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feather-dancer · 3 years

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Tales of Arcadia Fanfic Recommendations - Part 6

I do admittedly have things left to read in my tabs I’d normally prefer to clear out before posting one of these but when you sail past the 30 mark I think it’s about time to get it out my drafts, yeah? Most importantly means this will be out before Rise of the Titans comes and emotionally destroys us all.

Needless to say soon as this is posted I give it 24 hours before 7 starts, we’ve got some amazing writers in this fandom and there’s a couple I juuust want one more chapter before I feel I can recommend it. Hope you find something you enjoy :)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

If at all interested in my own writing you can find it here!

General Trollhunters

Romeo, Question Mark - Jim is figuring himself out and has a question for Toby though nervous of how he might react. Honestly the support Aromantic’s need when they’re either questioning or coming out, Toby is a gem.

By The Book - After his dad left changing his world Jim had moments in his life where he needed to wrangle things in a way he could understand them with some moral support along the way that wasn’t there to do it for him, just give a light nudge the right direction. Comes with light Jilaire fluff.

That I Could Fear a Door - Jim was pulled from the Darklands whole but you cannot escape the trauma of your experiences quite so easily. It will take a little time, a lot of patience and perhaps the right ear to listen but with it can come hope.

Lest Back the Awful Door Should Spring - Sequel to the above, Jim’s capture to be sentenced by the tribunal echoes his experiences in the Darklands a little too closely sending all his careful progress hurtling back in one fell swoop. Is it any wonder he chose a false freedom that Unkar offered?

Façade - The confirmation that Mr. Strickler is not the man you thought he was probably was not going to be an easy one, Jim’s thoughts sit ill after that dinner.

Fashion - All changelings take root somewhere in a human life before their changeling one succeeds it and Nomura is no different. She felt love she could not understand and the ache of loss will follow for as she meanders through this world by the Whisper Man’s orders and her own volition of needing to belong somewhere. She will try her hand with the humans and the trolls, paint the road with blood as much as indulging herself with the arts and even risking her heart until everything leads her to Arcadia’s doorstep.

In Deep Trouble - What happened in the Deep during Season 2?

Aftermath - Just after the finale of Season 2 the Market trolls are forced to run leaving their homes behind and follow the Trollhunter they had dismissed so many times into the great unknown before them.

Don’t think - Jim weighs up his options and attempts to settle his thoughts before making the final decision whether or not to go through with using Merlin’s potion.

Nocturne for a Trollhunter - Jim learns a new hobby that gives him another way to relax that doesn’t involve cooking, one that follows him beyond Arcadia.

The Asteroid - A rare 3Below fic for my lists if centered on a certain hedge witch and Wizard. The end of the world is coming but not by Morgana’s hand and Merlin certainly never warned Douxie about it so if this truly is the end then it’s the best time to bring your loved ones close so you won’t be going out alone. Yes it’s Zouxie.

A bright future so it seemed (but that light grew a little less bright) - Claire’s parents (Or more specifically Ophelia) set her on the perfectionist’s path early, even a little slip can feel like the end of the world

Rest, Master Jim - You might be able to escape the Darklands but you cannot escape the consequences of being trapped there for so long as easily.

General Wizards

Not Found - So why did neither Douxie or Archie find the two remaining changelings in Arcadia or bring back the sole Akiridion when Merlin asked?

Place of Power - A lovely bit of shameless Zouxie fluff in that brief period the gang was at Hex Tech before the plot came to get them.

Bitter Water - Only two of the old team remain in Arcadia and those were Jim and Krel, the rest having left to pursue educational pursuits and in one particular case kept away for Nari’s safety. For the Akiridion he is still here with reminders of his heritage and what it took to have this life on earth chasing him all the way. It’s always good to have friends with a listening ear and hot chocolate.

Together, Dearest - The very act of resting is a potential invitation for nightmares and Nari is no different but when once more in the waking world you will find you’re not alone, there are hugs available.

The Night Belongs To Us - Lovingly described Skraelroc fluff during their long hunt for Merlin and the strangeness that can be observed on clearer nights.

Nineteen Plus Nine Hundred, Give Or Take - 900 years is a long time by anyone’s standards but perhaps during that Douxie can figure out how to truly live.

Twelfth Century Wizard, Twenty-First Century Witch - The follow up to the above, when you’ve lived a long and interesting life things can still pop up in odd ways... Even if you haven’t quite mastered the sacred art of texting yet.

ERAS TÚ (It was you). | Tales of Arcadia One-Shot - Would you want to live forever if it meant leaving everyone behind? Jilaire.

the only way for us to go - From his rescue from the streets of Camelot to the eventual guardian of this realm, Douxie has come a very, very long way. Through the frustrations of trying to learn magic, the belittling of others, the faith of Morgana and the power of music his experiences throughout 900 years truly make him what he is.

lay down your head - Even the mightiest can be plagued with the not so humble migraine. Skraelroc fluff.

Stricklake

Merry Christmas, Doctor Lake - Some Christmas gifts are worth going all out for and getting your friends and family to help out to make it extra special.

Grocery Run - After the incident where Merlin dismissed Strickler for being a changeling it is time for an excuse to get out the house for a bit and have a frank discussion about their relationship, the future beyond the incoming battle and lingering insecurities of two worlds colliding.

Alternate Universe

Fashionista, How Do You Look? - An AU that very much takes the term very literally here where everyone is human, Skrael, Bellroc and Nari are fashion designers plus many other ToA characters we know and love are either in the industry in some way themselves or on the fringes because of their jobs/who they know. Sometimes you work with catty bitches and want to kick back and watch the fireworks you know? Contains friends to almost to enemies to friends to maybe we’ll get our shit together this time but the odds aren’t great Skraelroc. There’s also a Zouxie oneshot in this collection that was a gift for meee because of the corner I dug in the AU.

Atlas, Fallen - When a star falls from the sky it is a punishment so when Atlas suddenly finds himself amongst the humans he had observed from above for countless ages in a flesh body like theirs he fears his Mother is punishing him and unable understand what he did wrong. While trying to find his way back home he gets a crash course in what it’s like to be human making friends along the way. Slow burn Jilaire.

she once was a true love of mine - I put this under the AU section even though it wavers between that and not, a mixture of classical Arthurian mythos and the glimpses of the Camelot in Tales of Arcadia where one kingdom collapses from war another strengthens by taking their princess as queen. While Arthur might have turned her head once it is the sibling that seems to be catching Gwen’s eye of late as much as her thoughts. Morgwen but in the department of pining.

Pulled From The Ocean - AU doesn’t quite fit this one but it feels a bit more fitting than general. A little oneshot snapshot of Jim living with deafness and the contrast of one world that falls easily into supporting that whereas the other tries their best but it makes the slip ups sting even more.

you are a stranger here, why have you come? - Fate is a funny old thing, something happens a little bit differently such as a father not leaving alone and everything can change so drastically. Nari’s fondness for children strikes again and this time it involves a 5-year old Jim Lake Jr. ending in the Order’s care and their foray into found family. Somehow Jim is even more of a disaster and as likely surmised from the fact I write this trope myself I am very weak for it.

go into your local forest and you will find a friend and a boy - Toby was unlucky in the friend department and by the time he is ten he still feels miserable and lonely having to endure Steve’s increasing bullying all the while. This is of course until he finds a blue half-troll hiding out the daylight hours munching cans in the local woods...

#trollhunters #3below #Wizards #ToAWizards #Tales of Arcadia

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kenmasgameboy · 4 years

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chapter 14: what you deserve

previous…next

masterlist

kuroo tetsurou came into y/n’s life when she needed him to fuck it up the most.

announcement: HAPPY BIRTHDAY KUROOOOOOO i’m posting every day this week in honor of my sweet babies birthday :) also make sure to check the last update! I realized i forgot to update my taglist last time!! I’m so sorry!

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Kuroo is not as good at handling his emotions as he thinks he is.

Morning practice starts in an hour, he has that amount of time to return this book to you. He passes at the end of the hall leading to the library in anticipation. His hands sweat bullets, he needs to keep wiping them off on his shorts so that the glossy cover of the book doesn’t slip out of his hands. He treated this book with more respect than any other book he’s ever touched. Knowing its one of your favorites he didn’t want to do anything to ruin it.

Kuroo knows he can’t wait any longer, having rehearsed enough in the mirror this morning everything he was going to say to you now. No teasing, no lies, no more ignoring, he’d be honest today if it killed him. You deserved that.

Opening up the door to the library he expected to meet your eyes, instead he sees your head laying down against the librarians desk, earphones in and eyes closed. He watched as you took steady breaths, dust particles showed him the rays of light the warmed the lighter strings of your hair. It felt like every single breath had been knocked out of him.

He slowly approached you, steps being slower and slower almost as if he wasn’t walking of his own volition until he reached his fingertips were only inches away from your head. He could so easily get to brush his fingers to massage your scalp while you sleep. He could sit next to you and offer his shoulder to save your neck from pain. He crouches down to get a better look, squatting in front of the desk he finally reaches eye level with you. His hand is raised, hovering over your scalp.

Tetsuro was a lot of things. He was smart, passionate, funny, kind and fairly level-headed. It was you who has showed him that he’s not nearly as courageous as he thought he was. He puts his hand back on his thigh.

As quietly as possible he puts the book on the desk, and turns around to leave.

“..Don’t leave..” You mutter this in your sleep. You never are able to remember your dreams, nor do you think you were experiencing any kind of astral projection. It came out as a breath, your sleep undisturbed.

Kuroo stops in his tracks, his eyes widening and feeling as though he’d just turned to stone. Had you known he was there?

Your eyes did flutter open at that open, woken up by the sound of your own voice. Half-lidded eyes made contact with the book you hoped wasn’t unaccompanied.

“Kuroo-san?” your voice was raspy, it was the first time you’d spoken. Your stomach felt ill from not having any water to drink today. But to Kuroo it still felt as soft and still as he remembered.

“Hi.” The back you saw was replaced with his chest as he turned to face you. Finally he made eye contact with you for this first time in weeks, “I didn’t want to disturb you, so I left the book there for you. I know you probably missed it.”

“Oh..” You sat up and stared at the book, “Right. Kuroo-san, actually it wasn’t–”

Kuroo suddenly bowed, his body rigid and stiff.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, his voice aggressive and sharp, “I didn’t mean to worry you, or cause you pain. I understand if you have questions, I’ll answer anything you need. I did something I thought would be beneficial to you, without even asking you if it was what you wanted. I’m sorry.”

“You’re confusing.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“Heh?” Kuroo lifted his head, “I’m confusing?”

“And troublesome!” You crossed your arms in frustration. He’d never heard you be like this before, so bratty and annoyed. Your pout was adorable. “When you started talking to me it really annoyed me. I was scared and nervous all the time. I always think about you, it’s really really annoying. So when you suddenly stopped talking to me, I thought I should be relieved but instead I was really upset. I was mad. And that is so distracting and troublesome! So please just go back to normal with me.”

“I–” He wanted to break down crying then. He felt awful he made you feel that way, he felt like he had just become what he feared. Instead of proving those rumors wrong all he did was prove them right. “I’m sorry, but I can’t treat you the way I want to. It’s not fair, but I think I might be just like those rumors say. So I need you to keep your distance before they start saying this about you.”

“And you’re stupid!” You yelled, almost forgetting this was a library.

“They already said things about you after the incident in the cafeteria didn’t they?” He suggested.

It was true, you overheard people saying rumors about your rendezvous in the library. If Inuoka hadn’t stayed at your side the last few weeks you would’ve been the target for multiple guys who now were trying to chase you. Kuroo Tetsurou knew he was too shameless before. Kuroo clenched his fist as he remembered hearing people congratulate him on the sexy librarian, suggesting he was doing lewd things to you.

“I almost got suspended trying to clear it all up.” Kuroo admitted, that was something you hadn’t even heard.

“What’d you do?” You asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” He sighed, you noticed the bandage on his dominant hand.

“Idiot.” You sighed, he shifted uncomfortably, shoving his fist behind him, “I can take anything they say as long as the people I know, know me. Inuoka and my family know I’m not like that. I don’t care. So don’t do that to yourself in my name.”

“Right.” He said, he looked like a wounded puppy.

“Can I ask a question?” You walked around the desk to lean back on the front of it. Kuroo only nods in response, “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Huh?” Kuroo looked down at you to make eye contact.

“I know I don’t... talk a lot. But I know I never told you that I thought you were like those rumors. And I never said I wanted space. So, I really don’t know what self torture you’re putting yourself through, but you’re not helping me–” You were stopped by Kuroo’s arms being clung around you, his face buried into your shoulder.

“Uh–? K-Kuroo-san?” You stuttered, absolutely losing any shred of cool you had earlier. All signs of embarrassment showed on your face. You knew you had gotten comfortable with him, you trusted him, but you weren’t used to his touch. It felt like electricity, any longer you’d be addicted so you pushed on his chest to try and wriggle away.

“Please...” He pulls your lower back closer to him. His whole body encapsulated you. “Can we stay like this for a minute? Please... Y/N. I’m sorry.”

All your defenses were down. You didn’t really want him to stop. You smelled his scent. It was familiar and made you happy to feel. His messy hair was soft against your jaw. You didn’t answer just stiff as you wanted to relax.

“I’ll never do it again.” Kuroo said. His grip on your shoulders tightened.

It made you mad, how can he say that after he just did it? What was this going to change? Was he what you wanted? You didn’t know anything about him really. You knew you lacked so much information about him. But whatever image he created, none of it mattered because you still only thought–

“I missed you..” You said it as if you were just breathing. As quiet as a breath but he heard you. His face became red as a tomato, holding you closer so that you wouldn’t find out his secret. You groaned at the squeeze.

“Okay, surely that’s enough. Right?” You tried pushing his chest, but he didn’t let go, “K-Kuroo-san.”

“Sorry..” He held you back by your shoulders and looked away, the tinge of pink still residing on his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop that, too. Just stop saying sorry for things, if you know what you have to do just do it.” You said, your voice was back to the delicate voice he knew. You looked at the clock over Kuroo’s shoulder.

“Don’t you have volleyball, today?” You asked, you wished he would stay but you knew he had to go.

“Yeah. But um.. Y/N.. I.. Um.. Could I eat lunch with you on Monday?” Kuroo asked, finally getting the courage to look you in the eyes.

How could you ever say no to that face?

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taglist:

@chibishae34 @firebonbon @ushiwakasthighs @koukamisblog @ari-hatake15 @nohxmanity @chaelysian @whatevenisapaige @haikyuufairy @ushiwakaismybae @kalesveggietales @starry-magicshop @iwanttogotopluto @cuddlesslut @keijisangels-main @roseestuosity @prcttylittlcthing @its-bnha-babe @90s-belladonna @insomniish @johnnysactualgf @boosyboo9206 @animewithmemes @gemswrites @jvhoons @i8bbflesh @anejuuuuoy @rd-crew @haikyuubabie @lostmarimoismyhubby @valory-funkzie @nellieleverlin @mariachiii @dishonestkilla @angyboibakugo @anhphunnnn @todo-shotoroki @dawnsbaby @pharvhs @bokutoswaifuu @saturnfarie @laceymorganwrites @neomemartin8383 @coldclambandittrash @oikaw-ugh @airheadpillar @unstableye @bestboitsukki @wishingforanother @churochuu @elianetsantana @mkkkhaikyu @bokutoho3 @mariechan123 @winunk @bellesowl @onepiece-writting-forest @just-snog-already @pansinspace @hoekageyama @deephumandragonperson @kagebunshiin @thathoneybee3 @moonlightaangel @mint-mai @semiathleticnerdykid @aurorahoneybuns @dragon-flyyyyyyy @timeskipiwaizumi @chaseyui @makemealivee @strawberry-mentos @marifujioka @urbasicaveragegirl @leinnah @deephumandragonperson @kagebunshiin @moonlightaangel @thathoneybee3 + to be added please send an ASK.

sorry to everyone i realized my ask list wasn’t up to date !!!! i was a big dummie dum dum!

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wri0thesley · 3 years

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nsfw scenario of pesci getting the succ from his s/o in la squadra's hideout and they get walked in on by some other team members, including prosciutto? (because they didn't know that they'd be back so soon)

hi anon! i hope you don’t mind i did headcanons instead <3

♡ It takes you a lot to convince Pesci it will be alright for you to do this in the main room of the base; he’s shy at the best of times when it comes to the more intimate embraces you two share. But you’ve always been able to wrap him around your finger and flutter your eyelashes and have him in the palm of your hand. He’s just so hopelessly in love with you - and you with him. When you move your hand down the front of his body to gently stroke the growing bulge between his thighs, you soon see that the idea of you and him doing something so shameless in public isn’t just scandalising him but turning him on, too. You massage it for a while through the fabric, enjoying the way that he whimpers and whines, bucking into your touch, breathing hard already. When you slowly lower yourself to your knees in front of him, you keep perfect eye contact as you urge him to peel down his bodysuit so that you can get at what you want.

♡ Pesci’s not the longest, but his cock is thick, and the sight of it stiff and ready to be touched makes your mouth water. You’re very sweet as you press a kiss to the tip of it, looking up at him with a softness in your eyes that always makes him feel like he could take on anything in the world for your smile. When your tongue darts out to taste him, he lets out a hiss of breath, one hand coming to gently cup the back of your head and his own falling onto the cushions of the sofa. It’s so easy for both of you to lose yourself in one another - you in the hollowing of your cheeks and the movement of your tongue, and him in the soft, warm wetness that’s engulfing him so beautifully. You’re too far gone to hear the door quietly open, but when it does, La Squadra seem to stream in like they’re eight legs of the same beast--

♡ Formaggio alerts you both to his presence first, with a wolf-whistle and a shout about how Pesci’s finally gettin’ some action, and it looks like it’s good action too - he will he bit over the head and dragged out by somebody else, probably laughing at his own hilarity.

♡ Illuso knew there was something going on the moment he got into the hideout as a whole, but even he couldn’t have predicted this - he never thought Pesci would be so brave. He’s got a little smirk on his face as he files this away for future use, lest this new weakness of Pesci’s and yours be exploitable for his gain at some point - he does, at least, leave of his own volition (though he embeds the view of your face with your mouth open and lips around a shaft into his memory. Again, for future use).

♡ Prosciutto’s face goes all-over thunder. He’s proud of Pesci, of course - this is manliness, he thinks, and his main goal is to give Pesci confidence in himself. This is something that takes a lot of confidence. But he also believes in manners, and this is certainly not a polite thing to have your entire team walk in on - and, if he’s very honest with himself, the tightness in his throat is partly because of you. He’s been secretly jealous of Pesci over you for longer than he’d like to admit, and this just feels like rubbing it in his face - so Prosciutto immediately turns and tries to bark out to the others that they ought to give you both some privacy to get yourselves decent!

♡ Melone is immediately draping himself over the back of the sofa, criticising your technique, being surprised at what exactly Pesci is packing - he doesn’t mind the free entertainment at all. He will eventually be dragged out of the room by Risotto, Prosciutto, or Ghiaccio - depending on which one of them recovers first.

♡ Ghiaccio goes red with rage. That you’d be so shameless, doing this, in the common area - all of you sit on that couch, you know! Couldn’t you have just done it in a bedroom like a normal person? What’s wrong with you? He either will explode with shouts and screams, or he’ll be unable to pull up his anger enough to make coherent sentences. There is no in between.

♡ Sorbet and Gelato look at one another, and then back to you. They do not say anything, but they smirk, wrapping themselves closer around one another. “How shameless,” Gelato purrs into Sorbet’s ear. “At least when we do it, we try and avoid becoming a public show.”

♡ Risotto goes very quiet. He will be the one to herd out the rest of the group, if they don’t move themselves. He’ll have a talk with both of you about appropriate use of the common areas of the hideout later, but right at that moment he’s a little flustered by both of you and needs some space to calm down. The least he can do is make sure the rest of La Squadra aren’t there watching you.

#not sfw #pesci x reader #jojo headcanons #jojo postin #Anonymous

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balladeer-angelo · 4 years

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carlos x reader with 6. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.” im really a whore for this man what can i say

we’re all just a fictional man’s whore here lbr

Carlos x Reader (N/S/F/W)6: “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

"Carlos, c'mon! This isn't fair!" He was already maneuvering you across his lap, your new seat becoming one of his large thighs with your knees resting on either side.

"Who said I like to play fair?" He smirked, rubbing and squeezing your sides with those big warm hands. "Maybe I like to play a little dirty every now and then."

You scoffed. "Every now and then?"

"Well, maybe only when I wanna watch you work for it..."

"Which is always!" You give him a look of disbelief. He shrugs, unbothered and unapologetic.

"Can you blame me? You just look so pretty like this." Like this, meaning completely naked on top of his leg while he's still wearing a shirt and some sweatpants. Again, not fair. His eyes zigzag across your body, drinking in the sight of you. It's hard to feel cold beneath a gaze that trails a path of fire into your skin.

He cups both of your breasts, rolling your taut nipples with his thumbs. You push your chest into his palms with a throaty moan and he leans forward to meet you. He gives one of those rosy buds a quick swipe with his tongue before sucking it into his warm mouth. You feel a throb in your clit and your hips begin to slowly sway back and forth, compelled by the movements of his lips and tongue. Carlos gives a soft grunt of approval; however, his hands find their grip at your haunches, dragging you even closer on his thigh while he gives your nipple an enthusiastic but gentle bite.

He switches to your other breast, lavishing you with love bites, painting different shades of red on your skin where you know it will dim into a deep purple tomorrow. You watch him do this, breathing and moaning through open lips. He watches you, though you have to push some of his hair away to get a good look at those scorching eyes. He grins at you with your bud between his teeth. Your face becomes flooded with heat and you have half a mind to push away that smug fucking face, but with your nipple still caught in that maw of his, you reconsider. That kind of pain wouldn't be worth it.

"What'ssa matter, baby?" He askes through his teeth, quickly catching that frustrated look you're giving him. The muscles in his thigh tense underneath you as he nudges his leg upward, rubbing at your sopping core. "Aren'tcha enjoyin' yerself?"

There was a gratuitous wet spot blossoming across the cloth of his sweats where you sat, still swirling your hips, getting lost in the way your clit would catch on the fabric. You feel his fingers, spread out and slowly sliding their way down your belly. Your skin jumps excitedly at his touch. He inches lower and lower, closer, taking his time to get between your thighs. When he gets there his fingers massage your slick lips in an idle manner, avoiding that one spot he knows you want those digits.

"Carlooos!" You whine, steering your hips to try and nudge his fingers just a little bit closer to your clit. Even the smallest brush might be enough to make you come undone with how pent up you are and, as embarrassing as it is, you would take it. "C'mon, I just wanna come!"

He tutted you, his hand strolling leisurely back up your belly. "Remember what I said, baby?" You turn your head to avoid his mirthful gaze but he takes your chin and guides your face right back to him. His lips are just barely touching yours and the heat of his breath is making your head swim.

"The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."

He releases you and your head falls back as you let out a frustrated groan, a little on the dramatic side. He just laughs and coils his arms around your lower back. "I know you can do it."

"But your hands feel so much better!"

"And just imagine how good I'll make you feel right after you come like this for me."

You curl over and rest your forehead in the crook of his neck with a defeated sigh. He kisses your shoulder. "C'mon, sweetheart." His hands find your hips again. His lips are by your ear, plush and warm. "Be a good girl and come for me.” You whimper when you feel him start an encore of that push and pull swing with your body. "All you gotta do is move those pretty little hips..."

You grip the front of his shirt, taking the rhythm he's set and running with it. He hums, delighted, keeping one hand against your spine while the other runs through your hair. "That's it, baby."

You're rocking at a pace that's not fast nor slow, losing yourself to the friction you were lazily drawing out. The tempo of your movements was always changing, either of your own volition or by the quiet urging of his hands. When you were content with some light grinding, he was pulling you in, languid and deep. When you were just beginning to find your step in that slow dance he had introduced, he was tugging at you with a growl that reminded you that Carlos was as impatient as he was deliberate.

With the crown of your head pressed to his shoulder, you watch his cock throb and twitch beneath his sweatpants, straining tight against the fabric. The sight alone is enough to make your mouth water, pleasured mewls and heated breaths escaping your lips as you move a little faster now. The sooner you could get off the sooner you'd be able to rip those stupid pants off of him and take what's yours.

"There you go, sweetheart. Just like that." His fingers are gently framing your jawline, angling your head up so you're eye-level with him. He's almost breathing as heavy as you are and seeing him like that tugs the corner of your mouth just a bit for a quick smile.

"I want you to come nice and hard for me."

He's not even asking or demanding yet you find yourself nodding along to his wish, either way, your fingers pressing into his chest as your hips reach a fervent pace. He continues to praise you, urging you on with borderline blue movie words, sharp kisses, and tight hands. He laces his fingers through your hair, tugging lightly at the roots. You tilt back and shiver as you feel his mouth slide up your neck to that spot just below your ear.

"Come for papa."

First, you feel a spark ignite in your lower belly. Then it flashes through you like lightning, setting your nerves alight as you shudder and moan wildly. Carlos keeps your hips moving even when it starts to become too much, too hot, one hand sneaking around to grab and slap at your ass.

He snarls. "Fuuuck..." The other hand slips between your legs, collecting all of your silky cyprine. "Look at the mess you made." He holds his glistening fingers up, both of you following every drop that dribbles down his knuckles. You're so dazed that you don't even notice yourself leaning toward his hand and before you know it, those slick fingers are being enveloped between your lips. He groans as he watches you suckle your juices off of him and his cock thrums incessantly. He's so entranced by your shameless display that he almost misses your hands tugging at the waistband of his pants, finally releasing his cock. He's hot and heavy between your palms, pulsing and dripping. Your lips slip from his fingers and you grin at him, giving his erection a squeeze.

"I think this good girl deserves a reward, don't you?"

#carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira #re3make #resident evil drabbles #smut prompt #hhh I'm sorry these are taking longer to pump out #i've really been trying i swear #i think i'm just getting burnt out ;-;#hope you like it thooo #imma keep truckin along #Anonymous

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tonystarktogo · 4 years

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“It’s never gonna be over.” They are a practiced liar in it only for her own gain, an amoral mercenary who doesn’t play well with others and a business shark on a warpath. [If there is such a thing as a match made in Hell, they are it.]

Natasha stares at the number on her bank account — well, one of them — in stunned silence, too numb to feel the happiness, joy, ecstatic shock that is probably appropriate for a moment such as this.

As a grifter — a damn good one at that, Natasha strives for nothing less than perfection in her chosen craft — Natasha is used to being surrounded by wealth and money, extravagance and shameless posturing. It’s basically her job description.

But there’s a lot of zeros and then there’s a hell of a lot of zeros. It’s too much, the amount far too high to feel real. The kind of money that goes beyond wealthy, beyond filthy, stinking rich. Tony’s rich, Natasha knows that. Everyone knows that. Or, well, he used to be. Back before he sold his properties and put all his money into saving Stark Industries, only to turn around and retire from his position, sell his stock to his successor and disappear out of the public eye.

[Everyone in the industry knows there’s more to it than that. Everyone knows there’s something shady about the way Tony Stark left his own company — some say of his own volition, some say his hand was forced. No one is stupid enough to believe that the murder of his assistant preceding those changes is in any way or shape a coincidence.

But Natasha is one of the few who has run into Tony Stark since then — or rather the ruin of what used to be Tony Stark. He goes by Anton, these days, and that he smiles a hell of a lot less is the least of the changes. As such Natasha isn’t forced to rely on unconfirmed rumors and gossip. She knows damn well that Stane did something unforgivable. And didn’t have the smarts — or the guts — to put Tony Stark down when he could.

He’ll regret that weakness one day, of that Natasha has no doubt. If there is a man out there, that will one day turn Tony Stark into a killer, it is Obadiah Stane.]

The point is, even for the old Tony Stark this would amount to an indecent fuck-ton of money. For your usual mortal — which Natasha in spite of all her talents is — it’s the kind of sum you vaguely dream about because you can’t even picture what it might look like. What it might mean.

Now here they are.

“We’re gonna be set for life when this is all over,” Natasha mutters. Tries to work through the confusing mixture of disbelief, shock, relief, exhilaration and amusement this seemingly innocuous number evokes in her. To understand how she feels about this, not just the situation itself but its implications.

She’ll never have to work again. She’ll never have to do anything she doesn’t want to again. And — far more important — she’ll be able to do anything she wants.

This? This is what Natasha’s been working towards, been dreaming of all her life. It’s what every grifter wants, really. Every criminal even. This is the mythical big score. The one everyone always talks about and most never, ever achieve.

[It should feel more satisfying, shouldn’t?]

And yet, despite all that Natasha isn’t sure what to do with it. She’d assumed it would take her several more years yet to reach this moment. [And even then, the payoff she would’ve considered acceptable would’ve been much, much lower.] It feels almost too easy.

Natasha forces herself to tear her gaze away from the screen. The number won’t change and it’s not wrong, she’s already run those checks a dozen times. While her temporary colleagues have remained quiet — perhaps caught up in their own shock, though considering their identity, that doesn’t seem likely.

Anton isn’t smiling.

It’s such an odd, little thing to stick out to her, and yet it’s the first thing Natasha notices. After all, people usually smile when they’re holding a payout of more millions than they knows what to do with. Not that it surprises Natasha.

[She hasn’t seen Anthony Stark smile since the day Pepper Pott bled out in his arms.]

Anton’s staring at her now, not avoiding eye contact for once. An unvoiced challenge. [Natasha’s never been good of letting those go unanswered. And it irks her, just a bit, that he knows her well enough to know this already, even though she’s already decided she doesn’t mind playing along. For a bit.]

"There’s no way Hammer put this much aside," Natasha states the obvious. "Even if we’d taken his company for everything it got, no way would we have made this much money off one job."

"Or maybe you’ve been working the wrong jobs." Anton smirks when she rolls her eyes in response. "Come on, I’m a motherfucking Stark. You can’t seriously think I don’t have any tricks up my sleeve. Playing with the stock market? I’ve been doing that shit since I was fourteen and contrary to what my esteemed former board members like to think, I’ve learned a lot over the past decade."

And the thing is, Anton wears casual arrogance like second skin and just like his infernal goatee and those ridiculously fancy suits he’s so fond of, he makes it look good.

As if to underline Natasha’s point, Anton continues with a simple "All of this?" accompanied by a careless wave of his hand. "There was no way I was gonna let us walk out of this job with anything less. It’s the least of what we’re owed."

There’s something in Anton’s eyes that sends a by now familiar thrill down her back – because Natasha knows that cold edge. Knows Anton’s brilliant mind that constantly works on fifteen problems at once. Knows even now, with this little game of theirs finished [a stunning victory, as though it could’ve been anything else] he is already setting up the next move. [The next target.]

Natasha has met men on a warpath before and Anthony Edward Stark meets every single criteria. She doesn’t need to understand how he thinks exactly — doubts anyone could, the man’s been called many things, but his unofficial title as a genius has been hard-earned — to know that somewhere in that pretty, pretty head of his, Anton’s keeping book of every offense committed against him and his. Is slowly but surely working through a list only he knows the full extend of.

[Stane was a fool. Part of Natasha — the part that has watched Anton break himself apart over the last fourteen days — hopes she’ll be there when Anton finally, inevitably turns his attention to him.]

But now is not the time for these things. With that in mind, Natasha forces a teasing grin on her lips, keeps her eyes shadowed but her words light. "Yes, yes, we all know you’re amazing."

Even Barnes snorts at the dryness of her tone, though Anton, at least, is unbothered.

"And don’t you forget it."

"Well, then." Natasha catches herself before she involuntary glances down at her phone’s screen again, still not convinced that this money is real. Is hers. "I suppose this is it."

Catches the eyes of Barnes, then Anton because they deserve that much. Working with competent partners is always a pleasure. And though Barnes prefers too much brute force for her taste and there’s a ruthlessness to Anton’s machinations that goes far beyond Natasha’s own cool practicality, she’s enjoyed this job. [More than she thought she would.]

"It could be."

To her genuine surprise, it’s Anton who says those words. [The same Anton whose first words to Natasha were 'I don’t do teams’ with casual derision.] But there’s no doubt he means them — means what they imply — else Anton wouldn’t have spoken up at all.

A quick glance towards Barnes confirms what Natasha has assumed: He’ll let her take the lead on this conversation, if only because it means he won’t have to talk himself. Barnes is a man of very few words indeed.

"What else is there to do?" Natasha obligingly asks. "The job is done. We’re done. It’s over."

[She knows those words are a lie, of course. Knows that big score or not, it was never just about the money. You don’t become a world-class grifter wanted in seven countries and counting just because you need money. Maybe that’s how it started — and sure, the riches are nice to have — but Natasha loves it. Loves the rush. Loves reading the mark, enticing it, blinding it. Loves pulling off a job and getting away with it against all odds.

It’s been less than ten minutes, but Natasha doesn’t need time. She already knows that, millions or not, she won’t stop now. Wouldn’t know where to start, even if she wanted to.]

“It’s never gonna be over.” Anton says it absently, matter-of-fact. "Not for me."

A simple acknowledgement of a truth Natasha already knows. [Men like Anton, they don’t stop half-way through. They don’t stop at all. And perhaps she should know better than to get involved with someone so hell-bent on revenge, but. Hell was always gonna be her ultimate destination anyway. Why not enjoy the ride?]

The way Anton looks at her, at Barnes, there’s no missing the implication. The unspoken offer. The warning.

You can walk away now if you want. [Get out while you still can.]

A sensible person would’ve taken him up on that offer. A sensible person would walk away.

“Good.” Barnes hums. “I’d be bored to death if I didn’t have to pull your ass out of a fire.” Light and easy, everything he shouldn’t be and usually isn’t. [Like he isn’t committing to a cause without a take-back option.]

Natasha thinks she hates Barnes for that, a little. For the light in his eyes that never dims, no matter how much blood he spills. For how easy he makes it seem, like he really just makes that decision in the spur of the moment, because he likes Anton well enough and doesn’t mind sticking around some more.

[Like he doesn’t care at all about all the ways in which this can and will blow up in his face.]

Anton raises a questioning eyebrow at Natasha. She licks her lips. Thinks of the life she can afford now, somewhere far, far away, without an extradition agreement to any of the countries she wouldn’t like to revisit. The comfortable, even extravagant life she could lead. [Thinks of the bloodied smile on Barnes lips, the way Anton’s eyes lit up when Hammer broke.] Shrugs.

“You’re not completely incompetent. Sure. What’s one more job?”

AN: I hope you’re all safe and healthy and that this fic will be a pleasant distraction for everyone who’s currently trying very hard to keep calm and carry on. Please take care of yourselves, lovelies!

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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Ducktales (Comic) Reviews!: Happy Happy Valley!/Fight! (Issue #4)

My first look at the IDW Ducktales Comics! And for a comission by @weirdkev27! Seriously he’s basically my boss at this point. If you’d like to comission your own comic or animation review just pm me or shoot me an ask to get my discord. Single stories for a comic are 3 bucks, single comic issues and single episodes of a show are 5 bucks with deals on multiple issues or episodes of a show. With my shameless plugging out of the way the stories themselves are:

Happy Happy Valley! (The Comissioned Story): The Main Cast sans Beakly end up stranded at a resort where everyone’s forced to be happy all the time. A classic trope with a twist ending you can’t predict.. mainly because it’s..

Fight!: The boys have a garage sale with stuff from the broom closet to raise money for Huey’s woodchuck trip. Naturally this quickly snowballs into a samurai fight to the death.

Wonders, a full recap with spoilers, and extreme stupidity await bellow the cut.

After a quick commission break for this week’s episode I’m back in the saddle and back into comics no less! It’s been exactly a year since I’ve done a single issue comic review. Oh sure I looked back on house of x, and will again next year, and I do want to cover Empyre at some point and some other comics, but I haven’t done a full recap of a single comic book in some time. But the first story of this issue really, REALLY confused and infuriated Kev, and rightfully so, so I got the commission call, and of my own volition I’m doing the second story entirely for free. I just wanted to do both for completion’s sake and because when I did read this comic I remembered the stories not being very long so it gives me more to write anyway. And if your curious yes I would gladly review classic Don Rosa, Carl Barks or really any duck writer’s work on a story by story basis, it just works easier to do the Ducktales issues all in one since their both more recent and I don’t have to go back and do it later if, once i finish seasons 1 and 2 at some point in the distant future, I decide to do this series too as well as the Sound and Fury mini that was clearly used to offload stories they had left over.

As for my experience with these comics I DID read them when they started out. .but quickly petered off and never even got around to this story, I remember reading page one but never read the rest of it. Part of it is I tend to flitter in and out of comics and part of it was the stories just weren’t that gripping, with the characters often feeling like flatter versions of the far more multi-layered one’s in the show proper and the stories being a bit too short to properly flesh things out like the show, especially since for some weird reason each issue has two stories instead of having one big story on occasion. They weren’t bad and there is a story or two I want to go back to like Lena and Webby being spies together, Fethry and Fenton have a story together apparently, we get an early look at Della, and there’s one where Bradford hints at them plotting against scrooge long before the show revealed it. There’s some interesting stuff I might look at eventually, I just have a LOT of show to get through too, and i’m not going to pidgenhole the entire series as bad or lackluster based on a few early issues.. or one story in this issue. But yeah i’ve held it off long enough.. let’s talk about

Happy Happy Valley!

First off the titles for these are .. pretty lack luster. Their basically just what the stories are about.. Happy Happy Valley and a Fight, that’s.. about it. I didn’t realize just HOW awesome the show is at titles, making each sound like a thrilling and unique adventure which they usually are, until I got to here. It feels like IDW, and by extentsion disney, didn’t care what the stories were called and just wanted a comic out to tie into the show. Which bothers me when they put this on IDW, clearly having a release platform for disney works.. but didn’t bother to use it for their Darkwing Duck comic continuing from the original, the reprint of the BOOM! Studios comic, or the short lived Star VS Comic Deep Trouble, which I will be covering at some point as it was pretty good. Same with the Boom! Studio’s darkwing, I just want to watch more episodes before revisiting it. Point is the title isn’t great. The story is even less than that.

We open properly with our heroes.. all woken up from their beds in the middle of the night for an adventure. It’s not a bad start, though Louie weirdly starts in constantly about how Scrooge’s rich and can do this and that and Subtley dosen’t exist in this story does it? Anyways, later, far away from Louie’s bed.. that’s the caption they go with and I love it, the Sunchaser suddenly stops working and Launchpad’s crashing skills come in handy,

This isn’t a bad scene as Donald brings up good points and likely has his own “times he’s been nearly sacrificed tally” like Louie.. and Della likely also said “Della’s coming out on top!” when her total went into triple digits. Also “When your rich you can even buy luck launchpad”

It just.. dosen’t fit Scrooge at all.. granted this issue hasn’t BEGUN to not fit Scrooge at all but let’s save that for the end. Anyways rather than hostile locals they find Gladys Seeya, good pun, an overly smiley woman whose eager to please and just wants everyone to be happy and has them carried because tired people aren’t happy. Yeah it’s suspcious as heck and a well worn trope, really nice place with a dark secret, to the point the series proper would parody it in the Mervana episode, and subvert it by having them turn out to just be very nice hippies who i’m still convinced had a three way with Donald... I mean he could use it, they were really nice, and Donald is probably very generous. That’s something you didn’t want to think about but now you have to and it’s there. If you GENUINELY think that’s bad, then you should hear about Goofy’s sex life.

See way more horrifying. Now everyone’s miserable! Horay! Moving on, point is Donald had a mer-three way and this is a well worn trope, but it is used in an interesting way.. that’s entirely ruined by the stupid ending, but we’ll get to that. Point is everyone is soon happy, given a buffet, all the food they can eat, and whatever they want. They just want you to be happy.. no secret plot here.. wink. Louie continues his annoying “Every rich person gets X” schtick which feels forced as hell and gets worse with every line and more obvious. It’s one of the weaknesses with this story. It’s basically the writers constantly elbowing you and saying GET IT.. YOU GET IT.. BEING HANDED EVERYTHING YOU WANT IS ANNOYING GET IT. YOU GET IT. The problem is.. the Island’s moral dosen’t fit that. Kev helped here as we discussed the issue once I finished it, as I hadn’t thought of it yet, but the valley isn’t about giving you everything you want.. it’s about just FORCING you to enjoy things. Sure you can be happy off some things like the food but when Donald politley declines to dance because he can’t, which tracks with his life in general, they basically all glare at him to do so. Later they basically force acvitites on them with the ducks only agreeing because clealry they worry about what might happen if they DON’T. Telling someone to smile or enjoy something dosen’t make them enjoy it it just makes them miserable. Problems are 1, the issue very clearly WANTS to have the other moral and 2) the series would do this kind of story MUCH better with “Mystery at McDuck Manor!”. That’s not on the writers fault, as this comic started right before the show premiered and this issue came out before said episode, but it really doesn’t help the show came along with the same exact moral of not forcing your idea of fun on someone else and did it WAY better. It’s the same message, the ducks being forced to endure something only one person thinks is fun, but delivered right and wrapped into a very clever and fun mystery. Honestly I might cover that one this week or sometime soon because it both fits the Halloween season and this issue if nothing else reminded me how good THAT episode is.

But I’m stuck doing this issue. Naturally, and in one of the issues few clever moments, the Ducks try booking it out of there as soon as they can but find their raft gone, and a ring of sharks suddenly there that weren’t before, and Donald understandably doesn’t want to risk the kids lives with that. Thankfully Webby soon comes up with a plan using the activities, and uses a napkin to get it around. This bit.. is actually clever as they use the various bits to get a plan and even Huey has a really clever bit where he just leaves his hat and shirt behind to go looking for the generator, likely on Webby’s request, knowing his brothers can just play him once in a while to draw suspicion. Also apparently Huey wears a tank top under his shirt, which looks weird on him, as he’s not the sporty type, but does fit his “always prepared” mindset well so I like it. Using Basket weaving and balloon decorating, they create a way out, and Webby ties up their host while everyone escapes. They nearly don’t fit out but luckily Donald contributes. And again i’ll give the story this: Donald does more in this one story than he got to do in the vast majority of season one. So our heroes escape with other patrons begging them to take them with them and the stories apparently wrapped up. The generator Huey found was to show the sharks were just holograms which given the science in this world makes sense, as does it jamming the sunchaser. What doesn’t make sense, and what got me my three bucks for this review in the first place is this. I”m putting the full picture there both so you can let it sink in and to let you know, since most of you probably haven’t read this comic, that i’m not making this shit up, nor is it one of my jokes. This .. this is the actual twist for the comic.

...................................................................................................

This is probably the thrird dumbest line in comic book history. Before you ask the other two are

And why yes those are both from the series. And why no I will not be covering All Star Batman and Robin unless someone forces me too. My point is WHAT THE FLYING HELL IS THIS. I mean this makes NO sense on any level. For STARTERS one of Scrooge’s most well known traits, that’s part of his character in every version is that he doesn’t like to spend money. He will to MAKE MONEY and sometimes grumble about it but if he doesn’t. Even if season 1 had it dialed way back, he still reused his old teabags, charged extra on his in house vending machines and tried to get out of buying burritos for recently freed slaves. Being cheap is an iconic part of his character. Granted the series took out things from the comics and original like underpaying employees, barely paying Donald even though in the comics he supports three children, as well as barely paying those children, and refusing to donate to orphans, but still it’s not THAT so far removed that THIS is remotely in character! He had to either buy this old resort or have it renovated to keep up the ruse, pay for the creepy lady running it, pay for the other guests as actors because otherwise his hired minion KIDNAPPED people who were begging for escape, pay for the activities/escape supplies, and pay gyro to build the GIANT GENERATOR THAT BOTH PROJECTS SHARKS AND MAKES TECHNLOGY NOT WORK. While I do think Scrooge would gladly want to teach Louie a lesson, this is a lesson that at best costs hundreds of thousands of dollars, if not at least a million to pull off. And that’s not even getting into how he forced everyone else to go with it, denied them a good night’s sleep and clearly told NONE of them. Beakly not being there actually makes more sense as she would’ve noped out of this horrible horrible idea and bonked him on the head for this. It makes no sense and it’s GROSSLY out of character. And while I’m used ot that from comics, writers often don’t give a shit about the characters their writing, I expect better from DISNEY when it comes to lisencing shit. They’ve done better. I’ve mentioned better and even SINCE this they’ve done better: Christos Gage’s Incredible’s Comics are excellent and I want to read more of them. And the previous run by mark waid is also suitably incredible, if now sadly no longer canon. And even in this very ISSUE there’s a much better, if not amazing, story we’ll get to in a moment. I get disney’s greenlit weak tie in material before but this is ridiculously bad and shoddy. Shame on them, shame on the writer, and shame on this INCREDIBLY stupid story. We get an everybody laughs ending, who cares. we’re out.

Final Thoughts for Happy Happy Valley:

I don’t have much less to say about this story. This about sums it up.

Fight!

We open with a samurai.. though it quickly turns out to be Dewey with a mop on his head hitting Louie with a broom while saying Two Damage! Two Damage! and already in one scene this is so much better and feels so much more natural. Naturally this story has a different writer. The artist is different for both too, and the art is good on both though I do prefer the art for “Fight!” more as it’s a bit more expressive. Though it also benefits from having less characters to juggle so that probably helps. The boys are having a Garage Sale, or Yard Sale as some call it. As a huge fan of Garage Sales, I’ve gotten tons of stuff from them over the years and good shit too like my G1 Snarl, or even just recently a three in one of the first three loud house Graphic Novels for a freaking quarter. You REALLY can’t beat that. It’s why I love these things. So this story already had my money. As for why, Huey needs money for the Junior Woodchuck Camping trip. How else is he going to hold hands iwth Violet and Boyd under a tree. Wait neither of them existed yet. Damn. Well i’m retconning that in anyway. If they can retcon the Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver not to be mutants, which If eel is getting undone VERY soon, or if not Hickman will use that well, I can retcon this to taking place in season 3. Plus i’ts all very wholesome and innocent... their only eleven.

But yeah Scrooge in a nice moment if an off-screen one gave them the contents of the broom closet.. which is really just a bunch of old used up brooms, some buckets and other cleaning supplies. Probably stuff Beakly rarely uses or has long replaced and if not.. well he’ll have to pay for them himself won’t he. Unlike the above clusterfuck this.. feels entirely in character. Scrooge likely apricates that Huey is working hard to EARN the money for his trip and that his brothers are helping, especially Louie since he gets nothing out of this unless they go over what Huey needs. But also being Scrooge he still only gives them some old Junk. But Louie, being louie easily scams a guy into paying 15 bucks for a broom. Still this is slow progress and if Huey wants to be with his poly relationship he’s gotta step it up. Luckily, and naturally given this is Scrooge’s closet, they find an old Samurai helmet, which Huey feels could be worth millions. granted...

But eh it’s going to a good cause, tiny children holding hands by campfires, and when has common decency EVER stopped Louie? Dewey though, wants to start a collection of war stuff.. starting with this. It’s part of why I LIKE the story better: not only does it have much better dialouge but it’s actually rooted in the characters instead of “One trait of Louie’s cranked up to 50 and drilled into our heads”. Huey is trying to earn money for the woodchucks, Dewey only wants something for petty reasons and Louie wants money. It feels like the actual characters and not just cutouts and makes me wnat to read more stories in the hopes of finding more like this. Anyways naturally nothing Scrooge has in any of his storage areas of the mansion tha’ts ancient isn’t cursed, magical or really neat to look at, and the helmet comes to life as they fight over it, and the helmet clints to Dewey, who talks in a deep red voice calling himself Ronnith of the Twin Samurai. The name.. isn’t great but the concept is. Thankfully Huey knows what it is thanks to the guidebook. and just like the Donald bit last episode this one story gets the guidebook better than season 1 did a lot. Turns out the twin samurai were two brothers who hated each other and always competed for their mothers affection.. their mother was also forced to sell her beautiful sculptures for next to nothing after their father left. Instead of going after him though they both blamed each other as teens when invaders struck and burned everything including their mom I guess down, and fought the rest of their days, and while Ronnith never settled things due to growing too old, his spirit, and his intense hate, went into his helmet which now curses any brothers who fight over it to fight with the looser turning into a statue.

Naturally no one wants this but Dewey can’t get the helmet off and Ronnith possess him to destroy the guidebook.. though Huey explains it’s his “third backup copy” which.. yeah again like the tank top thing tracks. Ronnith then manifests armor on Louie and we get the image above.. which is really neat. With Ronnith forcing the two to fight each other, Huey searches for a way to stop it. And while he can’t find it he does figure it out and the solution is REALLY clever: Just as Ronnith’s about to kill Louie, with Dewey apologizing.. Huey blocks. And Ronnith is naturally confused and upon finding out there’s a THIRD brother, the curse dissipates and thus everything’s back to normal. And wrapping things up nicely a guy shows up to buy the helmet and while Dewey tries to just give it away Louie says it’s free with purchase of a bucket for 50 bucks so Huey has his money to go on his romantic camping trip.. though he does ask if hte guy has a brother.. best be safe. Final thoughts on Fight!: It’s like night and day. While the previous story is stilted, has one of the worst endings in duck history and overall is just kind of bland outside of one or two moments this .. is really good. It doesn’t add much to the world or anything, but it’s a fun side story with a clever monster of the week and resolution, some great lines and some good art. This is what should’ve lead the issue, as the main story is again just dreadful. Overall i’d recommend checking this story out.. though maybe get in in trade instead as the A-Story here is really bad, but you can find both on comixology and this issues on comixlogy unlimited if you want to check it out along with a ton of other great comics.

That does it for this review, if you liked this I do regular coverage of ducktales every week, I JUST COVERED THIS WEEK’S EPISODE YESTERDAY. So check that out and until next time vote if you can and check your house for Gary Busey!

#ducktales #ducktales comics #reviews #scrooge mcduck #louie duck #donald duck #launchpad mcquack #huey duck #huelet #webby vanderquack #idw

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eternalstrigoii · 4 years

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Songbird

Borra (Maleficent: Mistress of Evil) x Female-Presenting Fae!Reader

They called you many things when they thought you could not hear.

Abnormal. Some manner of strange creature. Changeling.

They were right. Proof lied in the leafed tips of your ears, the natural points you had to file blunt at the ends of your nails, the way your eyes flashed at the dart of movement in the brush, and the way your too-sharp canines caught the light.

But, above all, you held your inhumanity in your fingers.

You moved too quickly, too surely for the likes of careful, mortal reflex. Your weaving was always taut, and your patterns never faltered; whatever you planted bloomed in abundance. With a gesture, you called even wild animals to your side. So,it had only been natural that you take up the violin.

You played as you did all other things that required a delicate balance of knowledge and skill: with inherent perfection that made your neighbors distrust you. It was no wonder that you’d taken to the woods to play. The animals were no judgment, and many a bird seemed to join you in harmony.

You hardly noticed the flowers that began to spread from the epicenter of your private grove, their buds springing to bloom within hours of their first appearance.

You never had a precise understanding of how you felt when you went into the wood; the sting of man’s unkindness, or the pleasure of a hard day’s work, melted away with the touch of your bow to your strings in a harmony independent of reason. It was as though you tapped into the breath of the universe, and her song made its way from the earth, through you, to freedom.

You played with abandon, fingers shifting from string to string as deftly as your well-ambered bow. Something was coming. You sensed it, though you assumed you played no part in its fruition. You felt its call – wind, birdsong, instinct, you knew not what – and called out in response the only way you knew.

You hardly realized you changed your tempo to incorporate the heavy beat of large wings until they settled into silence.

Near you, if the deafening silence was to be believed.

The music ceased without warning.

You turned, hopeful that the severity of the sound you’d hardly registered had been nothing but an owl in close proximity -- but, no, a man perched on the low branches of the nearest old tree. A man who was not entirely a man, for his wings were twice the size of him, comfortably folded as he watched you from a raptor’s crouch.

You stumbled back a step, lowering your instrument when you ought’ve raised it in defense.

The fey cocked his head, and descended with a beat of his wings that sent your hair fluttering as though stirred by a sharp wind.

“Who are you?” you demanded, as though any of the old stories had truth to them; you’d given plenty of people your true name over the years and not one of them had power over you, not even the ones who’d raised you.

He made a sound not too unlike a restless animal as his eyes searched your face. Judging by his willingness to approach, whatever he found was not unexpected. “Borra.” Though you took another cautious step in retreat, his stride was long enough that it took only a few steps for him to close the space between you.

He paused before you, lowering his face near yours, and canted his head. He wanted to be certain of what manner of creature you were, that much you understood.

Despite the cold that crept up your skin, his closeness was not unpleasant. When he leaned into you, it was as though you could feel the warmth radiating from the center of him. It called to you in the midst of the cool, damp, mossy wood. You did not realize the bow and the violin had slipped from your grasp until your hands lifted seemingly of their own volition – to stop him from coming closer, by some rational part of your mind, though that was not what you did. You grasped his face, his cheekbones sharp like your own, and you allowed him to kiss you…though that was not an adequate term for what he did.

His mouth seized yours. Possessively. Hungrily. The heat that focused in the epicenter of his body became a less localized warmth as he managed to draw you closer – off your feet, you realized passively, for he was certainly more than a head taller. His tongue passed your lips, which you had not realized you parted. His hands on your back felt like the heat of a summer harvest.

And you ached for more, a strange flower opening up at the first sigh of spring.

Borra dropped to his knees. The grass was unobstructed there, the leaves, logs and bracken pushed aside ages ago to give you room to breathe, not that you did very much of that then. You did not kiss human boys, or human men for that matter (though the latter often fancied themselves as able to tame you). You had no fancy to do with them what you were certainly about to, spread beneath him on the softness of the earth. You held his face until you could no longer stand to keep him in one place, your hands traveling the path of his neck to his strong-muscled shoulders.

His wings beat softly, open behind him as though expecting your hands to settle in their feathers.

Your fingers trailed down his arms. Your lips caught his lower one between them. He made a sound not too far unlike a growl at the sensation, and he guided you back with a steady hand beneath your jaw.

His amber eyes lingered on your face. As easily as he had swept you to the ground, he gripped your dress by the collar, and tore it from the seam.

All thoughts of modesty, humility, humanity utterly and completely failed to rear their ugly heads. It took him two tugs to completely tear the fabric from hem to hem, and you willingly removed your arms from the sleeves, your bow and instrument long forgotten.

He lunged back into your arms, dragging you flush against his body. The soft material of his pants had to come partially undone before it could be pulled away from his flesh, and you spared only the briefest glance to reassure yourself his wings were the only bird-related anatomy present.

He flashed you a wild grin, as though he understood.

And then he claimed you.

You cried out in delight, your head falling back into the grass. One of his hands settled at your lower back, the other wandering your skin.

You traced the ridges that looked like cracks near the base of his left (right?) horn, surprised to feel that they weren’t entirely ornamental. You touched the leathery material of his armor, the cloth wrapping lower on his arm, before the rhythm of his hips stole all sense from you. You gripped a handful of it while you clutched his shoulder, your hips rising to meet his. He was as beautiful as he was wild, eyes flashing as he watched your face, his own lips parting for loud, shameless groans. His wings even beat when you rose to meet him when he pulled away, fluttering your hair and the petals of the flowers that had bloomed all around you.

“Borra,” you whispered.

“Are you afraid?” he asked, with an openness that surprised you.

You shook your head.

“Then say it again,” his voice had dropped an octave, rough with desire.

“Borra…”

His hips snapped against yours, and your legs clung to his hips. His smile broadened, emboldened, and he did it again, continuing to watch your face as your eyelids fluttered. “Borra!”

His cloth-wrapped hand returned to your cheek. He kissed you again, and you did not hesitate to give him the same enthusiasm in return. Somehow, your fingers ended up tangled in his hair at the base of one of his horns, and no matter how hard you tugged, he didn’t try to remove you.

He didn’t warn you, nor did you warn him when the time was nigh. But you felt it, then more than ever: the harmony of the universe rang through your veins, and when you let your head fall back with his teeth embedded possessively in your neck, you weren’t even certain that you made a sound.

But the whole of the forest floor was coated in new blossoms.

He groaned into your skin, a momentary pause before he honeyed lazily with you a little more. You drew him close for another kiss, this one longer and more peaceful than the ones that had come before.

“Do you want to be near others of your own kind?” he asked, as though the raw attraction between you hadn’t been sufficient answer enough.

“I’ve never thought about it,” you admitted. “I think they’re right – I think I am a changeling. One of you, raised in their world…”

He scoffed. “As though we’d willfully abandon our children with them.”

Your head quirked, and he took the opportunity to brush his fingers through a lock of your hair. He didn’t try to convince you – perhaps he knew the alternative of walking home with your tattered gown and violin in hand, and, preferably, him in tow, was the far less appealing one.

“I believe I could be convinced, provided wherever I’m going will be where you are.”

There was a flash of something genuine in his smile, something he tried to hide when he turned his head partially away. “It was you who called me, so that has been arranged.”

You felt as though you should have been surprised, though you weren’t. Perhaps it was not the entire universe you were in harmony with, though as long as you had your own little part of it, you supposed that was enough.

“Then yes, I suppose I would.”

“Grab that thing you made the noise with,” he said, withdrawing to kneel in the grass. The sudden lack of proximity to his warmth left you shivering, but gave you all the more reason to gather up your violin and fold it neatly in the remains of your gown for safekeeping. When you were ready, you nodded to him, and pretended not to be mildly disappointed that he had properly rearranged his clothes.

“Come,” he held open his arms for you. “We’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

A curl of anxiety shifted about restlessly in your stomach, but you were never one to turn down new opportunities. You clutched the knot you’d made of your gown in one arm, cradling it close between your chests, and wrapped the other securely around his neck.

Borra arranged your limbs comfortably in his strong arms, perhaps to give you the opportunity for modesty if you’d so desired it, but you were more occupied with clinging to his shoulders. “Do you swear you won’t let me fall?”

He chuckled, pressing you even closer. “Our kind never breaks their word.”

#Borra #Borra Maleficent #Maleficent: Mistress of Evil #Borra x Reader #Can I tag this 'monster boyfriend?'#we're posting our first drafts like men in fandom again kids #Maleficent Borra #There Is No Plot Only Zuul (lemons)#No Beta We Die Like Men

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kayann9 · 4 years

Text

The Frustrating Things M! Kayden X F! MC One shot The Royal Masquerade

So, I am departing from misery and this is my attempt at fluff. Takes place after the love confession. I hope you enjoy and thanking you all for reading!

Pairing - M! Kayden (Trystan) X F!MC

Words- 1565

Rating - T for fluff and a little bit romance

All rights to Pixelberry.

I used to love falling asleep to the sound of rain.

As a child, when the drops hit the window and I held my covers to my chin, my eyes would flutter shut at the peace it brought me. Sometimes, I would open my window, just a fraction, and breathe in the smell of it. But perhaps, not tonight.

Like a swift breath, the heavens had opened during the dusk and the skies had grown the colour of ash. Rather than calm, it brought me unrest.

Still, I watch it. Sitting in my chair beside the tall windows, in my nightgown, the rain beats against the window; the grey clouds have since turned to black and an obscured moon back lights the night, trying to force its way from the cocoon of mist and fog.

My story had only increased in complexity tonight: a political engagement to further an almost impossible agenda; an heir to the throne, powerless and heartbroken; a family in the throes of utter disarray and confusion; and, love that whilst pure, was certainly going to become riddled with pain and uncertainly. A more compelling story could not have been written, not even by the literary greats in Europe.

The book in my hand, small and delicate, taunts me.

Tristan and Isolde: the very book that my Trystan had handed to me.

I had finally read it and my heart had wept. Was their fate to be ours?

The parallels had been striking and heart breaking and gripping. In fact, I would have enjoyed this story were it not so close to my own.

A crack of thunder and a flicker of lightning send a shudder up my spine.

I had thought about going to him for the past hour; I knew these hallways well enough to sneak through them. But he, as shown earlier, is a paragon of virtue and whilst I would happily spend the night in his arms – his bed – he would not allow it. Damn him and his sensibility. I pace the room. How on Earth had he compiled such composure! After his visit the previous night, it had taken every ounce of will power – mainly his willpower – to not drag him into my chambers.

Another bang of thunder.

“Damn this weather!” I would already find it hard enough to sleep thinking of him, thinking of everything.

With a huff, I throw myself onto the bed; the ceiling has exactly three cracks in it, each one close to the window.

Today, we had stolen an embrace in the living room, and it had felt wonderful to be so careless, to not second guess him. To not wonder if I had been imagining his care for me. For a moment, just to be wrapped in his arms and for it to be filled with certainty, had been the most exhilarating of feelings.

It is now all I can think of.

His large frame wrapping me up; his sturdy body under the armour he wears pressing against me.

More lightning.

“Why must you torture me?” Of course, the weather does not listen to my pleas.

“You should make sure your door is locked to ensure no torture takes place.”

I sit upright at the sound of his voice, for a moment thinking it to be a frustrated hallucination. It is not. And my heart could not be happier. Still, seeing him smirking against the door frame, his usual attire replaced by a simple shirt – black of course – and his usually neat hair, damp with rain and messy with wind, brings out my mischievous side.

“Have we not learned to knock? I could have been in any manner of undress. I would have thought you may have discovered your manners after the last time you barged into my room without announcement.”

A ghost of a smile sits on his lips; the one I see when he engages in the game of teasing we play. Slowly, he kicks himself from the doorway and with care, closes the door. “Announcement was made. You were too busy asking the air to stop torturing you to notice. You sounded most distressed; it is my solemn duty to check.”

Trystan is handsome – not beautiful by most standards even though I may disagree with them – but his dishevelled and slightly crooked appearance makes my heart drum louder than the thunder. He is not pretty. Not even a little bit. Not like Alexander. With his dark features, even darker because of the dim lighting, it is difficult to not find his gaze intimidating but there is also something so intriguing about it, like you could swim in his eyes.

The bed dips as he sits on the edge. I join him. Excitement floods my senses at the mere prospect of him being this near to me. Uninterrupted. In my bed chambers. On my bed.

Still, he makes no motion towards me, only offering a raise of his eyebrows.

“Do you wish to tell me what was torturing you?”

You.

Of course, even with my usual brazen flirting, I am too much of a coward to say that. “The weather. It is very loud.”

“Not as loud as your yelling.”

“I have exceptional lung capacity and I had to show it who was boss.” As if on cue, another roar of thunder put me right back in my place. He laughs as I jump. “I am happy to see that my distress amuses you – yet again.”

“My love, your distress could never amuse me. At times, your temper does though.”

My love. I melt into a puddle right there. As if the earlier conversations and events had been but a dream, the very concept of Trystan Vescovi loving me makes my face break into a smile and I cannot help but kiss his cheek.

“I should make fun of you more often.”

He can do whatever he likes to me more often. Especially if it ends up here.

“You can try.” I move only a fraction closer to him; just enough for it to be noticeable. He does not pull away. “So, you were just patrolling the corridors and -”

Trystan’s laughter is throaty; like his voice is covered in gravel. “Yes. It is my job: patrol the area, make sure you are safe something -” He stops and glances down at his hands, a silence prevailing throughout the room. I know what he’s thinking, and I need him to stop thinking it. “Something that I failed to do the last time. I shan’t fail again.”

I hate that he feels this way. It makes my stomach hurt to think he’s punishing himself for Renza’s behaviour.

I squeeze his hand. “You have failed nothing. It is because of you that I was found. If I recall, the main victim of the whole charade was the door you kicked through.”

“I was always one for a dramatic entrance. I am a Vescovi after all.”

“I can believe that.”

I rest my head on his shoulder and relish the feeling of his arm as it pulls me towards him. How I want him to stay in here. Even if it were just to talk with me. I wrap my arms around his middle, the unusual feeling of thin fabric on his torso allowing me to feel each muscle beneath. He smells of the leather he wears and of the Earth; homely and fresh. I could breathe it in forever.

His hands tangling in my hair and his lips pressing to my head, tells me he is almost ready to say goodbye for the evening. “The weather tortures you but you punish me.”

“I would think that punishing the Crown Shield would be an offence.” Shameless: yes. Regrettable: absolutely not. I smile into his chest as he splutters out an unintelligible response. For all of his teasing, he is not as unflappable as he wishes to appear. “You seem to have forgotten your ability to speak Trystan Vescovi. Please, to make amends for my earlier discretion, feel free to take advantage of my lips any way you see fit.”

Even more shameless, but it does the trick because within a second his lips have crashed against mine and his fingers have dug into the material of my nightgown. Blood thunders everywhere in my body. Breathing seems to stop. Everything works of its own volition.

But it does not last forever; though it should.

It should be a crime to be kissed like that – as if the world is about to burn – and nothing more.

This is why he wins; of course, my words can easily fluster him, but he knows that with one touch from him, my entire brain ceases to work, and my frustrations will shatter the resolve I pretend to have. This is why, right now, with his forehead pressed against mine, he is smirking at me; crooked and filled with knowing.

“Just so you know, Eva, this hurts me more than it will every hurt you.” Chastely, his lips touch my head. “Good night my love. May your dreams be pleasant and your sleep most restful.”

The he leaves, laughing to himself.

He knows what he just did. Restful indeed. “Damn you.” I mutter into my pillow as the thunder bellows once more; the storm laughing at my frustrations even more viciously than before.

Damn him and his ridiculous kisses.

Tags: @parkerattano @gettingonmykneesfordamiennazario @mightyfangirlofthefandoms @chaotichuman0090 @krishu213 @adrianadmirer

@referencees @just-another-lonely–soul @rexgwapolagi @walkerswhiskeygirl

@addictedtodrakefanfic

#kayden vescovi #kayden x mc #trm #trm kayden #playchoices #choices #pixelberry #pixelberry choices #kayden #choicestrm #choices trm #choices stories you play #the royal masquerade

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pikapeppa · 5 years

Photo

How To Train Your Clueless Kirkwall Runaway

OMG. @schoute indulged my SHAMELESS FANTASIES with another gorgeous piece of Fenris x Rynne Hawke art from our pirate AU. Let’s call this a preview of the next chapter of Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me. Read below the cut for accompanying drabble (~600 words)!!

*************

Fenris crowded her back against the wall. “Be quiet,” he hissed.

Rynne obeyed. She couldn’t talk even if she wanted to, because she couldn’t catch a breath: Fenris was close to her, so close that she could feel the heat of his skin where his tunic laid his chest bare, and the sheer nearness of his body was enough to stop her lungs from working.

He was utterly still as he peered sideways over his shoulder, but Rynne couldn’t stop staring at his neck. There was a light sheen of perspiration on his skin, and those strange white tattoos twined delicately down the side of this throat and into the collar of his tunic, and she was seized with a sudden urge – a very improper urge – to run her tongue along those twisting white lines and taste the salt of his skin.

She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. If he didn’t step away from her soon, she was going to make a complete fucking fool of herself.

A moment later, the clumsy footsteps of three large men thundered past. One of them, the one that Rynne had jabbed in the eye, was still drunkenly slurring threats about her. “If I get my hands on that little whore, I’ll teach ‘er a lesson. Don’t you doubt it.”

Fenris let out a soft growl of anger, and Rynne swallowed hard. She should probably be scared, but Fenris’s rough little growl was making her feel things that were distinctly not fear-related.

“Forget her, mate. And watch your tongue,” one of the louts said. “Can’t be sayin’ things like that with the Queen around.”

The eye-jab man snorted. “Fuck the Queen, she’s just another Rivaini whore–”

There was the sound of a fleshy thump, then a third voice. “Shut your bleedin’ trap. You’ll get us thrown out of the city.”

The eye-jab man grumbled in complaint, but finally their voices moved away. Rynne and Fenris stayed silent for a moment longer until her pursuers had melted back into the lively crowd.

Fenris released his breath and immediately starting berating her. “What did I tell you?” he snapped.

She opened her eyes to find him glaring at her. He looked angrier than she’d ever seen, and for some reason, it made her want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Which part?” she said weakly. “You’ve told me lots of things in the past couple days. Educational and important things, don’t get me wrong–”

“I told you to stay close,” he hissed. “And I told you to use that dagger if anyone failed to unhand you when you asked. Why didn’t you stab him?”

She swallowed hard. His chest was heaving with angry breaths, and it was extremely distracting. “I-I… I was going to, but I…”

“Never hesitate,” Fenris snapped. “That was one of the first things I told you. An enemy will smell your hesitation, and he will not fail to take advantage of it.” Suddenly he looked down at his chest.

Rynne looked down as well, and a rush of embarrassment heated her cheeks. Her hand seemed to have decided of its own volition to take hold of the gaping collar of his tunic, and her thumb was touching his chest.

His chest. Her thumb. She was touching his chest with her thumb. He was breathing hard and his eyes were on her face and she was staring at his lips, and – and his chest –

She grinned at him, then burst into giddy laughter.

“What is so funny?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” she gasped. “Absolutely nothing. I’m just an idiot.” Her fingers were still twisted in his tunic, and she boldly released the fabric to splay her hand on his chest instead. “I think you should yell at me more when you’re training me. I feel like I’m really learning a lot right now.”

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flamboyantly-incompetent · 6 years

Text

Since the World Began (1/?)

Hades!Bucky x Persephone!Reader

Word Count: 2,355

Warnings: fluff, lots o’ fluff

A/N: This AU has got to exist somewhere on this site, but I just felt like writing it, so here you go. Lot’s of fluff. Probably the fluffiest shit I’ve ever written, probably ever. The gifs are not mine.

When you met him, the world was still so new. As you trod, life sprang up about you. Delicate, beautiful, new life. And so you trod, wandering across fields, along rivers, up and down the hills and rocky bluffs, to the edge of the sea and beyond. You were a god, after all.

In your wandering, you often passed an eerie door. Etched high into a cliff face on an island at the edge of the world’s existence, it’s existence perplexed you - no mortal man could tread there. Demeter, your mother, warned you in no uncertain terms never to touch, breathe on, or even get too close to this strange passage. It was one fate filled day that you passed too close and you met him.

He saw you first, watching in rapt attention as more and more forest sprang from the footprints you left on the earth. The expression of absolute and impossible joy on your face sought to melt the ice left in his heart, still keeping his distance, until finally, you saw him.

At first, you didn’t recognize him. He wore a midnight blue chiton under a chlamys pinned to his left shoulder. There was no denying he was a handsome man, even beautiful, with sea green eyes you could drown in and a dazed smile that fascinated you in its crookedness. He seemed tired though, as one looks when they carry something heavier than they should. And what you could see of his left arm appeared to be made entirely of some metal.

“I’m sorry, Lady, I don’t mean to spy,” he said, remembering himself and suddenly abashed. The sudden change in his posture drew a quick laugh from your lips.

“Not to worry,” you said, “This is, after all, outside, so to speak.” Your words brought the smile back to his lips.

“It’s not everyday that I meet someone quite so lovely, outside or no.” You blushed hard, hiding your giggling face in your hand. When you brought yourself to look at him again, you saw the lines etched into his face. What troubles could he bear? Existence had barely begun.

But looking at him, you could not help but smile sweetly. “I’m Persephone. But you can call me (Y/N).”

“Ah,” he whispered, nodding, “There has been talk of a spring-bringer on Olympus.” He bowed low, never taking his eyes off you. “Hades is my name.” (Later in your life, you tease him about this moment, saying “Hades is your name and maintaining the underworld is your game.”)

He continued to watch you, waiting for you to recoil. Everyone does at some point. He waited, and waited for a few heartbeats more. Confused, but a bit hopeful, he rose again to his full height.

Unsure, you asked, “If I can know your station, may I know your name?”

“Oh, yes. Well,” he sputtered, “Anyone that cares to know calls me Bucky.”

“Have you ever seen a fawn born, Bucky?”

“Not that I can recall.”

You reached for his hand. “Come with me; it’s almost time.”

For perhaps the first time in his life, Bucky recoiled from someone else. The hurt written on your face broke his heart as you withdrew your hand, afraid you’d offended him. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- It’s just,” he let out a heavy sigh, “I’m god of the dead. I don’t think I need to explain why my presence at a fawn’s birth would be problematic.”

You nodded, disappointed, “I suppose you’re right.” Then, you squared your shoulders and said, “But I am goddess of spring. I need to go.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Oh, I imagine so,” you said, smiling, “I wander here often.”

He met your smile with a dazzling one of his own. “Until then, (Y/N).”

After that chance meeting, you wandered there often purposefully, never explicitly to see him, naturally. But you were always happy when you did, and disappointed when you didn’t.

Moons passed, as moons do, and your bond with Bucky grew stronger, as bonds do. On days the sun was out in all its might, you found hills to roll down, your path greener and Bucky’s drier than before. On days Zeus brought the rains down, you found mud to play in. Those were Bucky’s favorite days. They were yours too; you weren’t ignorant to the subtle changes in his demeanor when he would see even the minor destruction left in his wake. But the mud was already dead, and the way you laughed when a glob of it hit him brought his own bubbling from his chest.

One day, you lay head to head on the sand by a shore of some rocky island.

He turned his face towards you and said, “(Y/N)?”

Your eyes were closed in comfort, but you hummed in response.

“Do you want to see my home?”

“You mean the underworld.”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to show me?”

“Yes.”

You opened your eyes and turned towards him, eye to eye, a shameless grin on your face. “I would like that very much.” He grinned and jumped to his feet, offering you a hand up.

As you walked together, your hand, but its own volition of course, reached once more for his. Only your fingers brushed at first, his own curving out to meet you as a small smile spread across his face. Eventually, though, you intertwined your fingers and continued your journey close together.

He led you in a comfortable stillness, the both of you speaking infrequently about trivial things. He led you, and you followed, to the door in the cliff face.

Bucky turned to you, concerned, when he felt you stiffen. “(Y/N)? Have you changed your mind?” His voice was soft and gentle.

Demeter warned you about this. Though she hadn’t told you why, and you hadn’t seen her in more moons than you could count. But, when you turned to face him and give an answer, you felt as safe as with the fields. Smiling, you shook your head, “No.”

One hand on the small of your back, he pushed the door open with the other, whispering, “Do not be afraid.”

The first thing you noticed was the chill in the air. After all, the dead don’t need the sun. They don’t need anything, really. The second was the low growling in the direction of a soft light emanating from afar.

“What’s that?” you asked, apprehensive but curious.

“Ah, yes. That would be Cerberus. He’s, well, you’ll see.” Your hand found his again and you continued towards the light.

As your eyes adjusted, you began to see a creature, huge and pacing. It sniffed the air and turned its three heads toward you.

“Bucky?” He gently moved you behind him.

“Rus!” he called out. “I’m home!” The creature barked excitedly and broke out into a full run. You moved out of the way as the creature tackled its master, all three huge heads licking his face. “Okay, okay, okay. You crazy hellhound,” he said, muffled from the fawning beast, and pushed him off. “Rus, I’ve brought a friend. Be nice.”

The beast turned to you and your eyes went wide. It appeared to be a dog. A normal dog, just with three heads and the size of a small temple. It strode up to you, tail wagging and you let out a small whimper.

Bucky reappeared by your side, hand on your back, “Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you.”

“I find that a little hard to believe,” you admitted, avoiding eye contact with all the heads.

“I mean, okay, but he only eats the ones-”

“He eats people?!”

“Only the ones that try to leave. Do you know how disastrous it would be to have spirits wandering about the mortal realm as they wished?”

“Alright, fine. Where am I supposed to pet him?” He smiled, you couldn’t help but smile back.

“The left one likes ear scratches, middle guy likes it when you tickle his nose. The right one I haven’t quite figured out yet; he’s a bit of a loose screw. But they all like belly rubs.”

You addressed the dog-creature-thing, “How about it, Rus? Belly rub?”

The thing seemed to understand because it flopped onto its back in a hurry, shaking the floor. You had to climb on top of the thing to even reach its belly. When you did though, it panted and wagged its tail excitedly, hind leg hitting the floor as you enthusiastically rubbed its stomach. For a building sized dog, it was pretty cute.

“It’s nice to meet you, you giant, scary, adorable thing.”

Bucky helped you off of the dog, who promptly rolled onto its stomach, panting contentedly. “Shall we continue?”

“Yes,” you said, brushing your hands off on your hips before taking his hand again, “But would you mind warning me if we’re to encounter any more of your pets?”

You followed him deeper into the underworld, Cerberus following happily behind, and a thrum of rushing water that grew clearer by the moment. Eventually, the river came into view, as did a multitude of figures wandering along its shore. Most of them weeping. One hooded figure stood on a raft, impossibly still, holding a staff lantern.

“Master Hades,” said the figure, “you’re home early. Ah, you’ve brought a guest.” He paused. “You usually don’t like the other gods coming down here.”

“Never mind that, Charon. This is Persephone, will you take us across?”

“Of course.” He held his hand out to you, helping you onto the raft. Cerberus let out a short whine and resumed his pacing along the shore.

It was slow going, crossing the Acheron. From the raft, you could still hear the mournful sounds of the figures.

Shivering, you asked, “What are they?” Bucky clenched his jaw, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

Charon answered, “Those are the spirits who could not pay the toll to cross. They will wander that shore for one hundred years, then I shall take them across. There are a few, there, who’s time is almost up.”

You nestled into Bucky’s side, shivering only partly from the cold. “That seems rather cruel.”

“We didn’t make the rules, kid.”

You turned your eyes to Bucky. “Who did?”

He sighed. “Titans. They were here first,” he said with some measure of contempt. You only hummed in response.

The raft reached the opposite shore eventually; Bucky held your hand as you hopped off and thanked the ferryman.

As you followed him further in, you asked the question you’d been thinking of for some time, “What do mortals see, when they look at the door to this place?”

“Nothing,” he replied, “Well, nothing but the unbroken cliff face.”

“If none can see it, and none know it’s there, why is it so high?”

“Just in case. If a mortal enters here, they lose their claim on the mortal realm. They’re trapped here forever, with the dead. And, Cerberus, well, he can’t really tell the difference here.”

“Ah,” you said. Really, you weren’t surprised that he took such care, knowing him as you did.

You came upon a tall tower jutting out from the stony ground and followed Bucky up the stairs spiraling around it. The top of the stair emptied into a brightly lit room. Bucky removed his cloak, setting it on a table next to a bowl laden with pomegranates and offering you an unobstructed view of the angry-pink scar connection his metal appendage to the rest of him.

He felt your gaze and said, “I believe you have another question.”

“I-I don’t want to be intrusive.”

“You wouldn’t be.” He raised his eyebrows, eyes patiently watching you, making you blush.

“What happened to your arm?”

Bucky nodded. “When Cronus ate my sibling gods and I-”

“He ate you? Why does everything want to eat everything else?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “It was more of a stomach imprisonment than actual eating. Demeter never told you these stories?” You shook your head. “Well, she was there too, perhaps she did not want to relive it. We were trapped for years before Zeus reached manhood and overthrew him, freed us.”

“And that is why he is king?” Bucky nodded. “And your arm?”

“I lost it close to the end of our confinement. Five fully grown gods in one stomach tends to prove a tight fit, and you can’t imagine what other nonsense that behemoth decided to swallow. Hephaestus made this one for me, I still owe her a favor.” He would say no more of his time confined. “Come, there is one more thing I would show you.”

He led you once more, out of the room and onto a balcony big enough only for the two of you.

The sight took all your breath, but the sounds confused your heart.

“What is this?” you asked quietly, stiffly gripping the railing.

“This is the underworld, in all its terrible glory,” he said, standing beside you. “There is the Isle of the Blessed, then Elysium, the Asphodel Meadows, and the Mourning Fields.” His pointing swept across realms in decreasing senses of pleasantness.

Past them all, there appeared to be some abyss swallowing every spec of light. To this you gestured and asked, “And that place?”

Again, he clenched his jaw. “That is the way to Tartarus - the abyss, where Zeus banished Cronus, and the rest of the Titans. There have been a few souls added to that happy number since.” As if to punctuate his point, a faint cry found its way out of the abyss. It fascinated you - here, this was the ultimate punctuation of the life you nurtured, and in a way it was terrible and in another it was captivating.

After some silence, you turned to him and asked, “Why did you bring me here, Bucky?”

He glanced down at you and replied softly, “Because I’m falling in love with you. And I want you to know me.” A tingly warmth spread through your gut because, though you had no way to know for sure, you were certain you were falling too.

Part 2

#what even is this #Bucky Barnes #bucky barns x reader #hades!bucky #hades and persephone #AU #Marvel?#Kinda???#I just like him okay #let me live #fluff #fluuuuuuuff #this is the fluffiest shit ever

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gabzjones · 6 years

Text

Saw this prompt from @love-me-a-good-prompt and knew I had to write some shameless fluff.

The first time it happened, Yuuri was more confused than anything else. Having to travel from country to country with Viktor at his side, they stayed in countless hotels together and he liked to think he’d gotten used to his habits. One he had never noticed up until that moment was that Viktor always pressed the buttons in the elevator. Always.

This time, Yuuri beat him to it.

Viktor didn’t say anything at first. He simply watched Yuuri, clearly uncertain of what exactly he was supposed to do; how he could’ve been betrayed like this. Yuuri had never done anything to hurt him, and yet there he was, pressing the button to reach their floor of his own volition. Yuuri remained blissfully unaware at first, just waiting to arrive at their floor, and he had no reason to believe that anything was wrong. They had just been on a long flight and he was tired. The quiet between them after flights like those really wasn’t anything new.

It wasn’t until they were stepping into their hotel room that Yuuri finally noticed that something was wrong. Viktor stayed quiet as he moved around the room, avoiding eye contact as he went. Yuuri dropped his bag gently onto the hotel bed before turning back and watching his companion curiously, “...Viktor?”

“Hm?” Viktor didn’t look up from where he stood, his eyes focused on the window nearby.

“Are you okay?”

“You pressed the button.” Viktor spoke so softly, Yuuri had to strain to hear him, but it really didn’t do anything to help him understand what was wrong.

“I... what?”

Finally, Viktor turned to face him, frowning, “You pressed the button in the elevator. I always press the button.”

Yuuri had never been more confused. He knew Viktor had a lot of eccentricities to his personality, but this was on a whole different level, “Are you serious? It’s just a button.”

“But I always press it.”

That night had been quiet. Filled with misunderstandings. Yuuri couldn’t figure out why it was so important, and Viktor couldn’t understand why Yuuri didn’t seem to care about the button. Despite the confusion and the hurt feelings, Yuuri always made sure Viktor pressed the button when they got on elevators. Truthfully, he didn’t understand it, not at first, but it made Viktor happy. He wasn’t going to question that.

The more time he spent with Viktor, the more he began to understand it. Viktor didn’t have any control over his life. Not really. He skated, he competed, he was the best of the best. That was what was expected of him. And that’s really what his life was all about; being what was expected of him. It was why he was so adamant about surprising his audience with his routines; because it was a small part of his life that he had control over. And that’s what the button in the elevator was. A part of Viktor’s life that he could control, even if it was small.

It was after the short program in Barcelona that it changed. Yuuri was a mess, the thought of that one tiny mistake having broken down his score, that one mistake being enough to make or break his chance at gold. His chance to prove that Viktor wasn’t wasting his time on him. It was weighing on Yuuri’s mind, it was all he could think about. As they stepped into the elevator, heading to their room for the night, Yuuri waited, but Viktor did nothing. Hesitantly, he looked up to see Viktor watching him expectantly, “What are you doing...?”

Viktor offered his reassuring smile and gestured to the buttons, “I think you need to press the button more than I do right now.”

It was such a silly, simple gesture, but Yuuri had figured out long ago just what the elevator button meant to Viktor. Control. He was offering Yuuri a chance to regain some control. And Yuuri took it gratefully.

Eventually, Viktor became less needy for that control. Yuuri would always hesitate to press the button at the elevator, wanting the option to be there for Viktor, but he wouldn’t always take it. Sometimes he’d be content to give Yuuri the control, and it felt nice. It felt like trust, even if it really was just a button, that no one else could really see how important it was. It was part of their relationship at that point. Give and take. Sharing control and trust.

“Nope! Mine.” Yuuri rushed ahead of Viktor, reaching for the buttons of the elevator only to be tugged back by an arm around his waist.

“Nuh uh, you got it last time!” Viktor strained to reach passed Yuuri for the button, Yuuri shielding them with his body but despite the struggle, both were grinning unabashedly.

“I got here first!” Yuuri turned back to press the button only to feel himself lifted off the ground and spun around in Viktor’s arms. A laugh escaped him in his surprise.

Once Viktor was standing between Yuuri and the buttons, he lowered him to the ground, turning back to the buttons with every intent to win their little game. But Yuuri was competitive and he didn’t like to lose. Yuuri reached out, using a hand on Viktor’s shoulder to turn him back and pulled him into a loving but playful kiss. Every time they kissed, it was breathtaking and this time was no different. Viktor seemed to completely forget about their little game, his arms winding gently around Yuuri’s waist, keeping him close as Yuuri’s lips parted, offering him so much more.

As they kissed, Yuuri reached blindly for the buttons, hoping he’d press the right one. He didn’t. It didn’t matter. He smiled against Viktor’s lips, pulling away just enough to murmur gently, “I win.”

Viktor looked between Yuuri and the elevator buttons, seeing the one lit up and laughed, “It’s okay, I do, too.”

Viktor turned Yuuri in his arms, pressing him against the wall of the elevator, Yuuri’s beautiful laughter echoing through the space as he was showered with affection.

#victuuri #victor nikiforov #katsuki yuuri #yuri on ice #yuri on ice fanfiction #mine #idk why this happened but it did

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sportanime-maniac · 6 years

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Midorima, Aakashi, Tsukki and Akashi soulmates have character like Zachary Smith (yOU hAVe tO WATch his "If i was in mean girls" "Target with Zach" and "If I was in "It") she's very loud, shameless, savage and annoying [she can make anybody laugh] but at the same time she's v nice to people she care about but at the same time she will roast them? Sorry if this is kinda weird and also sorry English is not my 1 language. I send you hugs tho

THANK YOU FOR THE HUGS. IM GIVING YOU SOME TOOO 💙💙 Also your English is AWESOME shush 😁😁 I hope you like what I’ve written and sorry if they’re short💙❤💙

Midorima - KnB

The green haired male was practicing his shooting as he always does, in the gym. As he shot a ball from the halfway line, he heard a familiar voice saying,“AW HELL NAW BITCH! IM GOING IN THAT GYM AND THERE IS NOTHING YOUR ASS CAN DO ABOUT IT!” He sighed and reassured himself that his lucky item was round his neck. Today since it was the month of Pisces, it was an amethyst necklace. The door slammed open and a female walked in, a bright smile on her face.“Midorima, you left your book in class and that teacher, oh girl she had the nerve to send here!!” she greeted. He gasped silently. Thise were the words on his wrist. They were soulmates.“Um, thank you, ___,” he replied. Her eyes turned into saucers and they met in the middle.“Yo ass had better not be thinking what I think it’s thinking,” she told him.“What trouble did you get into this time ___?” he asked, a little irritated. The two were in the same class, but they had never spoken to each other before today. She raised an eyebrow.“What’s climbed up your ass?” she asked. At this point the whole basketball team was listening.“Nothing has ‘climbed up my ass’ as you so said. You were screaming your head off like a camp man out there, and I can’t exactly have my soulmate getting into double all the time can I?” he told her. She laughed.“That was some other first year. They were spying on all of you, from a different school, so I scared them off,” she told him, showing that she really did mean well.“Tch, you didn’t have to do it so extravangently!” he chastised her.“GIRL I JIST SAVED YOUR TEAMS ASS AND YOU GO AND SASS ME LIKE THAT? MHMM, YEAH? IM TALKING TO YOU MIDORIMA!” she started the talk….you know that camp sounding sass voice. The team was in fits, surprised someone spoke to Midorima like that. The Generation of Miracles shooter couldn’t help but crack a small smile. This was the reason he liked her, even before they were soulmate. She was the only one who could actually make him smile. Every other smile was of his own volition.“Yeah yeah, ___, go and do something else. Thanks for scaring off the spy, but your face could scare even the most seasoned of horror gamers,” he said. The female acted like she had been shot through the heart, stumbling backwards, before falling onto the gym floor.“How could you? My heart just broke!” she said with an eccentric flare. The team just ignored her and but couldn’t stop grinning.'Looks like I did my job,’ she thought to herself, smiling and going to sit on the benches to watch her new found soulmate.

Akashi - KnB

___ was skipping through school, along to her locker. She had been off school for a while since she was visiting family in Canada.“Excuse me! ___-san! No skipping!” a voice said. Her first reaction was to reply.“NO YOU EXCUSE ME GIRL! HOW DARE YO- wait what did you just say?” she asked, realising he had spoken the words that she had bandaged up on her arm to cover them. The male that she didnt recognise immediately approached her.“Did I hear you right?” he asked….or more like demanded. She nodded, sort of still in shock. He looked at her arm, and frowned.“Why do you have them covered?” he asked. She raised an eyebrow.“Ever heard the rumour that if your soulmate goes through something traumatic, or dies, their words begin to cry?” she asked him. His mouth opened and she allowed him to take off the wrapping. Sure enough, the words looked like tears had been dropped on them and had started to bleed and blur.“Yeah, so I’m only gonna say this once. I care about you, but around people, I’m eccentric. Don’t come seeking help if I’m in a crowd because I’m insecure as neck, And that’s my only coping mechanism,” she told him, before taking the wrap back, and walking off.The two had got together and sorted through Akashi’s personality problems but ___ wouldn’t seem to let Akaashi change her eccentricity. But he wouldn’t change it for the world. It was one of the brightest things in his life at the time. Currently they were before a game, and ___ was talking to the team.“Hey, ___!” a voice called. She turned.“BOI DONT CHU COME IN HERE AND TALK TO ME LIKE YOU KNOW ME. I’M HERE AS A MANAGER, NOT A PRETTY FACE!” she said, clicking her fingers.“But ___-”“Nope. Don’t even think about it girl. You don’t think I could be a pretty face? Huh? WELL BOOM BITCH, I AM! DEAL WITH IT!” she yelled, in the most camp voice. It made Akashi smile to see her fitting in so well, although she was still awkward and sometimes her eyes held a little darkness, she was genuinely caring for everyone, all the time.

Akaashi

The second year setter packed up his bags and walked up to Bokuto’s classroom. When he walked in, he saw Bokuto having a conversation….with a female. He blinked in surprised before starting to walk over.“But ___-channn, you should be our manager!” Bokutos whined.“Oh yeah? MHMM? That’s real funny Bo, but I’m part of the going home club for a reason….I WANNA GO HOME GURL!” the female replied. Akaashi was intrigued. She had an untouchable aura about her.“Bokuto-san, you’re going to be late to practice,” Akaashi told the third year.“Oh! Akaashi! This is ___-chan. ___-chan this is Akaashi,” Bokutos introduced them.“Its good to meet you. You seem interesting. Sorry to interrupt,” he apologised. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.“Its fine Akaashi. I’ll see you round?” she asked, and his eyes widened. He turned to Bokuto.“I’ll be down to practice in a bit. I need to go to the nurse. See you soon,” he told him and the owl ace went flying off.“So, damn you’re my soulmate? I got hella lucky. Hit the jackpot,” she smirked. He chuckled.“You’re too kind ___,” he said. She raised an eyebrow.“Don’t expect it to last,” she chuckled, handing him a piece of paper with her phone number on it before walking out.Sure enough, they were on a date to the arcade and she started arguing with the machine.“OH YOUD BETTER NOT FALL! NU UH. IF YOU EVEN O H H E L L N A W!!!” she basically screeched. Akaashi smiled a bit at her attitude. He didn’t think he’d like her eccentric behaviour, but she doesn’t do it all the time. Only when she’s happy and in front of people to cheer up. He leart to love her how she was, and she loved him just as much, being able to read him and cheer him up every time.

Tsukishima

He was sat in class alone listening to music, since he was the first in the classroom in the morning, when another student walked in. He kept his eyes closed and ignored them of course. When he felt a tap on his shoulder, he glared at the person and took his headphones off.“Did you just glare at me? I think you did. Well, it that case you don’t need your exam table do you?” she asked. He didn’t react, even though those were the same words written on the forearm of his left arm.“Whatever. That’d just be an asshole move,” he replied. A large smirk made it’s way onto her face and he couldn’t help but mirror her.“Oh yeah? Well who was the one that saaame some first hm? Oh wait it was your sorry ass. Now if yo want this timetable, youd better come and see my ass after school,” she said to him, passing him, being rude to him, flirting with him, and odering him about, but the usual cold Tsukishima chuckled.“Alright, you got yourself a deal, soulmate. I’ll see you on the roof after school,” he told her, and she smirked at him.The two of them got closer and closer until it was difficult to distinguish between their personalities. Tsukishima gained a little (lot) of sass, while ___ became more teasing and closed off.

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wristic · 7 years

Text

Between Earth and Hades (Part 6)

Pairing: Erik X Reader Word Count: 2000 Warning: ( ˘ ³˘)♥

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3- -Part 4- -Part 5- -Part 6-

@breakdaylight @multifandom-slytherin @dulce-sarcasmo @city-of-spooks @kimskew @badbitsh13 @whenimaunicorn @bookswillfindyouaway

Taking a deep breath, you held a hand over your spinning stomach, trying to quell the beating low in your belly, thrumming hard as you realized what you were about to do. It had been a good week of not sleeping. Of babbling on and on to your team who were more ecstatic over going back in the field than your new ability or your dilemma.

You wanted to come forward to Erik now that you had caught a glimpse of just how much he saw in you, that the feelings were in fact returned and not everyone’s imagining or toying with knowing what you felt. All that was left was to get all this tension over with and move toward to… something. And that something was terrifying.

Yet when you stood outside the door to his classroom, a room you once had to sit in to learn history, you fiddled with the buttons of your shirt, asking yourself if you were really going to do this, would he really respond to you, even if he wanted to?

When the door suddenly opened you startled, teens flooding out, some nodding a familiar hello to you. Catching your breath, you peeked in. It hadn’t changed so much, sending a wave of nostalgia to see the rows of desks and his large one always cluttered in the back where he called out kids passing notes.

The windows had always spilled the perfect lighting to ogle him as he talked away and you’d barely listen. It always gave you an excuse to stay late after class, getting lectured if you wanted to be an X-men you’d need to get better grades. The nostalgia lead you in, skirting quietly around the edge with a small smile even as the memories brought about apprehension, some fear you were about to ruin something dear.

The student chatting with him about extra credit caught you, the redhead growing a mischievous smirk before politely dismissing herself. Watching her go lead Erik to you, him grinning wide to find you, yet you startling again when the door shut.

It didn’t bother Erik any, swiveling in his chair to give you his full attention, looking so relaxed and ready to tease you. It had been quite a long while since you two had met in the classroom.

“Um.” you started, fiddling a little, you kept telling yourself you should go. But it would look so strange now if you did. But would confessing really be worth it if he wasn’t ready, how could he be ready if he didn’t know-

A warm hand fell on your shoulder, bringing you back. Standing before you was Erik’s reassuring smile, a hint of playful concern in his eyes as you looked up at him in a small terror, again simply stuttering, “U-um…” and then looking down whispering, “Okay, okay...” and a finally snapped up your head up and a proclaiming louder than necessary, “WANNA SPARE?”

Scoffing, Erik asked, “What?”

A bit calmer you tried to stumble over your own crappy save, “Would you like to spare? I-I feel like I should with my new ability a-and I’d like to try it against you.”

Erik was so confused, obviously and understandably. You gulped under his interrogative stare before he retracted his hand into a defensive cross of the arms. “You think just because you can see me at a different angle you’ll kick my ass this round?”

Feeling loads better by not admitting your affection, you found your pride, even if he didn’t know it was kicked across the floor into the dust. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Chuckling, he moved around you, “Alright, Scott was being a pain in the ass with his shameless flirting anyway, I could use a decent fight.”

Sighing in both disappointment and relief, you followed him out, letting him start a small conversation involving your friends excitement. Across the hall, the redhead was standing, looking cross with you as soon as you exited.

Really?

Your mouth dropped offended and you screamed in your head, I’m doing my best!

With a smirk she rolled her eyes at you, I have a bet going so do better.

You were thinking more to yourself when you asked, Does everyone in the mansion know?

Yes.

You glared at her until Erik brought you out with a question, having no idea what was going on in your head and your heart. Hell, you didn’t even know what was going on. For some reason your pulse jumped when you entered the locker room to suit up. You kept wracking your brain over and over, what were you doing here, how were you suppose to tell him, why did your brain jump to this instead of a date? What was wrong with you?

He felt the same you reminded yourself, this shouldn’t be that hard.

Stepping out into the large steel room, you didn’t see him, adjusting your glove before the door shut on it’s own. Turning back Erik was leaning against the wall, looking positively devious. He was going to win, he always won.

It was hard not to mirror the attitude, swinging your hip to one side as he walked to you, measuring you up as he closed the distance, “I hope you uncovered something else in that forest, otherwise you’re just asking for a free beating. Maybe I’ll let you get something out of it, place a bet against yourself for a 20?”

“I’ll accept my defeat with a little dignity thank you.” the black spilled from you as you stepped back, slowly creeping out the lights above but not encompassing him. You found in the past putting him in a dome lessened his chances to find you, Hank almost told you why until Erik covered his mouth and explained it would be ‘funnier’ this way.

You took your steps, light as a feather as you rounded in the layer of shadow, closing your eyes and forcing your mind to separate, apparite in the shade of the crow and fly faster around, reaching behind him where you felt him shift. Your moving consciousness seemed to leave its own reverberations, distracting him.

Erik leapt into the shadows, forcing you to move, opening pockets to lose him and summoning the crow on top of you, splitting it so he didn’t know which direction you were taking.

He didn’t fall for the bait, lunging at you, spinning your back to his chest, panting behind you, “So soon? And here I thought you’d put up a fight-”

In a hop, you flipped him over your back, Erik landing with a hard thud. Slipping away through the blacked out maze you giggled, “Fight? I just gotta out last you old man.”

“Old man?” he grunted, rolling back to his feet, “with age comes wisdom.”

Like ghosts, you felt things, shrapnel shifting through the shadows, too quickly for your senses to really process. You felt him moving too but it was clouded, only able to focus for short periods enough to change your direction. The metal littered around you, shifting like a radar to point him in the right direction.

In a breath you stopped running, separating again, but this time you kept it just above you. From there you tried to split it again but it only grew, at the very least encompassing your body and a little more, masking your unmoved position.

You heard his footsteps slow, his breathing catch as his makeshift map was disrupting around an orb much larger than a person or a bird. “Hm. Clever.”

Erik walked into the barrier, your senses were impossibly heightened to the point the air was knocked out of you. It wasn’t just a disturbance, you felt every shift and fiber of his suit, heard his heart beating in your ears and saw the sweat on his skin. Feeling every step touch the ground and twitch of his fingers, the softness of his hair sent shivers through you, his exhale felt down your neck.

It was too overwhelming, gasping and retracting, all of it. The shadows dispersed from the whole room as you shook your woozy head.

“You alright?” blinking rapidly you came back to Erik, him smirking with a hand out in case you started tipping.

“Yeah it just,” you shook your head again, stumbling until a pair of hands held you up, “whoa that felt weird.”

You both chuckled as you steadied on your feet, feeling oddly cold and numb. When you lifted your still swimming head you were greeted by his gentle smile, his hands still holding you feeling so warm and strong.

“You ready to keep going?”

You thought about it, thought about backing away from his touch, from going to bed knowing the next day would be the same as all the others. Your facade crumbled and your frustrations fell bare, “I-I can’t do this anymore.”

But you couldn’t do this while facing him directly. The shadows engulfed you both, Erik looking around lost before your hands came up to cup his face, bringing him to you.

While your adrenaline had been pretty thick in your veins, it spiked painfully in all your doubt and fear, in the touch of his lips on yours like you imagined thousands and thousands of times, but this was real and so tantalizing to just rest in this moment forever.

Erik was stiff against you, his grip on your arms solid, not pushing you away. As your lips slipped away from his, they tightened more, unsure to keep you, but terrified of you leaving. His sigh shook against your skin, pulling you back into him as the darkness held, blocking everyone and everything from the knowledge of what he wanted to take.

Feeling him take you, kiss you of his own volition sent you dizzy, caving your body against his. You gave a small moan as his hand cupped your neck, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Your hands ran up and down his side, pulling on his hips, not shying away from all your fantasies not measuring up in the least and taking all the affection he offered, no matter how hesitance drifted to taking you aggressively.

The lights started to sprinkle through as you couldn’t think enough to keep the barrier, and as it hit his eyelids Erik tore himself back.

He was as breathless as you were, running his fingers along his damp lips as he looked anywhere but you.

“Erik…” he turned away but you enveloped him in darkness again, “Please, I’ve been holding onto this for what seems like forever. I know you feel the same way-”

“It’s inappropriate.” he gulped, running a hand up his face. “Even if you are an adult now, you were my student once, it’s the principal of the thing.”

Taking a cautious step to him you tried to reassure him as you’ve always reassured yourself, “Well I happen to know a couple of telepath’s who don’t feel that way.”

He scoffed, “That’s because they’re telepaths, they don’t always see things on the outside.”

Your hand fell on his wrist, so desperate to hold him. “I know.” At the least he turned to you, rigid as he was to respond. “We can take things however you need to. I just needed you to know, I need for us to react on this in someway, anyway.” Breathing out the pain you added, his kiss and hands still tingling you and swimming in your memory, “You can say we need to drop it entirely if that’s what you want, all I need is to know how you feel.”

Gently his hand came to entwine in your fingers, relaxing in your grip as he turned a little more. You sighed as his other came to grip your chin, hovering so close to your lips you nearly caved to temptation and took the distance. But it needed to be his choice, and the longer he waited, breathing so subtly you thought he might be holding his breath, you felt him retract. “I...” his hands released you, stepping back as he mumbled. “I need to think about this.”

Licking your dry lips you nodded, “Alright.” dispersing the shadows as he walked away.

#Erik Lehnsherr #erik lensherr x reader #erik lensherr imagine #magneto #magneto imagine #magneto x reader #x-men imagine #my stuff #between earth and hades #You're thinking about it too hard Erik!

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dollofdeath · 7 years

Text

Military Men -- A Rewatch of JG Ep 1

Originally for this Joker Game rewatch, I was going to just redraw scenes I liked because I thought I didn’t have anything to add meta-wise or analytical-wise. But as I was reading JGfiles’ rewatch (which is super interesting! Do read it if you have the chance), I remembered the one thing that always stood out to me -- and it’s not necessarily confined to this episode -- is the dynamic between Sakuma and Odagiri. I don’t think it’s quite strong enough to call “parallelism,” but I think there’s something intriguing about having Sakuma, a soldier overseeing the spies, within the same space as Odagiri, a former soldier turned spy.

A bit of a disclaimer here but I’m not too well versed in regards to the historical context of the setting which may lead to shortcomings in my analysis. Anyways, without further ado, here I go! (•̀ᴗ•́)و

Right from the beginning, we know that Sakuma isn’t like the spies at all. Unlike them, he’s a trained soldier -- taught to follow Imperial ideologies with unwavering belief. As portrayed through his dynamic with Miyoshi, his beliefs clash with the spies’ and lead to the predicament Sakuma finds himself in later in the episode. One would think that these men have no common ground with Sakuma, that there’s no understanding between him and them. But as learned from the character biographies, Odagiri was once part of the military. Already, this sets Odagiri apart from the other spies and draws a similarity to Sakuma.

If the spies are considered anomalies of society, Odagiri can be considered an anomaly of an anomaly. While he’s an independent thinker honed by his spy training, he isn’t quite inhuman as the other spies are (as shown in episode 12). I’m probably treading on headcanon territory here, but I think that he’s a bit more sympathetic to Sakuma due to this.

Let’s start with the first (and only) scene Sakuma and Odagiri interact, which is the Joker Game -- or the poker game as Sakuma is initially led to believe.

I love imagining everyone in D-Agency and Sakuma as one big happy family as much as everyone else does, but I’m sure the reality is that they toyed with Sakuma to amuse themselves (perhaps saying that they bullied him is a better way to phrase it) and the Joker Game was one way they did it. Even Odagiri is in on it, though I think he may feel a bit bad about it.

Because, after all, it’s Odagiri who tells Sakuma that his loss wasn’t due to the way he played, but the way he and the others worked against him.

I believe it was never the spies’ intention to let Sakuma know about the Joker Game. Maybe they wanted him to figure it out himself, maybe they just wanted to be dicks towards him, maybe some kind of mix of the two. Regardless of the reasoning, I think Odagiri telling Sakuma about the Joker Game was something he did out of his own volition and was never part of the plan. Sakuma was about to leave and it felt like a last minute choice to tell him. And maybe it’s just the way the shot is angled combined with Odagiri’s typically stoic expression, but he almost (just almost) looks concerned.

And to me, it seemed that the other spies were... annoyed about having to explain things to Sakuma and don’t even take him that seriously, treating him like he’s some sort of dense child.

(miyoshi’s face screams “oh my god this dumbass” while hatano is judging sakuma lololol)

(kaminaga and amari: lmao ok bye)

So back to the point: what did Odagiri have to gain from telling Sakuma about the Joker Game besides advancing the plot? Nothing really. Had he not done that, the status quo would’ve remained and Sakuma would’ve gone back to bed in ignorance. But perhaps he wanted an easier conscience and maybe in a roundabout way, he wanted Sakuma to learn a lesson he needed.

As an aside, something I find interesting is that when Yuuki is talking about how the spies will live in solitude doing their jobs, we’re given shots of all the spies. Odagiri is the only one by himself, which I suppose can symbolize him not being like the others. Not only that, but the way that he’s seated is different.

Odagiri is facing towards the spies, away from Yuuki as Sakuma was just a few moments ago from this particular shot. In fact, in this shot, he’s the only one facing completely towards the audience (Amari is kinda too but like he can still easily look at Yuuki and Sakuma) and I wish I had some deep analysis to give you guys about this, but all I can come up with is “yeah, he’s different” haha yeah orz. Or maybe none of these don’t mean anything at all lol they were just something that caught my attention.

Anyhow, from thereon, Odagiri’s interactions with Sakuma are more indirect, if not nonexistent (which is a shame, but I digress).

The next time Sakuma and Odagiri are together is during the search of John Gordon’s house. While there’s no interaction between them, we see that Odagiri is standing directly behind Sakuma. It might not mean much overall, but this just really strikes me. They could’ve chosen literally anyone else to be behind Sakuma and they went with Odagiri. I’m not quite sure how to put my thoughts about this except that I think it’s rather poetic how the former soldier is standing behind the military man (literally and possibly figuratively).

(Presenting my super crappy editing skills haha anyways)

The next interaction isn’t much of an interaction, but more of how Odagiri reacts to Sakuma as opposed to the other spies. As Sakuma faces the prospect of actually committing harakiri, we get a very quick pan of all the spies sans Miyoshi. The fact that this shot happens so quickly gives us the impression that every single one of the spies is smirking at Sakuma, mocking him and his beliefs that lead him up to this point, which is probably how Sakuma himself feels no doubt.

However, if one looks closer, Odagiri has a different reaction than the others.

It’s rather difficult to see this on tumblr so here’s a link to the bigger picture. Since we’re focusing on Odagiri, I’ll just share the closeup on him.

I won’t say that he definitely isn’t smirking because I think it can be argued that he is in his own way given his stoic nature. But the point is that the other spies have a pronounced smirk, whereas Odagiri’s lips are closer to a flat line like he’s not as amused at this spectacle as the others are. Even Fukumoto, who is also portrayed as serious, has a more noticeable smirk than Odagiri.

Just to further illustrate my point because the more I look at this screencap the more I feel like I’m deluding myself into seeing a smirk, I placed a straight line across each of the spies’ mouths from corner to corner. Odagiri’s lips resemble -- if not perfectly fit -- the line while the other spies have a noticeable curve.

Here’s a link to the bigger picture and here’s a closeup of Odagiri:

this is probably the most extra thing i’ve ever done i apologize

Perhaps this doesn’t mean much as well, but I think it’s Odagiri’s sympathy towards Sakuma showing up once more. Due to the circumstances of the situation, he can’t do anything to stop Sakuma without raising suspicions (not only from Gordon, but his fellow spies as well). All that he can do now is watch as Sakuma tries to find a way out of this situation or die trying. Unlike the others, he doesn’t seem too interested in seeing the latter play out.

And that... is about it -- for both episodes 1 and 2. I don’t think we ever see Odagiri and Sakuma interact ever again after this (which is unfortunate, but alas).

Admittedly, this is a one-sided dynamic given the little interaction that they have and when they do it's Odagiri towards Sakuma and never vice versa. It's probably due to story reasons as there wouldn't be much conflict if the focus was on Odagiri and Sakuma as opposed to Miyoshi and Sakuma and that's fair. As much as I wish Sakuma and Odagiri’s dynamic was explored more, I appreciate subtle relationships like this and know they have their place within the story and for what it is, I think it plays its role well.

To conclude, I guess I’ll just throw my bits of headcanon. I can see Odagiri keeping his distance from Sakuma as a way to distance himself from his past (which we'll see doesn't work out for him in episode 12) but he allows himself moments of sympathy to support Sakuma in a way. He understands where Sakuma is coming from, so he’s easier on him than the others are. Of course, maybe things really Aren’t That Deep and I care too much about fictional characters, but ah well hehe

(Also if anyone is interested, I wrote a fic some time ago exploring some of the events of episodes 1 and 2 through Odagiri’s perspective, focusing on his thoughts on Sakuma (basically this analysis in fic form haha). You can find it here! ehehe shameless advertising)

Thank you guys for taking the time to read all this!! And thank you JGfiles for giving me the opportunity to put all of my thoughts about this into one coherent post hehe╰(*´︶`*)╯

#joker game #tl;dr pls consider the similarities between odagiri and sakuma #they have an interesting dynamic #thx bye ♥#anyways this will probably be my only analytical thing for this rewatch event bc #idk i don't think i have much else to offer analytical-wise lol #kai rambles

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paletteofpain-blog · 7 years

Text

┌ An audience with the Queen of the Triad ┘

The scenario was cinematic in bland tastes of all the characteristics of mafia movies — lit in the indecisive light of swinging blue bulbs at the back ends of a restaurant kitchen.

Those directors either had their stars line up with the constellations of the Chinese crime organisations; or the sinister syndicates mapped out their paths to comprehend into such screen commonalities. Perhaps to paint the scenario in familiar tones of danger from the silver screen.

Pathetic.

Ravenna Lin; legally and personally acclaimed Ravenna Aveyard — only daughter of Henry Lin, and heiress to the Triad sat with her nearly naked thighs in crisscross over their lengths, fingers occupied in leading through pages on the wooden board in her hand.

In her pleasantly cream tinted overlarge shirt on a folding chair; with white pencil heeled boots and angelic aesthetics; she occupied the appearance of a theatrical producer preparing to direct a placid scene rather than realistic relay of mutilation.

A battered prostitute and one of the Triad's gunman, flagged either side of their shot caller as Ravenna's eyes read the information in collection of this rap sheet, a cold cull in projection against her gray gaze.

The silence she screamed amped up tension in each of her syndicate members present; ever cautious around the ruthless royalty of the Triad.

They know they screwed up; and the words (or the scarcity of them) made apprehension abundant in them.

"Treating me with such measures is bad manners on the night of my return, boys. My appetite for violence has its times."

The words elicit with that dulcet voice as she places the board down upon her thighs.

"I thought I made it very clear on how this business was to run and its limitations.

None of our women are forced to do outside business. And the balls that come about after hours, violently in our girls' homes or anywhere outside their workspace, to have them tended; get cut off.

Was I mistaken?"

"No, Lǎobǎn."

They speak in unison. Gravity meets company with shame as their heads are yanked low by these remorseful set of hands.

An elbow props up a slender forearm, a finger pointed towards the beaten girl, Kat, next to her.

"But haven't you insulted my ability to talk with your lack of understanding then?"

A shameless streak of blood gushed down from the girl's lips, a bruise blued upon the fair bone of her cheek, knees scraped in stripes of scabs of blood with a concussion kissing wound on her skull.

Before they could answer or personally humiliate themselves, the steel gates to the kitchen barge open, Triad men dragging in a man captive in the painful twists of his own limbs — just how she liked these scum tied up.

No tape was stricken upon his lips for coerced silence, his arm was stretched back over his shoulder with his teeth biting into his flesh, bands of thin red marching down his biceps.

A syllable spoken, and he'd utter out his own blood.

Ravenna didn't need to inquire Kat if this was the assailant, she didn't release her hunting dogs to follow the misleading musk of blood.

She tosses the rap sheet board onto the side, the gunman catching it off guard.

Elbow on her thigh, Ravenna's dainty knuckles act as the pedestal for her chin as her gaze takes over the bloodied pig on his knees.

"It's ironic we find you dressed in a wife beater, Mister Mills."

The men under her command in the room chuckle in silence; silently charming her fatal gaze to smoothly rake over them.

Righteous as long as it wasn't their own sin.

The criminal chivalry they offered the girls were only flowing on currency; charged with the freedom, most of these testosterone filled lackies would unleash their abusive appeasement on the women they stand by on.

Women were nothing more than meat bags to them, to carve out the steaks of satisfaction without a delicate hand as long as it fed their primal needs.

As it was for most men.

Their illusion of worldly male dominance allowed them free passes over those under them; and women most often, were.

Ravenna was educated with the lamentable literature of her own experiences and of those around and close to her world of words.

They wouldn't protect these women. Or any gender underneath the right peril.

Neither would her father.

It was her initiative.

For both business and whatever twisted morality she imbued on herself.

"Do you know why our prostitution business runs so smoothly, mister Mills?" Ravenna inquires with graceful patience. "Our girls are ready to do just whatever underneath our wing in those murky rooms for your toddler cocks to be coddled; since they know they'd be at discretion and safety. And if it gets too much for them, we set up terms. All inside our buildings. The whips their backs take, or the ropes they are bound in, they know those scars won't be inflicted outside those dirty walls.

I make sure of that.

–Free his limbs."

She addresses the last line to one of her lackies.

Ravenna rises from her seat as one man unravels Mills from his twist of limbs, a ruthless regality marking each footprint she leaves on granite.

Mills, lethargic and breathless from his bodily bounds collapses upon the floor.

Ravenna crouches down slowly, a painfully perilous beauty in her movements as she continues to talk.

"You've got records and records on sexual assault. A wife and two kids make no difference to you.

What's your kink, Mister Mills? Kissing your knuckles before throwing a punch on female flesh? Does it give you a sense of power you so clearly don't have; a speck of kingly glory in the filth you've shitted yourself to live in?

Say, Kat...-"

Ravenna turns towards the hooker. "-Did he even kiss his fist to soften the blow on your sweet face? Was he even that kind?"

Kat blinks in shock at the blatant question, on edge against the Queen's razor rage under sheath of grace.

She just shakes her head to say no.

Ravenna's tongue tip strikes in sequence against the top of her mouth, displaying her mock disapproval as her attention returns to Mills.

"We Chinese can be sort of big on manners, Mister Mills. You've clearly not obeyed any rule of that.

What can I punish you with?"

Ravenna turns to her crew. "Did you bring my makeshift tattoo shop, boys?"

They nod and leave, knowing it was time to bring in her inking guns.

Finger tips against soft lips, seemingly lost in wander; Ravenna asks.

"What does he usually like to do with you, Kat?"

"Eat me. I get bloody from it at times, I think."

A nerve rattles.

"Lip tat, it is, Mills. Fair warning, I don't think there'd be any lip left after all that ink.

I'll go easy on you and then the boys can beat you up and we let you leave crippled, at minimum. Fair deal, I say."

With a laudable audacity, Mills tosses his bloody spit at her feet, tainting the white of her boots.

"Fuck you, you bitch.

I ain't doing nothing to her your father didn't do to give birth to your crazy ass."

Yixing, her named commander, takes a step forward, knowing the skin of patience was about to wear thin.

Reining it in, Ravenna stands up, turning to Yixing as a distraction.

"You've made the boys grow awfully lazy if this is the amount of time that it takes them to bring in simple instruments."

Before Yixing could answer, the steel gates barge open again, the crew bringing in her armoury.

Mills grows frantic at the sight, his speech loses its hinges and his life loses its insurance.

"AND SHE AIN'T DOING ANYTHING YOUR MOMMA DIDN'T TO SPRING YOU OUT HER LEGS."

Everyone in her crew freezes, as if suspended in the stoppage of time.

"Shit." Yixing breathes as Ravenna turns, walking with fury breathing underneath her steps as her feet meets home with thunder against Mills's abdomen, rolling him over to his side as he groans in agony.

Memories unwelcome barge through the doors of her mind, blurring her vision with the unfocused lens of misery and rage. Her mother's smile; her glassed over eyes.

The flat of her heel plants itself against the pig's cheek, the thin length of the pencil of her heel being driven into the cavity of his ear, puncturing his hearing and mostly drilling a hole into his brain as his screams of agony pang fear into the bones of humans.

Her teeth merely clench to communicate madness with one another as her jaw tightens, while the useless melt of his brain drains out of his opposing ear.

"My 'momma' did far worse for me, scum."

Ravenna strikes out her feet, the bloodied vertical steel coming out of his skull with a sickly pop that stirs the whole room into sickness.

Screams were the sermons of agony; and everyone either hung their head in prayer in gratitude of this not being their fate and some stared in maddened marvel at this ungodly work.

Ravenna takes off her heels with a grace that refuses to be countered off, shoes hanging on two fingers as she hands the evidence over to Yixing.

He takes them and before her final decree could leave her lips, Mills shouts out one line of fatal incrimination.

"BUT THE BITCH AGREED TO THIS FOR EXTRA BUCKS.

FUCKING SHIT MAN."

Ravenna didn't even need to turn her head.

Kat, dumb enough to not weave her web of escape with lies and blame his dying delirium, decided to make a run for it.

She couldn't escape, her lackies were there to imprison her.

"PLEASE, PLEASE!" Kat screams. "I NEEDED MONEY FOR-"

She stops in some smartness, knowing whatever she confessed to next would worsen her brutality.

Unfazed, Ravenna's attention remains on Yixing as he takes her bloody boots dutifully.

"She has a kid." He says simply.

"I know." Ravenna replies.

"Make her watch. Look into the other girls. Grill them. For questions, that is.

Toss Mills into the meat grinder and tape Kat's eyes open if you have to.

Then feed the hounds his remains and have one of the lackies take them out for a shit when they're done digesting evidence."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ravenna turns, bare feet as she paints the last steps of her creation of chaos.

Volitions of violence filled her palette of pain; and the strokes fell upon hated pages and her skin alike.

{END}

#solos #intro #an audience

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