of his thumb, shattering the last of your resolve.

“Only one way to find out,” you moaned, and your words were all the reassurance he needed to do exactly that. His dagger left your throat as he slid the cool blade into the hem of your pants and cut them open just as you had only moments prior.

“These were my favourites,” you hissed.

“I couldn’t care less,” he panted his reply, and before you could muster a clapback, his hands slid to your soaked folds, thumb flicking languidly against the swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs while he sat up beneath you, and your back arched in time with the wanton moan tumbling from your lips, swallowed by another searing kiss as Loki locked his lips on yours.

You’d never felt anything like this before. And it was so utterly wrong. It was tearing down all these walls you’d so carefully built to guard your heart, setting free these things you’d buried deep inside your soul, things you swore yourself to snuff out like the flame of a candle. They’d grown into a wildfire, hungry flames licking at your heart and your nerves as your world zoned in on Loki, his touches as his skilled fingers which kept playing with your clit while you rolled your hips to meet his them with a low whimper.

The clatter of metal on the floor momentarily drew you from this world of searing bliss as Loki discarded his remaining dagger and his free hand grabbed the back of your head, to pull you into another bruising, greedy kiss as he kept pleasuring you with his hands, each slow, languorous stroke over your clit making shooting stars bolt through your veins, tightening the coil in your belly.

“Do you like what I’m doing to you, love?”, he murmured against your lips, his strokes teasing, a sweet, slow torture, “Do you like the way my fingers make you feel?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Then let me hear it.”

Loki’s teeth grazed your bottom lip as your lips parted for a wanton moan, loud enough to wake the whole compound, and he softly bit down, drawing blood, the metallic tang mixing with the taste of him. You cried out with pleasure as you could feel the wave of your climax crashing into you – and the cry fused into a whine of frustration as Loki pulled his hands away with a wicked chuckle.

“Beg for it,” he rasped into the kiss, and you pulled away to glare at him, his flushed cheeks and lust-blown eyes, the spark of desire and mischief flashing in their black depths, “Beg for me to bring you this sweet relief.”

“I will do no such thing,” you panted. “My own hands are perfectly capable to finish the job.”

With a sly smirk of your own, you let your hand fall from its place on Loki’s chest to let it rove down to your dripping folds, but his free hand, the one which wasn’t buried in your hair, caught yours, and his lips crashed onto yours, making you gasp. A flash of green light, and your pants were gone, along with your underwear, as were his. You groaned into the kiss as your dripping folds brushed over his hardened length

Against your lips, Loki murmured, “What if I didn’t hate you? What if it were quite the opposite?”

There was a softness laced in the low rasp of his voice that made your traitorous little heart skip a beat, paired with a strange feeling of free fall, as if you’d reached the top of a roller coaster, waiting for that split second for the cart to drop, that short moment of holding your breath. And it had nothing to do with the things the two of you were doing, and everything with the possibility disguised in his words.

Dressed as a beautiful lie, because that’s what he does. That’s what he is, the little voice in your head warned.

“Love?”, you huffed, pulling slightly away from his lips, “Love and lust are not the same. You want me. You want to fuck me. But you don’t love me.”

For a strange moment, you thought you’d seen the sharp edge of hurt in his eyes, but it was gone before you could start to contemplate it in your hazy mind.

“Then let me fuck you,” he growled.

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You raised your hips and sunk onto him, taking your sweet time to bury him in your throbbing core, listening to the lovely sounds that tumbled from his lips which kept moving against yours, feverish and hungry as if the same flames he’d stoked in your own body were devouring him as well. You moans tangled in the sweat-drenched air with his as you began to gyrate your hips, achingly slowly, to see if you could make him beg you to go faster.

And to savour the feeling of Loki as close to you as humanly possible – but you were quick to lock the thought away. Another roll of your hips to bury him deeper in your velvet walls, and his tip grazed the sweet spot deep inside of you, making you whimper with the bliss sizzling through your nerves, setting them ablaze one by one like sparklers on New Year’s Eve.

Another rut of your hips made him groan, and with a surprised gasp tearing from you, Loki’s hand slid from your waist to your butt and with a swift motion, he switched your positions, so it was you with your back on the ground and him hovering above you, settled between your thighs. His hand was still in your hair, cradling the back of your head so you didn’t hit the ground. Before you could utter a word, he slid back into you, and your back arched with the sensation.

Your legs locked around his waist to pull him closer, and for a few heartbeats, his lust-darkened gaze held yours, and a flash of something flitted over his handsome, flushed features as he bottomed out of you, only to bury himself back in your velvet walls with another thrust, drawing a string of moans from your lips as he hit the soft spot inside you again and your eyes fluttered shut with the overwhelming bliss flooding you. His lips found yours again, only to trace the line from the corner of your mouth to the racing pulse below your ear, and you cried out with pleasure as he softly bit into the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking at the sore skin. Marking you.

“Does this make you feel good?”, he rasped against your skin, and his hot breath felt like another caress as it fanned over your exposed skin and the sheen of sweat glistening there. Your hands shot up to rake through his raven hair, and the glossy curls gliding through your fingers felt as soft to the touch as you’d imagined they would be.

“Yes,” you whispered on a broken moan, and his tongue darted out to graze the spot his teeth had marked, making you writhe once more with the sensation of it, and the pace of his thrusts quickened.

“This is better than sparring,” you groaned, and he chuckled darkly against your neck before he retorted, his voice raw with lust, “You’re also better at this than you are at sparring.”

“Ass,” you hissed, and he snickered in reply.

“As you wish,” he purred, lips brushing the shell of your ear to elicit goosebumps along the column of your throat and you gasped as his hand left your waist to grab your butt and pull you closer, sliding deeper and hitting that soft spot once more, hard enough to send you toppling over the edge. With the force of a thunderstorm, your first climax crashed into you, making your muscles convulse and your walls clench around him as he kept thrusting into you, and your outcry of bliss reverberated from the bare walls of the training room as pleasure bolted through your body like a strike of lighting travelling through your every nerve to the very tips of your fingers clawing at his silky hair. Riding out your climax, you could feel Loki’s pace faltering, his breathing frantic against the crook of your neck as he chased his own high at the sensation of your throbbing walls, the arousal coating him, and you could feel him twitch inside you as he came – pulling you with him into a second orgasm, as forceful as the first one.

As he came down from his high alongside you, lazily riding it out, Loki nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent before he placed the softest of kisses to your skin. It was such an intimate gesture, a gesture which carried a gentleness reserved for real lovers, and the feeling it kindled in your chest was overwhelming. A warmth, as radiant as the morning sun. Not in your core – but in your heart.

You stayed like this for a few moments, and both your panting filled the silence as you took a moment to catch your breaths, until Loki pulled slightly away to look at you. All mischief was gone from Loki’s eyes, replaced instead by a sincerity and sadness you’d never seen him display before as he held your gaze and asked quietly, voice still hoarse with his arousal, “Why do you hate me so much?”

Your heart plummeted to the floor upon hearing the sorrow in his tone.

You could have lied – for what was a lie to the God of Lies? But you couldn’t. So instead, you just gave him silence, watching him watch you, beautiful ocean eyes scanning your face for the answer you wouldn’t grant him.

“Never mind”, Loki finally said, and it sounded hollow, before he fully pulled away from you, leaving you as empty as you’d never felt before, a feeling of wrongness blooming in your belly – not at the things you’d just done with him, but the things you couldn’t help but feel you’d done to him with your reaction. In a flash of green, your pants were back on, as were his, no traces of the gashes of his blade, and he turned to leave when your voice rang out through the air, cutting through the heavy silence like a knife’s blade.

“Because if I didn’t hate you…I would love you.”

Loki froze in his tracks, his back to you, and for a few passing, anxiously racing heartbeats, you thought he’d just leave, that the vulnerability you’d just shown in telling the truth, letting your heart speak instead of the rational part of your mind which currently kept screaming at you, at your stupidness – he turned to face you.

The softness was back in his ocean eyes as they held yours, watching silently as you slowly climbed back to your feet. The same softness you’d seen spark earlier, before it had been quenched by your own sharp words. You want me. You want to fuck me. But you don’t love me. Spoken as if you didn’t care about his intentions whereas the harsh words had been dressed in bitterness and hurt at the assumption they could be the truth.

“And why would it be so bad to love me?”, Loki asked quietly. The mischievous, playful mask of the trickster had slipped, clattered to the ground at his feet like the discarded daggers of your fight. Right now, he wasn’t the God of Lies and Tricks. He was just Loki. You felt as if you saw him for the first time.

You swallowed against the lump which was forming in your throat. “Because I’m scared that you’ll hurt me.”

A few beats of silence as you watched each other, the distance between the two of you stretching until it felt as if he were an ocean apart instead of a few feet.

“Have you never wondered why I kept annoying you on purpose?”

“So you did it on purpose,” you replied, voice weak, but the smile which tugged at the corners of his mouth was brimming with sadness.

“If you couldn’t love me, I at least wanted to make you hate me. Hate is better than not mattering at all. You won, by the way,” he added while he averted his gaze, “I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

The emptiness in your chest seemed to grow, a void fed by his words. You could tell they were the truth. And you finally acknowledged what you’d known all along: you didn’t want him to stay away. Not even for a second.

“What if I didn’t hate you, Loki?”, you timidly echoed his words from before, the confession you’d swiped away with your harsh reply, “What if it were quite the opposite?”

You’d begun to close the distance between the two of you while you spoke, and with every step you drew closer to him, you could see the sadness in Loki’s smile fuse into hope. He looked lost all of a sudden, unsure what to do or how to respond. He looked beautiful. His hair was still dishevelled from your hands combing through the strands in the heat of the moment, his cheeks a little flushed underneath the harsh artificial headlights. His eyes were wide, the darkness of arousal gone from them, and his gaze was gentle as he replied, “If you didn’t hate me, but the opposite, I would ask you to give me a chance. To let me prove that you can trust me.”

You’d come to stand in front of him, allowing the hatred you’d used to cover up the affection for him to peel off like dried paint, flake by flake, until the love you were starting to feel for him shone through with the brightest colours. It was way more beautiful like this, you realized.

Carefully, you reached out to take Loki’s hands. A gentle touch, contrasting the bruising kisses and rough touches you’d shared only moments ago.

“I know I’m not the most trustworthy person,” he whispered, “But please believe me that I would never hurt you, because…” He took a steadying breath, as if gathering all his courage before he continued with a soft whisper, “I’m in love with you.”

I love you, too, you wanted to say, but the onslaught of emotions at his confession made it impossible for you to form the words, leaving them stuck in your throat. It didn’t matter. There were so many opportunities to tell him in the future.

Instead of speaking a reply, you stood on your tip-toes to place a delicate kiss, sweet and gentle and as light as a feather, on his lips, before you pulled away and breathed, “Take care of my heart. It’s a fragile thing.”

“It’s safe with me,” he said softly, and the tenderness in his expression made your heart flutter. You knew Loki was telling the truth. And just like that, the coin had been flipped.

Loki taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @boneheadduluc @spiderhostia @a-midwinter-night-dream-86 @zemosimp05 @justfangirlthingies @cazzyimagines @rumblelibrary @victias @justanothertruebeliver @chiptaylormybeloved @vverliebt @madhatter2727 @a-simp-recommends-fics @morphoportis @superavengerpotter @savvywords @thatoneleoslytherin @clockblobber @jhawk608 @kingtwhiddleston @spooksgalore69 @paetonnn @chaosbringer566 @jesuisbenny @idkimjusthere23 @dirtytissuebox @sarahpaq08 @janetsnakehole02 @swimgirl5665 @wojciechovsk @flawed---by---design @the-maroon-panda @charistory @lokiperfection @jen-w @i-l-y-3000 @spicy-acocado @fallinallinmendes @awkward-and-indecisive @whiskeywinter89 @cringingmemeries @osugahunnyicedtea

#loki #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki mcu #loki tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston loki #tom hiddleston #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson #loki smut

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vibraniumwing · 3 years

Text

the truth in your eyes.

a bucky barnes x fem!reader blurb wherein the reader shows bucky that someone does trust him.

WARNING: TFATWS SPOILERS, bucky having flashbacks, aside from that nothing else. (maybe a dash of angst if you squint just enough)

A/N: so as you all know, episode four was a rollercoaster of emotions for everyone and well that one scene where bucky was finally set free tore me into a million pieces, making me sob so hard (the hardest since the last episode of wandavision) and gave me so much muse. listened to hate to see your heartbreak by paramore while writing this. totally didn’t cry while re-watching those scenes for this fic. (sobbed even more when i listened to safe and sound bye)

beta read by these two lovelies: @anchoeritic and @harrysweasleys but mistakes are all mine!

---

“...Hail HYDRA” was all that left Bucky’s lips as he easily snapped the neck of the man that he pursued in another mission as the Winter Soldier. His face was blank and cold as he stood there, eyes gazing over the lifeless body of the man in front him before looking at the other man standing by the end of the hallway, practically frozen with fear.

The sound of his boots were resonating in the hallway, overpowering the clatter of the keys of the man as he tried his best to unlock his hotel room. Panic consumed him as he felt The Winter Soldier’s presence draw nearer to him, “P-Please, I didn’t see anything,” He begged, avoiding the super assassin’s intimidating gaze.

Fear creeping into his system as he knew he was facing his untimely death as the stare of the man made him cower even more in fear, his breath staggered as he spoke, “I- I didn’t see anything.” He repeated profusely, unable to control his sobs as the gun was easily pointed to him, eyes closing as his demise came with a loud

BANG

Bucky jolted awake, sweat accumulating on his forehead, his body flushed despite the cold air that drifted through the room. His head turned to the cause of the sudden sound only to see your water bottle on the floor and your siamese cat, Steve, replacing its spot. He shifted his attention to you, wanting to make sure that you weren’t disturbed in your sleep.

The corner of his lips turned into a smile to see you deep in your slumber, your plush tiers slightly ajar as soft snores escaped. You looked so snug and harmless in his shirt, its size making you seem smaller as you were drowning in the clothing piece.

He slowly made his way out of your bed, slipping away to the kitchen to grab some milk to calm down his nerves. His steps were quiet, creeping around the apartment, scared he might accidentally wake you up and the last thing he wants is to disrupt you from your good night’s rest.

Bucky knew the layout of your apartment’s layout like the back of his hand, easily making his way towards the fridge where he grabbed his carton of chocolate milk that you bought especially for him, knowing about the secret love for sweets the man has. Grabbing a mug, he poured the cold drink and placed it inside the microwave, heating it up.

He then leaned back into the kitchen island, arms crossed together as he was still deep in thought, the terror of the innocent man that The Winter Soldier killed haunting him as he knew he had to make amends with his father once he gained the courage to do so. His right arm covering his mouth as he let a frustrated groan, wanting nothing more than to have these dreams stop haunting him.

“It is time” Ayo said from across the fire, spear in her hand as she looked at Bucky with a determined look.

He was less than half of the man he was at present, broken and lost as the Wakandans took him in and helped him regain control over his mind, hoping to give him some sort of stability in his life. Hiis eyes cast down and was focused on the fire in front of him, its warmth giving him a sense of comfort, “You sure about this?” he questioned, voice laced with a mixture of despair and hope.

“I won’t let you hurt anyone” The warrior reassured, staying silent for a moment to give way for Bucky to ready himself. She walked towards him slowly as she started off, “желание” her voice the only thing heard aside from the gust of wind and the crackle of the campfire. “Ржавый”

“...семнадцать” and that’s when he felt it. Flashbacks of him and Steve’s fight along the highway of New York coming back to him, the first time he encountered him after years of no contact; he didn’t even know himself when Steve called him Bucky. His struggle as Zemo got a hold of the infamous red notebook that holds his trigger words, activating the Winter Soldier that caused disruption amongst the avengers.

“добросердечный, добрый. девять” Ayo continued, watching him intently, seeing the struggle that was clear as day on his face. Bucky continued to have his memories thrown at him, seeing the destruction he caused as something he wasn’t, causing him to erupt in tears.

“Один” His torment under the hands of HYDRA causing him great pain as he fought everything under his willpower to keep everything contained. Bucky’s tears were uncontrollable as realization hit him.

“грузовой вагон” Ayo finished, looking at him with a warm and proud smile, relief evident in her demeanor as she spoke, “You’re free.” causing him to erupt into a sob.

Those two words echoing in his mind as he finally felt free, a heavy weight lifted off from his shoulders, feeling himself gain control over the monster that lived inside him; overjoyed and relieved that he can start the journey of being free from there. He was finally James Buchanan Barnes again.

“Bucky!” a voice disconnected him from his train of thought, head whipping to the side where he saw you, clad in just his shirt as you hugged the pillow with one arm, the other raised as you rubbed the sleep off from your eyes. “Your milk is cold again.” you stated, dropping the pillow as you walked in front of him, wrapping your arms around his bare torso.

He was quick to reciprocate the hug, holding you close to him. “You shouldn’t be up yet, doll.” His voice was gruff, trying his best to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head before burying his face against your neck, inhaling your scent that he found comfort in.

“The cold is bed without you.” You mumbled softly, feeling drowsier than ever as the heat from his body was enough to lull you back into slumber. Your jumbled sentence made him chuckle, further proving his point that you should be sleeping.

But you knew Buck like the back of your hand, he would only drink his chocolate milk hot if there was something he wanted to clear his mind so you pulled away just enough for you to look at him, your e/c orbs meeting his icy blue ones that showcase so much emotion that his face couldn’t convey. “What’s wrong, James?”

His brows furrowed for a second upon your use of his real name, knowing that you were serious about your question, “Nothing, baby. I’m fine.” He reassured, squeezing you lightly in his arms, hoping that you would buy his alibi but you weren’t fooled despite your sleepy state.

“You only drink your chocolate milk warm if you have something on your mind, so please, James. Tell me.” You pleaded, your innocent state tugging Bucky at the heartstrings as he flipped your position, easily lifting you to sit on the kitchen island as he positioned himself in the middle of your legs, his arms not leaving your frame.

“I… I had another nightmare.” Buck started off, his voice was still as low as before, but it was laced with a hint of brokenness as he recalled the horror of his dream. “You know the recurring one I’ve been dealing with? That one.” he didn’t want to go into detail about anything, finding it hard to find the right words to use. “I… I still feel like a monster.”

You shushed him, pulling away to let your hands rest on his shoulders, your eyes meeting his once again. “You’re not a monster, Buck. You never were.” Which was true, you were the few who believed that he was innocent and not a cold-hearted killer like everyone believes him to be. “You didn’t have a choice一 so please don’t blame yourself for any of this,”

Your smaller hands found its spot on the sides of his face, wiping the tears that glistened on his skin as the moonlight hit him, highlighting the beauty of his eyes even more. “It would take a person with real empathy to see the truth in your eyes. Those beautiful eyes that have shown me nothing but love and adoration, you have my trust Buck. You have me, Sam, and… Steve. You have us.”

Bucky was silent, taking in your words before nodding, his larger hands engulfing yours as he held them, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you, Y/N. For always believing in me, for trusting me.”

“Always, James. Always.”

---

TAGLIST: @https-bvcky @luana @harrysweasleys @weasleytwins-41 @anchoeritic @lunalovecroft

those whose usernames are in bold, i cannot tag you for some weird reason. join my taglist! it's located in my main masterlist!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fluff #the winter soldier #marvel #mcu

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divine-mistake · 3 years

Text

The Cracks in Our Reality (1)

Summary: Loki hates the Executive Manager of the Avengers Tower because she’s too loud and too sarcastic and too kind and too soft, especially to him, who really doesn’t deserve it.

Characters: Loki/Plus-sized (f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ (no smut), language, violence

A/N: Thanks for reading my first ever fanfiction! Updates weekly on Saturday.

Series Masterlist | AO3 | Playlist

The first time he hears her voice, it is shrill and shrieking and about his brother, so of course he hates it.

“Thor’s here?” Loki hears as they walk down the hallway. When he gambles and glances to his side, Thor’s lips are split with the biggest grin Loki’s seen him wear since they touched down in Midgard. Vacantly, he guesses it’s a fangirl who’s waiting for his brother—how typical.

It’s always like this.

And as they approach the room from which the light is bleeding into the hallway, Thor’s fangirl shouts again, “Why didn’t you tell me? Where the hell is he?”

Thor crosses the threshold into Loki’s new world in three long strides. Unlike his brother, Loki sticks to the shadows, only moving close enough to see what is awaiting him past the corner of the corridor. It’s all one big blur of motion, really, as Thor strides through the Avengers Tower and scoops a young woman off her feet, into his arms, and Loki’s reflex is to curl his lip in sneer.

He looks away and ignores the girlish giggles, choosing to survey his new surroundings instead. With one wide sweep of the room, he indexes four familiar faces.

Stark, who's watching his brother and the fangirl, shoulders drawn up and tight in defense.

Rogers, America’s Golden Boy, with his biceps bulging from where his arms are crossed.

Banner. He smiles and Loki feels a mixture of fear and guilt swirl viciously inside him.

And Romanoff, who’s staring right at him, her eyes narrowed, a twitch in her index finger. Evidently she’s not forgiven his sins either. Not that it matters—as quickly as she could pull the handgun strapped to her thigh on him, he could vanish in half that.

There’s only one person Loki can’t catalogue, can’t connect her face to a name, and it’s the fangirl Thor is spinning around the room with, her legs swinging wildly in the air.

She shouts his brother’s name jubilantly, the loudest sound in the room, their laughs mingling together like the sweet and spice of mead.

“My lady!” Thor squeezes her to his body in a tight grip once they stop twirling in place, and then she’s kicking her feet until her polished black heels slide off and hit the floor, fists pounding on his shoulder.

Well, a fangirl surely wouldn’t do that.

“Put me down you big puppy man, you obnoxious God, you are killing me—” The woman is wheezing even as she yells, quite dramatically really, and Loki’s sneer starts to turn into a frown. Who is she to talk to the King of Asgard with such disrespect? As much as Loki loves to see Thor ridiculed, her casual relationship with his brother irritates him more than he anticipated.

Thor drops her onto her bare feet with a delicate softness Loki’s never witnessed before, and the woman settles herself, pulling her dress down and brushing imaginary dust from the fabric, and then she turns up to look at his brother and she wears the most gorgeous smile on her face Loki might ever have witnessed.

“Welcome back to Earth,” she quips, her voice much gentler now, and Loki decides right then and there that he doesn’t just hate her voice.

He hates her.

“It’s good to be back, my lady. Have you been well?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but Stark cuts her off immediately.

“Pleasantries later, ” he says, taking a step toward Loki’s direction. “Reindeer Games is lurking in the shadows over there and it’s making me second guess this whole shebang.”

That’s his cue. Loki slinks out from the corridor and into the light of the common room, and all eyes are on him. He basks in the attention like a cat basks in the sun. This is the first time in a long time he's been on Midgard without chains seizing his hands and feet—his mouth is free of a muzzle and he’s going to use it.

“Stark,” he purrs, but his eyes flit around the room, passing over every single Avenger that’s now standing defensively. “Always a pleasure to be in your presence.”

Vaguely, he’s aware of how the woman has taken to Thor’s side, where his brother is sheltering her under his arm, but he doesn’t break Stark’s stare to look at her. What care does he have for one of Thor’s fangirls anyway?

“You brought your brother here?” she asks, and Loki relishes in the hint of fear hiding itself within the confusion in her voice.

“Did they not tell you?” Thor sounds increasingly worried.

“No,” she hisses, “they did not. What the fuck is going on, Tony?”

Rogers moves closer now, and Loki lends his gaze to the way the super soldier’s hand falls upon the woman’s shoulder, swallowing it. She bristles slightly at his touch and it amuses him for a moment. Maybe she dislikes America’s Golden Boy just as much as he does.

“We meant to tell you, sweetheart,” Rogers says, his voice gentle.

Disgusting. Is she everyone’s fangirl in this cursed tower?

“It slipped my mind after the mission a few nights ago. I’m sorry we didn’t warn you.”

She shrugs Rogers’ hand off her shoulder, but Thor holds onto her tightly. Loki feels like his eyes will burn out of his head from how long he’s been staring, how rigid his body, how much he wants to be anywhere but here right now.

“Are you serious?” Loki isn’t sure he’s seeing the same woman who was just looking at his brother like he was the sun, what with the way she’s glaring at Stark now. “Was I the last to know about this? Is there a room ready for him? Does the press—oh god, the fucking press doesn’t know about him, do they? Tony, I’m going to have to call a press conference. I’m going to have to rebook all the schedules. Are you shitting me?”

Then, she whirls on him, slipping out from beneath Thor’s arm and marching up to him like he isn’t the crazed man who tried to subjugate New York a few years prior. As if he isn’t a God. As if he couldn’t crush her frail body beneath the nail of his smallest finger.

He doesn’t know whether to be impressed or frightened, so Loki settles for the burning hatred that’s been crawling over his skin since he entered the Tower.

She juts out a hip, places her hand on it, and looks straight up at him. “Do you even want to be here?”

No. Of course not.

But no one ever bothers to ask Loki what he wants, and now this puny Midgardian has done so within the first five minutes of even knowing him, and he doesn’t even know her name but there is so much heat searing through him and he hates her.

She isn’t much, really. She’s small in stature, her head barely grazing his brother’s shoulders, forcing her to crane her neck as she addresses Loki. If she were to kneel at his feet now, she’d be the perfect height for him to take his pleasure. He quickly rips the thought away and throws it to the fire growing in his veins.

But she is curvy, that much is sure. She is much thicker than the slim Midgardian women he’s seen on his journeys here, much softer than the Asgardian warriors who are built with muscle alone. Loki can’t keep staring at her, he can’t. Her eyes are narrowed, but bright in the lighting of the common room. Her lips, painted a brilliant shade of red, are twisted into some sort of puckered frown that makes him wonder how well she’d fare when he played tricks on her.

He scoffs at her, rolling his eyes and looking away, because Norns, what is he supposed to say?

The truth?

“Banner, why don’t you walk Rabbit to her room?” Stark calls, and when Loki looks back at him, they’re locked in another stare. Loki feels a wave of something new, something bordering on shame, something that has him grasping for a scepter not in his hand and eyeing the bright blue beam of light in Stark’s chest. He still remembers what it felt like, that day he invaded New York.

It doesn’t feel good to remember, so like with all things, he pushes it to the back of his mind and replaces it with a smirk.

“What?” The woman—Rabbit, her name, perhaps—turns her glare on Stark once again. “You can’t just drop an Asgardian in the middle of my living room, ruin all my carefully crafted schedules for the next month and a half, and then tell me to go to my room like a child!”

“Run along now, little girl,” Loki mocks, and when she recoils at his words and takes a step back like she’s shocked, the heat that’s been building in his blood is suddenly ice. Her face is different now, brows drawn in anger, and her whole body stiffens and Loki feels like he does when he changes back into his native form.

Until she draws up a finger at him, storming toward him, ire flashing in her eyes with every step she takes, and Loki is alive again. His tongue is sharp, ready to meet her shrill demands, but Thor reaches out and grabs her with one sweep of his arm. She’s tugged back into his brother’s grasp, held closely to the broad expanse of Thor’s chest, and Loki stamps out his rising excitement. His brother ruins everything.

“My lady,” Thor says, “my brother lacks tact around pretty women, but he is harmless, I assure you.”

Loki lets his eyes drag from the top of her head down to the tips of her bare toes, still twisting against the floor as if she’s trying to break away from Thor’s hold, their lacquer catching the shine of the light. She painted them pink. Loki doesn’t think she’s all that pretty—he’s seen better in Midgard alone.

But then she mumbles something under her breath that sounds wickedly similar to “He’ll be harmless once I maim him with my shoe,” and Loki has to swallow back the laugh threatening at his lips.

The woman rips herself out of Thor’s grasp, shoving him away. Comically, Thor pretends as though her strength is enough to move him, feigning a stumble backward. Then, she picks up her heels from where they dropped to the floor and slips them onto her feet, and suddenly Loki could press his nose into the top of her head at this height.

“C’mon then, Bruce.” Without looking, she begins to stride toward the hallway, brushing past Loki. “We’ll let the boys pretend they have their shit under control.”

As she speaks, her eyes cut back to Loki, gaze burning. He isn’t sure a woman has ever looked at him with this much contempt before and gotten away with it. Banner quickly follows her and Loki listens to the rhythmic click of her heels all the way down the corridor until the elevator dings, and then she’s gone for good.

Her scent, floral and clean, clings to his nose for the rest of the night. He hates it.

“They call it community service here in Midgard!” Thor says, beaming. Loki wants to tear his brother's lips from his face, to burn that smile off his visage.

“You say that as if I should be proud,” Loki snarls back.

His room in the Tower is quaint. It’s more than Stark should offer him, that’s for sure, but Loki guesses it’s only more than a prison cell for the sole reason that it’s connected to Thor’s apartment and they don’t want the brothers to be separated. At the very least, it’s furnished. The bed is soft and big enough to share with a partner. He has a bathroom en suite. A walk-in closet to fill with clothes he doesn’t own.

Loki doesn’t own anything. Not even himself, now that he’s doing this community service on a planet he’s tried to conquer. Community service as a probationary Avenger in the stead of eternal damnation.

Thor only claps him on the back. “‘Tis better than serving a jail sentence, is it not?”

He raises a brow. “As if it isn’t imprisonment itself.”

“You should be thankful, Loki. Stark has been very cooperative with allowing you to stay here as an Avenger—”

“As a prisoner,” he interjects.

“—without threat of cells or cages or even chains.”

“And yet I am not allowed to leave the Tower.”

Thor frowns. “You tried to subjugate New York.”

Loki peruses this for a moment. He could say anything, but would it ever matter? It isn’t as if Thor’s ever understood. He didn’t understand when Loki let go and fell from the Bifrost and he sure didn’t understand when Thanos forced Loki to destroy New York. He never understands.

So instead of saying anything, Loki rolls his eyes, stalks into his room, and slams the door shut. He hopes it’ll make Thor finally leave him alone.

But Thor just stands on the other side of the door, shouting through the wood.

“This is your chance, brother. This is your chance at redemption. Do not let it go lightly, and I beg you, do not screw it up.”

Redemption—what a joke. If Odin taught Loki anything, it was that there was never going to be any redemption for him. He was lost. Irredeemable. A cold monster in the warm skin of an Asgardian. A snake who spoke in tongues, in lies and misery. Loki was nothing more than a puppet who didn’t see how his strings connected him to his master.

Loki waits until he hears Thor stomp away, until he hears the slam of the door across from his own, before he conjures an image of his mother in the palm of his hand.

He doesn’t know how long he spends looking at her, a vision spread against his fingers. The only sign that she isn’t real is the shimmering edges of Loki’s illusion. Once upon a time, when there was so much blood and sweat and tears running into his eyes, he wasn’t able to tell what was real and what was magic. Illusory images are only illusory to those of a sound mind—something Loki hasn’t always been.

Even he, the God of Lies, has a reality that can be broken. A truth that can be muddled by pain and fear until it shows what he wishes, what he would beg, the truth to look like.

A knock at the door almost sends him into a panic, flashes of the monster who haunts his nightmares creating new colors behind the back of his eyes. The illusion of Frigga dissipates into the air. Loki throws himself to his feet, flies from his bed to the door in a handful of steps, anger like a hot knife through the parts of his brain the terror hasn’t yet eaten through.

“Leave me be!” he roars at Thor from this side of the door. His hand twitches to conjure a dagger. If he opened the door, would the Mad Titan be on the other side? No. It’s only Thor. The Mad Titan is dead.

But Loki never saw him die—how can he be sure he is truly gone?

He cannot. His reality has been bent and broken and shattered a thousand times by the Mad Titan and Loki cannot remember what is real and what is false anymore.

With a dagger in hand, Loki throws the door open, prepared to see anything—Thor, Thanos, the father he slaughtered without a thought—and yet he is still surprised by what he sees standing just outside his room.

The dagger disappears from his white-knuckled grip. The Midgardian woman’s eyes are wide, like moons, the depth of color in her irises the crevices and craters. She takes a step back and Loki sees her hands trembling.

His lips part to apologize. Pride seizes in his chest and he closes his mouth. His breathing is labored, chest heavy with the rise and fall of every tight contracting of his lungs. She’s holding something in her arms. A tray is set beside her on the floor, a few scattered plates of Midgardian food sitting atop it.

The silence between them is deafening.

In a moment all too soon, her eyes narrow into slits and she rolls her shoulders back, straightening her spine and drawing up to her full height. Loki reminds himself that he can crush her. He could kill her with one strike of his boot. She is nothing, and the ice that is making a slow crawl up every disc in his back isn’t guilt, it’s caution.

How dare a mortal as small as she look at him like that? He is the Prince of Asgard, the Rightful King of—

“Fuck you,” she spits, and it’s Loki’s turn to recoil. Instantly, the edges of his vision turn red and he hopes, shamefully, that his eyes are flashing the same dreadful, savage color as a means to scare her into submission.

His nostrils flare with his indignation. “How dare you—” he starts, but she throws whatever she had been holding at his chest and Loki instinctively grabs it. It’s soft against his cold hands.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she hisses, venom dripping from every word. “I thought you might need some extra fucking blankets. Excuse me for being nice, Your Highness.”

The way the word rolls off her tongue makes his fingers tighten in the downy fabric she’s given him. He should feel good. In fact, he tips his chin upward to look down upon her from the slope of his nose. But he doesn’t feel good.

“I don’t need anything from you, little girl,” he sneers. “I have no business with you.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, jutting out that damn hip again.

“Actually, you’ll have much more business with me from now on, Your Highness.” With a grace he wasn’t sure she had, she draws up a hand to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, eyes never leaving his. “I’m the Executive Manager of the Avengers Tower. You’ll be seeing much more of me, and unfortunately, I’ll be seeing much more of you.”

Loki scoffs. “A mortal such as yourself could hardly provide me with anything satisfactory.”

He glances, almost imperceptibly, at the dinner tray she’s brought up to him. Loki swallows a lump in his throat.

She shrugs. “Whatever. You can be an asshole if you want. I’ll still do my job whether you like it or not because I’m a professional and I’m damn good at what I do.”

Her eyes flash with something dangerous, and then she’s taken two steps forward and is craning her neck up to look at him, on her tiptoes in an attempt to match his height. Her pointer finger is just below his chin.

It brings him an exhilaration he hasn’t felt in centuries, a thrill trembling through his nerves.

“But if you ever draw a knife on me again, you’ll regret it.”

He laughs, flashing her a predatory grin, but she doesn’t back down.

“I sincerely doubt that,” he says, his tone mocking.

Her lips peel back to reveal a set of pearly teeth, and though her mouth softens, her eyes are as sharp as the blade of his dagger.

“I do the bidding of every Avenger in this tower,” she tells him. “You, included. Every single person in this entire building owes me a favor. I’m not beneath calling on every one of them to knock you down a peg, Your Highness.”

Loki watches as she lowers herself back down, rolling off the balls of her feet. He’s gripping the door frame so hard he can feel the wood giving beneath his fingers. There is something so vexatious about this woman that he can’t discern.

“If you need anything, you can ask FRIDAY to let me know. You can call me Rabbit—it’s what everyone else here calls me, and Tony’s annoyingly programmed the AI to call me that, too. Enjoy your lonesome night, Your Highness.”

She turns on her heel before he has a chance to reply, strutting out of his apartment and disappearing around a corner. He hears the quiet ding of the elevator, just as he did earlier, signaling her departure.

Loki looks down at the tray of food she’s left behind. With one angry breath, a wave of magic bursts forth from his body, sending the plates crashing against the walls of the apartment. Food smears down every surface. Ceramic and glass mingle in shattered pieces. It’s immature. It’s childish. He knows this, but he can’t stop himself. Fury pulses at his fingertips, hot like the burn of ice.

He hates her.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @poetic-fiasco @suffocatinglypositive @melancholic-metanoia

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki love #avengers loki #plus size reader #redemption loki #loki fanfic #the cracks in our reality #loki pov #loki series #thanks for supporting me!

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jayie-the-hufflepuff · 2 years

Photo

Grabbing the branch in strong jaws, Ashfur thrust it past the wall of flame and into the ever-narrowing patch of ground where Hollyleaf and her brothers huddled. But Hollyleaf didn’t feel any sense of relief. There was a look in Ashfur’s eyes that she didn’t understand: the look of a cat who had just spotted an unexpected juicy bit of prey.

The branch made a bridge through the flames, but Ashfur stood at the other end of it, blocking the way to safety. Lionblaze nudged Jayfeather to his paws; Hollyleaf took a step toward the branch, then paused. She felt a cold weight in her belly when she looked into Ashfur’s glittering blue eyes.

“Ashfur, get out of the way.” Squirrelflight’s voice was puzzled. “Let them get out!”

“Brambleclaw isn’t here to look after them now,” Ashfur sneered.

I'm still on a bit of an illustration kick, and I figured, what better scene to illustrate than the most iconic scene in all of Warriors history? So obviously I had to draw the fire scene. :P

I've actually drawn this scene several times before, but most of those drawings never got past being sketched out on paper, and those were all done years ago. The only one I actually finished and posted was this ancient thing I drew when I first made my DeviantArt account. So it's definitely high time I gave this scene a proper illustration.

I had a lot of fun trying to get all of the details right for this scene. I've seen it drawn a lot of different ways, with a log bridging a gap over a hole/crevice, with the Three simply encircled by flames, with Squirrelflight herself in the fire, but I wanted to see how closely I could stick to the text. I went back and read the scene from Long Shadows, which shows the Three above the stone hollow that makes their camp, stuck behind a row of bushes that were caught on fire, with nothing but the long drop into camp behind them. The branch Ashur and Squirrelflight grabbed was shoved over the bushes so they had a way past the fire. Squirrelflight is badly injured during this scene due to a stomach wound she'd nearly died from in a recent battle, but I couldn't really show that given the angle she's at in this drawing.

I had remembered most of that, but what I hadn't remembered was that it was actually raining during this scene. It does seem that the rain stopped at some point, because after the Three finally cross the branch, it's mentioned that the rain started again, but it was still raining at least up to the point where Squirrelflight revealed her secret, so I figured it made sense to draw the rain along with the scene. The cats are all described as having their coats slicked down by the rain, so I tried to show that.

Overall, I'm a bit unsure of the color and lighting in this one - I'm a bit worried it looks too bright and kinda garish with the colors not working super well together, but I'm not sure what the best way to fix it would be. I am pretty proud of it, even if I'm not totally confident with the end product. I like how Ashfur turned out, and Squirrelflight. And I'm pretty happy with how my first attempt at fire (at least, the first attempt in years) turned out. ^^

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a-dragons-journal · 3 years

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i dont "kin for fun" but through tiktok i found out about the whole kin for fun vs actual otherkin... situation ig? im having a really hard time taking it seriously... maybe im just burnt out and bitter from dealing with the worlds current events, and maybe its because on tiktok the only people i saw mad about it were white people, but you're the most reasonable person ive seen talking about it (a lot of other posts have this odd tone that 12 year olds on tiktok saying kin is the worlds greatest opression and it weirds me out) so ig my question is just... why exactly does this matter? why does it matter enough to post about and care about and not just ignore? /gen

Hey! I don’t blame you for being a bit weirded out by it, we’re a weird subculture and we’re well aware of it! xD I appreciate you taking the time to actually look into it past your first knee-jerk reaction, especially considering burnout and the state of things.

I’m not totally sure if you’re asking why otherkinity matters or why the “kin for fun” being wrong matters, so I’ll answer both - they’re pretty well tied together anyway.

The short version:

Otherkinity is an identity. It’s who we are, we can’t choose to pick it up or put it down, and it comes with struggles - though no, ‘kin are not systematically oppressed (though we are pretty badly bullied and, at this point, pushed out of our own words and spaces).

What people calling roleplay/relating to/projecting onto characters “kinning for fun” does is steal our words, make them meaningless, and in doing so, make it difficult or impossible for us to find each other. If someone says “I kin [x],” I no longer know whether they mean “I am [x] on an intrinsic level” or “haha I relate to this character a lot”. I no longer know whether they actually share my experiences or if they’re going to turn on me and call me “crazy” as soon as they realize I’m not exaggerating or joking or roleplaying. It’s done massive harm to the community as a whole because it’s become difficult to tell whether someone is actually ‘kin or if they’ve misunderstood the whole thing - and because antikin rhetoric, which I’m seeing more and more in KFF spaces, hurts far more when it’s coming from inside what you thought was a community space than when it’s coming from self-labeled “antikin.”

There are other words for roleplaying and relating to and projecting onto characters. Hell, there are words for strongly identifying with-but-not-as characters/things, though usually KFF people don’t even seem serious enough for those to fit in my experience. I’m really not sure why these people are so determined to steal and misuse our words, words that were specifically created to mean something else, when they already have their own and are just refusing to use them. (Or, hell, if you don’t feel like those fit, make your own. We did. It’s your turn to put in the work. (General you, not you-the-anon, of course.))

An analogy, if that still doesn’t quite land for you:

Consider, for a moment, the transgender community. I am aware this is a dangerous thing to say, but bear with me. Obvious CW for hypothetical transphobia up ahead is obvious.

Consider if you were part of the trans community (I don’t know if you are or not), having finally found a word to explain why you feel the way you do about yourself, why your experiences don’t seem to match up with those of everyone else around you. Having found a community, a home, full of other people like you, people you never would have met if not for words like “transgender” and “gender dysphoria/euphoria” that were created specifically to describe your experiences.

Now consider if people suddenly stumbled across your community for the first time who were not trans themselves. They see community jokes and lighthearted posts out of context, because Tumblr and Twitter aren’t exactly conducive to making sure people find the Transgender 101 information posts first. They don’t bother to do further research, assuming they understand: ah, these people like to crossdress! They like to pretend they’re a different gender! This seems like a fun hobby, I want in!

They begin to post things like this. They post photos of them crossdressing and caption them “hi, I’m [name], and I trans men!” and things of the like. Suddenly the concept of “transing for fun” seems to be everywhere - and it’s not at all what being trans actually is, but these people either don’t know or don’t care. When actual trans people try to politely correct them, they’re accused of “gatekeeping” - and to be clear, this is not “nonbinary people aren’t real,” it’s “transgender means you identify as a gender other than the one you were assigned at birth, and you’re self-identifying as the gender you were assigned at birth 100% and telling us this is just a fun hobby for you, therefore you’re not trans, you’re crossdressing or doing drag or being GNC. That’s fine, but it’s not being trans - you have other words to describe that, use those.”

(Yes, I am aware these things have a history with the trans community - please just ignore that for the sake of the analogy and bear with me on the slightly simplified version of this. “Kinning for fun” does not have that same history with the otherkin community.)

...And then the response to those attempted corrections, in some corners, turns into “wait, you ACTUALLY think you’re another gender? idk that sounds pretty unhealthy, maybe you should see a psychologist or something :\” and “you’re taking this too seriously.”

I imagine, in this hypothetical scenario, you’d also be pretty fuckin peeved.

(Obviously, in this hypothetical scenario, systematic transphobia would be an issue as well, which isn’t the case for otherkin - again, you’re gonna have to bear with me on the simplification for sake of analogy there.)

(EDIT: this is not an anti-MOGAI/exclusionist argument, this is “you’re literally telling me you don’t fit the definition,” explanation on that here)

The long version, which is probably still worth reading if you have the time and energy:

Otherkinity is... pretty core to who I am, who we as a group of individuals are. We live with being otherkin on a daily basis. Many of us spent a long time feeling different and disconnected and not understanding why until we found the otherkin community. Even people like me, who don’t share that experience and still had social connection - I’ve still had to live with weird differences that I had to learn to mask when necessary; instincts that don’t line up with human society well, feeling body parts that weren’t there and that no one else ever seemed to have, things that other kids grew out of because it was just make-believe for them and I... didn’t, because it was never make-believe for me to begin with. Oh, sure, I played make-believe too - I played warrior cats and house and all those things with the other kids, but there were things that weren’t play-pretend for me too. I didn’t have an explanation for it for a long time - it was just how I was, I was weird, and fortunately for me personally I was okay with that (many of those with species dysphoria or more trouble connecting with humans have more problems from that than I did).

And then I found the word “otherkin.” And suddenly everything fell into place, and I had an explanation for the things I’d been experiencing, and there were other people like me. Something I’d assumed didn’t exist. I found others who shared my unique experiences, who were talking about how to cope with the instinct to growl or snap jaws at people instead of expressing annoyance in a human way instead of just saying “that’s weird, don’t do that”, who were talking about dealing with phantom wings and tails, who understood me. I wasn’t weird, I wasn’t broken, I was exactly what one would expect from a dragon living in human skin. I found an explanation for myself. I found a home.

That is why otherkinity matters - it is who we are, it’s not something we can walk away from (certainly not most of us, anyway), and it’s something many of us need the support of the community to help deal with on a daily basis. Being a nonhuman in human society isn’t always easy, but it’s not something we can just magically stop being - it’s core to who we are, we (generally) didn’t choose to be this way, and we (generally) can’t choose to stop. Which is fine - the vast majority of us can cope with it just fine, with a little advice and help and space to be our authentic selves in. We found each other, we built this community from the ground up to make a space and words to make finding each other easier - or possible at all.

Thus we come to the second half of our story.

It was only a couple of years ago that the “kin for fun” trend started getting big. It had existed before that, of course, but it only started going mainstream two, maybe three years ago, from what I can tell. Suddenly people were treating “kin” like it meant relating to, projecting onto, roleplaying as, or just really really liking a character or thing - not being that thing, which is what it actually means. Not long after that, it became hard to tell whether someone saying “I kin this” meant they were that thing, that they were actually part of our community - or that they really really liked that thing and either didn’t know or couldn’t be bothered to learn that that wasn’t the case for us.

Not long after that, it became relatively commonplace to hear phrases like “otherkin are ruining kinning!!” and “you’re taking this too seriously” and “idk, if it’s that serious for you that sounds unhealthy. maybe you should get some help :\” (all directly quoted, or as exactly quoted as I can remember, from things KFF people have said to me or people I know).

It is a special kind of hell, I think, to be told “you’re taking this too seriously, that’s unhealthy” by people who are taking words created to describe your experiences, not theirs, and misusing them to mean something that you do for fun on a weekend instead of something that’s intrinsic to your being.

Perhaps more importantly, like I’ve said, it’s making it almost impossible to know whether someone who says “I kin [x]” is actually ‘kin or if they’re misusing our words to mean something else entirely. The entire point of words is to communicate ideas, and once you start misusing words to mean something totally different than what they actually mean, that communication falls apart and suddenly we might as well not have those words at all. Especially when the community is small enough and obscure enough that we’re starting to be outnumbered by the misinformation. We’re being run out of our own words, words we created to describe our experiences specifically - because we’re a small community that the wider internet can easily drown out by sheer numbers of people who either don’t know any better or don’t care to learn.

That’s the harm it does - the harm it is doing, right now. That’s why it’s important enough to post about. That’s why it matters - because we’re fighting desperately to hang onto our own words so that others like us can actually find us. Because we’re seeing young nonhumans go “this isn’t a kin, I actually am this” and screaming “No, I’m so sorry that this is what the misinformation has done to you, that’s exactly what otherkin means, you have a place here, please don’t let these non-’kin misusing our words drive you away from the very community you’re looking for and that you belong in.” Because we can’t even communicate effectively about our own experiences anymore except in semi-closed spaces like Discord servers and forums (and the number of Discord servers overrun with KFF people is absurd).

......This got very long. Hopefully it at least explained why it matters so much to me and others a bit better ^^; Thanks for hearing me out, and thank you again for looking into this beyond your initial knee-jerk reaction - I really do appreciate it.

(For further reading, if that text wall didn’t blow you out of the water completely, I recommend my “kin for fun” tag, which has more posts like this in both short and long form.)

#probably should've put this under a cut but oh well #otherkin #kin for fun #kinnie #kinning #rani talks #asked and answered #anonymous #rani talks A LOT apparently sbfldkngjlksdf #i have a lot of feelings on this #long post

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