#dungeon master’s snippet

[the-twisted-tales-tavern]

Fucked Stupid 7A: All of Pyrrha’s martial prowess is wasted as she finds herself helplessly dominated by her mind flayer opponent and his intent on making her his…

...why had she come into this cavern, again? Pyrrha's mind swirled as she tried to find the answer, to remember what it was. She'd come here with a purpose—on a mission, and not a peaceful one, either. Why else would she have brought her warspear and armor along with her? Even if she didn't have them on her, she had still brought them along...but why did she...

You needed to protect yourself~ on your way to me~

Pyrrha jerked as she felt something thrust hard into her, and she groaned as the words tumbled through her mind. Was...was that it? Her green eyes rolled in her skull a bit as she tried to remember—her hands grasping at the firm rocks and roots that ran along the cavern wall she was pressed up against, struggling to hold herself together. That...didn't feel right...

But it is right~ the voice replied, and she felt the thrusting plow even harder into her, and a firm smack suddenly as a hand came down to smack across her clit and hold her down. You came to join me, but these caverns are dangerous, so you brought your protection to keep yourself safe~ now that you're here, you won't need them again~

The former arena champion arched and groaned, a hand leaving the handhold she'd been gripping to instead latch her hand around the wrist of the one at her mound. Yes...yes, now...now it was making sense...she groaned again, her eyes still rolling a bit in her skull, before lifting up to focus on the being that was plowing into her. This...this was what she'd come here for...for him...

The tentacled visage of the illithid looming over her seemed to curl in and twisk in what she could only assume was a grin of approval, and she felt the being's powerful hips buck even harder into hers, the wet clap of flesh on flesh resounding through the darkened cavern. That's right, my dear~ you made it here, safe and sound~ and you'll never have to worry about anything else, ever again~

Pyrrha shuddered at his tone, but knew in her heart he spoke true—her lips parting in only the barest of moans as she watched his tentacled visage loom slowly closer and closer to her, the tendrils starting to swirl and surround her, and pull her into a blissful embrace.

[katharsisboy101]

How Alibaba's Courage is the key to regain his self-worth - A Magi Character Analysis (Part 1)

Alibaba Saluja is one of the protagonists of Magi. He's an incredibly human and inspiring character which constantly changes and develops throughout the story, with each arc adding layers to his portrayal that let us know just how deep his self-loathing runs, teaching us how to combat it through courage and wit.

I'll be analyzing his character chronologically through each arc (In this post, Qishan, Balbadd, Sindria and Reim, because I got past the image limit), in order to find out why he is the way he is and how he stumbles along the journey to find worth in himself and his existence.

A Cowardly Protagonist

Alibaba Saluja... is a coward. He's afraid to act, thinking he'll mess things up, knowing that he just doesn't have the skills to change anything in a meaningful way. His past determination to gain enough power and money to be able to do something in regards to the inequality and injustices in Balbadd is but a distant dream—he's accepted he's just an average individual, who will never truly make a change.

He's... settled, as nothing more than an assistant to a wine trader, and it's all due to his low self-worth. And things will stay that way for years... until he meets Aladdin.

Aladdin is able to see the good in Alibaba, beyond the facade of a pathetic young man. Because he realizes that, when it matters most, when he has to choose between money and his stability and the lives of complete strangers, he chooses the latter.

His compassion and bravery wins against his poor view of himself—he had been lying to himself for so long, that he had started to believe that lie. But all it took was someone to see past that, to believe in him and reassure his worth, for a truly splendid king vessel to be born.

Thus, with newfound confidence, Aladdin and Alibaba enter the dungeon.

Here we see the first snippets of Alibaba's mysterious past, with Ohtaka cleverly showcasing his wit, his ability to read foreign languages, and his masterful skill with the sword.

These skills which not only increases the viewer's curiosity in Alibaba, but also prove that he's much more capable than he himself thinks—a reocurring theme in his character.

Thus, his time in the dungeon proves to Alibaba that he does in fact have the qualities he needs to shine. Strength, courage, kindness—these are all Alibaba's strongest points, that his low self-esteem didn't allow him to see and that Aladdin helps him recognize as well.

I also love how Alibaba constantly postures as completely hedonistic, saying his motivation are girls and money, and the first thing he does when he becomes rich is use the money he got to free the slaves that Jamil possessed and give them a salary, including Morgiana, who gave him the beating of a lifetime—it's so in character for him, and it just shows us once again where his priorities truly lie.

This first arc sets up Alibaba's character incredibly well, showing us how the only thing he needed was the push from someone who believed in him—and I'd say that's the beauty of the dynamic of the Magi and their respective King Vessels. It's a bond founded on the idea that, to achieve your true potential, you need others to see it in you, in order to regain your confidence and truly shine. Being alone is not a strength compared to fighting side by side with your friends, and no sole person can make the right choices for the world—this is an important theme in Magi that Alibaba and Aladdin's bond showcase perfectly.

Alibaba's Past

Before talking about Balbadd, it's important to talk about Alibaba's past. The impact that his life on the slums and then as a prince had on shaping his identity is excellently written, whether it is to explain his low self-worth, his kindness and good heart, or his wit and skills.

I think that one of the key ways in which living on the slums influenced Alibaba is how grounded he can be, despite his idealism. He knows how horrible and unfair the world can be, which is the reason why he was so quick to assume that he had no way of changing things in Qishan. That's how the world "worked", in his eyes, and his entire lifestory had drilled into him the idea that he didn't have the strength to change that.

However, thanks to his mother's kindness and love, he gained a degree of hope and naivete that no amount of tragedy would uproot—unlike his friend Kassim. These two characters shows us how even two people growing up in the same environment can turn out to be wildly different according to their nature—but, most importantly, due to the people who raised them and the things they've had to do because of them.

Alibaba and Cassim both had horrible self worth that they coped with in different ways, and I could (and will) dedicate a whole post to that dynamic, because I love Kassim as a character. As a takeaway, though, Alibaba abandoning Kassim is something that he will always regret coming forward, and it's a vital point on his decision for joining the Fog Troupe.

The most important part of Alibaba's past, though -the incident that shaped who he would become as an adult- is the attack on the palace organized by Kassim and the people from the slums. The death of his father, and the loss of the royal treasure, were all caused by his naivete and willingness to trust in Kassim—Alibaba's most valuable traits were the ones that costed him everything.

No wonder Alibaba would repress his kind nature and become a lot more opportunistic and cynical after the fact—in his mind, he was cemented as a coward because of his heart... and yet, deep down, the promise he made to his father to protect the people of Balbadd, as part of the royal family, would be the tiny flicker of hope that would guide him, taking it as his duty and responsibility until very late in the manga. 

However, Balbadd tests these beliefs, and showcases how he is still lacking valuable lessons before he's able to truly make a change in the way he wants.

Balbadd is Failure

As he joins the Fog Troupe, Alibaba is put into a position of leadership... and he sucks at it. He knows that the situation in Balbadd has to change, but he doesn't know HOW to change it. Once again, he falls into following another's plan, serving as Kassim's puppet with royal blood in order to gain influence and power. He is, supposedly, the leader of the band, but only in name, doing acts of "justice" against the rich without a clear purpose or objective. And not to mention that when Aladdin meets him, he rejects him, seeing it as something he has to do... alone. Because his responsibilities are his and his only. Alibaba is trying to change things, but his methods are idiotic, because he's not truly acting for the sake of Balbadd, rather, he's trying to compensate for his past mistakes—for his poor view of himself. 

When Alibaba fails, his first instinct is to isolate himself—to wallow in self-pity and be unable to act. And that is natural, it's human. But Alibaba can't take it—because everytime he has failed, everyone else has had to pay because of it. Even as a child, he probably felt as if his mother's death was his fault, and then his father died because of him,—Mariam too, and Kassim seemed to be next in line if he didn't take action. Taking the burden of a whole country full of systemic issues in his shoulders on his own is a recipe for failure, and yet Alibaba can't help but try and help as he can, because he's a good person.

However, as I've said before, doing things on your own, taking immense burdens by yourself—these aren't just bad choices for you, but also for the world around you. "Doing it together", whether it is on a personal level, or, later on the story, a political one, is Magi's motto, and it's the reason why Aladdin is the perfect person to guide Alibaba.

However, the one who will show him how to truly make a change is Sinbad. Once he takes leadership of the Fog Troupe, he's all that Alibaba isn't. Strong, charismatic, more experienced, great at inspiring others, good with the ladies—someone who cooperates with his allies instead of doing things by himself and has a clear objective in mind, a tangible goal that can change the reality in Balbadd. He rightfully criticizes the Fog Troupe's destruction, obviously founding in a desire to lash out rather than a real wish for change, which serves as inspiration for Alibaba moving forward.

The ways in which Alibaba and Sinbad are foils to each other are material for its own post, but for now, all that we have to know is that Sinbad, in Alibaba's eyes, is living proof that he's just... not good enough. He constantly compares himself to others far more experienced than him—and he always ends up frustrated because of it. 

After this, he almost falls back into settling and doing nothing again. But once Kassim threatens with attacking the palace and cause a civil war, and Alibaba knows that he can't tell Sinbad or he may harm his best friend... Alibaba steps up, once again.

He storms the palace by himself, showing the fruits of his training and determination, and, now inspired by Sinbad, has a clear idea of what he wants to do with Balbadd.

Using all that he learnt during his time away, he proposes to create a Democratic Republic, and everything... actually works out.

This is the first showcase of Alibaba's negotiating abilities that will be a fundamental part of his character later on—he uses his knowledge of thw world to propose a different way of resolving things that not even Sinbad, who worships power for himself, had thought of, and even uses a sophism to gain Kougyoku's favor and stop Kou from invading Balbadd. It's genius, and it showcases in several steps just how smart and resourceful Alibaba is. Thus, once Sinbad reaches the palace... everything's been resolved.

Alibaba proved that in desperate times, he can live up to the expectations, and that Aladdin and Morgiana aren't wrong for believing in him. Sinbad finally understands what's so special about this guy... His bravery, his honesty, his compassion, and his mind. And when he's not strong enough... his friends are there to help him:

This moment really struck a chord with me—it may even be my favorite in the manga, with a magnific double spread in which Aladdin admires to himself the hidden strength which Alibaba possesses but he can't even see. It's because he's Alibaba that he could do as much as he did. And he should feel proud of himself because of that.

And with that same good heart, he reaches out to Kassim and allows him to return to the Ruhk instead of being lost forever into depravity. He uses his shameful past and miserable days as a way to connect with his friend,

And he thinks again and again for the sake of others, lamenting inequality, and truly empathizes with the plea of someone who was crying for help without even realizing it. He opens up his heart, and Kassim is saved as a result.

Empathy is Alibaba's greatest weapon, and it will always be moving forward.

Alibaba's Heart

However, after that, shits hits the fan, Balbadd is attacked by the Kou Empire and Alibaba is forced to flee... knowing that he failed completely in saving his friend's life AND his country... and it was all due to his lack of power.

No matter how cool you are or how much you believe in yourself, the world won't accommodate to your determination. You NEED to be able to show results, not only with words, but with your actions as well. And the current Alibaba... just isn't strong enough to save his people. Now everything is up to the powerful Sinbad, which frustrates the young prince to no end.

What I love about the arc his character has to go through during this part of the story, is how it showcases how Alibaba has grown so much... but also how he's still defined by his flaws.

Unlike Hakuryuu, he's able to do well in the dungeon because he learnt that he can't do everything by himself and that friends are there to support each other in the toughest of times, without caring about how personal the matter is. After learning his lesson, he serves as a role model for Hakuryuu to follow, which is wonderful.

I especially love the choice to have Alibaba cry so desperately (due to being reminded of Kassim) here. He's vulnerable and he's rewarded for it—it's the trait that all powerful king vessels like Sinbad or Kouen don't have which allows him to connect with Hakuryuu.

His encounter with Kougyoku showcases this trait once more—even the crazy princess of the empire to blame for the state of his country is just another girl to befriend in his eyes.

However, as I said, this arc also showcases Alibaba's weaknesses, directly tied to his sensibility. Despite Sinbad’s reassurance that things could have gone much worse in Balbadd if Alibaba didn't intervene, he still falls falls back into a pit of not doing anything, without a clear objective. He's frustrated for not being able to save his people, as if he were responsible for Balbadd just because he's of royal blood—despite that fact going against his own idea of trying to install a democratic republic to end the royal family, who don't have any more right than the people in choosing how they live.

Because of his frustration and tendency to rely on Aladdin for validation and Sinbad to resolve everything for him, he ends up going along with everyone's wishes, and if Aladdin hadn't prevented him from accompaying him to Magnosttadt, he would have gone there instead of doing the things he HAS to do in order to fulfill his goals.

The last step Alibaba has to go through to regain his confidence is to do it by himself, knowing he's enough. This might seem paradoxical consider that I said before that Magi is all about bonds, but I think that even though they are important, they should serve as supports for your own strength rather than pillars, that, if broken, leave you with nothing to stand on.

Bonds are important, but solely relying on them... (or on just one, shining person...) is also a mistake.

Whatever the case, it's this constant struggle between being confident and being insecure... these contradictions, that prove that no matter how incredible Alibaba can be at times, he's still human. And it's so REALISTIC. He's incredibly consistent regarding what he's good and bad at, which in my opinion, is marvelous writing, and watching him overcome these flaws is beautiful to see unfold. 

Either way, the tale of Alibaba continues as he slowly realizes that he HAS to follow his own path, without copying anyone else's, going into Reim to become stronger and be able to full body Djinn equip.

Aside from cleverly presenting to us Reim for the first time, this mini arc delivers by once again showcasing Alibaba's strength and use of his past experiences to beat the obstacles that appear before him in the present. It's an arc that shows us not just how far he’s come, but also, how much he still has to grow, as the two magois inside Alibaba represent both his and Kassim's united hope.

Thus, Reim is for Alibaba a journey to remember his purpose, and regain confidence in himself to a point that he can now act according to what he wants, standing his ground and not letting anyone or anything dictate the course of his life.

Whatever the case, the next time we see him, we stand in front of a wiser Alibaba. Someone who can pass on the same lessons he learnt to the friends that have helped him so much—someone who can oppose strong opponents with confidence and wit... and yet someone who still isn't perfect, and who still has to grow a lot before being an equal against the likes of Kouen or Sinbad. 

Part 2 Here:

[mrsjellymunson]

Begging for more 🎲 D&D 3: (Be My) Dungeon Master please 🙏

Okay, thank you for asking about this 😍, it’s great because I have the whole chapter sketched out in my head but hardly any of it written down, so I definitely needed to do this 😄 The question is, which part to write to share…? 🤔😏 How about something near the beginning…

Whilst you’re glad the tension has dissipated, you’re keen to prolong the… other feelings this encounter has generated.

You place your hands delicately in your lap and drop your chin, murmuring as meekly as you can, “I’m sorry. Master.”

You can tell you’ve flustered him as his voice comes out a little stuttered.

“Wh— What did you just say?”

You turn your face, but keep your chin low, looking up at him through your lashes and desperately hoping you look cute, rather than just eleven shades of crazy.

“I— I did something bad. And I’m sorry, Master.”

Eddie just blinks at you.

“Do you think I need to be punished? Do you want to punish me? Be my Dungeon Master?”

All semblance of annoyance has completely left Eddie’s tone as he stammers, 

“F— Fuck, baby. What’s got into you? Don’t get me wrong, I fuckin’ love it. But this is… new.”

You squirm in your seat a little, hands clasping nervously and thighs squeezing together, neither of which is lost on Eddie. Following your lead, he purses his lips and continues, more confidently,

“You were really bad this evening, Princess.”

He lifts a hand and traces the line of your jaw with a rough finger tip, making you inhale sharply but quietly.

“You really annoyed your Master, you know?”

Your lips roll inwards and your thighs clench again, spurring Eddie on.

“And yes, I do think you need to be punished. You’ve been such a bad girl. You need your Master to put you in your place.

Don’t you?”

Tagging the series list, in case anyone wants a snippet/demi-spoiler 😉 @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland @evileyeandthecattywhumps @3rd-conchord @bellalillyrose @katethetank @justalotoffanfiction @emxxblog @awkward00noodle @cowboylikemunson @defututus @kellsck @pixie2k5

[tales-of-wocdes]

Mc who probably going to grow up to be a scammer (a good one) and evade doing taxes and also probably going to be banned in nearly very single kingdom (basically stanely from gravity falls)

I have to admit, I have not seen Gravity Falls. So I will think of something to write.

Some context snippets. Here, here, here and here . The first one is about "Grandpa", the next two about "the hoard" and the last one about the kitchens.

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You want to make more shinies. The cookie based extortion ring has unfortunately run it's course and you are out of the small shinies that were so nice for your hoard. You find yourself missing them. Getting them the first time was easy but now people are paying attention to you.

You had asked the adults you know and trust how to make more shinies. Havard said you could do some chores, and be paid for it. That sounded boring.

Lexia said to use your good looks. Apparently you are adorable and can get anything if I master the "pitiful face" and "puppy dog eyes". Like that one time in the kitchens, you got fed good! That seemed to be closer to what you wanted, but that strategy resulted in more treats and food, not shinies. Treats are good, but not what you are currently after.

You had considered asking Sandor, Alessa and Ethel. In that order, but you were reluctant. However, it was that time of the month when you had a visitor. A visitor who had to be more adult that even the adultest adult you normally interacted with, namely Havard.

Surely something, the Ancient Grandpa, would know of a good way to get more shinies.

You were right! Grandpa had all sorts of ideas. From dungeon diving, to bandit hunting, it sounded like getting shinies was easy! Grandpa had so many good ideas, thought you did not understand all of them. How would "walking through a busy market with sticky fingers" make more shinies. Grandpa is so odd sometimes.

Unfortunately, Havard disagreed. You have never seen him raise his voice at Grandpa before. You wonder what "Completely unrealistic and irresponsible." actually means.

In the end, you have decided on a combination of Lexia's idea and Grandpa's. Grandpa said you just have to sell the stuff you get from the bandits or dungeons.... and that got you thinking. You had no stuff to sell... but Lexia did say you are adorable, and that can be apparently sold.

You had to get Lexia to help you. It was not fun, she laughed at your idea to make more shinies. It was a sign. You are not sure what it says, the squiggles are still beyond you but you asked for "Smiles for money from an adorable orphan." You don't know why the orphan part is important but Grandpa said, it would get you more shinies than just "child". The sign is also awfully full of squiggles ... but maybe writing takes lots of space.

Now, you are in the city, and marching down the street, sign held high. Lexia is behind you, amused and curious.

It does not take long for people to take notice.... and it works! People, especially the elders, you think they are old, they are more wrinkly than Lexia for example, come over and coo at you.

You give them your best smile! The one you practice in front of the mirror. Your smiles always look a bit... off to you, but Lexia says you are adorable so it should work, right?

It does... something. The people freeze for a moment, and their own smiles go a bit odd. Not as natural, your internal sense tells you. You have no time to figure it out, the shinies start coming in!

Little square things, and even a few round bronze things. All good for your hoard! So you keep smiling as widely as you can.

The people often go and whisper something to Lexia. Mostly the younger people... but you can't hear them. You have more people to smile at, and smile you do.

You don't even question how easy it all is.

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

Lexia is happy MC can't read, and does not question this. Discreetly she slips coins to everyone who gave MC money.

The sign MC holds says, "Smiles for money from an adorable orphan." as requested.... but under that it says. "Make the kid's day, they can't read! Pretend the smile is fine, and give them some small coins. Get reimbursed from the woman in Silver behind them, and make no mention of it to the kid."

MC could use some practice with that creepy smile.

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

So... this went in an odd direction.. but once again, a snippet is a snippet. No revisions :D Still, not sure who is scamming who here.

It got quite long.... Thanks for 1000+ followers on this blog!

[pelicanpig]

My friend!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!

You've been such a joy to get to know!

I made this piece for you. My love for Of This Their Desolation is just too much!!! The scene in chapter 5 where Wind runs across Legend staring at the paintings is just so tasty. I also made a little piece of what I feel like ol Ledge is going through in this moment. I hope you enjoy it and have a wonderful day!!!!!

Legend just needed to solve the puzzle. He stared at the black painting; he could feel it in his soul. The answer was right there, the pieces all slotting around together but not fitting. What was he missing? 

It was dark here, the windows offered no light. Everything was dim, everything was etched in a haze. Why couldn’t he see? He twirled the rings on his undamaged hand. His wounded hand smarted, but the pain didn’t help, didn’t bring anything into focus like it normally did. His eyes burned, blurry and irritated. He ignored it; he moved a few pieces around, but they didn’t fit.  

His mind wobbled, on the cusp of understanding, and then it erred away. Confusion and frustration built within him. His throat choking up in desperation, this was important. He stared at the painting. What was he missing? 

Tired. He felt so tired, so drained. Why? He hadn’t done anything, his eyes snapped back to the black canvas. The puzzle. He needed to solve the puzzle. Somewhere in his mind, he knew he’d solved his fair share over the course of his life. But this one. It ate at his soul, the pieces wouldn’t fit together. 

He shivered, another phantom chill spreading across his body. Where was he? He blinked stupidly, his eyelids like sandpaper across his eyes. The puzzle appeared in his mind once more. All he needed to do was change all the switches to the same color, to get the blocks to line up, to kill the enemies in the right order. It was just another puzzle. The painting stared back at him. What was he missing? 

Someone was talking to him. He pried his eyes away from the canvas and glanced to his side. Something pulled in his mind, refocused him on the painting, on the puzzle. The words being uttered to him were muffled. The feeling of pressure on his shoulder was like a dream. The answer was right there, in the back of his head; he just had to claim it. It slipped out of his grasp once more. The pieces scattered on the floor of his mind.

A sudden moment of clarity came around him. The room lightened up. The fog lifted at the Sailor’s words. A desperation and fear seized his heart. They had to know! They had to fix this and solve it. Wind knew, he knew the answer to the puzzle, to the pieces! They just needed to listen to him! Legend felt his words fall away already, his tongue heavy, his understanding plunging back into the darkness. 

His eyes focused on the painting. What was he missing? 

😱😭🥰🤯

Art and a snippet of writing?! How did I get so lucky!

You are a joy to know too! Thank you for this! I'm immediately downloading it, just so you know. The art! You captured him so perfectly! Poor Ledge is on the struggle bus in this fic and your writing shows that so well! Hero of Legend, master of puzzles, defeated by one lowly not-dungeon.

You were right, friend. This was definitely worth waiting for ❤️

[ejkreader]

YALL

It's TIMEEEEEEE

(Wow I genuinely forgot to link the work in my excitement. I'm so cool right guys)

Unspoken Truce IS FINALLY HERE FOR DAY FOUR OF @azrisweek WOOOOOOOOO

419 LINES OF AZRIS POETRY IN IAMBIC PENTAMETER BABYYY

Many, many, MANY thanks to @irithiadourden for beta-reading and hyping this work up!!!! You were so, so sweet for agreeing to beta and your reactions were priceless, I will keep them forever <3

Little snippet/intro below ^^

They never needed to say it, they knew

All the same. But soon, maybe, one of them

Would gain the courage to say the words in

Both their minds, hearts, their very being. ‘Till

Then, they could figure out the rest, with an

Unspoken truce.

ENTIRE THING BELOW THE CUT (bc I just noticed ao3 is down) (it's up again but I'm keeping this here :)) (also the story on Ao3)

Characters in the Play

Shadowsinger,  Azriel of Velaris; spymaster of the Night Court

Prince of Autumn → New King of Autumn,  Eris Vanserra; son of Beron

Lord of Foxes,  Lucien Vanserra; son of Helion

The Prophetess,  Elain Acheron, mate of Lucien

The Doomed Love,  Jesminda Taylors

Bird with Broken Wings,  Eleanor Vanserra → cor Aurum; Lady of Autumn

Lord of Bloodshed,  Cassian of Illyria

High Lord of Autumn,  Beron Vanserra

High Lord of Day,  Helion cor Aurum (Heart of Gold)

High Lord of Night,  Rhysand de Tenebris (of the Dark)

High Lord of Spring,  Tamlin Vercustos (Springkeeper)

Vanserra brothers (mortuus)

Chorus

Servingman

Nurse

-Shadowsinger

Wild colors, hot and bright, burn below rock

Whil’ over strong gales and tree-tops sings he;

The darkest blue from night, star in the sky.

Why, wondered he, would he decide to strike

Moons before they had detailed, risking all?

-Prince of Autumn

Harsh, cruelly was he taken from his rest,

As shrewd fire cannot of ease be contained.

It sears, burns, eats at human flesh, but when

They try oppressors to bite, death rains them.

Through struggles he waits, knowing he’ll be saved.

Try as he might to deny it, he knew.

-Shadowsinger

A glinting light the only showing, seen

Past acers, past demesnes he soars, watch him.

Glimpse shadows shelter their sore master, wild

With fury trapped in mortal shell, escaped.

Alights, ire and cold, on the forest’s house.

Engulfed by the night, silent, quiet, go—!

No need to search, connecting string pulls him.

In dungeons he appears, fair light sole guide.

-Prince of Autumn

“Ere— guards hear you approaching?”

“No father, I can hear naught.”

The darkness shudders as a whip strafes down.

“Vile boy, dare you talk back to me? Disgrace!

Await I your return for days, but then

No news bring you? I should kill thee for this!

Your hours North wasted, it seems, for that bat.

Think you I know not of your bond with him?

So foolish, it seems good to rid of you.”

“Yes father, you always do what you will.”

The wrath of Ares shone from the king’s smile.

The other simply hung there, antics known.

His face still; turmoil hidden, left inside.

But fear was written there beneath his mask,

His mate known by the one fed lies, had now

This truth found, he must have left clues, his fault—

-Shadowsinger

It was fine. The day’s end would come to them

Together.

-Prince of Autumn

Heart violent, a match lights, flame sparked.

At once aware of his mute presence here,

Here to save him, but he must not do so.

The darkness’ death would end with his sole corpse.

A fitter end: him alone, broken, dead.

His burnished locks left alone on cold stone

That errant Shadow of his left unscathed.

For he was a monster on this world, and

Should be killed as such. Laugh at this pity!

Again, papa raised his hand to cuff him.

Each crack of the crop brings him closer, or

Perhaps it’s further. Then he stepped aside.

His bane smiled as he neared the last, sharp tool,

The wicked, glinting silver edge tightly gripped.

No method of evasion found or used

Nor hoped for or thought of. It would be done.

He wished for it to be quick— now, he thought,

If his shade would just let him go alone…

Yes, then he could repent for his soul’s sins.

It was not ending for him, but a start.

-Shadowsinger

“It’d be an ending for me, you vile prick!”

Words into empty woods, not replied to

With his mind in a quiet place, blocked off.

Had he planned this? Had he known how this would

Break him: if he was to pass? This was it;

Time to stop this fool’s play by saving him.

And then—

Just when—

It rises—

Held taut—

Now falls,

He can see his snake's eyes close at the end,

As flesh turns into shadow on the spot

Reforming in the blade's path to halt it.

Four dark red eyes enlarge to see him kick,

Jab, and lunge at the bigger, stumbling form.

Grab from its sheath the teller of truth, and

See him fall down as if taking a bow,

Because of the length lodged in his thick throat.

It was all just so perfect. At last; now.

Revenge would at last be enacted on

The monster in the room, to save his light.

But the king would not simply give his throne,

No, he would grab the Shadow’s arm, pull him

Down onto his hilt, only then cave in.

-Prince of Autumn

The Prince of Autumn opened his eyes to

Torn flesh and blood; remains of dear papa.

(He had been far-gone, almost in a sleep.)

But next to it, what ho! The shadows pooled

All around their Voice, wounded, on the floor.

Wings all splayed at odd angles, knife still grasped.

“What have you done, Night? My plan is naught if

You are not there for it. Please, stay with me.”

His bones shook as he held him to his heart

And the limp body’s blood pooled down his vest.

There was a wan pulse, fading, as he clung

To the flight leathers still on his bird’s form.

Do not remember, push the thought away:

This was not the past, not his brother’s love

Laid dormant in the hall for all to see.

No, it was not the affair of his kin

But he was just as cold as she had been.

Perhaps he was the cold one. That was odd,

It was assumed he had heat in his veins.

Now, he was so engrossed in his mate that

He did not heed his father’s carcass as

It started to glow.

And a strange feeling began to fill him

As molten blazes, liquid flame, began

To quickly filter into his dour self.

It fled from the inert corpse of his sire

To the new, blazing scion of their dreams.

The flames loved their new master, for they knew

That he would be the Lord to make their heat

Known as angelic and good in his lands.

Why did his body arch as it gained this

Abnormal force, jolt as if gored by it?

As it burned his skin, curdling his red blood 

Gold, raising him above the standard fae.

But Mother, how it made him writhe, for he

Dropped the man’s arm as he was lifted up

Not of his own volition, but the fire’s.

Still he reached down, forever straining back

Though his frame became wreathed in molten flames,

And pain lanced through his every nerve, filling,

Re-molding him in the harsh forge of fate.

Just then, a man burst through the doors and yelled,

-Lord of Foxes

“Wait!” 

His red hair flamed out, a slash through one eye.

A Cauldron-made strode in his wake, a bright,

Fair haired, far seeing maiden. She knew all.

So as the new king fell, she sent her knight,

The brother of flame and son of pure light,

To catch him and lay him down on the tile.

Then he leapt to the hulk of shadows ‘round

The winged man, still and silent on the floor,

Encircled his limp form with his limbs, and 

Took him in his broad arms as he stood up.

Now, holding both, he winnowed to Day Court,

Returning quickly to bring his adored.

Both darkness and divine fire in day’s care,

Both with a large dearth of blood; rough from wear.

Sat here next to them, he prayed for their lives.

-High Lord of Day

Unfiltered sun— distrustful of the Lord,

Though he himself was one, and stronger too.

However, he still went, for his son asked,

And his love, whom he’d rescued, had proclaimed

Her deep amór for the son she’d first birthed. 

He had felt the exchange of power when,

Mere minutes ago, the king of flak and 

Shogunate kindling had gone from this world.

So he passed the door with his hackles up,

Presuming the worst would meet him, but no.

Two bodies, dying slowly, laid on cots.

Their blood soaked his sheets through; they needed help.

He looked at his son, head bowed at a bed.

Thought of his caring minx, who loved her spawn,

Who would not want her son to be disturbed,

Turned crazy, wild from a dead mating bond.

The Sun, Spell-cleaver, stepped up to the cots

And held out his palms.

However, he stood

For many hours ‘fore either man woke up.

-New King of Autumn

Oh Mother, his head hurt. What had he done?

‘Twas scalding, so hot he knew he wasn’t home.

Perhaps this was the portent of his fall.

But, if true, why did his chest pain him so?

Ah, his beloved! Was he at life’s risk—

That was when it all came back to his mind.

His turgid father, dead and gone at last,

And his bat, red sap soaking into his

Tight leathers from the lesion in his side.

Then he had become Autumn monarch, but

It had ached too much. He assumed he’d fell

Unconscious. Even so, where was his spy?

He stood, his mind made up. He would find him.

He followed the tug on his ribs outside,

Where he found the crown of Night screaming at

The baron of Day out in the hall’s way.

Next to him stood his son, defiant and

Proud, still and tall against the turgid rex.

“I am his Lord, and he is mine! If you

Choose to protract his stay here any more,

You shall be the one ending this fight sore.

Heed, give me back my shadow singer, for

I tire of this talk.”

Pretentious prick, his mind voiced. Give him back?

I, even, would see that he tried to help.

“They are in my care, dear sir, on account

Of my son, who brought them here for my help.”

“‘They’? You mean to tell me that Autumn is

In your court? Do you not know what risk he—”

“Your Lordship, I think that is quite enough,”

He said as he strode into the mad fray.

“Your master of spies was extremely hurt,

And the khan of day, at risk to himself,

Took him in and helped him heal. Why do you,

With knowledge that your brother is alive

But healing, barge in to take him away?

You are a knave and a fool, evening king.”

The silence flooded into the arcade,

All four in it shocked for a moment, then,

“Ah. Autumn. Just ascended, did you not?

You should go back and lie down, for it seems

You don’t know what you’re talking about. I

Let him go help you, and now it is time

For him to come back. Do not meddle more.”

He studied the fall ruler with a lens,

Assessing him just as a boffin would.

He hated it, loathed his perspective on

The matter, for, was that man not his kin?

Dolts; foolish blockheads, surely, the whole lot.

He merely turned to the spell cleaver, and

Told him, “Thank you for healing him and I.

I will remember your concern for us.”

Air seemed to freeze around the dark-clothed man,

Immensely vexed that he was being shunned.

-Lord of Foxes

The Prince looked at his father, then wheeled back.

He took a pace towards the most potent,

Dynamic, potent figure in the room,

And said, “Please leave our presence at this time.

Assistance is not needed here and now, 

For all his vitals are steady. You have

Forced your way into the alcazar, rent

Apart quite a few wards on your way here,

And trespassed in the inner chambers to

Boot. Before we declare this as an act

Of war against our nation, take your leave.”

A host of feelings passed on his paled face,

Then he twirled on his heel and left the hall.

To the side of the Lord of Day, the male

With red hair stumbled and fell to the wall.

-New King of Autumn

The world was spinning. He gripped the wall tight.

Perhaps it had not been the wisest thing;

To stroll around soon after losing so

Much blood. Still, while he could, he had to ask,

“May I see the liege of the dark? I know

It might be brazen to ask now, since you

Just kicked out the doyen of night for the—”

Both other males cut in at the same time,

“Not an astute idea, you should sit,”

And, “Surely you would like to lay down first?”

They gave sharp glances at each other, then

Looked back for the response. A moment passed.

He straightened, the walls stopping to close in. 

“No… I am quite fine. Thank you, once again.

Should I leave? As Lord of Fall, surely I

Am causing you concern by staying here.”

His brother took a stride, approaching him.

“I was who brought you to the palace, here:

Your presence here is my fault; I’ll take blame.

Come, follow me. You shall view your brave knight.”

A clear blush on his face, the eldest trailed.

The room was scarcely any strides past his,

The fixtures almost the same. Only the

Carl dozing in the vast four-poster, like

A big, unwieldy dog, curled in for sleep.

He drew up a chair, perching on the edge

As he leaned forward to glom a glance at

His saving grace, his darling, turning to

Appraise his sibling after. “Why did you

Come to save us— save me? The last I knew,

You were with that blonde lass from the night court,

And our… familial ties did not help our

Connection. To put it in simple terms:

I thought you hated me. Why did you help?”

Beseeching him for a response with his

Large eyes, as his soul screeched for a reply.

-Lord of Foxes

He did not know what to say. Maybe, with

The urging from his wife, yes, maybe it

Was high time for him to tell the whole truth.

“Yes, most of what you speak is true, but hear:

A year past my nuptial, whence I had left

The court of night, I came back to my friend,

Another I thought long lost. Yet he took 

Me back, back into his life like no time

Had passed. I had not noticed how I had

Missed him all those years. Then, he mentioned that

He had kept something from me all those years.

‘Lu,’ he said, ‘I should have warned you before.

But every time I tried, you got so riled

And angry, shutting out all that I said.

In any case, I should have told you. Lu,

When you came to Spring, wounded but asleep,

Your brother carried you here. He begged, tears

In his eyes, to take you. When his kin came, 

He killed one of his brothers by himself.’

Then, he gave me your letters. I had not

Seen them, did not know they existed. And…

They faced me with the truth that I had tried

Denying for years. I talked with my spouse,

Her sister- both agreed you were not like

Your father. I recalled my mem’ries of

Old, when you took care of us if our ma

Was too frail to move, when you took the brunt

Of the belt- I remembered that you had

Not showed up when… she died. I had assumed

You hated me, was of the notion that

If you could have done something, you would have

Saved my tryst; my love. Mother, I was thick.

Because of course, you would try to save me,

Not the girl who, without doubt, would incur

The wrath of the Tsar. I did not read in-

Between the lines, just wrote the book my way,

Not caring who I left. Why did I help?

I wanted to bring back the brother I

Once knew.”

-New King of Autumn

He stared at this male, the one he gave so,

So much to, and tried to accept what he

Was hearing. It was too much, all at once.

So he just nodded slightly, trying to

Smile, but the muscles on his face were still

And frozen. He just sat there, looking grim.

At last, the sole words he came up with were,

“Thank you.” They each looked at the other, a

Sort of peace crashing into them at last.

There would be a time, later, to talk more.

He turned back to the figure on the bed, 

The one that proffered a speech so akin

To this one, after he had found him in

Chains, locked up in the house of his late dad,

Forgotten or left for dead. After a

Long moment, he stepped forward, going to

Take him out of the shackles, but he said—

“No. If you help me, he will know. I would

Have to spend more time down here. I cannot

Risk that. Please, Shadow Singer, do not help.”

He stood there for a second, torn, but then

Turned and left. Later, when the door of his

Cage had been opened, and he was alone

At last, the male appeared again. Without 

A word, he dressed the sores on the male’s weak, 

Frail corse, then put him in his bed when he 

Fell into sleep. A slow truce had emerged,

And quickly, it spilled over: the night they

Collided. It was not hard, painful, or 

Fast— They did it again, again, again.

One day, the male with dark hair had sat him

Down, telling him that he saw, could discern

The man behind the masks. Of course, he was

Scared, but perhaps he shouldn’t have attacked.

Yes, he had acted rashly, but he had

Known that his bat would come back. Always did,

Forever would. They both knew why it was.

When his love woke up, 

The sun was rising

On the next day. He

Had not slept at all.

-Shadowsinger

His eyes were heavy-lidded, the world he

Could see, blurred. There was a large, breathing mass,

Unmoving on the chair beside him. That

Was when the pain rammed into him, full force.

He groaned, a headache creeping in. But what—

Oh. Yeah, he had killed the Fall Monarch, had

He not? Well, the old bastard had deserved 

It. Every second of pain was worth it,

He only wished that he had suffered more,

But you take what you get. Including a

Stab wound in his side, it would seem. It hurt.

The man on the stool stirred as he awoke,

Decrying the outrageous locus that

He fell unconscious in with a loud yawn

And a loud cracking of joints. Then, he looked

Up, straight at him. Awake. Alive. Still here.

The pain in his bones all but vanished, though

His heart seemed to jump, running with the wind.

-New King of Autumn

He was awake. It would all be okay. 

But the winged male was shaking, he should ask:

“Do you want something to drink? Are you cold?

You’re surely cold, here, I can—” He reached out, 

To touch him, mayhaps, warm him, he flinched

Away. Then he regretted it at once,

When he went rigid, his face turning in

To that familiar mask of stone. No, his

Brain shouted at him, He should not have to

Look like that. Never, not again. Around

Him, shadows stirred from their rest. Forcing his

Weak body to move, he grabbed the outstretched

Palm, twining their hands into one. “Sorry,”

He muttered, “I don’t know why I did that…

Some water would be nice. Thanks.” After a

Short moment, he unclasped his fingers, and

The other seemed to leave his stupor. He 

Stretched to grab the glass from the table on

His left side. His arm had to reach across

Him, and he stood to grab the damned thing at

Last. After a tense second, the tall male

Seized the cup, handed it to him, and sat

Back down with a huff. He drunk it down with

A fervor only seen with someone whose

Lips have not seen hydration for hours, days.

He put the glass down. Glanced at his hound, who

Schooled his face into form at once; He had

Been wearing a slight smile. As they held

Each other’s eyes, the golden string between

Them lightly hummed, delighted at this act.

-Chorus

They never needed to say it, they knew

All the same. But soon, maybe, one of them

Would gain the courage to say the words in

Both their minds, hearts, their very being. ‘Till

Then, they could figure out the rest, with an

Unspoken truce.

I love you, Azri’l

I love you, Eris

TAGLIST WOOO (ask in reblogs/message me if you want on or off) eatsbooks, @jess011mae, @irithiadourden, @g00seg1rl, @aleksandra25cracow, @jules-writes-stories @chunkypossum

[georgiasbrainstuff]

i am sorta writing a landoscar fic where lando gets obsessed with watching d&d campaigns on youtube (totally not like me) and oscar finds out and offers to plan a d&d night for them and their friends (lestappen and galex maybe idk).. here is a teeny tiny snippet:

Oscar had organised everything. He’d done some research online and found out about character classes and hit points and whatever else. Lando had offered to help, but Oscar batted him away.  “You can’t help the dungeon master, Lando, then you’d know all my plans. Kinda defeats the point, doesn’t it?”  Oscar calling himself the dungeon master? Way hotter than Lando expected. He'd dragged Oscar away from his laptop and no further progress was made on campaign planning that day.

i'm only doing classes for their different characters (not races)... which i'm figuring out now... but oscar would be deciding so? max is obviously a barbarian. charles is a bard (lol). what would lando be?? galex?? i'm struggling. help? <3

[thatlilgremlin]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: Curiousity :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

➤ Warnings: Heated kissing, Voyeurism, Cheating

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

Harry ran through the silent hallways of the castle, he tried his best to keep his footsteps silent to not get noticed by any prefects or teachers doing rounds. It wasn’t because he was under his invisibility cloak that people couldn’t hear him after all.

He suddenly heard a meow on his left and steps on his right, he looked around for a place to hide and saw the entrance to the dungeons. He decided that it was his best hiding spot for now and walked inside the Slytherin dome.

He made his way down the dark chilly corridors of the dungeons, the atmosphere was gloomy as the only sounds that could be heard were the sea monsters out the window in the Black Lake.

It was dead silent — until it wasn’t.

As he ventured deeper, he heard some voices in a certain room, Snape’s office.

But it was midnight so it didn’t make sense why Snape would have anyone right now; the man rarely ever talked with the other teachers, how would he have a guest in his office in the dead of the night.

At first, Harry wanted to pass by and just ignore what was happening but — like any teenager — he was very nosy and curious, so he put his ear on the door to try and catch any snippet of conversation.

“Do not give me that look, Malfoy. OWL grades are final, I cannot improve Draco’s E”, he heard Snape say in an annoyed tone.

Did Lucius Malfoy really go beg Snape to change his son’s grade? That really was out of character for the usually prideful man.

“Come on, Severus, was I not the one who got you out of tough spots? After everything I did for you, the many laws I broke; you owe me one a bit, don’t you agree?” Lucius said, his voice arrogant as usual.

SLAM.

The sound of what Harry assumed to be a hand collinding on a table resonated.

“I am not in debt of you”, the Potions Master growled, his footsteps started getting closer to the door.

Harry quickly moved out of the way as the door burst open, had he been a tiny bit closer, it would have hit him, that’s for sure. The professor stormed out, going to his storage room, the older Malfoy followed him.

Harry pondered for a moment but quickly kept up with them.

Snape paced around the small space like a caged animal, looking at random jars to act like he was busy when he was actually ignoring the other man. But Lucius was persistent and continued following him.

“I am still a Malfoy, I don’t do anything for free” The blonde man said simply, shrugging his shoulders in a nonchalant manner, “Maybe if I were to reveal something about you in case you refuse, you’ll be more compelled to accept”, he wondered out loud, while looking at a jar of cockroaches.

Snape spun around abruptly, looking at the other man with fury in his eyes; he took one menacing step towards him but Lucius merely glanced at him, putting the jar back where he found it.

“Are you threatening to blackmail me, Malfoy?” The professor hissed angrily.

“Blackmailing, making a deal, same thing”, he answered nonchalantly, fixing his grip on his cane, “Come on, old friend, it’s just a small service. I promise I’ll leave you alone right after that, you know I am a man of my word”

“I am not raising that grade, Draco had an Acceptable, and it won’t change any day soon if he doesn't work harder. End of discussion”, the Professor said finally and walked away to inspect his vials, once again trying to ignore the man, “You now are dismissed”, he added without sparing him a glance

Lucius chuckled and suddenly grabbed Snape’s arm, spinning him around and pinning him against the shelf by using a hand to pin both of his wrists above his head, “I don’t think you understand, Severus. I am a loving father and would go through hell and back for my son; if he needs this grade, I’ll give it to him, no matter the price”, he stated seriously, looking straight in the man’s eyes.

“Malfoy..!” The professor exclaimed in a low tone, his face was turning redder than Harry had ever seen it turn.

“You remember back when we were at school and you had a teeny tiny crush on me? How about I realise your teenagehood wish right now and you give me what I want, mmh?” Malfoy asked, walking closer to the man to keep him against the shelf

“Lucius, you.. you’re married… Stop…” Snape tried to say, it came out whinier than he must’ve expected because he himself looked surprised at his tone.

Harry looked at the two men in shock; Was Lucius Malfoy really willing to cheat on his wife for a grade?

“But Cissa isn’t here, is she? Besides, I’m sure she wouldn't mind me having a quick shag if it’s to help our precious Draco become a member of the Ministry”, The blonde whispered so low Harry almost didn't catch it.

“Lucius…” The man’s complains were getting weaker, their lips inched closer to eachother, his eyes were turning half-lidded and he closed them when they collided.

The hidden boy looked in horror when the two men finally kissed, the emotion tripled when the kiss grew more impatient and hungry, turning into a tongue wrestling between the two.

Snape and Lucius? How could they be together? They were both so different.

Lucius’s cane hit the ground as he let go of both the stick and Snape’s wrists to grab his hips and hold him up, the movement making said professor wrap his legs around the man’s waist.

Their kiss became sloppier, the obscene noises made Harry was to puke. When their hips ground against eachother, he decided that he had seen enough for a lifetime.

He left the storage and walked off off, deciding that he would’ve preferred getting caught by Filch and have a year detention than to have had witnessed this. He hurried up when he heard a small moan behind him, he ran faster than he ever had and planned to go ask Hermione to obliviate him.

[thevalkyriesshadow]

Am I planning a D&D session or writing a fic for @houseofwindweek March 10th-16th? 🤔

If you guessed fanfiction, you're correct! 🤭

Summary: The House of Wind Gang, plus their good friend Balthazar, are meeting for their weekly game of Dungeons & Dragons. But this isn't just any regular game. This game marks two year of them playing Tomb of Annihilation together, so it's a super special night. Emerie, their Dungeon Master, asked them to come in costume. Little do they know, they're going to be playing the game -- in real life! The cool abilities their characters have, they have. The magic they wield, our favorite group of friends now wield. Hit points are totally a thing and 'ones' will be rolled. Will they survive bloodthirsty yuan-ti? Can they solve the ancient riddles of the tomb before it's too late? Will Nesta have a new awakening? Will Gwyn, Azriel, and Balthazar figure out their shit already and just kiss?! There's only one way to find out. And that's to Roll Initiative. 😈

And because I'm a HUGE dice goblin, I had to choose d20s for each of the characters, obviously. I'm going to use them throughout the fic to determine things like initiative and whether a skill check or magic spell will work. Hehe

I decided on their dice by factoring in their character in the books and the classes I chose for them, which are:

Nesta- Phoenix Sorcerery

Cassian- Path of the Giant Barbarian

Emerie- Dungeon Master

Azriel- Phantom Rogue

Gwyn- Circle of the Shepherd Druid

Balthazar- Cleric of the Tempest Domain

I'm thinking the first two chapters of the fic will post on Day Three: In/Out, and the rest on Day Seven: Free Day!

💖 Enjoy a little snippet until then! 💖

TW: Blood

We jog down the only other passageway and emerge into an underground cathedral. There’s a balcony, carved and sculpted with serpentine images at one end. Blood trickles from between the teeth of some carved serpent heads. It drips into a pool of thick crimson below. It flows into a trench that leads to a wide stone bowl set into the floor. On the other end of the room is a large cauldron. Not too unlike the one in our lore. Steam rises from it, accompanied by a fleshy odor that makes me want to gag.

In the center of it all is a dozen yuan-ti, crowding around an altar set to the far end of the room. They all turn and swivel their heads our way, hissing fills the room until it’s a low hum.

That’s when I spot Balthazar. Stripped of his gear and clothing. Leaving him as bare as the day he was born. His brown curls are soaked in blood – hopefully not his – and his eyes are wide with panic.

Then Emerie’s voice booms around the room.

“Initiative is as follows.” The yuan-ti begin to slither their way across the floor. Their half human-half snake bodies are adorned in jewels and slathered in blood and viscus. “Nesta, The Yuan-ti, Azriel, Balthazar, Cassian, then Gwyn –”

We huff and let out sounds of grumbling as we get into position. Hopefully the yuan-ti fuck up their first attacks…

[the-twisted-tales-tavern]

Fucked Stupid 8F: Hearing rumors of a minotaur causing trouble in the Parchwood, Vex’ahlia sets out to hunt it down, only to find herself clearly outclassed and at its mercy…

Normally, Vex wouldn't go out on a solo hunt, and especially not on simple hearsay, but even she had to admit that the rumors were intriguing. A minotaur in the Parchwood—the lumbering beastmen were an odd sight anywhere in Tal'Dorei, to say nothing of the cursed woodland that surrounded her home. It was certainly something worth looking into, and she'd been looking for an excuse to get out and stretch her legs a bit.

Something her quarry was all too happy to help with.

"Oh shit~ oohh, right there~ ohhh right there~" The words fell helpless and shameless from the huntress' lips as she arched her back against the soft loam of the forest floor. Her moans were rewarded with a firm thrust from above, the scraping of the enormous flared cock sinking ever deeper into her desperate folds, and she gasped out hard as she felt the tip kiss her womb again. Her eyes fluttered and began to roll back, her moans growing louder and more earnest.

She had underestimated the beast. Her stealth, for all her skill, had failed her, and when she'd thought to slip away he'd lunged at her. In a few short seconds, the powerful ranger had found herself with a broken bow, her armor and clothes rent from her form, and her body pressed down into the forest floor. She'd tried to fight—of course she had!—but between the strong hands holding her thighs down, and the cock that had shamed the memory of her husband's out of her...

Another sharp gasp escaped the elven beauty, and she moaned out hard as she felt the head of the beast's cock force itself into her womb. She bit at her lip, her body arching—every thrust making her twist with euphoria, her massive tits bouncing erotically for the beast's own pleasure. Her eyes locked with his—staring up into the face of the bovine monster that held her pinned—and she knew in her heart that there would be no going back.

She would be leaving the Parchwood tonight, a collar around her neck, dragged along by a chain, and with the beast's cum still dribbling out of her cunt...and she couldn't stop it if she tried.

[steddie-as-he-goes]

I did it.

Here’s Sugar (I developed a taste for you, now) for your viewing pleasure.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62114980

Snippet:

"Forgive me if I'm being a little bold but, what's got you all worked up? Pretty boy like you shouldn't be frowning so much."

Steve stands frozen at the question. Looking up to meet the man's stare. "Just...School. Work. Life. The usual..."

The man tsks. "Seems like you could use an outlet." He bites down on the other end of the lemon reaching into his pocket, to pull out a card. "I think I can help with that."

Steve fumbles the card for a moment before looking at it. "What's this?" The card is dark matte grey, with shiny black lettering. It reads:

E.M.

Dungeon Master @ The Hellfire Club

(555) 555-5555

He grins, sharp smile on full display. All pretty white teeth and dimples. "Let me know if you're interested. That's my personal number." He sets the lemon peel down on the bar, takes the last sip of his drink and stands up. "Name's Eddie by the way. I assume I'll hear from you soon. Do some research. Until next time, beautiful." He bows dramatically, hair tumbling forward over his face, then saunters out of the bar like that was his only purpose.

[queenofshenanigans]

🐉 for WIP weekend please? :D

Yes!! Some more shenanigans for the dragon fic!

For more context, there are other snippets in this tag

“I think we’re going to need more reinforcements. Can you send out a Code Red?” Eddie didn’t answer, just grabbed a walkie, pressed the button, released it without saying anything. “For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to say.” He shook his head, rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and started over. “Hey, shitheads.” He looked over at Steve. “Now I sound like you, Harrington. Let’s try again.” He pressed the button on the walkie again. “Oh intrepid adventurers, this is your dungeon master speaking. I call upon you all to awaken for this, our most dire mission yet. It seems that powers beyond our understanding have coalesced upon the mortal coil, and presented us with a challenge too great to be undertaken alone. It is with the gravest gravity that I must inform you all that we have a Code Dragon.”

My inbox is still open...

[irrevocablecondition]

haunted house, picket fence PLSPLSPLS 🩷🩷

wip ask game

i am reluctant to say that this is my Big snupin fic !!

in this one, remus is kidnapped during one of his missions for dumbledore during the first war and is taken to malfoy manor, the base of the DE operation.

he's used as a tool for war, an in to the werewolves in a way greyback cannot be but in order for that to work, someone needs to keep him alive - and that's where the potions master comes in ! it's a BIGGGG slowburn of snupin, snape making potions and remus refusing them, snape resenting remus and remus wanting to escape and it takes a very long time for them to find any common ground whatsoever in this - the main idea is that snape is developing an adjacent to wolfsbane and he has to trial run this. voldemort wants remus wolf enough that the packs he is sent into trust him, but human enough to know the risks of deferring, so snape ahs to find that perfect balance. he had to trial all of these potions and when he finally tells voldemort that he had the perfect formula, he's thrown into the dungeons with his worst fear during a full moon.

if i eventually get around to writing it, this will be my Big fic - all the way from the first war, these two being instrumental to the end of it, and all the way theough to harry's time at hogwarts and after.

it's big on snily lore, it's big on wolfstar lore, it's big on the stockholm syndrome effects of a cultish dynamic and it's VERYYYY big on two traumatised people trying to fit together with all their jagged edges !! it has walks around malfoy manor and exchanges of secrests, it has whispers about lily in the background, it has talks of regulus and sirius, it has late nights spent over potions and early mornings going to missions, it has patronuses shared during months apart and it's !!!

it's my Big Fic. i do not have any snippets because this exists as a collection of post it notes with timelines and events but !!! my Big Fic. my snupin thesis.

it's a haunted house and my GOD they are trying to build a picket fence !!! they are trying to make this prison feel like a home !!!

[vivs-fics]

Just As It Is

Bucky Barnes x Reader

College AU

No minors allowed. Read at your own discretion.

TW: Swearing, religious imagery, smoking, mention of underage drinking

Part 1

Dark clouds linger overhead, far too close for comfort. A twinge in the air and rain birds circling the sky makes unease swell in the pit of my stomach. A storm is brewing, something dark this way comes- and here I am walking down the street with no jacket, no umbrella and Bucky’s place nowhere in sight.

I quicken my pace. Shoes stomping heavily on the asphalt, desperate to outrun the impending shower- to no avail. Thunder claps, electricity crackles, the birds make their descent in the sky behind me and the floodgates of the dreaded downpour open. I feel the rain spilling through my hair, the chill crawling down my spine and soaking my clothes. I wish more than anything just to be inside, warm and in good company.

The D&D campaign tonight is one I’ve been looking forward to for weeks. Bucky let me in on a few minor details now and again. This story was meant to be his most enticing yet, described by the man himself as “a fuckin’ mind-blowing maelstrom of malice, monsters and murder.” He added that the alliteration was meant to captivate and create anticipation- fucking English majors.

I have a feeling we’ll be trekking through some haunted castle, infested by a lonesome vampire luring innocents into his clutches. I recall when the theory solidified for me, it was just a few days ago- after classes had ended for the semester. Bucky and I were meeting up on the benches on the edge of campus for our afternoon chit-chat and I convinced him to act out a snippet from the forthcoming adventure.

Bucky slinked behind me, fallen auburn leaves crunched under his boots and the chains on his pants clinked together- I held my breath as he brushed his fingers over the side of my neck. The touch was light, almost untactile- nevertheless my skin felt like it was lit ablaze. The flames spread, embers sizzled deep in my stomach, the red blaze surged through my arms, and it settled in the tips of my fingers.

Blood rushed to my ears and my heart pounded against my chest, I could feel his breath on my neck. “Are you scared, little bird? Or do the pleasures of the night entice you? Are you willing to take this journey and receive your hearts desires, or do you fear the lurking horrors may consume you before you reach the summit?” Bucky whispered. A shuddering breath escaped my lips, and I took a moment to compose myself, a shoddily concealed smile on my face, “Jamie is the whole campaign going to be voiced in that sultry, bad guy accent?”               

He beamed, “I guess you’ll have to wait and see, sweetheart. You should, however, expect to be wowed beyond your wildest dreams.” He raised his right hand and touched it to his heart, “That’s your beloved dungeon master’s guarantee.”

He sat himself down on the bench next to me, the wood creaked under his weight, and I brought my eyes up to him- I found myself lost in the vast blue of his eyes.  

God, he’s beautiful. Gazing upon the pastels of a rococo could not compare to him. The glittering of all Klimt’s work would never be able to culminate to the way he shines, my Bucky glows from the inside. The light in his eyes are millions of stars burning in the sky, had Van Gogh’s masterpiece been done today, surely Vincent would have drawn inspiration from them. The figures taken out of stone by the great Michelangelo wouldn’t amount to the statuesque beauty I see in him, skin smoother than marble and a face that could have only been carved by the divine.

 “You alright, Birdie? Somethin’ on your mind?” His voice was smoother than honey, it dripped from his lips slowly and it covered me in its splendour. I shook my head. I couldn’t tell him. I wouldn’t allow myself to say just how much he means to me. I couldn’t risk ruining years of friendship and muddying the dynamic we have. We’re in tandem, parallel lines that are destined to run beside each other for as long as the universe allows.

“What’s up with the ‘Birdie’ thing, Buck? Were you inspired by my beady eyes or the way I flew down from the trees to see you today?” I jested in the hope it would cover up the black hole that would in the pit of my stomach.

His eyes drifted down, and his ring-clad hand pulled a fallen leaf fragment from my sweater. Bucky shrugged, “I don’t know, it was in my dialogue for the campaign. I thought I’d run with it, it’s cute. It suits you.” He leaned back, palms flat on the dark wood of the bench. He tilted his head back and flashed me a bashful smile.

I look toward him in earnest, and he continues his ramble, “No, actually, it’s stupid. Sorry, sweetheart.”

He shook his head, the beautiful cascade of brown hair framed his face and I retorted, “No, no. I was joking Jamie, I do like it. It’s just different, is all. You had me thinking someone usurped my title of your cherished sweetheart. I was just brainstorming my plan of action- you know- setting my targets and ensuring I could retrieve the name that’s rightfully mine.”

He sat up and rubbed his hands down the length of my arms, a comforting gesture. A reassuring one. Hands caressed me like the singed spine of a book salvaged from the fires of Alexandria- as if I were a priceless artefact not to be handled precariously. “Nobody could steal that from you, Birdie. And if you catch me callin’ anyone other than you, sweetheart, know that I’ve been body snatched and you need to come save me.”

 A laugh escaped me, he knows just how to make me feel safe when I’m with him, in every capacity. Bucky wrapped himself around me, encompassing me in the warmth that melts the welts of my worries. It’ll be fine, I thought to myself. I can do this. Right?

Rain beating down on me like the mighty wrath of Zeus hauls me out of the fond memory and pushes me back into my very cold, very wet reality. In the distance I can see the living room light turn on in Bucky’s home, the exterior of it seemingly harsh and bitter but it’s filled with more love and acceptance than I’ve experienced elsewhere. The wind whistles riotously as I bang on the door, “Jamie! I’m getting hypothermia out here! Can you open the fucking door please?”

He emerges, brows furrowed, “Birdie, what are you doin’ here? The campaign isn’t for another hour,” Realising that I look like a drowned subway rat he ushers me inside, “Shit, sorry! Come on in sweetheart, uh- let’s get you dry.”

“Thank you, Jamie, truly. Really glad you didn’t decide to leave me outside to die.” I shiver out. He looks at me apologetically. Jesus those eyes. He could get away with murder with those eyes. He could glance at St. Peter at heaven’s gates and Bucky would be admonished of all his sins. He’d be allowed in and be given the best resting place Heaven has to offer without so much as a word. They’re soft, an endless Mediterranean blue- so captivating it would rival Narcissus and his reflection.

He disappears for a moment and emerges with a dry article of clothing. Bucky extends his hand to me, the soft grey fabric now within my reach.

 “Here sweetheart, fresh shirt. You can go to the bathroom and change if you want. I’d offer my room but… truth be told, it’s a mess and I’d be embarrassed if you saw how I really lived.” He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.  “I- uh- I can also grab a sweater for ya, if you’re still cold.” He adds, with a smile.

“Thanks, Buck.” A small grin graces my features, the cold that clung to me dissipates in the confines of his kindness. “My god, the Zeppelin shirt?” I clutch it to my chest and gasp dramatically. “Maybe I should walk to you in the rain more often, I don’t get this five-star treatment all the time.”

“Hush, sweetheart. You know I’d give you anything if you asked.” He retorts, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

After changing into something significantly more comfortable than the soaked fabric that clung to my skin, I return to the living room to find my knight in shining armour lighting a cigarette on the back porch. He turns to look at me and inhales, “You feelin’ better now?”

“Much,” I move to sit beside him on the battered porch swing, and tilt my body towards him, “Can I have a puff, Bucky? Light of my life, saviour of my world?” He smiles and puts the orange filter up to my lips, I breathe in. Letting the nicotine fill my lungs, I feel the menthol spread across my body, it tingles down my arms and a calm settles over me. 

“You want one for yourself sweetheart, or would you prefer to smoke half of mine like always?” He cocks his head to the side and smiles.

“I’m fine with our arrangement just the way it is, Jamie.” I shift over and place my head on his shoulder. He kisses the top of head, a familiar gesture. For him it was a sign of reassurance, as if he was saying: ‘you’re going to be okay as long as I’m here.’

“Why’d you decide to come here so early, Birdie? You miss me that much?”

“Don’t flatter yourself James, I just needed a smoke.” Taking a long drag of the cigarette, I close my eyes- happy to finally be where I needed to be.

He hums in acknowledgement. “Of course, sweetheart.”

“You want me to help you set up?” I enquire and he shakes his head.

“Nope. I got it all sorted out, you can just sit and look pretty.” He places his thumb and index finger onto my chin and squeezes, his nose scrunches up and a smile graces his face. “Although, that shouldn’t be a problem for you sweetheart.”

“Are you calling me lazy, Barnes?”

“I’m callin’ you beautiful, Birdie.” He says simply, the words roll off his tongue with no more effort than a breath.

 What I wouldn’t do for him to always look at me like this, with those azure eyes full of contentment. They’re warmer than the embrace of a summer’s day, than the encapsulating feel of steamy water in the bathtub, than a balmy breeze whispering past me on the beach.

“Oh, uh, Buck? I got you a little something.”

“What? You didn’t have to do that, sweetheart. You should know that you bein’ here is a gift in and of itself.”

A smile makes its way on to my face, and I chuckle, “Sure, but this is something that you absolutely need,” Sifting through the contents of my bag, I find it. A small black box with a glittery red bow on the top, “Here. Open it.”

With the unveiling of the contents of the box, Bucky’s face lights up- like a Christmas tree on December 25th.                                                                 “No fuckin’ way, sweetheart.” He shakes my shoulders excitedly and promptly goes back to admiring his new possession, running his fingers over the cold metal links, “Holy shit, this is so cool. A fuckin’ chainmail pouch? Is this for my dice?”

“Yes! You can keep them all together now, I know they always end up in weird places after campaigns so I thought this could help.”

“Thank you, Birdie. This is amazing.” He laughs.

What an angelic sound- comparable only to the trumpets of heaven or the symphonies of a divine orchestra. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes, “I love it.”

I turn to face him, bending my leg up on the worn porch swing, the wood is soft under my skin, such a familiar feeling- upon which so many memories were made. Bucky moves closer to me, an indistinguishable look in his eyes. My breath halts, it feels as if my lungs were dipped in iron. My insides are hot and there’s a fluttering in my stomach. Why’s he staring at me like that? Am I melting? It feels like I’m melting. Come on, get a hold of yourself. It’s just Bucky, looking at you the way he always does.

A small smile graces his face, the edges of his lips lifting ever so slightly and the corners of his eyes crinkling up. He tilts his head to the side and places his hand on my cheek, his thumb shifting up and down so gently I almost don’t notice. I wonder if this is how people experience religious euphoria. Is this how it feels to be touched by the hand of God? Could the promise eternal peace be held within the fingers that are caressing my face? Is it possible that the divine culminated in this Adonis of a man?

An abrupt knocking at the door startles me and Bucky recoils, “Let me, uh, I- I’ll get it.”

“Bucky, open up already!” A woeful gust of wind screeches outside the door. “Jesus Christ, Barnes, I’m gonna grow old and rot before you let us in!” Sam yells, announcing his presence.

“Alright, alright! I’m comin’.” Bucky shuffles to the door, a twinge of annoyance laced in his tone. His demeanour, however, shifts when the boys come inside. He’s happy to see them, he always is. I am too, they’re some of my best friends. I won’t lie to myself though; I would have appreciated them arriving just a few minutes later- if for no reason other than quelling the sheer curiosity about what was going to happen.

“If it took you any longer, Buck, I would have assumed you were dead.” After hugging him, Steve sets down his bag and greets me, “Y/N, Hey! It’s so good to see you. We didn’t interrupt anything did we?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

“No, no, Stevie- you’re all good. I missed you.” I ruffle his hair when he comes over for a hug, my actions are met with a disgruntled groan from the six-foot-three puppy of a man.

Nat pulls up behind me and I embrace her excitedly, “Nat, baby! How have you been? How’s your girl?” She slinks her arm around my neck and in return I put my arm around her waist.

“We’re alright, hon. Why? Have you reconsidered our request for a threesome?”

“Aw, Natasha don’t flatter yourself. We agreed to do it without you, obviously.” I give her a light pat on the back and turn away, going to greet Sam.

The rest of the group starts filtering in after a bit, Steve and Thor creating their usual ruckus.

“Alright sinners, are we ready for the campaign of the century?” Bucky announces, as he stands at the head of the table- a king ready to lead his troops into battle. A Greek god, blessing his subjects with the greatest gift- a myth, a legend, a story to be passed down ear-to-mouth and mouth-to-ear for generations to come. And we, his loyal subjects listening in earnest, hanging onto every vowel, every consonant as if it were our life force- sustaining us. His words igniting a bonfire to provide light and warmth as we make our way through this ominous cascade of casting spells, battling beasts and me trying not to visibly sweat because of that sultry voice Bucky is speaking in.  Anxieties fly high as the six-hour campaign draws to a close.

“Xanaphia of Excelsior, you have travelled a distance incomparable to any other, you have seen nations built and destroyed, you have brazened the path to my home- a journey no man before you had been able to conquer. A path, little bird, no man should be able to survive.” Bucky narrates, his character so carved out and precise I almost don’t recognise him.

“Luckily for me, Alaric... I am no man.” I smile up at Bucky, he reciprocates- a genuine beam shines upon my face. I knew the Lord of the Rings reference would get to him. The rest of the room melts away, the cries of Sam telling me to finish the job and Scott excitedly banging his fists on the table become nothing but distant memories. Bucky stands, in all his glory- broad shoulders block the light behind him and a halo encompasses the edges of his physique. Is he an angel, or just the devil in ambient lighting? With his eyes piercing into mine like they are, I don’t think I could bring myself to care.

“No man indeed.” A corner of his mouth turns up, a devious smirk creeps onto his face. “So, little bird. What shall it be? I am completely at your mercy. You have me on my knees.”

 Everyone perches on the edge of their seats at the final roll of the D20, the last dance between my character and the Vampire at the top the Hill approaches. To stab or to seduce, that is the question. Will I succumb to the pleasures of the night or fight my desires and kill him for my brethren, currently surrounded by ghouls? I should kiss him, right? A move to seduce could ensure that the Vampire lets the surviving members of my party go, whereas a move to kill him could result in everyone being murdered. This is purely a selfless choice.

“I’ll roll for charisma. I want to kiss you- him! Ahem- Alaric.” Heat rises in my cheeks and a pit forms in my stomach. Oh, my God.

 A hush falls over the room, the booming of the dice upon the table is all that can be heard, save for the thudding of my heart that pounds in my ears. The resin contraption stills, and Bucky leans over to inspect what the gods have decided my fate shall be.

“A… a fuckin’ nat’ twenty.” He says in bewilderment, his voice barely above a whisper. And the crowd goes wild- jests and jeers come from all around the table.

“Alaric of the Hill concedes! Your kiss has bewitched him, congratulations. He decides to let your party go on the condition that you keep him company. Will you, Xanaphia, stay with Alaric and forgo all other quests?”

“Fuck yes.” I state triumphantly, relieved as all heaven that the risk I took paid off.

Celebratory drinks are raised, and toasts are made in my honour- to Xanaphia of Excelsior, she who could warm the heart of even the most cold-blooded of creatures.

 Bucky gets the music going and Thor pours the drinks, perhaps the most dangerous of combinations. Bodies push against each other, the sounds of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me intertwine with the heavy breathing of the people in the room, dim lighting overhead makes for a danse macabre-esque sequence to play out around me. We are neither here, nor there. Dead, nor living. Could this be a man in front of me, or an angel? Deep shadows are carved under his cheekbones and his jaw is sharp under this light, threads of walnut hair are strewn across his face, moving with him to the music.

Rhythm flows through me, I lift my arms up close my eyes in sheer delight- being here with these people is all I could ask for.

Bucky is beckoned over to the kitchen and upon arrival, he laughs boisterously at something Sam says. Steve claps his shoulder and throws his head back as he always does when someone makes a stupid joke. I wonder if he knows that he lights up the room the way he does, if he has any idea of the fact that he could put the Nevada sun to shame, that all the bonfires in the world couldn’t amount to the warmth he brings to a room.

Well, perhaps this exact situation is not all I could ask for, but it will do just fine.

As the song reaches its summit Nat approaches me with an inebriated smile on her face, she reaches her hands out to me and interlocks her fingers with mine.

“Hey pretty girl, you havin’ fun?” the red head exclaims, her voice barely swimming above the music. We move together to the rhythm of the song; I sway my hips and look around the room, to find Bucky over by the counter, pouring himself another drink.

My eyes shift back to Nat, and I smile, “Of course, babe! It’s always a good time when you’re here.”

She lifts my hand and spins me before resuming our prior position. She raises a quizzical brow, “You sure, hon? Because you keep looking over in that direction.” Nat tilts her head towards Bucky. Of course she’d know. She’s like a bloodhound when it comes to people’s feelings, sniffing out the source for minor ticks in their facial muscles, every dilation of their pupils and apparently each longing stare in their direction. “Y/N, do you have something to tell me?”

I shake my head, grimacing slightly, “Don’t worry about it, babe. It’s fine.”

“No, uh-uh. Come on.” Nat takes my hand and pulls me through the room and to the restroom. She points at the clawfoot tub, “Sit. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nat, I really don’t want to talk about it right now.” I turn my gaze from her, mortified at the prospect of having to spill my feelings.

“Baby, if you like Bucky it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve suspected it for a while now.”

“How the fuck did you know? I thought I was good at hiding it, Nat.”

“Freshman year, orientation mixer. Do you remember that Y/N? Because I do. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that drunk. You vomited into a flower pot- really not a good look for you, baby. Bucky showed up in that black leather jacket and you physically faltered when you saw him. I had to hold you up for the better part of five minutes because your legs, and I quote, ‘couldn’t possibly stay solid with how fucking hot he looked.’”

“Oh my God!” I exclaim and put my head in my hands, “I have to dig a hole and hide away in it forever. Nat- that’s fucking awful. You never told me!”

“I assumed you’d bring it up when you wanted to talk about it,” She shrugs, as if she hadn’t just unearthed the one dirty little skeleton I would have liked to keep buried, “And you never did, hon. But it’s been years and you’re clearly still enamoured with him, and I feel like I’m entitled to a little bit of an explanation.” She takes a seat on the cold porcelain next to me, a half-smile decorates her face.

“Okay- you’re right and I’m sorry for not telling you before. I just couldn’t- I didn’t want to make it real. You know? Because if I admitted that he’s on my mind constantly and that he’s the only person I’ve really, truly wanted for fucking years, and that he makes me feel seen and heard and cared for in a way I never thought was possible- then there was a possibility of all that going away.” An exhale escapes me, and I look away from Nat- who seems less flabbergasted at this admission than I’d expect.

She places a supportive hand on my shoulder, “Baby- you know that man loves you, right? You’re his best friend, he’d never let you go like tha-”

“I know, I know.” I interject. “He’s my best friend too- but if it ever came up that I wanted more than what we had right now and he didn’t want that, then everything would fall apart. And you know that, Nat. Everything is perfect the way it is. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize it for anything, not even for my own feelings.” It’s a lie, deep down I know there will always be a part of me yearning, wanting, needing something just out of reach.

 Perhaps it is a sacrifice I’d be willing to make. I could be the slaughtered lamb on a pyre, if it meant Bucky would be happy, if it meant he could get love and support and care from me and everyone around him, without me fucking everything up.

We’ve all been together since freshman year, some of us before that. We’re a family. For me to toss it aside in favor of this childish crush, it would be selfish. It would be building your home and setting it on fire, pushing a boulder up a hill just to push it down the same way, it would be Icarus flying into the sun and dying a horrible, fiery death.

“Hon, I love you but you’re really fuckin’ stupid sometimes.” Nat shakes her head with a small laugh.

“Stop it, Nat. I mean it. He’s never said anything about that- us, you know in that way- and… And he was dating that girl a couple months ago- what was her name? Jo-Ann?” I retort quickly, attempting to repress the feelings that arise from her steadfast argument.

“And do you remember when that ended? Less than two days after you and that asshole you were seeing broke up.” She bumps her shoulder against mine to drive her point forward. My eyebrows knit together at that, she’s not wrong. Technically.

“We all knew that was never going to last. She was so mean and self-involved. I mean- I know I can also be those things… and there’s nothing wrong with being a little bitchy and vain but at least when I do it, it’s classy and everyone loves it.” I jest in an attempt to shift her focus away from Bucky and I, but to no avail.

“Come on, hon. We all know why it didn’t work out. The real reason why.”

“Oh yeah, Nat?” I tilt my head to the side curiously. Music bleeds through the vacant space under the door and I can hear Sam singing along to the song, loudly and off key. It makes me smile. “And what is the real reason?”

“Because she wasn’t you.” She lays it out plainly. Her shoulders shrug in an almost exaggerated display of nonchalance.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Natasha. There- there’s no way.” My voice comes out a bit more strained than anticipated and I stand up from my seat on the bathtub.

“Fine, since you clearly don’t want to listen to reason... I’ll drop it for now, but you’ve got to understand that I meant everything I said. We can all see how head over heels he is for you, baby. You just- maybe you should talk to him about it.” She follows my lead in standing up- there’s an air of finality in her voice and I know our conversation is over.

I take the quick reprieve as Nat leaves the restroom to collect my thoughts. If the alcohol in my system didn’t make the room sway slightly, the revelations that Nat unleashed on me certainly did. I rest my hands on either side of the cool, white basin and look at myself in the mirror that stands proudly on the wall. Good god, pull yourself together. An abrupt knock on the door interrupts my much-needed mirror reflection time. “Occupied!” I yell out in the general direction of the door. For fucks sake, I can’t even get a moment of silence to think.

“Sweetheart? You alright in there?” Bucky’s voice sifts through the door and caresses my ears. His tone so soft, so full of warmth and concern- it makes my heart clench in my chest.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” I smooth down my shirt that had crumpled and gathered in the worst possible way as Natasha berated me about my lack of perception and emotional intelligence while we balanced on the edge of the bathtub.

“Can I come in?” He asks, almost tentatively- or at least as tentative as James Buchanan Barnes could sound. I quickly move to unlock the door and I let him in. His hair is slightly damp from what I assume could only be vigorous beer pong playing or dancing drunkenly to the music. Either way, I’m thankful for it. It's hot.

There’s a slight dusting of red along his cheeks, it is amplified as he gives me a lazy smile. “You alright, Birdie? Do I need to be concerned as to why you’re hiding out in the bathroom when you could be dancing or singing or losing to me at beer pong?”

“In your fuckin’ dreams, Jamie. Do I have to remind you about Thor’s Halloween beer pong tournament?” I raise my eyebrows in challenge and step closer to him, my arms folded across my chest.

Bucky lets out an exaggerated scoff, “That was beginner’s luck on your side. Had to be, sweetheart.” He follows suit and takes a small step toward me.

“Beginner’s luck? Three games in a row? I don’t think so, pretty boy.”

He smiles at me, his eyes searching my face. “Pretty boy, huh? That’s new.”

“Don’t change the subject, Barnes. I could beat you blindfolded, with one hand tied behind my back.” Smugness drips off my words and Bucky’s gaze darkens.

“You want to bet, little bird?” He towers over me now, arms on either side of the basin, confining me between him and the cold tile.

“Sure, why not? There’s no way you’d win anyways.” A deceptively sweet smile is plastered on my face in a challenge to him. My heart thumps loudly in my chest. I feel the blood rushing to my ears and butterflies erupt in my stomach. He’s so beautiful, it’s nearly impossible to stop myself from thinking about how much I’d like him to grab my face and kiss me.  

“State your terms, sweetheart.” He backs up and folds his arms over each other across his chest.

“One round, first one to no cups wins. We can have one redemption shot each. And when I win… Hmm…” I tap my finger against my lips in contemplation for a moment, “When I win, you have to let me drive your car.”

His eyes widen slightly, and his lips move to form a small ‘o’ shape. “Sweetheart, you- you can’t possibly be serious. I don’t even let Steve drive my car.”

“I’m deadly serious. I’ve had my eye on it for a while now, to be quite honest. I would love to drive her down to the coast… Put the top down, play some trashy pop music on the speakers…” I taunt, my voice low and melodic.

“I…” He starts, but I cut him off before he can argue.

“Unless you’re chicken, that is. You scared, Jamie? Shaking in your boots over your inevitable, devastating loss?”

“No- I mean-” He takes a breath in and lifts his hands in surrender, “Fine. Fine. If you win, you can drive the car down to the beachfront. But I’m ridin’ shotgun.”

“I expected nothing less. It’ll be fun- we’ll make a day of it.” I say with a smile, my eyes light up at that prospect.

“You don’t want to know what I get if I win?” He pivots.

“Nope. Don’t need to. Because it’ll never happen. Come on, let’s play.” I tilt my head in the direction of the door and smirk at him with as much cheek as I could muster.

Bucky grabs my hand, returning the smile. He stops for a moment and stares at me, that same indecipherable look in his eyes from earlier. Our fingers are interlaced, one continuous string moves in between him and I.

It felt as if I’d be able to hear a pin drop, despite the hustle and bustle of the party raging on outside. I move to grab the door handle and exit the restroom when I feel him pull me back towards him. He grips my hand and pulls me flush against his chest.

“Bucky, what are you d-”

“You- I-” He clenches his jaw and exhales sharply. “I just- I wanted to tell you that you look beautiful tonight. Your- uh- your outfit looks good on you.”

“You mean your shirt? You mean to tell me that your most beloved article of clothing looks good universally?” I laugh out nervously, not wanting to mention the proximity.

“No- just on you. It looks- you look fuckin’ incredible, sweetheart.” He flashes me a lopsided smile and gives my shoulders a squeeze. “You can keep it. If you want.”

“You don’t need it? I thought this was your secret weapon that you used to bend all of mankind to your devilishly handsome will?”

“I could do that with or without the shirt, believe me.” He drawls out, the cocky bastard. His smile falters the tiniest bit, unease flashes across his features. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He clenches his jaw one final time and finds my hand again.

“Let's go.” Bucky leads me out of the bathroom to the outskirts  of the party. The beer pong table is left uninhabited, red solo cups stacked messily from rounds passed.

Bucky quickly sets up the cups and I fetch the most tolerable beer I can find and start filling the cups in preparation of the battle ahead. I roll my neck and crack my knuckles before we begin- Bucky rolls his eyes at me with a laugh. “You ready, sweetheart?”

“The real question, James, is… are you ready?”

“Just play, smartass.” A cheeky smile appears on his face.

Something is wrong. Dear God, something is horrifyingly and incredibly wrong. Bucky is winning at beer pong. Never, in the history of us, had he even come close to beating me- except for tonight.

“What the fuck, Barnes? Have you been getting private beer pong lessons just for this?” I shoot and miss again. Third time in a row. I haven’t even hit the rim in the past few turns.

Could it be because Thor got too tipsy and spilled his drink all over Bucky’s little conservative long sleeve sweater and he had to go and change into one of those ridiculously stupid, sexy, (did I mention stupid? And also so, so very sexy) wife pleaser vests. His muscles are on full display- arms toned and chest rippling. Dear God. The alcohol buzzing around my system is screaming at me to bite his bicep- surely it wouldn’t be that weird, right? Just a little nibble...

No. What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to get a fucking grip. Perhaps a grip on those sculpted pecs while- No. Not doing that now.

Looking like the cat that ate the canary, Bucky wears the smuggest, filthiest grin on his face. “Oh, sweetheart…” He saunters over to my side of the table and picks up my last red solo cup- there is a small, orange ping pong ball floating tauntingly in the cool brown liquid. He fishes it out with his fingers it and sets it down on the table.

“Drink up.”

I flash him a glare, my eyes narrow as he brings the cup up to my lips. His eyes are trained on me as I gulp down the last of my drink.

 “Good. Now let’s discuss my prize.” He removes the cup and wipes away a stray droplet of beer that escaped out the corner of my mouth, with his thumb. Without stopping, he brings that same digit to his lips and licks it. I feel frozen, dumbstruck, and I’m quite sure I look it. My jaw hangs open slightly as I watch him. I gulp, suddenly very thirsty.

“Cocky, weren’t you? Sweetheart?” he smirks and pinches my chin lightly with his pointer finger and his thumb. He gives me a light squeeze and retreats. The touch sends a shiver down my spine, goosebumps erupt down my arms and the delicious burn of desire settles in my stomach.

“Shut up, Barnes. I don’t know which devil you gave your soul to for skills like that, but I have got to say… that seems like a pretty good deal. You're alright." I admit defeat, my shoulders rise and I hold my hands up in surrender. I smile at him cheekily as he approaches. His steps are slow, deliberate. Wrapped in confidence and assuredness.

“So, Jamie. Your prize- what’ll it be?” I ask, after a small beat of silence.

We look at each other for a moment, just a single moment. Although, it doesn't feel that way. Lifetimes could have passed us by, empires could have risen and fallen- and I would still be lost in his eyes. The deep azure pierces my very soul. He blinks and clears his throat, looking to the floor almost embarrassedly.

"Buck? You alright?" I enquire, moving closer to him.

He chuckles and nods his head slowly.

“You know my cousin, Emma? She’s uh- she’s gettin’ married next Saturday and... And I need a date.” Earnest fills his words, and an irresistible, infuriatingly beautiful smile appears on his face.

I have to resist the urge to pinch myself, because this could only be a really fucked up, steamy dream. I’m silent for a beat, trying to comprehend exactly what he said and the implications behind that.

“I mean, sweetheart, only if you want to. If you- uh- like if you’re not into that, I can just go solo.” His voice holds a slight tremble at the end of his sentence. Holy shit- is he nervous?

“No, no! I am- I’d be into that. We can definitely go together.” I reassure him. My heart pounds against my ribcage, my cheeks heat and a bright smile finds its way onto my face.

“It’d just be better for my ma to think I’m seein’ someone. I know she’s gonna try pair me up with her neighbour’s daughter. Again.” His hands are dug deeply in his pockets, his Adams apple bobs as he swallows.

Realisation flashes on my face. Friends. He wants to go as friends who are pretending to be dating. Right, of course.

“Yeah, for sure. Uh- I’ve got you covered, Jamie.” My smile falters, only for a moment. His eyebrows scrunch together, concern flashing across his features. I give him a half-hearted smile.

“Alright, thanks Birdie. You’re a lifesaver.” He removes his hands from his pockets and claps them together. “You want another drink? I can make you somethin’ quick.”

“Sure, yeah. Do you still have that margarita mix? It was yummy.” I suggest, clumsily. I need to find my footing after that absolute emotional rollercoaster, so he will just have to excuse my unbecoming behavior.

People start filtering out one by one and soon, the disco lights are turned off and the soft, warm glow of the lamps fill the living room. I find myself leaning against Bucky on the worn leather couch, exhaustion weighs heavily on me, and I find my eyes flitting shut for a few moments at a time.

“Birdie? You wanna go to bed?” Bucky coos.

I grumble in response, not fully committed to giving him a proper answer.

He chuckles, it’s rich and dark and perfect. “You can take the guest bedroom if you want… Or do you want to sleep here, sweetheart?”

“Bed.” I manage to mumble, with half lidded eyes and a stifled yawn.

“Do you need me to walk you there? You good to do that, baby? Or should I carry you?” His voice is soft, full of compassion. Even drunk and exhausted, it makes my heart swell. I can’t help but smile- it’s lazy and probably not my most picture-perfect smile, but it’s there now.

“Just fucking carry me. I know you want to- you know I want you to.”

He laughs out and hops up to scoop me up from my position on the couch. His strong arms come up under me and Bucky carries me to the guest bedroom, he doesn’t even break a sweat. You’d swear he was a goddamn superhero or something.

Bucky lays me down gingerly and I shift to get comfortable as I feel the softness of the mattress beneath me. “Thank you, sweet Jamie. My sweet… sweet Jamie.” My eyes flutter shut and I nestle into the pillow.

“G’night, Birdie. Sweet dreams.”  He leans down and presses a chaste kiss to my forehead. If I'd been more cognizant, perhaps I would've seen the way he smiled down at me from the side of the bed, eyes soft and full of care. Maybe I would have noticed his hesitance to leave, or the way he brought his fist up to his chest and rubbed it soothingly. Perhaps I would've picked up on the fact that his heart burned inside his chest for me, the same way mine did for him.

Hello everyone! This is the first part of my first ever series, I really hope you like it!

Please let me know what you all thought of it!

xoxo, Viv

[kuroneko1815]

Master list of my VADD works and posts

Head canons, silly scenarios, and quotes, some that I've reblogged and added to and a lot more that I've posted on my own...

VADD & TCF

Calliope during the pregnancy

Marianne asks Penelope for baby names

Reynold finds out

Cedric remembers the loops

Callisto orders everyone to dye their hair

Callisto channels Lion King

How Callisto flirts

Rock, Paper, Scissors siblings edition

Pregnancy announcement

Dragon’s hoard

Meet the Lykaios

What if they ran away in magic and dragon

Penelope does therapy on Callisto

The maze scene but make it silly

Fanfic List with links (some to AO3, some to tumblr posts, and some that I've cowritten; there are also quite a lot of previews here for fics I've had in my mind but haven't written yet)

Baby Dragon

Time and Regret

Time and the Hidden Dragon

The Amulet preview

Time and change preview

Time of the Maid preview

Time and Despair snippet preview

Time and the future that must never be

This Poisoned Cup

The maid’s revenge

Lady of Ghosts

Of Book and Flowers

Paperwork Pileup

Imperial Domesticity

Expectant Father

Conversations at bath time

Unexpected surprise

Provocation and Conciliation

Mistletoe kisses

New Year’s festivities

Childhood friends and first loves

Winter Days

Lock of Hair

Touch-starved kisses and insomnia

Twenty Years On

Of poison and dragons snippet preview

Of Magic and Dragon blood

The blue dress

The mages of Heylon preview

The case of the time travelling prince

Non-linear series preview

Wet Shirts and Surprise Babies: Marianne and Cedric's love story

In this world of darkness and crime

Things too late to take back

Wandering days

Love and Relationships

Storytime at the palace: 1, 2, 3

Coming of age talks

The nymph and the golden dragon

The handkerchief

Choose your sacrifice

Tyranny of a lost love

Boy and the Dragon (parts 1&3 are written by @saneijeijei): 1, 2, 3, 4

Monsters and Treasures in Dungeons Deep

Shatter me with a kiss or spare me my heart

A love twice lived

These roads led me home to you

Wanton touch

Redemption of a Forgotten Love preview

How to be the favorite uncle as told by Reynold Eckhart

A trip through time

The best surprise in the world

Reciprocated comfort but not without tears

These hardy few

Anaphylaxis

Dress up day, Birthday boy

A lot of these fics may be unfinished so proceed with caution. Also, if the story is posted as a full-fledged fic then I'll edit the links to be the ones for AO3 rather than the preview. Some of the fics are tumblr only and some are cross-posted with AO3 but some of the links would direct them to the tumblr posts instead. Will be updated whenever I post something or have the time.

[runninriot]

this wasn't planned but i guess Sweet Thing is now a two-parter

written for @subeddieweek

complete fic uploaded on ao3

Safe Space

rated: E | tags: Client Eddie Munson, Pro Dom Steve Harrington, 18+ content, sensation play, anal play, smut | snippet, complete fic and tag list on ao3

Master H, it says on the website Eddie stumbled upon one lonely night a few months ago. He introduced himself as Steve but Eddie never calls him by his name.

He calls him Sir when he addresses him. It’s what they agreed upon when Eddie entered the dungeon for the first time. It felt almost like an interview, like he was applying for a job. Which is kind of funny because it’s the other man who gets paid to do these things to him.

Eddie didn’t really know what to expect when he decided to get his fix from a stranger, a professional, someone who knows what they’re doing. Turned out it was the best decision he could’ve made. Ever.

This is a safe space to explore, to want without being prone to fall for yet another man making false promises. Another man abusing his trust, abusing his desire to give up control.

Here, Eddie can fully succumb to the feeling of letting go.

    “Please, Sir. I need more.”

It should be embarrassing how whiny his voice sounds, how messed-up he already is, trembling violently, helplessly pulling at the restraints keeping him tied to the bed. They’ve only started their session and he’s already so hard, so ready to come. So ready for Steve to tip him over the edge. But it would be a shame to fall so quickly because it’s the before that really gets to Eddie every time.

He enjoys it maybe too much. To be at the other man’s mercy, unable to get away from his heavenly torture.

The clamps on his nipples hurt, send a rippling wave of pain through his whole body whenever the Dom tugs at them or tightens the screws to punish him for squirming around although he told him to stay still.

Ordered him to be good, to earn his reward.

Eddie wants to be good, tries his best to keep his body from jolting up at the feeling of needle-like pricks biting into his skin when Steve uses this tool that looks like a mix of medical device and instrument of torture. It’s called a neurowheel, Eddie’s learned when they talked about their scene. Before they started. Before Eddie got spread out on the bed like a offering for a God – and maybe he is.

Because the man currently teasing the ever-loving shit out of him, tormenting the insides of his thighs with a satisfied grin on his handsome face, truly is a divine creature.

It’s not only his looks, although Eddie has found himself getting lost in his big, beautiful eyes a lot lately; they’re so soft in comparison to the hardness in his demanding voice when he orders him around, tells him what to do.

    ‘Kneel down.’

    ‘Open up.’

    ‘Hold still.’

    ‘Come for me.’

He’s guardian angel and soul-eating demon,  both morphed into one perfect body.

And not for the first time, Eddie wished he was real. That he could have someone like him in his life. Out there, in the real world. That he could have this, always, not only when he’s paying for this perfect illusion.

But he’d rather have this than nothing at all.

It’s enough, at least for the time being.

And he’s not going to let his mind’s racing thoughts ruin the moment. He needs more though, to shut up the voices.

   “Sir, please! Fill me up, let me come! Please, I need it!” Eddie begs, doesn’t feel stupid doing so because he knows how much Steve likes when he dissolves into a pleading, sobbing mess. He can see it in his eyes and the way he greedily licks his lips like he’s craving for a taste.

Eddie would let him. Hell, he’d let him eat him alive if that’s what he wanted.

But that’s not what Steve does when he unbuckles the shackles at his feet, rubs soothing thumbs over the irritated skin on his ankles before he bends him in half.

It’s always messy when he fucks him. When he uses a dildo to split him open. Lube is dripping down his crack while Eddie’s hole is stretched almost painfully wide around the base of the silicone toy. So deep inside that he thinks he can feel it in his throat. Every time his torturer pulls it back out, a sobbing breath leaves his lungs like he can’t breathe with it inside him. And every time he pushes back in, Eddie’s body convulses, wrists tugging ineffectively at the restraints keeping him in place.

There is something about the other man’s aura that sends a wave of fear through Eddie, a darkness in his master’s eyes that reflects something like frustration mixed with deeply engraved desire. Like Steve’s greedy for Eddie’s pitiful whimpers. Like seeing Eddie fall apart is as satisfying for him as it is for his willing victim.

It’s almost as if Steve, too, is falling apart. Only a little. Almost unnoticeable.

But Eddie can feel it in the way he pushes the toy inside him, fucks him harder than he ever has before. The merciless hand around his cock is almost too much, too rough, too tight, angry. But when Eddie looks up at him, he finds so much devotion in the other man’s hazel eyes that Eddie nearly loses it.

The words are right there, on the tip of his tongue, waiting to spill.

    Want you inside me. Take me. Take all of me. Make me yours.

Thankfully, they never get the chance to fully form when a loud and desperate cry drowns everything else out. Eddie comes hard, feels like he’s falling.

And then everything goes black.