#LIKE I GET IT different strokes for different folks but its sad for me to think about how many people skip this game because of the gamepla

[aftonenterprise-moved]

i want to care about the new arcs of fnaf so bad especially while being a vanessa stan but oh my goodness i cannot get into it and i want to say its because michael isn't there but honestly michael wasnt there before. but i hadn't had it broken down to me exactly HOW intertwined security breach was to the novels until very recently with the explanation of where glitchtrap came from and its sooooo ohhhh my goddddd oh my goddddddd (plugging my ears) LAAALALALALALLALA

[todayisafridaynight]

i think the only person who could REALLY confront kiryu was haruka and no one else, because, again, he cant dismiss her or fistfight with her about it. it could be so tasty to see how he tries to make a decision for again and she goes 'ummm chotto matte i actually have a kid now too, so how about I decide for MYSELF'. because one thing about me? i love generational conflicts. man it's just so sad because this game had all the potential to be great and yet

and speaking of other games, i'm planning on playing everything that has been ported to pc and localised. gonna go through completion lists in the games i've already finished :) looking forward to ishin and judgement and not really looking forward to y7 because the fighting looks nightmarish. until last week i was sure it was a beat em up... but if i learned how to play mahjong, i'll handle a turn based combat system too lmao

I don't think Kiryu would default to violence or an argument if someone were to call him out on his instability as a parent- he'd probably agree with them honestly as even as early as Y2 and later Y5, Kiryu had doubts of being able to raise just Haruka. Ergo, hearing it from Haruka herself probably would be the most effective and most impactful.

I'm sure you'll love Ishin! It's a really fun game with pretty colorful gameplay and opportunities and play around with the combat, and- maybe it's because I'm an enjoyer for history- the story's great to follow and become involved in.

[trahald-the-burrower]

I love how Sméagol is so closed off to Frodo at first. He doesn't want to heed him or answer any of his questions.

Who are you? Mustn't ask us, not its business.

He resorts to reciting poetry rather than having an actual conversation with him (although the poems do apply to his life and situation, almost as if some piece of him wants or needs to express the feelings associated with them, even if only on a subconscious level).

Gandalf said you were one of the river folk. Cold be heart and hand and bone, cold be travelers far from home.

(You can see that the statement drudges up unpleasant feelings. He doesn't want to think of or talk about this.)

He said your life was a sad story. They do not see what lies ahead when sun has failed and moon is dead.

He refuses to look Frodo in the eye, he makes an effort to avoid eye contact by turning his head each time Frodo gets in front of him. He doesn't want to make that connection, he doesn't trust anybody, he doesn't want to be hurt, and he's had bad experiences with Bagginses in the past (Bilbo thieving).

Then Frodo says his name, reminds him of who he once was, and his defense mechanisms fly out the window, his walls crumble. He can't resist. He finally meets Frodo's gaze, he finally let's him in.

You were not so very different from a hobbit once, were you?

Sméagol. What did you call me?

Frodo reminds him of who he once was. Frodo becomes a reminder of Sméagol's youth, of friendship and a time when things were nicer. Frodo was there to listen. Frodo was the first person to show him kindness in over 500 years. This is the closest he's come to having a Déagol since... well, Déagol. Sméagol couldn't help but grow attached.

That was your name, once. Wasn't it? A long time ago. My name...? My name...? Sssméagol...

And the best part is that Frodo actually manages to successfully distract Sméagol from The Ring (he had been pretending to stroke it beforehand).

It's my favorite scene of the trilogy.

P.S. (And, actually, the flashback scene with Sméagol and Déagol was originally going to be shown immediately after this scene. That's why Sméagol is narrating it -- he's telling Frodo the story. They moved the scene to the beginning of ROTK only because Peter Jackson thought it'd be too soon to show the character's history, so I like to think Sméagol did still tell Frodo the story in that moment, but we just didn't get to see it until later).

(You can see the sky grew lighter from one scene to the next for that reason -- more time passed. So here is Sméagol telling Frodo the story, before being interrupted by the Wraith. Frodo even sat down to listen.)

[chamerionwrites]

Tag Nine People You'd Like To Get To Know Better

FAVOURITE COLOUR(s): Rusty red-orange, deep cool spruce green, bright cobalt blue, wine red, the various shades of slate green/grey/blue.

FAVOURITE FLAVOUR(s): Weirdly difficult question, in that what I think I most enjoy about food is the way that different flavors and textures complement each other to become more than the sum of their parts. But I am a huge fan of deep rich fruity-savory umami (sundried tomatoes, a great red chile sauce, things braised in red wine) as well as absolutely any kind of citrus or fresh herbs.

Also, while this isn't exactly one thing and it might be simpler just to say that I like strong flavors, I fall firmly into the These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things camp on a lot of polarizingly funky/briny things (smoked salmon, goat cheese, blue cheese, olives, anchovies, preserved lemons, etc).

Also the taste+aroma of both fresh bread and corn tortillas hot off the comal is imo the human equivalent of catnip, ie "provokes immoderate feral delight on some bizarrely primal level."

FAVOURITE MUSIC: The very sexy Bermuda Triangle where blues/rock/folk bleed into and/or influence one another. Anything else that takes my fancy, including but not limited to a lot of soul, post-punk, and highly danceable salsa or big band swing stuff. Sad jazz. Gratuitously melancholy strings. Great lyrics, great harmonies, deep rich vocals.

FAVOURITE MOVIE(s): I have never in my life been able to pick one favorite book, but Pan's Labyrinth is easily my favorite movie.

FAVOURITE BOOK(s): This is the impossible question to me but The Periodic Table, Signs Preceding The End of The World, The Things They Carried, The Little Drummer Girl, and everything Arundhati Roy has ever written are all on the list somewhere.

FAVOURITE SERIES(es): The Same Sky is exquisitely good and The Night Manager is my id-stroking comfort rewatch. I also loved Andor and the first season of Hannibal.

LAST SONG: I was just going through this tag earlier.

LAST SERIES: Thanks to holiday craft fair season I have had zero ability to do longform TV anytime within the last few months. (Also, frankly, multi-season TV series are the one of the most difficult media formats for my brain to engage with; it's a fantastic storytelling medium when done well, but I personally have a much harder time sitting down for two hours of TV than for two hours of reading and thus getting started often feels like a huge commitment. I am really a 3-6 eps and done miniseries person at heart.)

That said I am a big podcasts-while-working person and I've been listening to a lot of Friends At The Table and Bad Gays recently.

LAST MOVIE: The Wind That Shakes The Barley, which has been on the Somehow I've Never Seen This And I Really Should list for a while. It has promptly been moved to the OFC It's Possible To Make A War Movie That Doesn't Glorify War, Y'all Are Just Fools And Cowards list.

CURRENTLY READING: ...I have to admit that I'm re-reading Kissinger's Shadow (to Mark The Occasion).

CURRENTLY WATCHING: Nothing (see above), though I have ambitions of giving Black Sails a shot.

CURRENTLY WORKING ON: The sketching stage of some linocuts, some experimental worldbuild-y map-drawing (important as Cartography And Its Imperial Misuses are kinda thematically and plottily relevant to the story, at least in its nebulous conceptual form).

TAGGED BY @silkenred (thanks!), and TAGGING (only if you want ofc) @sassysnowperson, @tobermoriansass, @cosmonauthill, @essayofthoughts, and anybody else who feels like doing this. (No really, I'm shy about tagging but please do the thing if you're interested.)

[all-or-nothing-baby]

15 QUESTIONS, 15 (or whatever) TAGS

i was tagged by @ash-mcj—thanks dude! HERE is their's.

.

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYBODY?

my middle name is the name of my mum's friend/dad's ex who died (my folks ended up getting together a year later).

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?

about 10 minutes ago? to WELLY BOOTS which is an amazing devil song i've heard 10,000 times before. i honestly cry a gajillion times a day bc i don't just cry at sad stuff but also anything that moves me: from hearing a wonderful piece of music... to someone saying something kind to me or anybody else (real person or fictional character)... to being overwhelmed by the enormity of life and all its fucked-up and wonderful complexities... seriously, absolutely bloody everything makes me cry!

3. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

yes, two of 'em; a brilliant, beautiful, super-talented, immensely kind and outrageously hilarious 24 year old and a brilliant, beautiful, super-talented, immensely kind and outrageously hilarious 15 year old :) they're incredibly different individuals who bicker like siblings absolutely should and love each other a lot. i love them both so much it makes me cry when i think about it (surprise surprise).

4. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?

oh, no, never. (probs too much at times—although i don't always understand when others are using it with me #neurodiversesquad).

5. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?

used to do what the american folks call 'run track', back in the day before chronic illnesses became the villain in my story.

6. WHAT'S THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT SOMEONE?

whether they, you know, get it (or not).

7. EYE COLOUR?

erm, a bit of an odd sort of dark grey/blue with lots of dark green swirls and splodges

8. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?

oh definitely scary movies, horror my beloved <3 i think i'm finally (bc it's been on my list for so long omg) gonna get around to watching RELIC tonight! *scratching at the door noises*

9. ANY SPECIAL TALENTS?

forgetting absolutely fucking anything and everything all the fucking time. ALWAYS knowing the first letter of the word i can't think of. having a bit of a photographic memory. being able to play the william tell overture by flicking my fingernails against my front teeth. making really good pancakes. good at accents. pretty good at drawing faces. playing music by ear. great at making inconsequential lists lol

10. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?

blackpool, a seaside town in the north-west of england, UK. imo it's a veritable shithole these days, only good for trashy arcades and getting stabbed... but i do miss the ocean now i don't live there.

11. WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?

making art, making words, making mixtapes, making trouble, making time for reading, making music, making a mess.

12. DO YOU HAVE PETS?

yes—i couldn't imagine not having critters in the house! i have 4 precious arseholes cats: little jimmy novak and moriarty, who are both house-loving cats—like, they do go out, but are indoors wanting cuddles more often than not. whereas the other two, grace jones ii and goku, are practically feral and only really come home for dinner and if it's raining hard (and the occasional i-will-allow-you-to-stroke-me-and-let-you-have-the-honour-of-me-sitting-on-your-knee-i-suppose).

13. HOW TALL ARE YOU?

5'2". short king.

14. FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?

loved art and english in high-school, and also enjoyed drama and history. i studied art at college and fashion at uni (which was a mistake, that world was very much not for me pfft).

15. DREAM JOB?

i honestly don't dream of jobs. but if i did? i suppose a portrait artist or published poet who was paid enough to actually live on, aha.

.

tagging, play or nay: @shealynn88 @sharkfish @novemberhush @greyhavenisback @poebin @jmeelee @raisesomehale @rajalagang @ohhalefire @halinski @kikiroo @lovebillyhargrove @harrgrove @slytherkins @witchsickness @ltleflrt @wellwaterhysteria @deklo @chasingcastiel @racheld93 @gabedemon absolutely anybody else who wants to do the thing!

[triplesilverstar]

Day 15

Rating: Explicit 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Siren Midvalley X F!Reader 

CW:  Dub Con, oral sex, cunnilingus, dying, hypothermia, shipwrecks, ship crash

Word count: 1401

A/N: Day 15, You really are one unlucky person, and who’d have thought your last thoughts would be of pasta. Or are they?

It was supposed to be a nice easy few days sailing around the coast of Europe, taking in the sights and the scenery while you were on a cruise. You thought you’d gotten lucky winning an all-expense paid cruise. 

Then again you’ve never been the lucky type. 

Three days into the sail you were hanging onto one of the wooden deck chairs, the cruise ship on its side having crashed against the rocks. It didn’t make sense to you. How the hell did a cruise ship hit rocks in waters this well know? It wasn’t a new business, it wasn’t a new route. It just didn’t make sense in your head. 

As the cold waters seemed to leech the heat from your body all you could think was how you missed trying out that linguini you had seen at the buffet table. The way the noodles seemed to gleam in the lights cast from the candles set in the holder beside it, revealed the shadows along the thick strands. 

The way the butter glistened along the raised ridges and highlighted the translucent folds and the grains from the pasta dough. The golden yellow revealed the richness of the dish and the way it would have melted on your tongue, perfectly prepared. The smell of garlic was heavy and heady on the air making your mouth water.

Body feeling lighter, you realize you aren’t just thinking about the pasta. No. Someone is fucking singing about it. And goddamn it, that magical voice is saying they have a plate of it. 

Abandoning your little floating pile of refuge you start to swim toward the sound, and the louder it gets the stronger your strokes seem to become. In the distance, you can see the candles flickering, a golden halo around a perfectly filled plate. The green of the single basil leaf a beacon shining out into the darkness, sitting on a snowy pile of fresh parmesan cheese. The voice rings in your ears like angels about how divine this pasta is going to taste as it blesses your taste buds. 

The moment your hands grasp the slick, jagged rocks the visions disappear the voice stopping as if the source had been ripped away. Replaced by the torso of a man with a lovely jaw and chestnut brown slicked back from his features. A set of long ears and spines along his back sticking out behind him. Almost like a dorsal fin of some kind. 

You must look confused as he chuckles, barely opening his mouth to speak, and you feel yourself melt at those docile tones. “Never lured someone in with pasta before.” A smile you can only describe as mournful graces those elongated features of his, and you don’t know why but your hands reach out to cup his cheek still gripping the slick rocks. 

“Don’t be sad, it looked like the best pasta I would have had in my whole life.” You have no idea why you told him that, but you don’t like seeing the sorrow fill those dark eyes of his. In the state you’re in you miss the cold flesh under your palm, your body stopped shaking some time ago. 

The man watches you for a moment before laughing again “Names Midvalley. I hate to say it little lady but I don’t think you’re making it through the night. You’ve already stopped shiverin.” You don’t know what he’s talking about, you feel nice and warm after that swim in the water. Like everything is going to be alright, unaware it’s all because of his song and the way he’s dulled your senses. 

“See, I’m a siren. Lulling folks to their death is sort of my thing, but you’ve made me feel a little bad bout that on account of singing about food.” Humming to himself before grinning, slipping out of sight, and popping up next to you on the other side of the rock. “I think I’ll send you off a different way before I have my fill.” 

Mind unable to keep up you feel large webbed hands reaching under your butt and hoisting you from the water. Pushing the folds on your skirt away and his head disappearing between your legs. Sighing as you feel a warmth explode across your skin as long fingers knead your inner thighs, you spread your legs a little farther letting him have more access. The sound of the waves breaking along the rocks drowned out the noises of Midvalley slurping at you through your underwear, using his breath to make your body respond more to him. The fabric covering your core was drenched from the icy water, but in almost no time at all your body is responding to him the salty taste of the ocean replaced by your own.

Moaning as you feel a fire starting to lick and grow within your core, your head tossing side to side unsure how you can feel this relaxed with a stranger between your legs. Yet it feels so good, like sinking into a warm bath after a long day at work. 

Midvalley for his part is enjoying this almost as much as you are, usually, his song is about beautiful people and hearing their sighs turn to anguish as the vision fades away to him, But you? You had just looked at him with sad eyes and so far he was getting to have his way with you, something that didn't happen too often for any of his kind, the result most often ending as the person being dragged down to the depths to find release. So when he pushed your drenched underwear to the side and took his first sample of your core and you just hummed in response? 

Well, that just made Midvalley sink his tongue more into the space between your thighs humming as he went the long point of his tongue seeming to reach parts of you that made you just released more of your nectar for him to consume. 

His nose brushing your clit on occasional making you keen, the tandem motions of his curling tongue hitting all the right places. Gasping as he pulled away as if to catch his breath before he was tracing the curve of your pussy lips, your hips jerking as you tried to grind up into his face chasing more friction against your core. 

Chuckling darkly before curling one of his arm across your belly to control the movement of your body and to keep you from chasing his face as he pulled away starting to tease you. It's such a strange sensation as parts of your body scream from the pleasure slowly building in your core while other parts of you seem to slow almost refusing to respond to you. 

At least until Midvalley distracts your mind from following that trail of thought as his tongue starts plunging into your pussy once more while swirling over your slit as if drawing into your slick skin with his tongue. Lapping at your core as if it was going to be his last meal. 

A fire was starting to build in your core, but your mind was starting to slowly disconnect from your body, feeling as if you were on a cloud. Unaware that it was from your body beginning to succumb to the chill of the water that had been around your form and the night air stealing the last of your warmth. 

There was no way you’d be able to give him a warning when your hazy mind realizes you're hovering on the edge. A low gasp is all you can manage as you come on his tongue. Moaning as he keeps working you, the point of the wet muscle reaching even deeper inside of you farther than any other tongue ever has. He doesn’t relent and chasing on the heels of your first is your second orgasm, feeling yourself getting weaker and weaker. 

You have no idea how long you remain there, just how Midvalley pulls at your senses and draws more and more orgasms from you to the point of pain. As the edges of your vision grow smaller all you can focus on is the shifting of his head between your legs, unable to even feel his skin brushing against yours. 

Closing your eyes for the last time as Midvalley pulls a final weak orgasm from you.

Back to List

[noctumbra]

𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒂𝒘𝒏 (𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏)

summary ─ “not yet,” he whispered. “i jus’ wanna keep on kissin’ you.”

pairing ─ fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ smut, +18, light fluff, angst, kissing, riding, crying, emotinal sex, shall we call it love making???, unprotected sex, nothing extreme in this one folks, this is the real goodbye sex believe

a/n ─ hi. i'm back with yet another fb bucky fic :) i feel like i fucked up a bit towards the end but.... lmao hope you like it! please leave a comment if you do! thank youuu <333

previous part ─ trilogy masterlist

It was the graduation day when he popped out from his hiding place.

It had been weeks since the last time you saw Bucky. You knew he dropped you off to your apartment, your roommate was kind enough to tell you because he had to ring the bell. You saw your call history on your phone and knew you called Bucky. You talked on the phone for almost forty minutes. You didn’t remember what you talked about, though, and that was what you’d like to ask him, but you haven’t seen him ever since that night.

So, when your doorbell rang as you were getting ready for the day, you didn’t expect to find him standing at your doorstep.

“Hi,” he whispered. He had a tired smile on his face; his eyes looked haunted and it seemed like he lost weight. You frowned.

“Hey,” you whispered back. Your eyes were seizing his body up and down, worry etched on your face. “Are you okay?” You couldn’t help but ask. He sniffed lightly and nodded. It was a hesitant nod, and you picked up on it immediately. “Bucky…” you said. He waved a dismissive hand on the air.

“It’s fine,” he murmured. “Couldn’t sleep lately, that’s it.” You frowned but didn’t say anything. Opening the door a little more, you invited him inside. He smiled as he stepped through the threshold. “I was, um, wondering how you’re doing since, uh, you know, that night.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “I’m fine.” You slowly moved your head back and forth. Chewing on your lip, you decided to out with it. “I saw that I called you that night from my call history,” you started. “I don’t remember what we talked about, though.” You watched Bucky as his face went from shocked to relieved to sad. It was an interesting transition, you thought. “I was hoping you could tell me, actually.”

He let out a laugh, it sounded forced. “Oh, um, it was nothing important, really,” he said, shrugging. “You talked about how you hated the taste of beer, and said that you can’t understand why people like vodka.” He smiled.

“For forty minutes?” You asked, eyebrows high on your forehead. He nodded. “Damn.” You would talk about those things, and if you did talk about them for forty minutes, then it was too normal for you to now remember anything because you must have been drunk as fuck. You chuckled. “Here I was worrying myself to sickness because I made a dumb out of myself.” Bucky chuckled lightly with you.

“No, you didn’t,” he said. “You were totally right.” You rolled your eyes.

“Sure, Barnes,” you grunted. Bucky chuckled again. A silence fell between you two, but it wasn’t disturbing. Instead, it was peaceful, and you smiled when you realized you somehow missed his presence being next to you.

“You’re gonna look beautiful,” Bucky said after a short while, and you made a questioning hum. He pointed at your dress for the graduation day. “It’s gonna look amazing on you.” You felt your cheeks burn as you smiled and ducked your head.

“Thanks,” you murmured. Bucky’s lips curled up at your reaction, his stomach suddenly flipping over. He silently cleared his throat. “I’ll, um,” you started, biting your lips for a second before you continued. “I’ll see you at the graduation?” You asked. Sniffing a little, Bucky nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m gonna be there. I’m graduating, too, y’know,” he added. You let out a short chuckle, and he rolled his eyes, but both of you were joking. So, it didn’t take you too long to start laughing.

“It’s good to know that you were studying while parading around,” you murmured with a grin on your face. Bucky blushed. He might have been fucking around, yes, but he did study to his exams, thank you very much.

“Well, I gotta pay my loans somehow, right?” He sent you a wink and grinned back at you. You shook your head fondly.

You hated for making you fall in love with him, breaking your heart and using you, but you knew you were going to miss him like crazy after today. You didn’t know his plans after school─ actually, you didn’t know anything about him and his life. You didn’t know about his future plans, about his parents, siblings if he had any, or what he liked to do on his free time. He was a blank page; the only thing you knew, however, was what he liked in bed and how he acted when he was angry, and that was it. You frowned slightly.

“Hey─” You heard him and felt his large, warm hand holding your wrist gently. “Where did you go?” He asked, his voice soft and eyes concerned. It was a new look on him; not unwelcomed but unexpected. You never saw him worrying over you, or showing his emotions so openly to you before.

You chewed on your lip, debating on telling the truth. Looking at his beautiful, blue eyes, seeing the slight vulnerability in them, you said ‘fuck it’ to yourself in your mind. “I’m gonna miss you,” you blurted. “After today, I mean. I’m gonna miss seeing you around.”

His eyes changed. Their color looked brighter, they widened, and you saw some tears gathering in them. You felt your heart beating in your throat as you watched him shedding a tear.

“I’m gonna miss you, too,” he whispered. He sounded so broken, so raw, you wanted to hug him and tell him that you weren’t going to leave him. “I’m gonna miss hearing your bitching about random things,” he added. You snorted. You rolled your eyes and snorted again.

“You─” You started but stopped to huff some when you heard him snickering. “You idiot.” Bucky laughed. His whole face lightened up as he threw his head back and laughed. You should have felt insulted because he was laughing at you, but he looked so happy, and you just couldn’t. You huffed a bit more. “I’m not gonna miss your dumb ass, Barnes,” you muttered. He giggled.

“C’mon,” he said. “You love my dumb ass.” He froze, thinking he fucked up, but your soft chuckle relaxed him.

“It is a nice ass,” you murmured. Bucky watched a large grin spread on your face with sparkling eyes. He chuckled, a soft blush sitting high on his cheekbones. You just grinned at him cheekily. You were so beautiful, so gorgeous, Bucky couldn’t believe he got the chance to have you in his life in a fucked up but good way. He wished so badly that he could take all the shitty things he did to you, but he knew it was too late.

He cleared his throat. He should leave, he thought, but before he could reach for the door, he felt your hand closing around the collar of his t-shirt, and he was yanked forward.

Your lips collided; soft and slick ones against the chapped and slightly cold ones. Bucky gasped as he shivered and gave into your kiss. His lips were the cold ones, so he let you warm them. He let you stroke, kiss and lick them, and in return, he swallowed all the whimpers and breathy little moans you released into his mouth.

“Baby,” Bucky panted as he pulled back slightly. One of his hands found its place on your cheek, cradling it gently. His thumb was stroking your cheekbones, touching your eye and caressing your slick lips.

“Please,” you whispered. “I─ Please, James, I-I need you, please.” You looked into his eyes with tears blurring your vision. You heard the small hitch in his breath, watched him grimacing with pain and then, he leaned in for another kiss.

Moaning in unison, you grabbed at him. You felt his arms wrapping around your waist, and he pushed you against the wall, caging you against it with his body. You whimpered. You missed having his body this close you, missed feeling his lips teasing yours and missed letting him kiss you all over.

“Mmmm,” Bucky hummed deeply as he nibbled on your neck gently. He was being careful about leaving marks since there was a graduation you had to go through, but you didn’t care. He could give you hickeys, and you’d cover them up with make-up. The only thing you cared, however, was to have him inside of you. You’ve gone without him for too long.

“Bucky…” You whispered. You heard him hum again. Your hand grabbed his hair, pulling a little, you whined lowly. “Bucky…” He hummed louder. You huffed. His teeth were worrying a flesh in his mouth, sucking and licking over it. Every puff of his breath was making the small hairs on your body to rise, making you shudder violently in his arms. “Sir…” You finally whimpered, and Bucky bit you hard.

“Yeah, love?” He asked. “What is it?” He kissed the place he bit. “Tell me.” You wiggled and exposed your throat to him even more. Humming approvingly, he placed kisses all over. “Come on, baby, tell me what you want, hm?”

“Take me to bed, please,” you whispered. “I missed you, missed having you in me, please.” You looked at him through your lashes. His eyes went dark, pupils dilating, Bucky let out a soft growl.

“That so, baby?” He murmured. You nodded. Your eyes still had some tears in them, and you felt one of them running down. Bucky’s face crumpled immediately; expression softening, he leaned in to kiss the tear away. You only held onto him tighter. “A’right,” he whispered. “Hang on tight, lil’ koala.” You smiled at the name but did as he said.

He kept peppering kisses on your face as he walked towards your bedroom and was gentle when he laid you down on your bed. He was standing between your legs, elbows supporting his weight, when he leaned in for another kiss.

This one feels a bit different, you thought. Your eyes were closed and hands were in his hair. He kissed you gently, softly even. The way he cradled your cheek in his palm was loving, and you felt new tears stinging. It was chaste, this kiss. Neither of you included tongue in it; it was only lips, your hands on each other’s faces and the intimacy.

Slowly, both of you got rid of your clothes. First, it was your t-shirt on the ground with your bra and then his t-shirt joined them, and then came out your shorts and his jeans. He let your panties and his boxers on, though. When you made a questioning hum, Bucky just smiled.

“Not yet,” he whispered. “I jus’ wanna keep on kissin’ you,” he added. You hummed happily. As much as you wanted him in you, you were definitely okay with more kissing.

─

Bucky probably should have walked away after he saw that you were doing fine. Hell, maybe he shouldn’t have come to check up on you. He was going to see you at the graduation, he could have waited for couple more hours, but he was scared that he might have missed you during the chaos and never saw you again.

He had to say proper goodbye this time.

He didn’t think you’d start things, though. It was always him who started these sort of things; it always him who kissed you first, who begged you to give in and tried to convince you to take you to the bed. Roles were reversed, today. You took the first step.

Bucky should have stopped this after the kiss. He should have pulled back. He should have thanked you, murmured his goodbye and wished you success and love in life. Instead, he kept kissing you.

This would be the last time he’d be taking you, though, he thought. After that, you were off to God knows where. He wasn’t even sure if he’d ever see you again. So, he gave in.

Kissing you and feeling you against his body were the best feeling he had ever experienced in this world, he was sure of it. Having your hands pulling on his hair, nails digging into the muscles of his back and being able to swallow your moans and whimpers into his kiss were the things he would always remember. He was going to remember the way you whined his name so prettily, the way you moaned breathily when he made you come… Bucky was going to miss these, was probably going to yearn these, but he knew he had to say goodbye.

He was no good to you. He only hurt you, made you cry. He did not deserve you.

Bucky knew that he was never going to be worthy of your love. He was too much of an asshole for that. He was going to have a very little piece from it while he could, though.

“Bucky…” You breathed. Your eyes were closed, and your face was peaceful. Bucky smiled. Kissing your cheeks, he nipped on your jaw lightly.

“Yeah, baby?” He murmured. He felt you wiggle under him.

“Wanna feel you,” you whispered. “Please? We don’t have much time, I wanna feel you.” Bucky held back a sigh. You were right; you did not have much time, and Bucky suddenly wanted to ditch the graduation and stay here with you in your bed.

“Alright, love,” he whispered back. “Okay, sssh.”

His fingers found the hem of your panties, and Bucky was gentle as he stripped you free of them. He slid off his own boxers, briefly straightening up to chuck them on the ground, he grabbed his wallet to dig out a condom.

You grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“No,” you whispered. “Can we not use it? I wanna feel you.” Bucky swallowed harshly. You wanting to feel him, wanting him to be bare in you… He was going to be pissed if this was one of those dreams.

“We don’t wanna have a baby, right now,” Bucky murmured, trying to joke a little. “We’re barely adults.” You smiled as you patted his cheeks. Bucky realized your smile looked sad. Blinking, he tried to ignore it.

“I started taking the pill again,” you said. “Just wanna feel you, come on.” Bucky nodded. He could feel his body shaking lightly; nervousness and excitement mixing with his lust. He nodded again. Pressing a kiss on your forehead, he dropped the wallet.

You pulled him into a kiss as Bucky grabbed his cock and lined it up. He greedily swallowed all the moans you released while he slid into your wetness smoothly.

“Fuck,” he moaned loudly.

The exquisite feeling of your wet and warm walls around his hard cock felt so fucking good that Bucky felt like he was about to come. It was such an intense feeling, Bucky suddenly hated the existence of the condoms. It served for an understandable reason, but it also deprived him from a sensation like this one.

“Hmm,” you mewled. “Sir, fuck, you feel so good,” you panted, then. Bucky grunted.

You should have done this before, Bucky thought, he should have taken you bare earlier even though he was sort of glad that this happened on your very last time.

“’ma move, love,” he whispered into your ear. “Can’t wait anymore.” You nodded. Your hands were holding onto his sides tightly, thighs wrapped around his waist as Bucky pulled out only to slowly slide back in.

He was going to drag your last time out as long as he could. He wanted this to last. He was not going to fuck you and be done with you, no. He did that enough in the past. He was going to feel you, now.

“Mmm, Bucky!” You whimpered. Your nails were digging in deep, but Bucky didn’t care. He wanted you to leave marks so that he could look at himself in the mirror later and touch them and cry. He let out a harsh breath as he slid in once again. “Yeah!” You cried out softly. “There, please.”

Bucky did as you said and kept hitting that spot of your repeatedly. His pace was still slow and deep, he was still trying to make it last and feel you deep in his presence. You didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you were quiet as you held onto him tightly. He could only hear your barely-audible whimpers and his name as a whisper when the thrust was particularly deep.

“You feel so good, baby,” Bucky whispered. His ears were howling, his brain was going fuzzy around the edges and he started to hear some sort of a white noise through the howling.

Bucky felt his eyes and nose burn. The feeling of your naked body against his, him being bare inside of your wetness and you holding onto him tightly… Bucky felt raw. He felt vulnerable as hell. Every place of his body where it was touching yours was on fire. It was like your skin was getting etched into his, marking him completely and forever, and Bucky was letting it happen.

“James,” you breathed silently. A soft sob ripped apart from him as he buried his face into your neck. You kissed his temple, petted his hair and stroked his back. You could hear his soft sobs, silent sniff and slight shaking of his shoulders. You kissed his temple again. You pushed him back, but he scrambled to hold you against him. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered. “I’m here. Just lay back, alright?” Bucky sniffed silently and did as you said.

He leaned back against the headboard, and you climbed onto his lap. Lowering yourself onto his cock again, you held his head against your chest, allowed him to hide there.

“Sssh,” you murmured softly. His hands were on your back, holding you tightly. “It’s okay. I’m here.” You hugged like that for a short while. His sobs slowly ebbed away, but you continued to stroke his hair.

“’m sorry,” he whispered, voice croaked. You shrugged. You grabbed his face in your palms and lifted his head up. His eyes were glowing even more with some redness in them, his nose was a bit puffy like his eyes, but it was the expression that hit you hard.

It was pain. Raw, unhidden pain. His eyes were earnest as they looked into yours. You felt the oxygen trapped in your throat when you made eye contact. You shivered. It felt like his eyes were looking into the very depth of your soul, seeing and understanding your true feelings towards him. It scared you.

So, you leaned in and kissed him as a distraction. Anything to get his eyes off of you.

Bucky whimpered. He wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you, as he returned your kiss. His soft lips parted lightly and allowed your tongue inside. You licked into his mouth, stole another whimper and bit down on his bottom lip.

“Move,” he whispered. “Take what you want.” He gave you a chaste kiss. You exhaled shakily as you raised yourself on your knees a little only to fall back down. You moaned. Bucky peppered soft kisses on your neck. His hold on your waist was tight still, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him to ease off even though it made breathing just a tad harder.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried his face to your chest. Bucky, understanding what you were implying, took a nipple in his mouth and sucked and bit on it gently. The lazy suction and slow movements of your hips were driving you crazy. Everything felt so sharp, so deep and so scary but also so good, you felt like you were falling apart.

“Come,” Bucky whispered, pulling his mouth off your nipple. “Can feel you, come, baby.” You whined loud and long as you came on his cock. Your orgasm felt like it went for a century. Its hold took over you slowly, spread through your body from your belly like a wrecking ball, but you felt the impact into your bones. You cried out.

Whining, you kissed Bucky’s cheeks, lips and nose. “Come in me,” you panted silently. “Sir, Bucky, please, come in me. I need it─” You cut yourself off with a low moan. Bucky let out a sharp cry as his hips thrusted up into your still convulsing core. He was close. His balls were tight and full with his come. Your walls were trying to milk it away from him, he could fucking feel it.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky breathed and then moaned. You cooed at him.

“’m here. C’mon,” you continued to coo. “Come in me, Sir. Lemme feel you.”

Feeling his whole body going taut, Bucky buried a moan into the crook of your neck as he came inside of you. You sighed as Bucky let out small whimpers. You could feel his come coating your walls, and you hummed.

You stayed in that position for a while, cuddling and breathing each other in. His hands were holding you tight, fingers drawing various shapes on your body while you traced his tattoos and examined his piercings. Both of you came down from your high slowly.

You got up and rolled off of him.

“Yuck,” you whispered as you felt his come leaking out of you. Bucky smiled apologetically. “I wanted it,” you reminded him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. You walked towards the bathroom, quickly cleaning yourself. When you returned to your bedroom in a bathrobe, you saw him dressing up. “Leaving already?”

Bucky grimaced. “We only have two hours to get ready,” he murmured. His voice was soft and low. You found it soothing. “I can’t hang around too long, gotta shower and change.” You nodded. This time, it didn’t feel like an excuse to run away. Graduation was onto you both, it was understandable, but Bucky wasn’t running away.

“Okay,” you nodded. “Yeah, make sense.” Bucky nodded, too. He pulled his jeans on, fixed his t-shirt and hair and grabbed his wallet.

“I, uh,” he started, inclining his head towards the door. You let out a ‘yeah’. He smiled. You were at the door when he turned around, suddenly looking very serious.

“This was the last time I was taking you, you know that right?” Bucky asked. He wasn’t taunting, or bragging or anything. His voice was still soft and low, but he sounded like he was far away. “We’re graduating, and God knows what’s expecting us. We’re gonna have different lives and… we’re growing up.” Bucky sent you sad smile. “Maybe I shouldn’t have let you kiss me like that because I wanted to say goodbye properly, but I don’t regret it, so,” he shrugged. “Take care, will you?” With teary eyes, you looked at him. Bucky sighed. In one step, you were in his arms and hugging him tightly.

You understood what he meant. Whatever you had was for during college. The end has come; it was the graduation day, and that meant you had to leave this part of your college life behind. You didn’t want to, especially not when you were in love with him, but he was right. You were going to have different lives. You were adults for a couple years, but graduating meant that you were an official one now.

“It’s gonna be alright,” Bucky whispered and pulled back. “You’re gonna be okay and successful in your job. You’re tough like that.” He smiled, this time it was a genuine one. He leaned in and kissed your forehead. “Take care, Y/N.”

“Take care, Bucky,” you whispered. “You’re gonna be one hell of a teacher.” That pulled a startled laugh out of Bucky, and you grinned tearfully. “A badass one, too.” You eyed his tattoos. He shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess,” he murmured. “Gonna be that teacher, but it’s worth it.” Giving you a lopsided smirk, he watched you for a couple seconds. Then, he walked to the door, opening it. He looked at you before he walked out. He looked like he wanted to say something, but in the last second he decided against it. You ran to him, kissing his cheek and fixing his hair.

“Be gentle to yourself,” you murmured. Bucky nodded.

“I’ll try,” he whispered and then cleared his throat. “Um. Bye, Y/N.” You muttered a soft ‘bye’, and he was off. You closed the door and sank down. You let the tears wash your face and pain away.

─

As soon as Bucky was outside, he let out a sob. He wanted to tell you that he loved you, but he didn’t want to give you that hope and then crush it. He knew he would fuck up somehow if you were to try out a relationship. You didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve you.

Lifting his head up, looking at the sky, Bucky took a deep breath.

“Here comes the sun,” he whispered and turned on his heels.

His figure got lost in the sea of people as he walked down the street. He felt like he lost a piece of himself in them, too.

[wickedpact]

Crim pls do a J/N fic rec post at some point in the future I trust you more than I trust myself looking rouge through AO3

im kinda eh abt the concept of fic recs myself just bc the whole 'Different Strokes For Different Folks' thing (idk how many times someone i liked in a fandom made a fic rec list and i ended up not liking anything they posted). plus i have weirdly specific tastes and i.. .. honestly havent read a ton of joenicky fic! (i have a FAT to-read list) but ive been asked this a couple times now so i will slap together a couple joenicky fics i like (not comprehensive, i only spent like 15 minutes making this. also not in any particular order.)

Kiss Each Other Clean by moodlighting

i like this whole fic, but the last 6 or so paragraphs in particular SEND ME TO SPACE, i love cuddling. also [joe voice] nickel neekee

what you seek is seeking you by bankrobbery

i actually recced this one once before. idk its cute i just Like It. (also nicky pretending not to know english bc a customer is pissing him off is Very Funny and i love it)

with every inch of my heart by smilebackwards

i like this one a lot, i think nickys pov should Always be this tender. i dont like miscommunication trope much, (esp with joenicky) but i do like this fic-- the miscommunication in question is far-fetched but its joenicky so of course it is. just enjoy the Angst™

i love michelangelo seeing nicky all dirty and bloody after a fight and being like 'DAMN this bitch is fine' (same). (AND the fact that nicky only agrees to travel with him in the name of wasting the pope's money lmao). the fact that joe and nicky broke up But They Still Snuggle. nile knowing like 2 things about joe and nicky's breakup & pretty much immediately taking nicky's side. joe looking at the creation of adam and bein like 'EH'.

nicky carrying around his little joe drawing? nicky carrying around a spare toothbrush for booker? nicky telling little children stories about a princess locked in a coffin under the sea? ('perhaps someday, if an iron coffin is caught in a net or washed up onto the shore, they’ll remember the princess, a victim and not a monster' EXCUSE ME)

(also 'I have drawn you a thousand times since we parted. I sculpted your likeness, just so that I could pretend to cup your cheek. You are so much warmer than marble, hayati.' R O M A N C E)

Pas Un Ange by inlovewithnight

there are a lot of fics i love in a way thats like 'this fic is fun but it doesnt feel like something that would happen in the Actual Canon' (which is fine!) but this one Does feel like it could happen in The Actual Canon which is cool

this fic also has probably my favorite depiction of nicky's relationship with god/religion in any fic ive read ('[nicky's] peace had come only after walking away from faith as a competition of intensity in favor of faith as a steady compass that he followed like the beat of his heart in his chest.'). i love the whole Drama played out by the background characters and how they all have their own ideas and motivations & nicky is just kind of resigned to being caught in the middle of it.

(also love how near the beginning joe's like 'the Right thing to do in the situation would be stay at this river and help these people.... ... ....... ... .... ... anyways see ya guys later gotta go find nicky'.)

also joe chatting up a pig and the five minutes later chatting up some goats was so cute. & nicky trying to tell the baby's mother how to save it!!!! </3 AND THEY ARGUE ABOUT CHARITY on the way home (not before joe injects a comment abt nickys ass into regular conversation bc Romance™) its a bit of a sad fic tho, that poor baby 🥺

Intercession by PrincessDesire

can i interest you in some Swamp Man Nicky in this trying time?

someone recced this fic to me and i dont remember who. but note that the major character death tag is not, in fact, for a major character but for a background one. neither joe or nicky perma!die in this. also normally i dont like fics where joe or nicky are bi bc Thats Not Canon Babey but i do like this one, i love joe's relationship with Grace and how nicky's perception of that relationship gets flipped on its head halfway thru the fic. i also love joe's Weariness Of Immortality, like when joe talks about how 'youthful' nicky makes him feel. his pov just kind of Feels like an old man and i like it

theres a smut scene in this fic which im personally not big on smut scenes but theres this bit where joe tries to figure out condoms and its very cute. also 'You have many kinds of magic, Nicky. All your spells have worked.' ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

also i just like how WHIPPED joe is from like the first 3 seconds he sees nicky. theres one bit where nicky's like 'ill come visit you!' and joe's like 'when🥺' and nicky's like 'as soon as you like!' and joes like 'now?????🥺🥺🥺 literally come home with me???' incredible.

also the Magic System was cool. i also love how nicky just Accidentally made himself immortal. what a man. also i like this line 'it would never occur to [nicky] to attend any service that wasn’t going to have a direct outcome. Grace takes comfort from it, so maybe that’s the only outcome needed.' idk its so sweet

edit: also i cant believe i forgot the iconic line 'Yusuf is a man of two minds, one large and underutilized, the other small and underutilized.' absolutely iconic & relatable

[hopefulobjectmiracle]

A quick analysis of the puppy scene in 3x15, because my OTP is perfect.

This is honestly just a whole lot of gushing and flailing, tbh. Because Kurt and Blaine and their relationship are wonderful and I love them so, so much. So much so that I can write paragraphs on a scene that is barely one minute long. 

This somehow ended up being much longer than I intended, oops. Hope you enjoy it :)

We start off this scene with Blaine alone at his locker, presumably putting away his belongings from his last class, and you can still see Kurt’s ‘Gay-diddy-gay-gay-gay’ class council election poster on the inside of Blaine’s locker, even months after Kurt lost the election. But Blaine still keeps it up, because he loves Kurt, and if he had it his way, Kurt would win everything. Awww. He appears to be deep in thought, and when Kurt hides behind Blaine’s locker, speaking in the world’s most adorably terrible British accent, it startles Blaine for a second.

And man, does that make me sad. This is a kid that has been bullied, undoubtedly shoved into lockers and pushed here and there just like Kurt was. He hears an unfamiliar voice and immediately flinches back in fear, expecting the worst. 

But it isn’t the worst - it’s the best. Because it’s Kurt, the person Blaine loves more than anything, hiding behind the locker, and it’s Kurt speaking in that cute-ass accent holding a stuffed puppy in front of his face. 

(Side note - I once read that Chris Colfer improvised the dialogue and accent of this scene, as well as coming up with the name for the puppy, which totally checks out since Chris is a huge Anglophile.)

And as soon as Blaine recognizes his boyfriend, his face breaks out into the sunniest smile, and he does his signature “Kurt-made-me-laugh” move, the blushy head-duck (see here for reference). 

Kurt also looks similarly delighted to see Blaine, because Blaine is lovely and Kurt loves him so, so much, and because he’s also excited to show Blaine the gift he got him and help Blaine out with his problems. Kurt really loves Blaine, y’all. He looks so damn proud of the stuffed animal he got for him and equally proud of his own ability to make Blaine laugh with his clever puns. 

Kurt goes on to explain that Finn won the stuffed puppy while out at the amusement park for Senior Skip Day, along with thirteen others for Rachel, and as soon as he says this, Blaine nods along as if to say - oh, of course, that Rachel - because Blaine is considerate as hell and knows his friends very well. And in honest-to-god Kurt fashion, bb stole the puppy from his brother, because Kurt is the definition of Be Gay, Do Crime, and he also recognizes that Rachel does not need 14 different stuffed animals. 

He pouts a little right then, telling Blaine that he wanted to give it to him so that Blaine would have something, since Kurt wasn’t able to convince Blaine to go with them on the field trip. I wonder how that conversation went. 

Also, pouty Kurt is fucking adorable. Protect him at all costs.

Blaine is melancholy again, telling Kurt that he would have just brought the mood down for the group. And when Blaine says this? Kurt stops beating around the bush and gets straight to the point. 

Sweetly stroking the stuffed puppy, Kurt tells Blaine that he understands him. That he gets that family problems are hard, because they’re hard for him too. He uses himself as an example to try and get his point across to Blaine more effectively, and mentions that he and Finn disagree on nearly everything, but at the end of the day, they love one another and are always there for one another despite their differences. 

I’m also getting so many brotherly Furt feelings from Kurt referring to Finn as “the big lug” and talking about how much he loves him. Ugh. I also cry at the line where Kurt tells Blaine that he only has one brother and shouldn’t give up on that, given what happens to Finn. I wish we’d gotten more of that relationship in canon before Cory’s untimely passing, because they clearly had so much love for one another, both on-screen and off.

Anyway, Kurt sees the love he has with his brother and wants Blaine to be able to experience the same thing, because he loves Blaine so, so much and he thinks that Blaine deserves everything great in this world. He also brings back the cute-ass accent, and upon seeing Blaine look upset, bumps Margaret Thatcher Dog against Blaine’s cheek to get him to smile again - which Blaine absolutely does; his face is bright and sunny again because of Kurt’s silliness. Awww. 

Kurt tells Blaine never to give up, and Blaine indignantly responds that Cooper is the one who is leaving for a big audition. Kurt pauses, and tells Blaine that Cooper hasn’t actually left him yet. He says that Cooper is waiting in the auditorium, hoping that Blaine will come and talk to him and make things right. This line very strongly implies that Kurt and Cooper coordinated this, and that Kurt made an effort of talking to Cooper to try and arrange a meeting with Blaine - because in a matter of mere days, Kurt was able to glean how important their relationship was to Blaine and wanted to do everything he could to fix it. Give him all the boyfriend awards, folks.

I’m kidding. Please don’t start the Better Boyfriend Olympics again, lol.

Blaine huffs out that talking doesn’t actually work with Cooper, and that he’s tried it to no avail. And Kurt just nods knowingly, as if he was aware that Blaine would say that. And though it isn’t explicitly mentioned, I bet he did know. He then goes on to say that perhaps talking isn’t the best answer for Blaine. Maybe there’s something else, a better method of communicating his feelings that would work more for Blaine. 

Okay. You know what this reminds me of? Flash back a year, to Silly Love Songs. This is (perhaps unintentionally) a direct callback to 2x12. Back when Blaine was still crushing on someone who is not Kurt, he said this to the Warblers about his idea to serenade Jeremiah. 

Blaine (2011): I'm not really good at talking about my feelings. I'm much better at singing them.

And here are Kurt’s words, from more than a year later. 

Kurt (2012): Maybe talking is not the answer. Maybe you need to show him how you really feel in the best, most honest way you know how. 

Can I just stop right here and squeal a little bit? Because Kurt knows his boyfriend so, so well. He remembers the things that Blaine tells him, even things from over a year ago. He holds onto this key piece of information about Blaine, because Blaine is important to him and the things he tells Kurt are worth remembering. And here, in this scene, he puts his memory to good use to try and remind Blaine of his most effective and heartfelt form of communication so that he can help Blaine mend fences with his brother. 

GIVE HIM THE BOYFRIEND AWARDS, FOLKS!

Kurt is so, supportive of Blaine and just wants the best for him, and it just boggles my mind when people claim that Kurt didn’t love Blaine as much as Blaine loved him, because from even short simple scenes like this one, anyone can tell that it isn’t true. 

After listening to Kurt, Blaine stops, and for the first time, genuinely considers it. Prior to this, all of Cooper’s attempts at talking couldn’t get through to him. Blaine still felt the jealousy and resentment from all those years growing up. But after hearing Kurt’s advice, he puts that aside and realizes that some things, like family, are more important, and so he makes that decision to go see his brother and try and express his feelings in a different way. 

Blaine turns to go meet Cooper, and Kurt watches him go, looking so damn proud of his boyfriend and so, so hopeful...

Y’all know what happens next. Blaine and Cooper, a pair of brothers, sing a breakup song. Yet somehow, it works. Singing manages to communicate all of those emotions that were suppressed before, and opens the doors for real conversation between the two of them. They do successfully patch things up, with Cooper finally recognizing Blaine’s talent and Blaine trying to support Cooper in future endeavors. They are on a path to a close relationship, which is all both of them had ever really wanted in the first place. 

And if not for Kurt’s advice, this may not have happened. Y’all heard that right - Kurt Hummel helped Blaine patch things up with a member of his family because he knew how important it was to Blaine, and he knew how badly Blaine wanted this even if Blaine didn’t let it show. From all the bits and pieces of information we’ve gathered over the years about Blaine’s family, they don’t appear to be all that close, which is why it’s even more important for Blaine that he is able to reconcile with his brother.

(For more of my thoughts on Blaine’s family, feel free to check out this analysis of mine. Yeah, this is a shameless self promo. Deal with it.)

So...what was the point of this analysis? I’m not quite sure. I suppose I just had a lot of feelings about Blaine, Klaine, family, and the way that Kurt shows love. Like I’ve said millions of times, just because Kurt is more subtle in the way that he shows love to Blaine, doesn’t mean that it’s any less powerful. Scenes like this, in which he handpicks Blaine’s own words and uses them to push Blaine towards something he was too afraid to admit he really wanted? Kurt helping reconcile Blaine with his family? This is Klaine at its best, and scenes like this are why I will always, always ship this couple. 

Kurt and Blaine are incredible, y’all. 

Peace. 

[fleabaged]

fleabaged im sad whenever you guys talk about s2 im like WHy coulnd't I like it its so frustraiting- the 1st time I watched it i felt like it had way too many plotholes or deus ex machinas if you will, for my rewatch i was like Okay I'll try and be a whore to see if I enjoy it more AND NOTHING

I was soooooooo villanevepilled when I watched it airing week to week just hanging on for that chemistry 😭😭

I don’t even know how to explain it I don’t watch any other tv like this- but I literally only care when or how villaneve will be in the room together/ their relationship to each other. And s2 just filled every need in that regard. The Aaron peel plot was just a device to get villaneve in the same room. How do we bring villanelle into MI6 to work with Eve in a new way? What does it look like the two of them working together? How do they forgive each other? How do they NOT forgive each other? What’s the unspoken part of this relationship? Since those were my primary interests- I never was dissatisfied!!! Plot second, character first.

I don’t hate on people who couldn’t get into s2, in fact I’ve read a ton of criticism on it but it simply was not strong enough to affect my viewing of it.

Similarly, people enjoy s3 and I cannot wrap my brain around how they weren’t bored to tears 90% of it, there was no pizzazz to invigorate me, but, different strokes for different folks ig 😭 in fact, a lot of people were praising s3 when airing for bringing BACK the 12 plot and “focusing on it” and I was pulling my hair out like- When Villanelle gonna show up in an Alexander McQueen dress with a knife?

I’m sorry babes not doubting your love for villaneve and I’m sorry u couldn’t get into season. there isn’t a single thot I haven’t already twote about s2 so if you’re interested search my twitter @ Fleabaged and then any episode name and my rewatch thread will come up. Can’t promise to change hearts and opinions like this tho 💔

[jonkentt]

This is a video, Bucky. You’re recording.”

What? I opened the camera.”

Yeah and it’s a video.”

Oh whatever! C’mere we’re getting a picture.”

Back to my original point—”

Shut up and smile, Sam”

The sunlight is a warm yellow glow on their smiling faces. Bucky’s arm is draped over Sam’s shoulders and he leans in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Sam can almost feel the warm press of Bucky’s lips as he replays the memory on his phone. The glow of the screen dully illuminating the dark hotel room.

Sam’s smile slips and his eyes widen with surprise. Bucky’s laughter rings out till it’s abruptly cut off when Sam grabs his face and kisses him. The image blurs, followed by a loud crack and muffled curse.

Sam smiles but his chest aches a little. His finger hovers over the screen to press play on the video again. Then the phone starts buzzing in his hand and a familiar face appears.

“You asshole, are you a mind reader now? I miss you.”

“Aw, Sam, babe you’re pinning already? Even after I called you this morning?”

“I’m not pinning!”

“I miss you, too. Why the fuck did you have to go away on your birthday? The boys and I ate a cake but they looked sad about it.”

“You ate a cake without me? Wow just rub it in that I couldn’t get out of this hooty tooty conference.”

“I guess world peace is sorta important. Don’t feel too bad though, they weren’t actually sad about it. They ate the whole cake and I promised them another when you got back.”

Sam tries to protest through his laughter. “Hey now, don’t get any ideas about points towards favorite uncle. That’s my title.”

“I’ve been favorite uncle, Sam, and you know it.”

“Why you gotta hurt me like this? I’ll have you know that Cass wrote ‘best uncle ever’ in his text to me this morning.”

“Traitor.”

Sam snickers. Their familiar chatter drains all the pent up tension of the day. Sam can feel the tightness of his shoulders ease, but that little ache in his heart is still too sharp. “Ah dammit, I still miss you.”

“Stop moping, Sam. Go enjoy your birthday!”

“Man, it’s not like there’s anything to do around here! Unless I wanna go to a shitty dive bar and order something in a language I don’t speak. End up having to choke down god knows what.”

“I’ve seen you drink a snake. I’m surprised anything still intimidates you.”

Sam makes a gagging sound. “Don’t remind me.”

“Well I know for a fact that there’s something you’ll love close by. C’mon get up, I’ll give you directions.”

“What?”

“C’mon Sam!”

Which is how Sam ended up walking through an unfamiliar city in the middle of the night, convinced Bucky was steering him in circles.

“You’re almost there.”

“You said that four blocks ago!”

“Relax, Sam. This way you get to stretch your legs and enjoy the sound of my voice at the same time.”

“Bucky—”

“On your left.”

“That’s my line!”

“What? Turn left, Sam.”

Sam rounded the corner of a yet another looming building and the space opened into a massive garden contained by an elaborate iron fence. A cobbled path stretched down it’s center through a tunnel of arches covered in roses. Lights were threaded through the branches, illuminating everything in hazy yellows. A slight breeze filled Sam’s nose with sweetness.

“Woah.”

“I woulda picked flowers for ya but given our situation, I had to bring you to the flowers.”

“This place is beautiful, Buck.” Sam’s voice is soft with awe as he walks down the path, admiring the curving vines of roses all around him. The flowers have bloomed in every color of the rainbow. “How’d you find it?” Sam reaches out to rub delicate blue petals between his finger and thumb.

“A brilliant invention I’ve been informed is called the internet.”

Sam snorts. “Course you would scrounge up the most absurdly romantic spot in the city from halfway across the world.”

“For you, Sam? Nothing less.”

Sam makes his way towards the center of the gardens. The path opens suddenly to a wide circle with a bubbling fountain at its center. Sam looks into its basin and the glint of copper coins wink back at him. He cranes his head to admire the night sky. The twinkle of stars just visible beyond the urban light.

“Oh,” he whispers. “Wow. You’d love this place.” The other end of the line stays quiet. “Bucky?” Sam glances at his phone to see the call has ended. He frowns, wondering if he lost signal.

“I can promise, Sam, that the whole scene is much prettier with you in it.”

Sam’s head snaps up at that familiar sound. Bucky steps out from behind a wall of roses. His eyes are crinkled in a bright smile.

“Hey, Angel.”

Sam breaks into a stupidly huge grin then launches himself into Bucky’s arms. His partner laughs and hugs him close.

“You’ve been gone, what, not even a week? Already miss me that much?”

Sam smirks and shrugs.

“I’d consider being embarrassed about it except that you literally researched where to find a fucking rose garden and then traversed an ocean just to tell me how pretty I am.”

Bucky strokes Sam’s cheek with his thumb and looks at him with near unbearable fondness.

“Can’t let you go forgetting it.”

Bucky leans in till their noses touch. Sam closes his eyes and breaths him in, relaxing into Bucky’s embrace.

“Can’t let you doubt for a second how loved you are.”

Bucky presses their foreheads together.

“You’re incredible, Sam. God, just—” Bucky huffs a laugh that sounds a little overwhelmed. “You’re always blowing my mind. When your eyes open in the morning, all warm and soft and already smiling. When you laugh so easily and it’s the best sound in the world. When you look at your nephews so proud like your heart’s gonna burst.” Bucky barely hears the fountain behind them or notices the sweetness in the air. All he can think of is Sam.

“You always stop and talk to the kids who recognize you, doesn’t make a difference if you’re exhausted, you always care about putting smiles on their little faces.” Bucky swallows against the emotion welling in his throat. “You always look out for your team. Even when shit hits the fan and we’re all scared, donno what’s coming. You hold it together and keep us safe, me ‘n Torres ‘n everyone.” He pauses to listen to Sam’s breathing and feel the warmth of it on his lips. “And when you’re sad, Sam, god you hate showing it. But still you let people in. Just crack your heart right open. You’re more honest than any of us deserve. But the way you see the world, the way you put hope in people, it’s such a fucking amazing gift you don’t even realize you’re giving.”

Sam moves just slightly and for once Bucky doesn’t want to be stopped with a kiss. He needs Sam to hear this, needs Sam to believe it. Bucky leans back and locks his gaze with Sam’s. Desperately, he tries to find the words.

“I try— I try to show you. How much you matter. How everything you do matters. I try to show you but I can’t keep up. I’ll never be able to keep up with you, Sam.” Bucky smiles even as he struggles to keep his voice steady.

“I try to tell you how much I love you but words fall short every time. I try to tell you how important you are and sometimes you still look surprised and that breaks my heart cause you gotta know, Sam. You gotta know.” Light catches the teardrops on Sam’s eyelashes and Bucky finally notices the emotion in his eyes. It knocks the air from his chest.

“You are so loved. And ‘course it’s not just me. So many folks look up to you! I always recognize the look in their eyes cause I know it.” Bucky cups Sam’s face and pauses just to admire him. “I know what it feels like to have a whole heart-full of Sam Wilson.”

They look at each other in silence for a breathless moment. Bucky looking at Sam like he hung every star in the sky, and Sam trying not to drown in that gaze. Then Sam smiles and wipes his eyes with the heel of his palm. Bucky melts at the sight of that tooth gap.

“Jesus, Bucky.” Sam sniffs. “You rehearse that?”

“Every day.”

Sam laughs a little and leans in to nuzzle Bucky’s cheek. “Well, I love it,” he whispers. “Means a lot, Bucky. And I love you.”

Bucky grins ear-to-ear. The press of Sam’s nose on his cheek makes his stupid stomach flip.

“Birthday kiss?”

Sam answers by pressing their lips together.

[ariesbilly]

Maam I am shaking will you tell me about senior shooting fp in front of fred 🥴🥴🥴🥴😵😵😵😵😵

im just thinking like, if this happened when they were teenagers or maybe 20somethings and fp was running to fred because they were gonna run away together or maybe fp and senior got into it and the fights over and fp thought he won and hes going to fred to hug him and kiss like victory won woohoo romantic the evil has been defeated. BUT! like RIGHT before they reach other senior pulls out a gun and shoots fp in the back and freds going from big relieved smile on his face to utter shock and horror and fps falling to his knees and freds rushing to get his arms around him just before he hits the floor and maybe like senior dies immediately after it was his one last spiteful moment ya know to make sure his son never got what he wanted and to spite fred too because mr forsythe jones is not about gay rights lmfao

but like ya know from there we could do a lot of things. maybe fp lives for a happy ending. maybe because im sick and twisted he dies lmfao and like seniors still barely clinging on to life and fred just curb stomps his head into a pulpy mess and he ends up the sole survivor. and its very sad we are all crying. very dramatic. 

you could also have fred killing senior AND fp surviving. different strokes for different folks we have many options here

[notanacousticsetcal]

begin again - calum hood

summary - based off of the song “begin again” by taylor swift. because i adore her and her songs are basically perfectly condensed little stories. so here’s what i think of when i hear that song.

mood board

warnings - hints at prior emotional and physical abuse, some emotional abuse flashbacks. toxic relationship.

word count - 1.9k

a/n - i’m not sure how I feel about it. I think I like it. please enjoy!! i love doing these song-based stories though I think they’re so fun to write so ill probably do more if you guys like it? highly highly recommend listening to the song first. or after if you want but definitely listen to it, its so good.

Took a deep breath in the mirror. He didn't like it when I wore high heels, but I do. Turned the lock and put my headphones on. He always said he didn't get this song but I do, I do.

You straightened your dress in the mirror, sucking in an anxious breath, and applied a thin layer of lip gloss. You glanced down at your heels pushing away his voice in your head. The voice that controlled you for so long. You checked the time, 6:14pm. With that, you grabbed your bag and pulled out your keys, locking the apartment door behind you. A foreign feeling washed over you as you walked down the hall. One that felt a little bit like confidence. You hadn’t felt that in a long time. It was quickly replaced by nerves at the prospect of what would be happening in 15 minutes, but you did your best to suppress them, the constant feeling of not being good enough entering your mind once again. 

It was a beautiful day. The sun was still shining though it was getting nearer to the horizon, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. It was a warm 80 degrees. 

He would say it's too hot. He would ask to stay inside. You, however, wanted to enjoy it. And that’s what matters, you reminded yourself. 

You put your headphones on as you walked along the cement sidewalk and shuffled your playlist. A song you used to love started playing softly into your ear and your finger itched to change it. You almost pressed skip, but stopped yourself. What was it he always said?

“I don’t get this song. The lyrics are kind of silly, don’t you think?” He grabs your hand and gives you that little smile he always did. The empty one that made you feel small.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll change it.” You reach up and change the station, falling back into the passenger seat and resting your head against the window, not knowing exactly why you felt so sad. 

He knew how much you loved that song. 

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and tucked your phone away, letting the old song play out. It sparked some of those old feelings in you. The ones you had before you met him. Those feelings of contentment and comfort. Happiness.

“I get this song,” you whispered softly to yourself.

Walked in expecting you'd be late, but you got here early and you stand and wave. I walk to you. You pull my chair out and help me in and you don't know how nice that is, but I do.

You stumbled into the small cafe and began to scan the room for an available small table. You were shocked to see the brunette already occupying a table near the window. Your favorite spot. He had a book out, but you couldn’t read the cover. 

Not wanting to disturb him, you walked up hesitantly, prepared to wait awkwardly until he happened to glance upwards, but he noticed you right away, closing his book and shoving it in his bag. 

“Hey,” he said as he stood up. A smile quickly took over his adorable features. 

“Hi.” You glanced down shyly, and his smile only grew. Before you could move, he reached around behind you and tugged your chair out from its position under the table and gestured for you to take a seat. You stared at him, embarrassingly dumbfounded, before quickly taking the seat and muttering a quick, “thank you.” 

A small, unfamiliar feeling began to grow in your stomach, replacing the pesky nerves from earlier. 

You didn’t know what it meant, but you knew you liked it. 

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid. I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did. I've been spending the last eight months thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end.

“And so I ran out of the room, completely covered from head to toe in flour and practically broke down my mom’s door begging for help. She forbade me from baking ever again and I can’t say I blame her.” You smiled proudly as you watched Calum throw his head back and let out the cutest chuckle at your stupid childhood story. 

“That’s fucking hilarious. You’re really funny, you know that?” He looked at you in admiration, the most genuine of smiles on his face. Not a hint of the emotion you used to see in his face when he looked at you. One of apparent disdain and resentment. For what, you didn’t know.

You blushed a deep shade of red. 

“You really think so?” Your intonation says the questions rhetorical, but you genuinely wondered. 

“We hid behind a shower curtain at Kohl’s and won the entire game.” You finish the story up and the entire table erupts in laughter. 

“Max, you never said your girlfriend was such a blast, you should bring her around more often,” one of his friends says from across the table. Max laughs a hollow laugh but you don’t think anyone else picks up on it but you. You’ve gotten pretty good at reading him.

“She’s great, isn’t she?” He grabs your hand. It's a compliment so why does it sound like a threat?

The table continues with their conversation and Max’s jaw sets, his grip on your hand tightening,

“Are you trying to make me look bad?” He whispers. 

You lean back in your chair, dumbfounded at his ridiculous comment. “What are you talking about, Max?”

“Stop trying to show me up, these are my fucking friends,” he spits. He looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him, his face tinted red. You glance around the table to see if anyone else is noticing this. They aren’t.

“I’m not trying to show you up. I’m sorry.” You feel so small. 

“Just shut up, alright? I just want to spend time with my friends without you ruining everything for me.” With that, he turns away, leaving you to hold back your tears.

You didn’t know it, but from that moment on, you would find it hard to talk in group settings. Or to anyone at all. Because whatever he said, you believed. 

And you didn’t want to ruin everything. 

“Hey, you alright?” Calum asked, reaching out his hand gingerly to touch your shoulder. 

You jumped slightly, partially because you were daydreaming and partially because of the jolt of electricity his touch sent up your arm. “I’m sorry, did I scare you, love?” He laughed and you blushed at the pet name.

“Sorry, sorry, I have no idea why I do that sometimes. I’m so sorry.” You repeatedly apologized, growing increasingly flustered. You shook your head in an attempt to brush away the unpleasant memories that plagued your mind.

“Hey, hey,” he reached out and grazed his fingers against your arm again in reassurance and butterflies practically exploded in your stomach, that gut feeling you couldn't identify earlier growing stronger with every passing moment. “You don’t have to apologize. I was just wondering where you went, is all. I’m curious to know what goes on in that pretty head of yours.” Here comes the millionth blush, you thought as you ducked your head down, a cheesy grin on your face. 

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

But on a Wednesday in a café I watched it begin again. 

You said you never met one girl who had as many James Taylor records as you, but I do. We tell stories and you don't know why I'm coming off a little shy, but I do.

“Do you like music?” He asked, resting his chin in his palm, all his attention on you. Something you weren’t used to. It made a pink flush wash over your cheeks.

You weren’t aware at the time, but Calum found it incredibly endearing.

“I love music.”

“What kind of stuff do you listen to?”

“Honestly, I mean it when I say I’ll listen to anything, but I think I most enjoy alternative. All the different sub categories. Indie, Folk, Punk, Rock, you name it, I’ve probably tried it. I think I like how all-encompassing it is. What about you?” Talking that much made you clam up a little bit, worried you’d seem annoying. He didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered, though, as his fingers began to drum softly on the wood of the cafe table, his other hand stroking his chin in thought. 

“I think I’m the same way. I think all genres have some creative element to offer and what I love most about music is the fact that there are so many different kinds.” 

You smiled to yourself, running your finger around the rim of your coffee cup.

“What’re you smiling about?” He teased.

“I just like your passion. That's all.” His expression turned bashful and he gently kicked at your feet under the table. 

Calum wondered about you. About how you would freeze up or disregard compliments. About how you remained hesitant to share your interests. About your unwillingness to really let him in. About your passive nature. He wondered about how you flinched at his touch. That hurt his heart. He felt the urge to make sure you felt safe with him.

Most importantly, he wondered who would’ve ever tried to hurt someone as gentle as you.

And we walk down the block to my car and I almost brought him up but you start to talk about the movies that your family watches every single Christmas and I would talk about that and for the first time what's past is past.

“You told him you were from France?” Calum struggled to get the sentence out as he was laughing hysterically. 

“Yes,” your hands went to cover your face in embarrassment as you let out a pained groan. “I even faked a French accent and everything but ended up getting a detention anyway.”

Calum continued to cry laughing at your story from your formative years. “You were a little rule breaker back then, huh?”

You laughed and kicked a few pebbles on the sidewalk. The breeze had picked up slightly as a storm threatened the skyline. Involuntarily, a shiver traveled up your spine. “I guess I was. No idea how I turned out like the grandma I am.”

He glanced over at you running your hands up and down your arms to ease the goosebumps and immediately started pulling off his leather jacket. You, of course, protested but he insisted and draped the heavy piece of clothing softly over your shoulders, rubbing them affectionately. 

“Thank you,” you said, softly, kicking a few more pebbles on the sidewalk as you made your way to the parking garage. 

The jacket smelled expensive and woodsy and you felt yourself cuddling into it, the scent feeling so welcoming already.

Calum felt giddy at the sight. You were blissfully unaware. 

A comfortable silence filled the evening air and you felt yourself wanting to talk about him. To tell Calum why you don’t let people in. Why he broke you. Calum chuckled to himself and your train of thought dissipated immediately. His laugh practically made you forget your name.

“Have you ever seen A Christmas Story?” 

You smiled warmly. “Of course. I love that movie.” And you felt in that moment, a piece of you slipped away. A piece of you that was never really yours… rather, who you were told to be. That happiness sucking, all consuming, toxic piece of you that left you exhausted and resentful. You decided you didn’t want it anymore. You didn’t need him anymore. You never did, you just didn’t know it.

You were you. And that was enough. More than enough. And it felt so fucking good to start to realize it.

That cool evening on that quiet sidewalk next to that cozy cafe with that smiley brown eyed boy was the night you watched it begin again.

[inchling-prince]

Krux Headcanons My Beloved

I still don't have that many fluff ones but eh whatever take my general headcanons

came up with some of these by talking to a friend

also, do you mind tagging this post for me? i had half this written before i realized i couldnt tag it (and i cant copy paste the whole thing, tumblr mobile fucking sucks) and i want the ✨ attention✨. idc what you tag it with-

Krux is really into astronomy (though he does think astrology is bullshit), mostly because of how it affected history — the subject of the relationship between our ancestors and the stars is really fascinating to him

Garmadon strikes me as an astrology person too, he and Krux would probably bond over this. They’d go out and stargaze together, list the constellations and stuff. Garm and Krux would probably be really close friends too

Since Garmadon lived through most of the history anyway, Krux and him talk about that too, like Krux loves learning about the ‘hidden’ parts of history that Garm knows about and seeing how the world changes over time

Krux isn’t much of a physical contact person (unlike Acronix, who is very clingy), instead he prefers giving gifts. Though he does really love having his hair stroked, he’ll fall asleep really quickly if someone initiates that

When the twins were growing up, he didn’t have many friends — he and Acronix were often picked on in school, mostly because they were different and kids don’t like that

Its always just been him and Acronix. The thought of changing that terrifies him

Because I couldn’t resist something sad, Krux never made friends as Dr Saunders. Doing so meant accepting Acronix was gone and ‘moving on’.

Aside from being skilled with a sword (and his powers), he’s really good with a spear. He does prefer fighting with them because of the ranged and melee opportunities but they’re not always on hand and his armor was designed to hold a sword comfortably rather than a spear

This one’s sort of a given but he’s extremely patient (some of it could be his stubbornness though). Krux is capable of sitting through waits that may stretch on for hours, and especially if it means spiting someone — he’s also very good at ignoring, and that’s what happens when you have a younger brother

Sometimes he can talk a lot. Just as much as Acronix, if not more. But while Acronix generally talks a lot, Krux only does so if he’s interested in the topic and likes spending time around the group/other person

When he gets upset, the Dr Saunders voice slips into his own. He frustrates very easily despite his patience, especially at other people, and there’s been a few times his voice slipped. People take that sudden change as ‘shit, I’ve gone too far’ rather than thinking anything sus about it

Mf is a good liar, like really good. He doesn’t lie often (he’s more of a blunt and honest person) but when he does, he’s gotten very skilled at disguising the fact that he is. Also he’s the master of pretending he’s not upset or uncomfortable

Krux is also ridiculously good at death glares. His glares have the same energy as your mom calling you by the full name, especially when someone crosses a significant line.

Also he’s really oblivious, if someone tries to flirt with him he wouldn’t know until he looks back on it later

As for sexuality and gender headcanons, nothing really stuck for me, but he’s def not straight. I don’t ship Krux with anyone in particular so there’s not really a reason for me to figure that out (in my eyes anyway). Also he’s cis because I don’t feel like making him suffer that much

Though honestly he probably just doesn’t care that much about labels

Krux hates country and rap music with a passion, he probably doesn’t listen to much music though but when he does he’ll punt the radio across the room for playing country/rap (slight exaggeration)

i had a lot more than I thought i did rip-

Ohhhhhhhh Krux hanging around Garmadon because he’s a history nerd is a good one, I like that!

I also usually headcanon that he didn’t really have friends as Dr. Saunders, but sometimes I throw this one out the window when I’m tired of being sad. Give him a plucky assistant who annoys him into being somewhat fond or some history buddies to argue with or something. Just goddamn let this man be happy for a couple hours.

I think about him and his voice sometimes. I usually headcanon the opposite. He sometimes forgets the voice when he’s comfortable. Forgetting when he’s mad is probably more likely though since he’s probably just… not comfortable that often :|

Krux hates pop music too definitely. Strictly music from when he was young plus maybe whatever that genre is that wants to be folk but was written recently.

I kinda pingpong back and forth on sexuality headcanons, I mostly land on gay for Krux, but somewhere on the ace spectrum or bisexual also work for him I think.

[ask-impure-vessel]

I don't know if this will reach you at the right moment in time Vessel but, peace friend, The Wyrm has already shown he cares for you greatly and you have done him no disservice or wrong. This may simply a matter too important to discuss elsewhere and His Majesty may be too caught up in his own troubles to understand the affect he has on you.

[Note: Frank discussion of anatomy, anxiety/panic attacks, unreality, post-traumatic stress, past abuse, suicide, disordered eating, self-harm, stuff about the Abyss with all that entails and other such unpleasantries. Strap in, folks!]

The vessel felt like their body was somewhere a few steps to the right and back of them. Their father said nothing as he led them down to the workshop.

You don’t understand. You don’t-

There’s a distant panic in Vessel’s voice. They still keep walking, they must. The order was given. Despite what happened in the Abyss, control still belongs to the Pale King.

It was as if nothing had changed at all.

For the first time, they begin to resent that. The workshop is the last place they want to be, for multiple reasons besides the temple that was to become their agonizing grave. This is not a place that holds any good memories for them, not a single one. 

They arrive in that darkened place, the birthplace of moulds, all thousand of them-700 kingsmoulds, 300 wingsmoulds-where Wyrm's research led to the vessels that rested in the infirmary and that walked into the room. The king shrugged off his silken robe, leaving on a shirt that still covered what was considered a decent amount in Hallownest, showing off the truth of his form; it had been a while and Vessel Hallow was shocked by the changes to his father's form.

He was a being of pure white carapace, plates with softer flesh between, especially around the joints; his skin was sunken, his belly not just thin but almost concave instead of convex. He looked a bit muscular, but mostly because he appeared to be starving. He was dull in color, the white often not as bright as it could be, looking almost dirty with a lack of nutrients to look glossy and nice. 

Wyrm could subsist on soul like a vessel, but that didn't mean it was pleasant for him to do so. He was much like other bugs in physicality, fueled by food, water and having to use the toilet to flush out what his body didn't use of those things. His genitals were internal, just like any bug, his shirt covered where that was hidden. 

His secondary set of arms were more visible now, as was the lower half he usually ambled upon: multiple legs and a long tail that terminated in a pointed end. His tail was thin, almost collapsed with the lack of care.

What was more alarming were the splotches of black. His hands were absolutely covered in it, just beyond the wrists but the lines that raced upwards were far more concerning. Void taint was a part of Hallow's body but for a pale being, such a sight promised long, lingering agony. The absolute rigid calm their father practiced suddenly became a lot more impressive.

It left Hallow in minor shock.

Father, are you dying? Have you already assured your death? Was it on purpose that you inflicted starvation and void poisoning upon yourself? I can think of few less painful, lingering deaths.

"Come. Please kneel so that I can more easily examine you and the changes to you." He activated the door seals and waited in a clear space.

<Father, I-> The vessel walked and knelt, words cutting off with anxiety.

Wyrm activated and checked on the seal on Hallow's mask. "Interesting, joining with the Lord of Shades didn't disengage this? I hadn't expected that. It must have been greatly weakened over the course of my rule and being forgotten. I had thought them already dead." He muttered and began to ghost fingers over the notches Hallow had. "Where did the Kingsoul go?"

That had been a question Hallow had been dreading.

A hand touched upon Hallow's chest. "There it is, if changed greatly at your breast. It became your core? Brace."

It was more warning than Hallow usually got; sharp pain radiated through their being, as something touched their heart.

<Father, it. It hurts.> The vessel gasped out. They were not words sufficient, but they were descriptive enough for their use.

"Please bear it a little longer. This is a very beautiful charm that has become your heart even if it is taboo to my being." 

The pain grew to shocking agony, then to a fading sensation, Hallow felt like their body was a distant, cut off thing.

<Father, please. Stop!> The vessel spoke in growing horror, fear and concern.

The Pale King was faced with a decision then-and let go of the charm. Sensation slowly returned and the vessel gasped on the floor, curling in on themself on the floor as mind and body reconnected. It was painful as the disruption the Pale King had inflicted and the vessel would have gagged if they could on the feelings of revulsion they now felt.

They instead wept on the floor, black tears falling onto the ground as they shivered and their mind turned to things they did there, the pale Wyrm unheeding to a child's pain in the terrible silence; the screams that echoed only through the void, the vessel capable only of displaying stiff trembling to their master. 

They recall the efforts to ensure they could learn magic. The painful process of 'installation' over being taught the theory that took place here. The studies that involved dying here and their shade. When the various seals were made on their shell and mask, the burning magic that had kept burning on their mask for days from them. They had done nothing but suffer in this room and this day had proven no different.

"Vessel, I. I'm sorry, that went too far." The king stroked their mask, making a soothing sound, a purr that Hallow hadn't heard before.

Hallow felt the dam burst and sat as they cried, for all the things they'd wanted and had never had. That Wyrm was holding them now, comforting them now, touching with loving intention rather than with cold intent of science or with violence. The feelings were somewhat positive, but many were bitter, some even bordered on hate and disgust that they didn't know what to do with. They had so many things to say, for themself, for the things that had been done to them and the things they'd missed out on. For the way their father had run away the moment their emotions had become known like a damnable coward. That had been a choice Hallow had been denied, they couldn't say no-yet this day, for the first time, they had asked for their father to stop.

And he had listened.

The Pale King let Hallow get out everything they'd needed to, to calm down and recover from… whatever it was that he'd been doing to them. <This one doesn't want to be experimented on again, or studied. This place, it brings back bad memories for it.> Hallow spoke, in a shaking mental voice. <It is painful for this vessel to be here.>

"Oh, Vessel. I had no idea it was that upsetting. Let's go to my study, then so you don't have to be here. You never have to come in here again." The King promised and led the shaking knight from that terrible place.

They settled down in a chair this time, the king likewise going seated. "I will apologize. That was too far, I needed to explain what I was doing and why-to ask for your permission. It's not easy to break old habits. I noticed you dropped first-person pronouns in your stress." He spoke frankly with sadness.

<This one supposes not. It felt like it was… dying.> Hallow shuddered. <Did you pull this vessel away to speak, or was it to satisfy that curiosity?> They asked tiredly.

"A bit of both, admittedly. To ask you how you're feeling, but that's… obvious, right now and is very much my doing." He sighed and leaned forward. "I'll have to be invasive one more time, I'm afraid but perhaps not this day, to let you recover. I need to set you free and I intend to."

<You'll… free this one from its bondage?> Hallow rephrased in mild disbelief. 

"Yes. As my final order in that bondage, for the rest of your life should something happen and I am unable to undo that binding-I order you to act of your own free will and feelings, as you see fit and judge is right. I relinquish control over your will and mind. There will need to be magic done to completely remove the binding, but it will no longer function."

<It will thank you, father once this one is wholly free.> Hallow spoke diplomatically. They couldn't exactly forgive him entirely yet if the harm was still there.

"I understand. You are a higher being now, truly. While you could read the language of the gods and make things function that are for gods, you didn't have a few aspects that would elevate you from a child of higher beings to purely one yourself. However, you do not have worshippers and as much distaste as I have for the god that was, that will need to change for your own health."

<That must be why the Lord of Shades said they were very, very starved. Speaking of, father. Why are you starved?> The vessel spoke pointedly. <This one believes they can ask some pointed questions and get answers in return. You owe it at least that much.>

"I. Eating is a currently disgusting endeavor to me. Certainly, I did like it once and ate but. Since the vessel project started, my. My enjoyment became nil." He replied honestly. "My shame steals the joy out of anything I do."

<You regret the choices you made?> 

"I do not regret having you for a child. I regret that I killed so many and the crimes committed against the siblings who didn't make it. I regret how I've treated you. I don't know if I could make it up to the survivors but I will at the least try for the time I have and make sure your siblings do not go through the struggles you did." The king chose his words carefully. "I believed I had no other recourse. No other choice that wouldn't see my people dead or entirely enslaved to the Old Light-but I do not think I deserve forgiveness for being a kinslayer, for my mistreatment of you. I have been something to you for sixteen years. Would have been that for two years more, so you could have your final moulting and complete your training. I would have nailed that armor to your carapace and left you to her tender mercies. In that, I was wrong. I intended to kill myself once I was sure my people were safe and could carry on in my absence."

<It knows. It realized that when it went down into the Abyss before becoming the Shade Lord.> The vessel spoke, voice thick with pain. <You're dying, aren't you father. That's why you don't mind sacrificing yourself to the Grimm Troupe either. You are dying and you want to die.>

"I've done too much to live or to allow myself the pleasures in living. The situation in Hallownest is my fault. Your pain is my fault. The many, many broken masks in the Abyss are my fault. I am a kinslayer, who committed infanticide of his own children. Even a god doesn't get forgiveness for those kinds of horrible actions. I deserve the suffering you children experienced. I deserve the deaths I visited upon the children I deemed not good enough. Yes. I am suffering void poisoning, it is an agony I bear constantly. My light holds it at bay enough that I can live five more years without drastic actions." He spoke bluntly.

<Did you poison yourself deliberately?>

"Exposure to void with proper protections isn't deadly. A bug can be scarred by void without dying, in fact the exposure can have beneficial effects such as on the ageless mask maker. Void poisoning in mild cases caught early enough is treatable. So I suppose yes. I did that to myself deliberately." He spoke numbly. "It's… actually a relief to admit that. I wasn't expecting that."

<It's not treatable now. You're dying. How long do you have left?> Hallow felt like the ground was opening beneath their feet.

"No, even I will succumb to a case this severe having gone on this long. Five to seven years, depending." Wyrm spoke clinically. "Your mother doesn't know, but she's not very curious and finds my company odious these days. I don't want her to know."

<You aren't the only one. Would you die as a member of the Grimm Troupe?> Hallow pondered.

"No, time is frozen in a sense for a member of the Troupe. As a sacrifice, my original body would likely be immolated, the presence of void cast out as anathema to it as well. It's not got a will of its own so expelling it for the Nightmare Heart would be doable. It's just not for me between having a corpus much closer to mortal form and my diminishment as a god." 

Hallow rubbed a hand over their chest. <Father, please free this vessel today. Now.> It was firm. <This vessel just wants to love you as themself. Not as your property, as your child. Whatever you have done, it does not know if it can forgive, but love. Love is something this vessel has always been able to give.>

The first time Hallow had ever demanded anything for themself and only themself.

Tears came from the king's eyes. "As you wish, Lord of Shades my child."

The bindings lit up as the king touched, claws digging into the mask with a strange sensation that felt like it should hurt but didn't. The light burned, the mark burned. But the claws were quick, chanting even and fast. Soul pooled around the king's hands. 

The chains broke and Hallow felt a weight come off, something they hadn't realized had been there for a very long time. The remnants would be there, like an invisible scar until they moulted, but then-then it would be gone.

It would take time for them to understand what they'd gained and lost at once. <Today I learned that this one's father is not brave. Please. Please live. Even if your crimes are too much for your heart to bear. Stop running away. Please. Face what you have done, face us who you have wronged. It's not too late.>

 "...I can try. I love you, my child." He touched foreheads with Hallow, a familial kiss. "For all you vessels, I will try. I don't know how anymore, but I can still learn."

Hallow is not an adult. They are, however, now free of their father's chains.

[springtimebat]

A Family of Draculas

Chapter Three: Wasp Eyes

My child wasn’t human. He never was. He never could be.

He arrived on a grey day in Autumn, when the winds were particularly strong. He was born with cloth ears and button eyes. I lifted him into my arms and he gurgled, his felt lips stretching into a stitched grin. His stumpy legs kicked my side with a strange giddiness, as if he’d known me for a long time and was greeting an old friend instead of his mother. Curled up between his legs was a tail, scaly and pointed. He lifted it high into the air and allowed me to stroke it.

“I’ve made a demon,” I chuckled. The baby, small and comfortable in my arms, gurgled in agreement. Mrs Darling, completely forgotten and left in a dark corner of the house, suddenly gave an exasperated groan.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Mrs Darling grumbled, “Children are thoughtless creatures. Sometimes they get your hopes up, sourdough. Then they’re born and they are...bitter disappointments.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” I grinned, tickling my baby’s tummy.

“I don’t need experience,” The old lady huffed, “I know enough parents to know that baby will be more trouble than it's worth.”

“The only child you’ve ever liked is me ma'am. At least, I think you like me.”

Mrs Darling looked at me and, suddenly, her eyes didn’t seem to fit her face, which was all boils, warts and scars. Her eyes were that of a small child’s, wide and longing.

“Sometimes,” She started, and she now gazed at the son in my arms, not directly at me. It seemed she didn’t have the strength, “Sometimes...you seem far older that you appear to be... sometimes you even seem older than me. Your father was like that.”

“I guess it’s just in my nature then,” I sighed, hoping to change the subject. The witch never liked to talk about the Unicorn. My father always made the old woman sad and wistful. I looked down at my baby again. He seemed bigger than before and his eyes were slowly opening to the light.

“Look ma’am!” I gasped, holding my son up to the sky, “His eyes! Look at his eyes!”

“His eyes?”

“They’re glowing! They’re yellow! As yellow as a lamplight!”

“Yes. Indeed they are.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I did. I saw eyes like that once.”

“Where?”

“Your father’s pair. He has his grandfather’s eyes,”

I stilled, “We don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to.”

The witch was quiet for a moment. Then she turned to the front door, tears in her eyes.

“I think I’ll go out for a walk,” Was all she said.

And, just like that, she vanished into the woods.

I growled in frustration and held my baby tighter. He began to struggle against my chest and gave a little cry that reminded me of the birds that sang on the roof at night.

“ They say that those birds are the souls of the departed, travelling to the lonely places of the world,” I whispered, setting the baby down on the floor, “What if I cried like that as a babe? No wonder my father gave me up!”

I wrapped the boy in an old blanket, pushing him onto my knees as the clouds shifted outside.

“She’s gonna catch a cold out there,” I muttered to the silent room, “She’ll catch a horrible cold and she’ll blame me.”

My son giggled and grabbed my forefinger with a chubby fist. His hands were manufactured out of different strands of felt, cloth and cotton, just like his face. But his fingers seemed to have melted, fused together . They were unable to move fluidly. He tried his best though, struggling to keep a grip on my flesh. I grinned as his brow furrowed in frustration.

“I should really give you a name,” I whispered, “I can’t just keep calling you The Boy or Wasp Eyes can I?”

He gave a little nod, directing my thumb up to his mouth.

“Huh, you have no teeth. Fancy that. You’re just like a sock puppet. I guess I could name you after your father...you do kind of resemble him, no matter what that old hag believes.”

The baby gave a small yawn, too focused on my hand to care.

“Fricorith’s a fine name. I don’t know what it means but I’m sure it’s something sweet. I tried looking it up in the books I could find but it was never there. It was as if the name never existed. As if the man had been erased.”

Our son pulled away from my hand and lay back in my lap, his golden eyes straining, trying to keep open.

“Your father’s gone, tired old thing,” I smiled, “It’s ok. We can think of a name later.”

I rocked him with one hand and adjusted the blankets with another. Thunder pierced the sullen ground outside and my bundle whimpered against me. I grabbed onto his hand tighter and stooped over in the dark, more shadow than flesh and bone in these long night hours. A phantom. That’s what I was. Motherhood overtook me.

“It looks like she’s gonna be a long time. She hasn’t even come back to avoid the rain. She intends to get the flu. There’s no doubt about it.”

I stroked my son’s hair, a mixture of real baby curls and matted braids. He began to toss and turn in his nest, clearly tired but too nervous to sleep. It was a feeling I knew all too well, sleeping alone for months with only the corpse cradle for company.

“You really need to sleep, little guy,” I sighed, formulating a plan, “What if momma tells you a story? Will you sleep then?”

He stopped wrestling with the sheets and gave an anxious nod, looking about the room for any monsters.

“Very well. This is the story of the Witch and the Unicorn.”

{The Witch and The Unicorn: A Bedtime story for Ragchildren}

Once, long before you were born, a Witch and a Unicorn met at a bar.

The Witch was withering away by the fires, as she often tended to do. Her job was to rake her claws among the glowing coals and fly with the smoke out of chimneys. This evening, the witch had a night off from ember work. Yet, she seemed transfixed by their wonders still, hoarding its light from ordinary folk. She knew something was coming. Something special was coming to her.

Midnight passed by and the Unicorn entered through a back door. He hadn’t slept in days, his skin was a pale silver and his hair a long plait down his back. Yet, he continued to attract merchants, thieves and hustlers, who clutched scissors and desired his hair, his limbs, his moon-white eyes. People who wished to see him taken apart in jars. Because of this, he hid in the Witch’s smoke and the bar’s natural smog. He sat before the old woman, kneeling in ashes, frozen as if he were a statue made out of marble. The two had never met, only heard of the other through strange songs and wishes caught on wild winds. The Witch stared at the Unicorn with young eyes, her heart beginning to strain. The Unicorn watched the Witch with contempt, sick of being gawked at by people who were not worthy to.

No introductions were made. But a conversation took place.

“I have a girl.” The Unicorn said.

“Do you now?”

“Yes. She is four months old. She will be five months old next Thursday.”

“Fascinating.”

“She holds lightning inside of her.”

Silencio. The Witch continued to gawk, uncaring of proper etiquette.

“And I’m sure my blood flows through my veins.”

“Mhmm. Why are you telling me this?”

“I heard that you are interested in bringing on a ward. A ward that you could teach them magic.”

“I may be thinking of doing so in the future. Why, dear thing, would you want to give away your daughter to me?”

“The girl will hate me. It will hate me for what I’ve done.”

“The mother-”

“Dead. Not gone. Just dead.”

“I see.”

“She died with the boy nestling into her. She died delivering.”

“The boy?”

“The other twin. We had twins. The boy died hours after. He had fur, silver fur.”

“Does the girl-”

“She’s just like her except for her abilities. She sings and the wolves feed her for me.”

“The Corpse Cradle will crave her.”

“She will be able to support herself in time. Those first few years... she will need help in those first few years. These are my terms. You must promise her your protection.”

“Very well, luvvie. I’ll take her off your hands.”

“How will I find you again?”

“Just send her to me with chalk on her feet.”

“Thank you.”

“You may visit if you wish, my dear.”

The Unicorn said nothing.

“If you wish it, luvvie.”

“We’ll see, old woman.”

A few days later, the Witch brought a small girl into the woods. A baby who enchanted wolves and seduced the trees before she was even able to speak. She offered to pay but the girl’s father didn’t care for money. And so, the girl was brought up to live in the woods, to feed and placate all the eeries things of the world. Eventually, she became an eerie creature herself.

The girl never saw her father again.

{Exeunt}

The Corpse Cradle let out a hysterical cackle as I finished the story, thrusting mismatched fingers and toes out of separate fleshes.

“Laugh all you want,” I growled, “It got the baby to sleep.”

At mention of the baby, the cradle made a disgusting slapping noise with its teeth and one of its stomachs twisted inside out.

“Don’t do that, it’s unbecoming. Besides, it won’t get you anywhere. You will never touch him. I’ll kill you before you ever touch him.”

The Cradle groaned and flipped onto its side, its bulbous veins pulsing underneath their skin. I rolled my eyes, shifting on the dirty floor. The baby mumbled in his slumber and rolled around in his makeshift bed.

“I wish he was here,” I mumbled to myself, “I wish he could see the baby.”

I turned back to the Corpse Cradle, eyes narrowed.

“But he’s not. He’s never coming back and it’s all your fault.”

I waited for a laugh, or a groan; any signs of life. Instead, the creature stayed silent, feigning sleep.

Rolling my eyes, I clutched my baby tighter, pulling him to my chest like a shield.

“They’re not gonna get to you, Wasp Eyes. I’ll die before anyone gets you.”

We fell asleep, curled up together on the floor, and dreamed of wild winds and Unicorns. The Corpse Cradle watched us from the dark, its domain seeming more and more like prison bars as the hours flew by.