#OR ALTERNATIVELY! let my muses do this instead;;

[simplyanjuta]

Transferring animations between rigs (e.g. adult to child)

The steps below describe how to transfer an animation from an adult rig to a child rig but the method should be applicable for any transfer between human rigs.

However, I haven't tested other constellations. Let me know if you have any other tips, suggestions, corrections or run into any issues.

Many thanks to thepancake1 for helping figuring out the details that are not obvious at all 💛

I posted this little guide in Creator Musings for someone wondering about it but sharing it here as well.

Step 1)

Export the adult sim animation you want to transfer (=your source) to Blender.

Open a blend file with a child rig (=your target).

Append the adult rig with the animation to the child rig in Blender (File > Append > Select the blend file > folder "Object" > select rig and mesh there)

Select the animation from the adult rig for the child rig (select the child rig in the Outliner menu > select the scene tab in the properties panel below > in "S4S AnimationTools" select the adult animation as the "active animation")

This will get the job mostly done, but the animation will be offset and jumping around, as you see below. To correct for that you will need to set up several constraints as described in step 2.

Step 2)

As you see below the height of the ROOT_bind of the adult sim and child sim differ by about a factor of 0,7:

You can check the exact location in edit mode:

The ROOT_bind of the child rig is located at 0.6920, the ROOT_bind of the adult rig at 1.0112 on the Z axis, which gives a factor of 0.6920/1.0112=0.6843354430379747

With that information you now need to do the following (see image below for comparison, I also uploaded my blend file with the set up here):

In the Dope Sheet menu, select "Action Editor" and press "New Action" there to make a copy of the selected animation.

In the Dope Sheet Summary uncheck ROOT_bind (thus disabling the animation on the root bind for the child rig)

In the Transform menu type in -0,6920 on the X axis for ROOT_bind (thus resetting its position to 0 in the animation; can't properly explain why X axis is chosen here instead of Y but it has sth to do with how local rotations of a bone are determined according to pancake)

Create a "Copy Location" constraint for ROOT_bind of the child rig targetting it to the ROOT_bind of the adult rig (this is done in the Properties panel > Bone Constraints), set Influence to 0.6843354430379747 (factor calculated above), deselect "Z"

Create a second "Copy Location" constraint for ROOT_bind in the same way but this time deselect "X" and "Y" and instead select "Z" and check "Offset".

The animation will now play as expected:

Step 3)

All you need to do now is bake the animation (thus applying all the constraints you set up). Select Pose > Animation > "Bake Action...", then check "Visual Keying" and "Clear Constraints" in the pop up. The animation will now work stand alone and you can delete the adult rig.

Alternatively, if you use Pancakes animation tools, you just need to export the clips, the constraints will be applied automatically.

[aresrambles]

Mission Complete

logan howlett x fem!reader - in which you and the wolverine shack up in a shitty hotel after a mission. nsfw, afab terms, there's only one bed, 18+reader (always), “kid”, pining!logan, pining!reader (3911 words)

a/n: just one night with this man... just one fucking night. also yes, first wolvie post but defo not the last.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Logan pauses in the doorway, his gaze lingering on the double bed crammed into the corner of your shared hotel room. He steps inside, trying to appear nonchalant, but his eyes dart around, searching for an alternative—a sofa, a chair, hell, even a futon. Nothing. He sighs heavily, dropping his bag with a thud, his mind racing through the options. Sharing a bed with you? That’s out of the damn question. He could sleep on the floor, or better yet, maybe there’s another room available. Spending the night with you would be some sick kind of torture; he can’t restrain himself that long.

If you notice his hesitation, you don’t show it. You slip past him with a casual brush of the shoulder, making a beeline for the bathroom. “Dibs on the shower!” you call out, rummaging through your backpack for what he figures must be a change of clothes. Logan grunts in response.

“This mission wasn’t even that bad,” you continue, your voice muffled as you dig deeper into your bag. “We’re leaving early tomorrow, so you should probably shower tonight too. Don’t need you slowing us down in the morning, old man.”

Logan doesn’t dignify your jab with a response. Instead, he turns on his heel and heads back out, letting the door click shut behind him. He’s got a better chance of dealing with the front desk than with sharing that bed. He fishes out a cigar, biting down on it as he stalks down the stairs, striking a match as he goes. The no-smoking signs? They might as well be invisible to him. If they didn’t notice him before, they’d sure as hell notice the smoke.

When he reaches the lobby, it’s empty. Logan rings the bell—once, twice.

“Hello?”

Silence. He rings the bell again, harder this time.

“Hello? Anybody here? I was just—oh, for fuck’s sake.”

His eyes land on a neat little sign perched on the desk: ‘Front desk will be available again from 7:30 a.m. tomorrow.’

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he thinks, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke in frustration. What if there’s an emergency? What are people supposed to do, wait until morning?

Logan growls under his breath, stubbing out the cigar on the polished wood of the counter, leaving a smoldering mark as a parting gift. He storms back up the stairs, mentally preparing himself for a night on the hard floor. It could be worse, he muses, but only just.

Logan swings open the door to a piercing shriek, slamming it shut almost as quickly as he’d opened it, his hand still gripping the doorknob with a trembling force. Okay, it could definitely be worse, he thinks, his mind spinning.

Inside, you scramble to cover yourself, your heart racing as you realize what just happened. “Seriously? Do you not knock?” you shout, your voice laced with a mix of panic and humiliation. Your face burns as you try to process the situation, the mortification almost too much to bear. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” you mutter under your breath, hurriedly yanking on the oversized t-shirt you had planned to sleep in, your hands fumbling in haste.

“Why didn’t you change in the bathroom?” Logan shoots back, voice gruff, trying to mask his own flustered state. He grinds out his cigar underfoot, his mind replaying the moment he just witnessed, over and over. His ears burn hot, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t shake the image of you—shirt halfway over your head, bare and vulnerable, your skin still glistening from the shower. Fuck. He looks down, his jeans now uncomfortably tight, the ache in his groin a harsh reminder of why sharing a bed with you is a terrible idea. He can barely keep himself together when you’re fully dressed, let alone in a state like that.

You take a moment to steady your breathing, trying to push the embarrassment down. “You can… you can come in now,” you stammer, your back turned to the door as you pretend to be engrossed in your phone, anything to avoid facing him.

Logan doesn’t reply. He pushes the door open and slips inside, his movements quick and stiff as he heads straight for the bathroom, needing to put some distance between you both. The door closes behind him, and you let out a groan, burying your face in your hands. This moment was going to haunt you for a very long time.

So, you had a little crush on Logan. No big deal—just a harmless, schoolgirl crush. At least, that’s what you told yourself. But you couldn’t deny that you and Logan made a damn good team. So good, in fact, that the Professor had been pairing you two up for missions more often than not lately. And that silly, schoolgirl crush? It had started to grow into something much harder to ignore.

Your stomach churns as you roll over onto the bed, face buried in the pillows. It’s hard to admit, but part of you got a little turned on by what just happened. The searing embarrassment of having your body on display like that for the man who’d starred in so many of your late-night fantasies… It was almost too much to handle. You sigh deeply, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again.

But then reality sets in. Logan didn’t feel the same way—how could he? The way he bolted for the bathroom was proof enough. Why would someone like him ever be interested in you? You’ve heard the stories about Logan’s past flames, women who were nothing short of extraordinary. And here you are, just another teammate, a brief moment of awkwardness quickly forgotten.

You try to push the thoughts away, deciding it’s best to just turn in for the night. There’ll be plenty of time to torture yourself with these thoughts later. For now, sleep is the only escape from the swirling mess in your head.

It was true—Logan couldn’t get away fast enough, but not for the reasons you thought. As he stood under the scorching spray of the shower, letting the steaming water cascade over his body, his eyes remained fixed on the tiles beneath his feet. His regenerative abilities could heal wounds and stitch him back together, but they never quite banished the constant ache that clung to his bones, a dull throb that even the hot water could only barely soothe. But the ache in his abdomen? That was something else entirely.

Logan couldn’t shake the image burned into his mind, the sight of you, bare and beautiful, just moments ago. He gritted his teeth, his thoughts straying where they shouldn’t. How would those perfect tits look under the water with him, droplets sliding down your skin while he took you against the shower wall? Would you mewl softly, or would you gasp, nails digging into his back? Would you cling to him, or would your legs give out, collapsing into his arms?

He let out a rough grunt, twisting the shower knob to ice-cold in an attempt to snap himself out of it. The icy blast hit him hard, but he welcomed it, hoping it might douse the fire in his veins. He could touch himself—hell, the thought crossed his mind more than once—but not with you just outside, not when you were so close. It felt wrong, too damn wrong.

The cold water eventually worked its magic, easing the unbearable tension that had built up inside him, but it took nearly an hour to do so. Finally, with a heavy sigh, Logan stepped out of the shower, drying off and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. As he looked at his reflection in the fogged-up mirror, he knew one thing for certain: this was going to be a long, restless night.

Logan steps out of the bathroom to find you huddled on the floor, passed out in a tangled mess of blankets. He rolls his eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he carefully scoops you up and lays you down on the bed.

“I don’t need th’ bed,” you mumble, your voice so soft he almost misses it. He huffs through his nose, a fond smile creeping onto his face. “Where else you gonna sleep?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. You blink sleepily, trying to focus as the darkness settles around you, the only sound the gentle rustling of sheets as he adjusts you on the bed.

“Sorry about earlier,” he adds, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

You don’t reply, too embarrassed to form words. Instead, you turn your face away, hoping he won’t notice the flush of heat creeping up your cheeks. But in the stillness of the night, it feels like every little movement, every breath, is amplified.

“I don’t want you to sleep on the floor,” you finally confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “There’s space for both of us.” The words hang in the air, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of how close Logan is to you. You can almost feel the warmth of his breath against your face, the proximity making your heart race. But then, just as suddenly, he shifts away, the moment passing like a whisper in the dark.

It’s silent for some time, like he’s thinking. You almost speak up again but he beats you to it, just as you part your lips.

“Scoot up, kid,” he says, his voice gruff but not unkind.

You do as he says, moving over to make room, your pulse still thrumming in your ears. Logan settles in beside you, and the bed dips slightly under his weight. The space between you feels impossibly small, yet you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

Despite his shower, the faint smell of cigars still lingers in the air. It’s oddly comforting, grounding you in the surreal reality of the moment. You take a deep breath, trying to steady the wild thoughts racing through your mind. “Good night Logan,” you murmur, hoping that sleep will come quickly and spare you from the ache of wanting what you can’t have—craving the feel of his strong arms around you, the way his hands might tighten against your throat, and the sound of his voice purring dark promises in your ear.

“G’night,” he replies, his voice a low rumble as he turns away, leaving you back to back.

Logan is in Hell.

He can feel your warmth through the thin gap between you, every soft breath you take a reminder of just how close you are. His mouth had agreed before his mind could stop him, and now he’s paying the price. Lying next to you, with your soft body and those innocent eyes that see right through him, is torture. He wonders if there’s still time to slink back into that pile of blankets on the floor.

His muscles tense as he tries to push down the desire clawing at him, the instinct to reach out and pull you close nearly overwhelming. The scent of your skin, the way you whispered his name—everything about you is a test of his control. Logan knows he’s walking a fine line, and the longer he stays here, the harder it gets to keep himself in check.

His fists clench under the covers, every muscle in his body taut with tension. Logan can hear your soft, rhythmic breathing, the quiet rustle of sheets as you shift slightly beside him. The scent of your skin lingering in the air is really what’s holding him hostage. He tries to focus on anything else, but all he can think about is how close you are—how easy it would be to reach out and just touch you.

You lie there, eyes wide open, staring into the darkness. The silence of the room is thick, almost suffocating, but you know you’re not the only one awake. You can feel it- an awareness that runs deeper than simple intuition. All those missions together, all those nights spent side by side—you’ve learned to read him in ways that go beyond words.

Without needing to glance back, you know Logan Howlett is still awake. It’s as if his presence hums in the air between you, a silent energy that’s becoming increasingly impossible to ignore. There’s a tension there, a subtle shift in the way he breathes, the way he holds himself so still, as if he’s trying not to disturb the fragile peace of the night. But you can sense it: something’s bothering him.

You wonder if it’s the same turmoil that’s been gnawing at you, the same restless desire that has kept you on edge ever since you laid down beside him. The thought of Logan feeling the same way sends a shiver through you. It’s a strange kind of comfort, knowing that you might not be alone in this.

But then again, the Wolverine is a man of secrets, you know him well, better than most, but not as well as you’d like. Not in the ways that matter most right now. And yet, lying there in the dark, with only your thoughts and the steady rhythm of his breathing to keep you company, you can’t help but wonder if the walls he’s built around himself are cracking, just as yours are.

You can’t take it anymore. Tentatively, you let your hand drift to the space between you, your fingers brushing against his side. Logan stiffens at the contact, a sharp intake of breath the only sound in the darkness. Emboldened by his reaction, you let your hand slide further, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. You’re on fire, body moving on its own accord. This wasn’t you, it couldn’t be.

“Darlin’, you don’t know what you’re startin’,” Logan growls, his voice thick with warning and something else that you couldn’t quite identify yet.

But you do know. You know exactly what you want, and you’re tired of pretending otherwise. You turn onto your side, pressing your body against his back, your breath hot against his neck.

“I don’t know. Maybe I do,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly with anticipation.

Logan turns to you with a gentleness that catches you off guard, his hand sliding to your waist with a tenderness that feels almost reverent. He pulls you close, but it’s not with the raw urgency you expected. Instead, it’s slow, deliberate, as though he’s holding himself back by a thread. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense, searching for something, perhaps a final permission.

It’s you that closes the gap. The pressure of his lips against yours is gentle, but the undercurrent of need is undeniable, simmering just beneath the surface. You can feel the restraint in every brush of his lips, every measured caress, and it only makes you clench tighter.

Logan’s hands begin to roam, exploring your body with a hunger that has clearly been held back for far too long. He takes his time, fingers tracing every curve, every dip, as if memorizing the feel of you beneath his touch. His lips leave yours to trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he murmurs, “This is all I could think about out there, in the woods… how you’d feel, how you’d taste.”

His words send a rush of heat through you, a deep flush spreading across your skin. His hands slide up your thighs, teasing the edge of your shirt before slipping underneath, the warmth of his touch igniting every nerve. His fingers trace lazy circles on your skin, his lips moving down your collarbone, and you realize with a start that you’re trembling beneath him.

You find yourself arching into his touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips. Logan’s mouth curls into a smile against your skin, sensing your desperation. “‘s that what you want, darlin’?” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that vibrates against your skin, making you shiver. “You want me to take you apart, piece by piece?”

You nod, breathless, your hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you silently plead for him to stop teasing. “Please, Logan,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need. “Please…”

He chuckles softly against your skin, a dark, throaty sound that sends another wave of heat through you. Logan pulls back, his gaze heavy with desire as he sits up. You watch, breathless, as he reaches for the hem of his vest, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. The sight of his bare chest visible only by the flecks of moonlight, muscles rippling beneath his skin, takes your breath away (though this wouldn’t be the first time). You reach out, your fingers brushing against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch.

Logan watches you with dark, hungry eyes as he reaches for the waistband of his pants, removing them with deliberate slowness. He seems to take pleasure in the way your breath catches, in the way your gaze follows every movement as he slides them down, revealing the full, impressive length of his dick. Logan is big. It’s not just long, but it’s fucking big. Veiny, girthy and leaking precum at the tip, you can’t help but instinctively bite your lip.

The sight of him, hard and ready, makes your pussy ache for him in a way that’s almost painful. “Logan… please,” you whisper again, your voice barely more than a breath as you look up at him through your lashes.

His gaze darkens, a satisfied smile curling at the corners of his mouth as he finally gives in, his hands moving with purpose as he strips you of your t-shirt. The moment your body is fully exposed to him, Logan pauses, his eyes raking over you with a possessive hunger that makes your heart skip a beat. He takes you in, every inch of you, committing the contours of your body to memory.

When he finally positions himself between your legs, you’re trembling with anticipation, your body aching for him. But Logan doesn’t rush. He takes his time, guiding himself to your entrance, the head of his cock brushing against your wetness before he pulls your panties to the side. He watches your face, his gaze dark and intense, as he teases you, pushing just the tip inside before pulling back. Bastard.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice rough but laced with tenderness, his lips brushing against your ear. “Because once I start, I can assure you; there’s no going back.”

You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel him inside you. “I need you inside me.” you whisper, your voice heavy with desire.

Logan growls low in his throat, and finally, mercifully, he pushes inside you, filling you with a slow, deliberate thrust that makes you gasp. The sensation is overwhelming, the stretch and fullness making your head spin as he sinks deeper, inch by inch, until he’s buried to the hilt. He pauses, letting you adjust, his lips brushing yours in a soft, almost reverent kiss.

Then he begins to move, each thrust deep and powerful, driving you both closer to the edge with every stroke. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he moves inside you, his gaze locked on yours as if he’s taking in every expression, every moan, every gasp.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine. You do, your eyes meeting his in a drunken haze. You moan, your body trembling beneath him, the sensation of him inside you overwhelming. Every thrust, every movement, is perfectly timed, his body attuned to yours in a way that almost didn’t feel real.

“Logan,” you breathe, your voice trembling with need. “It’s so… much.”

He leans in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “I know, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice full of rough affection. “But you can take it,” He spits.

The praise, the way he’s looking at you, it all builds the tension inside you to a fever pitch. His gaze never wavers, holding yours as he moves deeper, harder. You can’t help the soft whimpers that escape your lips, your body tightening around him with each powerful stroke. Logan’s grip on your hips tightens, and he groans, his eyes darkening further as he watches you come undone beneath him.

“Don’t hold back,” he growls, his voice full of animalistic need. “Let me see you, I want it all.”

“Logan… I—” The words catch in your throat as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, your body arching beneath him.

He growls your name, a primal sound full of need, as he moves faster, harder, both you and Logan knew you were close.

“Come for me,” he whispers, his voice ragged, his gaze locked on yours.

And you do. With a cry, you shatter around him, the pleasure crashing over you like a wave, your body convulsing with the force of it. Logan follows you over the edge, his own release tearing through him as he groans your name.

When it’s over, Logan collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. The room is quiet now, the air thick with the scent of sweat and satisfaction. You nestle against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. The tension that had built up between you over the past few days finally snapped, and here you both are, tangled in the aftermath.

You shift beside him, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat. He turns his head to look at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes—a hint of unease, maybe even regret. “You sure this was okay?” His voice is rough, laced with concern, and that old nickname hangs in the air like a habit he can’t break. “Kid.”

You meet his gaze, holding it, making sure he sees you clearly. “Logan,” you say, your voice steady, “I’m not a kid anymore. You need to stop treating me like one.”

He exhales, a long, controlled breath, as if he’s trying to push down everything he’s feeling. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he admits, the words heavy.

A small, wry smile tugs at your lips as you prop yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him. “You’re not taking advantage of me, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Your tone is straightforward, cutting through his doubts. “I wanted this as much as you did. I think, maybe even more…” You trail off.

He looks away, eyes flicking back to the ceiling, his hand finding its way to your back, fingers brushing your skin in a gesture that feels almost hesitant. “I’ve done things... seen things. Sometimes I’m not sure what’s right anymore.”

You lean down, pressing a kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to make sure he feels it, really feels it. When you pull back, you hold his gaze, your voice low but firm. “I know what I’m getting into.”

He’s quiet, his hand tightening on your back just a little, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on. He doesn’t say anything else, just pulls you closer, holding you like you’re the one solid thing in a world that’s always shifting beneath his feet.

[anto-pops]

Beseech Me - Ominis Gaunt x Female! Reader

Summary: Ominis works too much, and your neediness results in you adamantly refusing to go to bed without him. He comes up with a torturous compromise.

Alternatively summarized as Ominis tormenting you while he works until you can't take it anymore. Hot and frantic on-the-desk antics ensue.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, rough sex on a desk, Dominis if you squint

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 as per usual !

“Please, Ominis,” you whined breathlessly, pinching your eyes shut as you fought the urge to writhe in his lap. “Please move– please.”

The man in question only chuckled under his breath, gliding his fingertips lightly up your spine as he maintained his charmed hold on his dictation quill. He made no move to heed your request, instead opting to keep working as if he weren’t buried balls deep inside of your tight heat. When you had asked him to take a break to spend time with you earlier, this was the absolute last thing you had anticipated. The only reason you’d agreed to entertain his idea was because you had convinced yourself that his restraint wouldn’t last– that he would cave and take you on top of the desk in the way you were desperate for him to– but evidently his self-control was unbreakable. 

You’d never been proven so wrong in your life. He was clearly deriving some sort of sick, twisted pleasure from toying with you in this manner, and it seemed like the more you begged, the slower his quill moved across the parchment. At this rate, you were certain you would be forced to sit on his cock until dawn. 

“You’re hardly in any position to be telling me what to do,” his warm breath ghosted over your neck, the barely there feeling of his lips against your skin making your head spin with arousal. “You were the one who couldn’t wait until I finished my work. Besides, I think this is a perfectly reasonable compromise.” 

Swallowing thickly, you dug your nails into his clothed shoulders in a bid to keep yourself still. The urge to rock down into his lap was insatiable, but you already knew that doing so would set you back irritatingly further. 

“Don’t move, or you won’t get anything from me,” were Ominis’ exact words. You didn’t doubt for a second that he would follow through on that promise if you let your impatience get the best of you. 

You wet your lips and cracked your eyes open to stare at the wall over his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the pulsing of his shaft within your walls. “It’s just– you’re always working. There’s always more for you to get done, and I get lonely. Please take a break– please fuck me, Ominis, I’m begging you.”

The blond’s fingers skirted down your back once more before moving to squeeze at the curve of your waist, as though he were about to relent. He didn’t, though, and instead opted to press a hot, chaste kiss to your pulse. “I do so like it when you beg…” he mused thoughtfully, dragging his free hand away from the desk to grip the other side of your waist. You couldn’t see his dictation quill, but you heard the scratching of its tip against the parchment slow down some, and your heart skipped a beat as you contemplated whether or not he was finally giving in. “You make it incredibly difficult to focus on important matters, you know that?” 

You opened your mouth to reply, but the sudden feeling of Ominis’ teeth sinking into your neck stole the words from your throat. He bit fervently against your flesh, sucking a proprietary mark into your skin with a throaty hum, and your shaky moan reverberated off the walls and caused your lover’s cock to twitch enthusiastically inside of you. 

Ominis would be lying if he said teasing you this way was easy. On the contrary, when you had walked into his office to ask him to come to bed earlier, he naturally wanted to agree immediately and forgo finishing his report for the Ministry entirely. Denying you the first time was a necessary evil, but then you had come up behind him to wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he’d been made aware of the silk bathrobe you wore with presumably little underneath. That revelation had shattered the majority of his restraint, and he knew then and there that he wouldn’t be able to pay attention to a lick of his work after that. 

You’d been all too eager to take him up on his offer of warming his cock, but little did you know he’d made the suggestion more for himself than for you. Beyond the euphoric sensation of being sheathed in your clenching heat, Ominis relished in working you over the edge with little to no effort– and Merlin, had he succeeded. Your labored breathing in his ear for the past half hour was like the finest of music, and your breasts pressing against his clothed chest was as intoxicating as Firewhiskey. 

In truth, he hadn’t gotten much work done for the duration of time you’d been sitting in his lap; he didn’t need sight to know there was a series of meaningless scribbles in the corners of his report, put there entirely to play up his charade. Everything about you was that distracting, and he huffed out a sigh as his baser urges finally won out against his responsibilities. 

Ominis laved his tongue over the freshly bruised bit of skin, leaving crescent shaped marks on your hips as he held you tighter to ever-so-slightly grind up into you. The feeling had you gasping into the crook of his neck as your forehead fell against his shoulder, clinging to the fabric of his shirt as you allowed the blond to maneuver you however he pleased. 

It took every ounce of willpower in Ominis’ body to keep his voice low and controlled when he murmured, “I suppose you have been well behaved… a little needy, but that’s nothing new.” He pushed your hips back before steadily pulling them forward again, and his eyelids fluttered shut at the sheer bliss the friction offered him. “I’ll fuck you, but you have to wait to come until I say so. Understood?” 

The mere thought of having to wait a second longer for him to move had you nodding brainlessly into the crook of his shoulder, and you ardently wound your arms around his neck to hold him closer as you cautiously rocked against him. At this point, you were willing to promise him anything if it meant getting what you wanted. 

One of his hands left your waist to wind through your hair, and when he tightened his fingers around the strands to pull you away from him, you couldn’t stop the surprised yelp that tumbled from your parted lips. “Use your words, darling, or I’ll leave you waiting for another hour. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” you gasped breathlessly, forced to address the ceiling since Ominis’ hand in your hair had your head tilted back. “I understand, I won’t come until you tell me to. Please, Ominis, I promise–”

“That’ll do,” he cut you off quickly, releasing his hold against your scalp to grip your hips once more. His lithely muscled arms held you flush to him as he stood straight, and the legs of his chair scraped loudly against the floorboards as he kicked it away to give himself more space. In one swift motion, Ominis deposited you on top of the desk and firmly pushed you down so you were draped on your back across the oak surface, his cock still inside you. His clever fingers set to undo the buttons of his shirt as the hand against your sternum trailed lower to tease around your wet folds, and a keening sound resonated from deep in your chest as he grazed his thumb over your sensitive clit. 

Much like his shallow grinding earlier, it wasn’t enough. Your voice was airy when you asked, “C-Can I touch myself?” 

His hand stilled momentarily before retreating, and he nodded down at you with a coy smirk on his face. “You’re a good girl for asking, so yes. Remember your promise though.” 

Your hand flew off the table to rub tight circles against the hyper-sensitive nub, and the relief that washed over you then was tantamount to perfection. It was the stimulation you’d been after since straddling Ominis earlier, and your eyes jumped up to watch as the blond shrugged his shirt off his shoulders and dropped the attire unceremoniously to the floor. His eyes closed momentarily when the attention you bestowed upon yourself caused your walls to tighten around his cock, and a shameless moan ripped from his throat at the same time he leaned forward to brace his arms on either side of you. 

“Fuck– you’re greedy for it, aren’t you?” 

The clipped edge to Ominis’ voice betrayed just how much he wanted this too, and your breathy laugh filtered up to him as you teased, “Am I to believe you’re not?” 

Those milky blue eyes of his narrowed as he processed your remark, and your mouth dried up when his expression shifted into something far more domineering than before. He lifted one of his hands to run the appendage up your stomach, then your chest, before eventually settling against your throat, and your eyes widened when he squeezed gently to convey his feelings on the snide comment. 

“Are you sassing me right now? Bold words from the woman who beseeched me to take her on the desk. Just for that,” he started to say, reaching between the two of you to grasp the hand you’d been using on yourself, “no more of this. You’re mine to play with now, darling.”

In a flash, Ominis pinned your hand against the rough wood above your head, holding you firmly in place by the throat with the other. You whimpered pitifully, opening your mouth to stutter out a string of apologies before he forbade you from coming entirely, but a hurried thrust of his hips interrupted your efforts. The force in the action had your shoulder blades scraping deliciously against the desk, and you moaned wantonly as Ominis worked to set a brutal pace. 

He spread his legs to accommodate his low hanging trousers before pounding himself roughly into your tight cunt. “Calling me greedy when you’re the one under me getting fucked senseless,” he growled with a gruff tone, squeezing around your windpipe to pull you harder onto his cock as he plunged in and out of you without mercy. “You couldn’t wait– didn’t want to wait. You’re as demanding and needy as they come.” 

His head tipped back and sent strands of his blond hair across his forehead as he bucked desperately into your overwhelmingly slick walls, and after being sheathed in your tight heat for so long without moving, he felt himself growing closer to his release as you clenched tellingly around him. Ominis abandoned his hold on your throat as he bent over you, raking his nails down your chest to pinch one of your nipples into a stiff peak, and your back arched off the desk for all of two seconds before the imposing man jerked your head to the side by your hair to sink his teeth into your shoulder. 

“O-Ominis, fuck–” you cried out abruptly, the combined feeling of his bite and the slap of his hips against your ass enough to make you see stars. The fire that ignited in your blood had you flushing from head to toe as you frantically sought more stimulation from him, but the whispers of your earlier promise haunted the far reaches of your mind like a ghost. You bit your lip and writhed brainlessly underneath him, fighting your looming orgasm with every ounce of restraint you could muster up. It was easier said than done; between Ominis’ frantic pace, his possessive hold on your hair, and the guttural, animalistic sounds he was making, you wanted nothing more than to finally fall over the edge into white bliss. 

Ominis knew it too, but he wasn’t about to give you what you wanted without a little more effort on your part. 

Releasing your hair to loop his arm under your rounded spine, Ominis mouthed wetly down the column of your throat before breathing his request against your sweat-slick skin, “Tell me what you want, love. Say the words.”

“I-I want to come– please let me come, Ominis, please.” Your breathless noises grew louder as Ominis licked a broad stripe along your collarbone before kissing and sucking another love-bite right below your clavicle. When he suddenly hauled your waist against him and slammed his cock up into you, your eyes crossed as you gasped for air and let your head fall back against the desk. The blond buried the cacophony of sounds falling from his lips against your skin, groaning at the way you arched hard and tightened perfectly around his throbbing member, and your thighs trembled bonelessly on either side of him. 

All you could do was let Ominis hold you, giving yourself over to him completely as he fucked incoherent pleas from your swollen lips and chased his own pleasure. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you fought your climax, and when your lover turned his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his pace quickened immeasurably further. His thick cock nailed you perfectly, each thrust he gave you pulling out almost entirely before he stuffed you full again, and the hand he didn’t have pinned to the desk flew up to grip his bicep as your body quaked with pleasure. 

It was too much to bear– you needed to come– almost as much as you needed to breathe. The overstimulating sensations were driving you insane, and when Ominis moaned long and loud next to your ear, you almost caved without permission. 

Almost. 

Ominis knew you were close. He could feel you fighting your finish as you writhed and angled your hips to meet his, and he could hear your cries of his name growing louder and louder until your voice was cracking on the end of your pleas of, “Please let me come, please Ominis– can I come?” He grazed his teeth up your throat towards your ear, and his fingers dug into the bones of your wrist as his grip turned irontight. The arm he had coiled around your waist followed suit, and after a few more hurried thrusts into you, Ominis acceded to your begging. 

“Come for me, darling,” he moaned directly beside your ear. “Be a good girl and come for me, let me feel you.” 

You didn’t even give him the chance to repeat himself. 

Arching clean off the desk, your breathing stopped entirely as you tensed in Ominis’ arms, and a strangled gasp caught in his throat when your sopping wet heat clamped down on his cock to seemingly suck him in deeper. His hand on your wrist fell away in an instant to slip between your flush bodies, and those nimble fingers sought out your clit with a practiced ease that sent your composure careening into oblivion. 

The added stimulation was damn near unbearable, but you had no way to escape his unrelenting hands as he held you through your climax. Your voice was a raspy, sinful melody in his ears, and Ominis knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “Merlin, you feel so good, love. So perfect for me– I’m close–” 

“D-Don’t stop,” you stammered in between gasps, your nails clawing into the wood of the desk in a bid to find purchase. “Gods, don’t stop Ominis, cum inside– please, please–”

He was all too happy to oblige you. With a throaty groan, Ominis lowered you so you were laying across the desk once again, then slipped his hands under the bent crooks of your knees to push your legs against your chest. Still hyper-sensitive from your ebbing finish, the new angle allowed you to feel more of your lover’s cock inside of you as he began thrusting into you harder and faster. The blond’s head tipped back as he shamelessly moaned your name into the open air, and before long the sound was drowned out by the slapping of his hips against your ass as he pounded into you. 

With your thighs nearly pressed together, Ominis felt impossibly thicker as his manhood reached deeper. Everytime he pulled back, the blunt head of his cock rubbed past your sweet spot perfectly, and your toes curled as you gasped and moaned, your senses completely overwhelmed by the overstimulation. Ominis’ grip on your legs turned bruising as his pace grew rougher, steadily losing the fight to maintain his rhythm– especially when your hands flew from the desk to brainlessly claw at his forearms. 

“Fuck, darling– fuck,” he grit through his clenched teeth, and with one final thrust into your pulsing core, Ominis came with a husky cry of your name. His hands slid to the front of your legs to pull you back against his hips to better grind against your rear, milking every thick bit of cum from his twitching cock. Hot spurts of his seed painted your insides and brought you higher than before, and your nails dragged down his arms as you keened breathlessly beneath him, wriggling back into his shallow grinding the best you could. 

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, but realistically could only have been a handful of minutes. You blearily blinked up at Ominis when he released your thighs to brace his arms against the desk, his chest rising and falling as he sucked down deep, shaky breaths, and you brazenly wound your trembling legs around his waist to keep him exactly where he was. The wet sound of his load squelching out around his cock had him groaning unabashedly— not-so-secretly in love with the sordid noises your cunt made when it was filled to the brim with his cum— and your eyelids fluttered shut as streaks of the white fluid dripped down your ass onto the desk.

When he lifted his head to gaze down in your direction, your stomach flipped at the lustful glimmer in his hazy eyes, and his hands skirted across the oak surface beneath you in search of your face. You angled your head to the side to meet him halfway, and he followed his arm as he bent down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss that said more than words ever could. He still elected to speak, however, amusement lacing his tone as his fingers traced the outline of your jaw. 

“I suppose you’re feeling rather pleased with yourself right about now,” he murmured softly against your lips, gently rocking his hips against yours and smearing his sticky seed across your rear. Thus far he had made no move to pull out, but you weren’t about to start complaining. Your current arrangement was beyond preferable to the torturous waiting game you’d been playing with him earlier. 

You tried and failed to fight the smirk that stretched across your face, and you chuckled coyly under your breath. “What makes you say that?” 

Ominis’ eyes darkened when he pulled away, and his hands trailed higher up the desk to wind in your unruly hair once again as he gathered the strands in his fists. Your eyes widened and your breath halted as he inhaled deeply– as though he were committing your scent to memory– before he nudged his nose against yours and grinned wickedly. “Because now I have every intention of stretching this ‘break’ well into the morning,” he vowed, and the revelation had your heart soaring while your stomach simultaneously flipped on itself. “How many more times can I fill you before it gets to be too much… let’s find out, shall we?”

Swallowing around the lump in your throat, your hands splayed against his pale sternum as you cautiously asked, “Shouldn’t you sleep? You have work in the morning…”

“To hell with sleep,” Ominis tutted disapprovingly at you, tightening his hold against your scalp. “You started this after all. I’ll make sure you’re the farthest thing from lonely tonight, darling.” 

If the way his cock seemed to revive inside of you was any indication, you knew with the utmost certainty that he definitely wasn’t lying. You didn’t know whether to be excited or afraid as you realized exactly what it was you’d inadvertently signed yourself up for. 

Merlin’s balls— you were in for it now. 

[cloudysarts]

Hi there!!

I want to say that your “Mabel’s muse” Au concept has absolutely called my attention, Bill mentions multiple times (Dipper and Mabel’s guide to mystery and fun and TBOB) how he likes Mabel’s personality and wanted her to be his ally…sooo the idea of an alternative time where he decided to approach her and where she trusts him and considers him as her friend is absolutely full of potential

I just think about how many stuff would change and how bill would be a little more genuine with her as he for once isn’t pretending to be an all-wise being and having to constantly rise the ego of Genius minds…instead he just has to party with a teenager whose idea of fun is quite similar to his…he doesn’t have to be the “supreme being” for once just a silly fella in order to earn Mabel’s trust

Also about how some episodes would have to take a completely different route:

maybe “Mindscapers” wouldn’t even take place…because I doubt that Mabel would trust a Bill if he went inside Stan’s head

Bill possessing her during the “sock opera”episode instead of dipper

Also don’t get me started on “the last Mabelcorn” episode. All the angst and horror that Ford would feel when he finds out about the whole friendship with bill situation reflecting himself on Mabel and probably Dipper being the one who search for the unicorn hair while ford tries to convince her that Bill isn’t trustworthy

I apologize for my rant but I seriously love your idea and sorry if it’s a bit confusing English isn’t my first language

I hope you have a nice day and thank you for reading this silly thing!!

first of all, your english is great!! second of all, i am SO sorry it took me so long to respond to this ask, it just made me so happy that i wanted to take my time to craft a response!!!!!! :DDDD (context: for people who don't know what my 'mabels muse' au is, you can check it out over here!)

you are practically SPOT ON with my ideas for this au!!!!!! but i'm gonna briefly run through all the things you brought up!!

first of all, yes, absolutely!!!! for bill, partner-ing up with mabel was a very nice change of pace. he likes stroking the ego's of genius', just for his own amusement, but he doesnt get the THRILL of just getting to PLAY very often!! he's a very childish being, at the end of the day. he enables mabel's selfishness, while getting to indulge his own, silly passions right alongside her!! and obviously, mabel LOVES being enabled <3 i imagine most of the dreams he gives her would make any normal persons eyes bleed

as for your episode ideas, you're mostly right!!! :) mindscaperers does, in fact, NOT happen in this au. in my head, i imagine gideon trying to summon him, only for an 'I.O.U' to appear where bill should be. he's busy hanging out with his favorite pre-teen!!! so gideon skips straight to his backup plan, aka, gideon rises ^^

for sock opera, i'm still on the fence a little bit. one of the reasons bill is hanging out with her at all in this au is because, unlike in the regular timeline, this bill actively wants stanford to be brought home. the reason mabel is important to him, is because he can see timelines where she presses the button in not what he seems, and keeps him from returning. in his mind, he has the greatest shot of success if mabel doesn't press it. in this au, she doesnt even hesitate to trust stan, because she has another, trustworthy voice in her head, yelling DON'T PRESS THE BUTTON. its 2v1! ANYWAY, the reason any of that matters for sock opera, is because he wouldnt have any need to possess anyone, because he has no interest in smashing the laptop! BUT.....i can see him doing it anyway. i figure, most likely, he gets mabel to (willingly) let him use her body, so that she can work on her sock opera while her body sleeps. i just imagine a bill-possessed mabel up at 3 am, covered in hot glue and googly eyes as he tries to work it out shjdkfhjsdkf. but......honestly, he probably destroys the laptop in the process :) just to fuck with dipper <3 not that dipper ever finds out its her. he has no idea that mabel was ever possessed/has no reason to suspect her, because at this point, he still doesnt think bill is real. that is....until the last mabelcorn.

IN the last mabelcorn, mabel reveals to ford that she does recognize bill, and that he lives in her brain! she says it really excitedly, at the table, while dipper kind of just rolls his eyes about it. to her, its vindicating, because it's the first time anyone has ever acknowledged bills existence. but to ford, its HORRIFYING, because he knows it isn't just a coincidence. he knows he has to do something, but he doesn't know what, right away. this is where our ideas differ a little bit, because i think that mabel still WOULD be the one retrieving the unicorn hair! ford just didnt tell her what the hair was for. ford sends her off, because he wants to brainstorm a way to get him out of her head, preferably without hurting her/her memories. he also plans to bill-proof dippers mind in the process, just in case mabel is too far gone already. the events here happen basically the same (with minor tweaks), but instead of dipper suspecting that ford is evil/bill-possessed, this is where he finally learns that bill is real at all. ford tells him about his backstory, and explains the REAL reason he sent mabel out to get the unicorn hair, etc etc. he loves mabel a lot, but hes not sure how to go about dealing with this situation yet. its not HER fault she trusted bill, but he knew that if he just tries to tell her hes evil, she wont believe him. shes known 'her muse' longer, and as of right now, he's never lead her wrong. just like what happened to him in the past...

i wonder how mabel would feel if she only heard the end of that conversation...

[buckets-and-trees]

Out of These Waters

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Mer!Bucky x Princess!Reader Word Count: 7.6k

Summary: Fathoms below the surface, the tales of merfolk aren't mere tales, but a reality - a society sworn to secrecy, protecting themselves from the dangers of humans. But one of them with a yearning for what's out there keeps being drawn further and further into the places he should not go. A gender-bent adaptation of The Little Mermaid to be told in two parts.

Content/Concept Warnings: liberties taken with Hans Christian Andersen and Disney source materials, pining, magic

Additional Notes: Written for the @buckybarnesevents Connect4 Alternate June-iverse to fulfill my C3 "Gender Bend" square, looping in a number of dialogue prompts for Navy and Roo's May Challenge over at @the-slumberparty (designated in bold), my second square of @buckybarnesbingo B2 "Hidden," and MERMAY (shush, I know it's coming in at the absolute last seconds before the whistle blows). Thank you @navybrat817 and @rookthorne for letting me shout at you and go on at length riddling out this plot! A/N 2: This is part one of what needed to be split into two halves of a thorough adaptation/retelling. I had NO INTENTION of doing anything mermay. But a few weeks ago mermay art started surfacing on my dash... and I was enamored. And then some of Mindy Lee's art was shared in this post, and I thought... but what if Bucky were a merman with ridiculously long, dark, flowy hair like that... And then there was this merBucky art by @haflacky, and @navybrat817 sent me this one, and, and, and... and I realized the square I had been most perplexed about how I would find something to inspire a muse for could work if I made Bucky the protagonist of The Little Mermaid. So if you've noticed that I leaned heavy into the reblogging of mermay art, NOW YOU KNOW WHY.

 “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Steve shook his head. “I can’t keep saying the same thing again and again, Buck.”

“Then don’t.”

“You know you’re supposed to guard from below, not above. The whole point of our guarding is to maintain secrecy, ensure humans never get too close.”

“Is it not better to know exactly what’s going on than to wait and react?”

Steve’s tail lashed quickly forward and back again, a further show of the frustration already written on his face. “But we both know that’s not why you sit at the surface.”

“There’s a wide balcony built into the side of the cliff the castle rests upon that’s only just above where high tide hits with a stairway that leads straight into the waters,” the words rushed quickly out of Bucky’s mouth. “It’s old. Why would they have direct access into the sea at the royal palace if not to interact with us?”

“How do you – no, I don’t want to know how you know that.” Steve planted his hands on his hips, just above where his dark blue scales spread down below his abdomen. “If I don’t know, I don’t have to lie for you. Your shoulders are darker than they should be, and your face is too sun-kissed.”

With that, he turned and began to swim away. Bucky looked at the tiny octopus resting on his left shoulder, tentacles wrapped around his bicep and stretching over his chest and back. He stroked the top of one of the tentacles and the beast slipped one of its arms underneath its body and slid out the three small trinkets Bucky had hidden there. “If humans are so bad, why do they make and collect such interesting trinkets?”

Instead of following straight after Steve, Bucky headed further west instead of south to the kingdom, and it wasn’t long before he reached a cave near the reef on the edge of the kingdom he’d discovered long ago during his patrols of the outer regions. It was in an undisturbed area on the outskirts of the underwater kingdom of Asgard, a place of complete solitude for Bucky. He shared the existence of this place with no one, using it as an escape, then a retreat, and now a regular spot to not only be away from duty and his ties to others, but also a place to keep his growing collection of human artifacts.

A cautious visit to the surface to observe humans as a point of reference was part of ritual tradition for all Asgardian merfolk as they reached the age of adulthood. Many used it for what it was – the point of reference for the life they were not a part of, knowledge of the dangers of the surface world, and were happy to have it over and done with.

Not Bucky.

He wasn’t the only one who the visit struck a chord with. Many of the merfolk found a call to join the royal guard after their visits – some out of fear to keep the sea safe, some out of a reverent respect for what lay beyond the safe border of the underwater. Others were struck by their habits – so similar to the merfolk, and yet different – and became collectors of the oddities that sometimes found their way into the sea either by shipwreck or simply being tossed overboard.

Bucky had yearned for his visit to the surface for years before it was his time, spurred on by a fascination that had sprouted from hearing about humans and the surface from his father who had served in the royal guard for many years before Bucky was old enough to join. His visit split the curiosity from a small crack to a chasm of questions and desires. He wanted to know so much more about the people he saw, how they lived, and yearned to even experience it himself.

Joining the guard and taking regular rotations of duty for protection monitoring allowed him the opportunity to breach the surface and observe as long as he was careful, and he was. As Steve had rightly surmised, today had been another of those days. He kept to every other part of the code and did not speak or interact with the humans on any level, the directive put into place by Bor Burison early in his reign, maintained throughout the entirety of Odin’s reign, and continued by his son Thor, their current king.

But it wasn’t the only reason he had joined the royal guard. Bucky was an explorer by nature, so he also took satisfaction in the standard undersea outskirt patrols, mapping and surveying different parts of the kingdom, and – most importantly – felt a deep sense of duty to the kingdom and serving the king, whom he felt a great amount of loyalty and friendship toward after growing up on the same training grounds together and fighting alongside on a few occasions.

So Bucky’s cave was more than just a place to keep the trinkets and artifacts he found during his excursions, it was a place where he could be himself, think, rest, or just be without any distraction. The alcoves held his treasures, which included some maps of his own creation on the sheaves of seaweed, and some things made for him or given to him by his younger sisters.

This place was some three or four leagues from the coast, and Bucky often saw the shadows of boats sailing above it. It was growing dark, so tonight he wouldn’t lay and look up at the passing shades. It was only his intention to stow away his new findings – a silver ring with jade stones and another instrument, either a tool or an ornament, with a thin silver shaft a little longer than the palm of his hand holding a row of teeth with more jade embedded into the smooth back of the shaft. As he studied it, running his fingers over the smooth back and the bumps of the dull teeth, wondering what purpose it could serve or if it was purely decorative, it began to collect hues of muted but colorful light. He smiled and looked up through the hole of the roof of his cave.

“The booming fire lights,” he murmured to his shoulder octopus, placing the object on a shelf, and shooting quickly up and out of his cave for the surface. Within just a few moments he was near the surface, and so he slowed abruptly, knowing it was always safest to emerge slowly into the air rather than burst forth from below, even if he did benefit from the darkness of the night sky. With the booming fire lights flying above, Bucky knew there was an even smaller chance for any humans to notice him, but his adherence over the years to very basic strategies made his venturing beyond the established boundaries sustainable.

The wind danced across his face as he emerged from the water, cool and swift, but not unpleasant. Wind was such an anomaly to him, he wouldn’t have thought it unpleasant anyway. He watched the colorful lights dancing against the intensely dark sky, seemingly darker than others he’d seen before, but his attention was drawn by something else as well. Not far off from where he was treading at the surface a large sailing ship was gliding along with loads of music and laughter spilling over the sides. Ships in this area making their way to and from the docks of the surface kingdom were frequent, but not usually at the leisurely pace and with such clearly joyful revelry. His heart swelled just a little, and he couldn’t deny the pull toward the celebration. He slunk back down just below the surface, low enough he knew the rapid movements of his tailfins wouldn’t emerge or even disturb the water and swam toward the vessel.

Bucky had seen the ship on approach earlier during his surface patrol. It’s one that usually sat in the harbor, had been gone for a few weeks, and only returning now.

A few moments after he resurfaced, just at the base where the ship met the water, the booming fire lights in the sky ceased, and a shortly thereafter the music died down. The ship was not far off from land, so Bucky assumed the crew had stopped to celebrate with the fire lights and was now starting to make final preparations to conclude their voyage, but his curiosity was not disappointed in venturing closer. Two humans were at the side of the boat conversing directly above him, one leaning a little over the railing, looking out over the waters, and their voices rang out clearly for his ears.

“The people will be proud,” a male voice said.

“I hope so,” your voice drifted down to him.

“They will,” your companion insisted. “Your first royal tour, and you were able to make tremendous diplomatic overtures in many of the kingdoms we visited. In particular, the resurgence of a more active alliance with Wakanda and opening a trade route with them – we hoped for the former, but no one expected the latter. Wakanda hasn’t traded with other countries for generations!”

“With Shuri as the new queen, she was ready to make new inroads, I just happened to be the first delegation they received.”

“I’m sure that was by design.”

“Do you think they’re using us?”

“No, your majesty, as I told you before we set out, I think they were receptive to our diplomatic overtures because as a new queen, she saw you on equal footing as a princess who will soon inherit this kingdom.”

You didn’t respond immediately, and Bucky heard you heave a heavy sigh before speaking again. “Less than a year.”

“You will be ready. You are ready. Shuri initiated the trade negotiations only after she had judged your character, your intelligence, and your tenacity – characteristics noticed by her brother T’Challa, as well.”

“Are you my Prime Minister or my match maker?” you chided.

Your companion laughed, and replied, “As your Prime Minister I do know that the people would certainly rejoice at the prospect of a royal wedding, but I don’t think there will need to be any interference on my part, Princess.”

“The people would certainly rejoice?”

“They would, and of course a happy people makes doing my job easier, but I would also rejoice. I would not have you face the prospect of the crown alone, your highness.”

“I don’t need a husband to rule.”

“No, I know that – only a moment ago I just affirmed how strong your diplomatic skills are. I only say that because I believe you deserve to have a partner to share it with – the weight of the burdens as well as joy in the successes. I’ve always been grateful for my companion in those ways, and your kingdom has benefited from their wisdom as well, for they set me straight when I need to see something differently and everyone else will tell me what I want to hear and not what I need to hear.”

You didn’t respond immediately. Bucky imagined you may have been sharing a look of some sort with your Prime Minister. “T’Challa was someone who gained my respect very quickly and,” you hesitated for a moment, “he was also perhaps someone I began to grow fond of.”

Something burned in the back of Bucky’s throat. He didn’t like hearing you speak of this Wakandan prince. He didn’t like it because your voice was not that of a stranger to him. He had heard you – only a few times but heard you all the same – when he had ventured near the palace on the cliffside, discovering that sunken balcony with steps right into the sea, and other places along that part of the shore. He assumed you were part of the royal household, but this was the first conversation he’d heard indicating you were the crown princess and due to take the throne. He wanted to know more about everything on land, but he was particularly intrigued by what he was learning about you.  

“I left with many indications that the Wakandans were interested in reciprocating a royal diplomatic visit presently, and that although Queen Shuri would be unable to leave in the near future, this was a priority moving forward to put stock in the alliance, and there is no one the Queen trusts more than her brother for matters of importance.”

“How conveniently fortuitous for your romantic hopes,” you responded, bracketing it with a soft, warm laugh.  

The wind suddenly picked up, there was a deep rumble in the air, and then the sky began to release water down on them. A storm. Bucky had encountered a storm at the surface before, but never with such a heavy pelting of water. The folk on the boat began shouting, and he could hear a bit of their hustling about above the sounds of the storm, but only just. His ears began to buzz, and there was a sharp metallic taste hitting his tongue. Bucky put his hand on the side of the ship to steady himself, starting to feel a little dizzy. The next second there was a blinding light that engulfed everything, with a sharp crack, and an even larger almost deafening crash at the end of it, and then a roaring sound unlike anything Bucky had ever heard before, followed by screaming and shouts from the ship’s crew. Bucky’s heart beat erratically for a few moments, and though the brilliant white light had disappeared, there was now a red and orange glow radiating from the front of the ship.

The splintering of wood, more shouts, and then a boom as the mast of the ship tumbled over, and then fell over the side, and into the water, Bucky just swimming out of the way in time. The whipping of the wind increased even more, bringing big waves that began to beat against the side of the ship, causing it to rock and creak.

Bucky retreated below the surface, and looked up seeing other things beginning to fall into the water, boxes, row boats, a body swathed with swirling skirts. Bucky’s body was full of adrenaline already from that wicked flash of destructive light, body feeling out of sorts, but he was horrifically transfixed on that body, waiting for the limbs to react, to move, but they didn’t.

Someone from the ship’s crew would see, they would leap in after to retrieve the displaced human.

Any second.

But what continued to appear at the surface, after another flash of light, were more object, planks of wood, and the body remained motionless, continuing to sink.

He couldn’t leave the human helpless.

Surging upwards, Bucky snaked his arm around the torso of the human, tucking it against his side, and then rushed to the surface. He looked around, scoping out the situation, but found nothing but more chaos. The human crew on the deck of the ship were distracted entirely in what was happening immediately around them, no one seeming to look over the side at all in search of a missing body because now the small boats were being cast into the water and all the crew were calling out, “Abandon ship!”

Bucly looked down at the head that had lolled back to rest on his shoulder and his heart stuttered because though it was dark and stormy and he’d never been anywhere near this close, he was certain it was you, the crown princess in his arms. Bucky groaned in distress. He was already in a compromising position, he couldn’t leave you here with little assurance that you would be rescued – certainly not without him helping you in your unconscious state – and each passing second mounted his concern over if you were even still alive. He brought a trembling hand to the side of your neck to see if he could feel a heartbeat. Do humans have heartbeats? he wondered, but assumed they must since merfolk like himself did, and humans and merfolk seemed to share near identical bodies from the waist up. Detecting a heartbeat seemed futile at this moment, tossing about in the sea, with his own hand unsteady.

Without another thought, he tightened his hold beneath your arms, swirled to face land, and franticly beat his fins to take you away from the wreckage, realizing there was nothing left to do but swim you to the shore himself.

Bucky knew the shore too well for a merman, far better than he knew ever to admit to anyone in Asgard, but his extensive familiarity meant in this instant he had no question of where he needed to go, and time was precious. Grateful for the hightide of nighttime, Bucky had to make very little effort to get the two of you up onto the balcony that lay at the bottom of the cliffs just below the palace – the very one he had spoken to Steve about only an hour before. Bucky gently shifted you onto your back on the smooth granite, cradling your head in one of his large hands. His other hand furiously brushed his long hair out of his face, then came up to your neck, seeking signs of your heartbeat again. It was faint, but he could feel it consistently pulsing under his fingertips.

Tension he didn’t realize he’d been carrying released in his chest.

You were still alive.

He’d felt dizzy with that streak of violent light, so perhaps you had been affected as well and may have also hit something in the water when you fell off the ship. He brushed his thumb softly over your cheek. “Come on, Princess, you need to wake up.”

Still unresponsive, he rubbed your cheek a little more firmly, then moved his hand down to squeeze your shoulder. He continued murmuring softly, trying to coax you back to consciousness. After a few more minutes, he finally felt you beginning to come around, noting the moment when instead of your head lying dormant in his hand, your muscles started to move and adjust. “That’s it, Princess,” he cooed.

You groaned and pressed your cheek into Bucky’s palm. His heart ached and raced, realizing the reality of his situation.

He hesitated for a split second, loathe to leave you, but he carefully eased your head onto the ground, removed his hands from you, and slipped away and back into the sea before you could see him.

As he swam as fast as he could, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, and he did not stop until he was home, only slowing to a speed that would not draw attention when he neared the outskirts of the underwater kingdom, knowing he could never even hint at his involvement in saving the life of a human. His mind raced with the enormity of what he’d done, and the only reason he slept at all that night was due to the exhaustion from maintaining such a high-speed swim over the long distance to return home.

His body was refreshed in the morning, but his mind was not. Bucky knew he had a day ahead of him filled with his duties as a royal guard, but every fiber of his being yearned to rise to the surface and seek you out – only to ensure you were safely recovering from the shipwreck ordeal.

“You’re not tricking anyone always taking the assignments to investigate new shipwrecks, patrol the outskirts, and monitor security near the surface,” Sam said as they left the command post for the guard in the golden palace of Asgard after the morning briefing and assignments.

Bucky shot him a sidelong glance. “What did Steve say to you.”

“Steve didn’t say anything to me,” Sam chuckled. “I know you, and this is becoming more frequent.”

“If someone has to take care of these responsibilities anyway, why not me?” Bucky tried to keep his tone casual, adding a shrug.

Sam didn’t respond. Bucky looked over at him.

Sam put up his hands nonchalantly. “If you say so.”

Bucky stopped and turned to face him. “Say what you feel so compelled to say.”

“I don’t think Thor will be as angry as Odin would have been about your human obsession, but he won’t be happy about it. The laws are there for a reason. You know that.”

Bucky shook his head in irritation. “I’m not in any danger.”

“I’m not scolding you, Buck, but Odin would have had your fins nailed to the floor.”

The little octopus on Bucky’s shoulder squirmed. Bucky stroked it soothingly. “Thor’s not Odin, but no one is going to tell Thor anything because there’s nothing to tell.”

“Just be careful.”

“You also volunteered to mapping part of the uncharted reef with me today,” Bucky reminded him.

“Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t get lost or lose track of time,” he said with a grin.

Bucky laughed. “Come on then, morning light is best for scoping out the reef.”

The day was spent adding to the empty edges of the map of the reef. Thor had commissioned further exploration and completion of the maps of their land and the surrounding seas, placing great importance on better knowing the kingdom and her neighbors. Scratching the new lines and shadings into the sheaves of seaweed brought its own sense of satisfaction, and it did fill his mind for the day and distract him for the most part. He returned to Asgard with Sam at the end of the day, no detours. He ate with other members of the guard before returning home. He slept, but then he woke before dawn, leaving in the darkness, and began swimming to the shore. Would you be at the seaside balcony at the crack of dawn? He didn’t expect so, but he would scope it out all the same, and he was sure if he did not see you he could safely sneak to the port docks and hear news of you – now that he knew you were the crown princess, any word regarding the return of a royal after a shipwreck and her wellbeing would be the gossip of the morning.

Merfolk and humans were no different in that way, Bucky thought with a smirk.

The sun was only just sending its rays over the edge of the horizon when he reached the shore. You were not at the seaside balcony of the palace, and he only lingered for a few minutes, eyes fixed on the spot where he’d held your face in his hands.

Two mornings after the shipwreck, the docks at the port were still busier than Bucky normally saw them. He had to stay further below and only came up to the surface twice, but that was all he needed to hear that the people’s princess was recovering without anything more than a nasty bump to the head and exhaustion.

He swam past and surfaced near the balcony again before heading back for another day of Asgardian life and duties. You weren’t there, of course.

But that night, you were.

He watched you watch the stars until you retired for the night.

Three mornings later Bucky was off for the day, so he ventured back to the shoreline mid-morning, hoping he would catch you at some point during the day. He had encountered you there a few times after all.

And you did not disappoint.

You sat on the top step that led from the balcony down into the water, pulled up your skirts, and began loosening the laces of your shoes. Soon you had them off along with whatever fabric was covering your feet beneath the shoes – he wondered what those were called. They looked delicate. Then you scooted down to sit a few steps lower, letting your feet dangle in the sea. Bucky dipped far below the surface and swam closer to the wall of the cliff. When he came up again, he slipped up onto an outcropping of rocks out of your view, leaning his bare back against the cliff face. He was only meters away from where you were still sitting. He could hear you idly raising and lowering your feet out of the waters as it was a very calm day for the tide.

After a long while, he heard you sigh. “Everyone thinks I’m crazy, but I know I didn’t make it up. You aren’t a miracle or a myth, you’re proof the merfolk aren’t extinct and that they’re not dangerous.”

Bucky’s heart leapt into his throat. He thought he’d been silent or quiet enough with the other sounds of the sea.

“You’re out there somewhere. I’ll find you.”

He did not move until he heard you leave, then he slipped into the deep blue, a rushing in his ears, heart pounding, resolved to keep his distance.

Only that resolve didn’t last long. He was drawn to you as much as he was to everything above water, and within a week he was back, but he came at the end of the day. You weren’t there, but he hoisted himself back up on the same outcropping of rock at the base of the cliff near but still out of view of the steps. The view of the sunset was stunning, steeped with deep reds and oranges, and sitting there taking in the sight you might have been able to see was enough.

And better.

This was safe.

Then he heard the faint sound of voices far off, steadily growing, then footsteps descending on the stairs. Two sets of footsteps, and then finally he could make out the voices, recognizing both – yours and that of your Prime Minister.

“Everything is ready to receive the royal envoy. Prince T’Challa sent this letter ahead for you.”

“Oh.”

Bucky registered a hint of something in your voice even in just that simple sound alone that pricked at him.

“Oh,” your tone was even warmer.

“A good letter?”

“That is not really your business, Prime Minister,” you laughed, and he chuckled.

“A royal alliance in absolutely my business,” he said, though the Prime Minister’s tone was clearly in jest, ultimately content in deferring to your rank and privacy.

“I will say it is certainly a letter anyone could be fond of,” you offered in a gentle voice.

That consumed Bucky immediately. He didn’t want this prince to lay claim to your heart and draw this kind of affection from you. He wanted that chance. His tail twitched with his impatience, splashing up some water. Bucky instantly stilled, pressing back against the cliff face.

But neither of you seemed not to notice.

The conversation turned to more business about the visit, and Bucky continued to listen, wanting to hear your voice, but none of the words registered in his head.

After a while, Bucky realized the voices had stopped, but he had no idea when that had happened. The sun had disappeared completely, the celestial bodies of the night sky had come out and were shining brightly against the darkness. The position of the moon indicated it must be near midnight. Bucky groaned, his shoulders and back a little stiff after sitting so long in one attitude against the rocks. You must have gone away and to sleep ages ago, and he ought to follow suit. He pushed up and off the perch, making a small dive into the sea to return home.

What he did not know was that you had stayed long after dismissing the Prime Minister, watching the sky until the very last rays of the sunset, but as you were about to retire had heard the twitching of fins against the water close at hand and out of curiosity climbed down the steps to the water’s edge to investigate. You had seen only the end of a set of large, shimmering black and gold fins and the lower part of a black-scaled tail. Your breath had stopped, and you’d had to stifle your sound of shock. You hadn’t dared to get to the bottom of the steps and look around the edge, certain that if it was one of the merfolk you’d heard the myths of your whole life that they would retreat immediately if they knew you’d seen them, but you had moved as far to the other end of the balcony as you could to see more of that glorious tail – but still not revealing much more to your view – and waited.

And all your patience had been rewarded when you saw the arms, head, shoulders, and torso of a man dive into the water, magnificent black and gold tail with intricate and powerful fins following him in all his glory.

Now you knew they still existed.

No, Bucky knew none of that.

Bucky’s mind is singularly fixed on all the things he can’t have – things he’s wondered about since hearing about the human surface world as a merchild, things he saw during his observatory rite of passage visit when he turned sixteen, things he’s seen over the years since then through his own exploration above and below the surface, and the everything just out of his reach now with you. He goes first to his grotto, and here the number of things he’s collected from the human world far surpass the number of things he knows about you, but he can’t deny the draw he feels. His chest aches, and yet he’s forbidden from doing anything – if there even were anything he could do.

Being among the relics of the human world only serves to agitate him more, and so he leaves and makes his way to his home cavern in the city of Asgard. Sleep is impossible. He swims short, agitated lengths back and forth within his humble dwelling.

He has a few relics here, too, but these are things passed down from his parents, including his grandfather’s combat spear. The royal armory holds weapons and all manner of protective outfitting for his majesty’s armies, but long past are the days when the kingdom issued gear to every soldier and officer. Many under the early days of Odin’s reign were issued personal pieces as a standard, but that ebbed away as the need and dangers faded or were conquered. The height of need had been in the early days of Bor Burison’s reign – Bor who had enacted the stringent regulations against fraternizing with the humans or spending any significant amount of time at the surface.

Bucky had naturally collected many pieces of the history of their people in relation to the humans, but he had never visited the royal archives. He’d always made at least a modicum of effort to keep his interest in everything looking exactly like that – an interest and not an obsession – and a visit to the archives to read and study the records of their interactions with the humans would not be seen as an idle interest.

Now he didn’t care. He needed to know everything; perception be damned.

He swam off some of his anxious energy making laps around the borders of the city surrounding the palace until dawn when the elders would open the archives. It was a collection that spanned art, statues, treasures, and artifacts, in addition to the records of the merfolk of Asgard. Some of their history had been created in murals along the walls of this hall, but there were also panes of etched glass and titanium for important long-term records, as well as various scrolls and sheaves of tough seaweed for maps and other documents. One of the elders pointed him to the area most applicable to their past dealings with the humans, and he started from the most recent records and started to make his way back through Asgard’s history. Bucky collection of events even more complex than he’d known began to coalesce as he combed through the accounts of things that played out over a few years, ending in a bloody battle between Buri – Thor’s great-grandfather – and the human king and his navy with many lives lost on both sides, including Buri, leading to Bor’s untimely ascension to the crown at an age earlier than anyone expected, and Bor instituting all the laws, principles, and practices to eliminate any contact with the surface world, deeming too much had been lost and that humans had become too dangerous to continue any dealings whatsoever if they wanted to keep the people of Asgard safe.

But Buri’s had inherited peaceful ties – positive ties even – with the folk on land, ties that had been forged by his father and grandfather before him. To say this was intriguing to Bucky would be an understatement. These ties were entwined with the selkies of Jotunheim.

Odin had beat back the selkies from their waters.

All except one.

Bucky knew of a selkie still in existence.

Exiled, but Bucky was fairly sure he knew where he could find the long-forgotten adopted brother of Thor, rumored now to be the warlock of the seven seas.

Bucky was questing for information, for answers, but tales of the things the former prince who had embraced his magic had done since leaving the gleaming halls of Asgard were whispered, and Bucky began to wonder if perhaps he could get more than he set out for by paying him a visit.

He need not have worried about finding him. As one of the pre-eminent cartographers on the royal guard, Bucky knew where to begin his search, but once he got to that point on the fringes, there seemed to be a myriad of elements to point him straight to Loki’s dark cavern.

There must have been enchantments to alert the sea warlock of his approach because Loki was waiting for him at the entrance to his lair. Bucky took in the sight of him as he drew near. Odin had invoked powers to conceal Loki’s true nature as a selkie and disguised him as a merman when he brought the infant into the royal family, and though Loki’s rebellion came during the early years of Bucky’s service in the king’s guard, Bucky had never seen him in his true form.

He was not that different from what Bucky had known him as before. The marked difference was that instead of scales and fins, his lower half was covered in the pelt of a seal, still beautiful and shiny in its own way, but with flippers instead of fins, and it was a skin that he could shed – for legs above ground. That and his flesh skin seemed sallow, but his eyes were still sharp.

“James, after all this time, and now you come to visit me,” he crooned. “You must be truly desperate to come to me for help.”

Bucky furrowed his brow, not anticipating this direct nature, and he was wary of what it meant.

In Bucky’s half-second of hesitation to answer, Loki’s face took on a dark grin and he continued his overture. “For that’s why you are here, is it not? No social calls on your part since I left the palace – not that we were particularly close. I didn’t expect overtures of our continued acquaintance since leaving Asgard, but seeing you swim into my waters at any point was certainly not something I ever predicted would happen.”

Bucky hovered near, but not within reach of the warlock. “It’s true I come to you with particular needs, but I harbor no bad blood for the past.”

Loki nodded, then turned and swam inside, calling, “Come in,” over his shoulder.

Bucky followed.

The circumstances surrounding the final confrontation that took place between Thor, Odin, and Loki during the latter’s rebellion were not public knowledge, and though Odin died that same day, Loki’s departure from the kingdom was a self-exile, and Thor and the then Queen Frigga maintained that Odin did not die at Loki’s hand and forbade anyone pursue the fallen prince. Thor had assumed the throne, Loki had wandered in mystery, as yet not returning to his once-home, and had settled now in this place.

They swam through a tunnel toward a faint glow ahead. Something continually reached out, whisping across Bucky’s skin as they passed, and he was unsure if it was plant or creature, but he had the distinct impression these were sentient and intentional touches. Bucky was forced to endure at the pace at which Loki progressed ahead of him.

They emerged into a massive cavern aglow with filtered light streaming in through gaps in the ceiling and glowing plants that cropped up in patches along the walls. One of the cavern’s faces was riddled with nooks and alcoves that were packed with bottles, pots, artifacts, tools, supplies – it was all an eerie collection Bucky imagined had been clearly amassed with meticulous obsession, knowing the habits of being a collector himself. Each spot his eyes darted to held both familiar and unfamiliar items.

Loki stopped, floating near the middle of the lair, and Bucky followed suit. The selkie swirled languidly around to look at him, and though his posture appeared relaxed, Bucky could see the true scrutiny in his eyes.

He kept the silence, eagerly sowing the anticipation, before he spoke again. “Know that I entertain you only for the sake of my own curiosity.”

Ah, he understood, at least I know the approach. He opened his mouth, ready to unfold his explanation, but Loki abruptly raised his hand, and Bucky thought it was only to stop him, but then something entwined both of his arms out of nowhere, gripping him and drawing him nearly chest to chest with the warlock.

“No, no. this will be more satisfying for me than your words,” Loki said, then put his nimble fingers to Bucky’s temples, and closed his eyes.

Bucky winced as almost immediately he wasn’t in physical pain, but he swore he could practically feel Loki sifting through his head, extracting what he wanted from the memories that flashed rapidly across his mind – Steve, maps, the records, conversations with his father, pieces of his artefact collection, his trips to the surface, the shipwreck, and you. So many thoughts of you. Bucky tried not to move, not wanting to show any weakness.

“Mmm, I see,” he said, finally releasing him both from his own touch and from the grip of the enchanted seaweed.

Bucky was only too glad that Loki retreated. It was only a meter, but any inch of distance was relished after feeling so exposed. There was no taking back the flashes, but at least most of the concentration had been on the human things, a few moments of you, but not every memory he had of you.

He let the quiet permeate the space between them again. Then he turned around, a smile on his face, and it was nothing but unsettling, too relaxed for Bucky’s liking.

He knew he was being toyed with, but he had to play whatever game Loki was setting up.

Finally, he spoke again. “Clearly the way to get what you want is to become a human yourself.”

“And you can do that?”

“I fortunately knew a little magic, and my talent and knowledge have only grown in my exile, so I could, but what in the vast ocean is in this for me?”

“The challenge,” Bucky responded, employing a slight incline of his chin – a tactic he had used with others to inspire or sway them over the years.

“Oh, but I want more than that, and so do you, you want this with everything in your soul.”

Bucky could feel how much Loki was enjoying this. Loki literally had the power, but that put him in a position that Bucky still knew he could use in this game.

“Here’s my offer: you’ll get your legs, you’ll be able to breathe on land – so not under the sea – and by the time the sun sets on the third day, if you haven’t procured true love’s kiss –“

“True love’s kiss?” Bucky interjected.

“But, of course! That’s what you want anyway, is it not?”

The smirk on his face riled Bucky even more, but he was determined to appear as unaffected as he could, even though he knew they both knew Bucky was keyed up to great heights.

“Yes, you are intrigued by the life on land, but you’re here because you want the heart of that princess.” Loki pauses and tilts his head, demanding the admission.

Bucky nodded.

That kindled a spark of something more in Loki’s eye.

“You said I have until sunset on the third day. What happens if I don’t succeed by then?”

Loki shrugged. “You turn back into a merman and you serve me for thirteen years.”

Bucky blinked before responding. He thought he would say for life, but only thirteen years?

Loki chuckled. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, but I may not want you longer than that. Now, if you succeed, you remain a human and live a human life up there with your beloved princess for the rest of your days,” he concludes, almost bored by the end.

“No interference from you in the future?”

Loki waved his hand as he replies, “No interference from me. But,” and his tone switched, fully engaged again, “we haven’t discussed the matter of payment.”

“You can have any of my gold or treasures.”

“I have enough of my own. I want something more unique. I’m not asking for much, just a token really, a trifle.

He paused.

“What I want from you is your voice.”

“My voice?” Bucky’s mind worked quickly, trying to work out what he was missing if he agred to give up his voice. Aside from the logistical inconvenience and disadvantage it would present on his part, he can’t imagine what Loki would gain by having it – it seemed to be an eccentric choice.

“Your voice.”

Why ask for that? Bucky’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Clearly it was something to further taunt Bucky and entertain Loki.

Then Loki unexpectedly seemed to soften, relaxing his posture. “I understand perhaps more than you anticipated. I empathize with your unrest, the way you yearn to know a part of you that’s been denied.”

They didn’t have the same circumstances, but Bucky sees where they could draw parallels with each other.

“What you’re asking would enormously alter your destiny. Your voice is almost nothing if what you truly want is to become human and live out your days with that princess your soul longs for.”

Those words were spoken without flair. Bucky only needed to agree to get what he wanted – he couldn’t have crafted a better scenario considering what any of the alternatives could have been. It was a bizarre barter – his voice for a chance at life out of these waters – but it did seem to fit the weight of what he was being offered.

“Now, do you agree to the terms?”

“I agree.”

Loki’s wide smile reappeared, and he turned away to fetch and summon different items from his wall of endless supplies, and soon there was a round glass jar between them, just larger than the size of a head with a small spout meant for pouring things in and out. Vials, jars, and some loose elements hovered near Loki’s shoulders, and he waved his hand twice in a circular motion beneath the glass jar. The water there continued to stir, and Bucky could feel the warmth it generated. Loki began to add ingredients into the spout, and they swirled in the orb. Loki murmured a few short incantations, and there were cracks and rumblings from the concoction.

“Put your palms against the glass and hum until you can’t hum anymore,” Loki instructed.

It was yet another peculiarity, but Bucky didn’t question. He placed both hands as indicated and started to hum. He could feel the heat immediately, and as he continued to hum, he could sense the exchange as his voice was drawn continuously from the depths of his chest and magic slithered through his veins. Once he felt it seep into every inch of him, the energy surged suddenly. His throat seized, there was a searing pain through his lower half, and he wanted to withdraw his hands to clutch at his neck, to kick away, but whatever magic was brewing prevented him from pulling back at all. His chest tightened painfully. There was a flash of light that rivaled the violent flash in the sky that struck the ship the night of the shipwreck, the searing pain burst in his tail, and then all at once he was released.

The discombobulation was overwhelming. His powerful tail and fins were gone, and he realized how unsuited for this setting he was, the new limbs altogether inadequate, and his lungs were desperate for air. He kicked and surged upward, but he’d even lost the slight webbing between his fingers that had helped him glide more quickly through the water.

Loki’s laughter followed him as he made his escape from the depths of the sea.

The octopus companion that had peculiarly clung to his shoulder on one chance expedition and rarely let go unfurled itself and diligently aided Bucky in swimming to reach the surface where he burst into the air, gulping in lungful’s of air. It was crisp and immediately quenched all of the dread and desperation that had filled his being.

Then the next breaths soothed and then invigorated him. He laughed with relief.

Only there was no sound.

For he had no voice.

to be continued...

A/N 3: SHUT UP, YOU GET A THIRD AND FINAL NOTE FROM ME TO YOU! This - clearly - is part one of two. I dove DEEP into this (shush, puns) and to tell the story I know I will feel satisfied with in the end, I got to this point and joked that maybe I should just stop here - who needs to resolve any plots, he got his legs, right? - but then the joke became the option I genuinely liked because I was getting overwhelmed by how this story had grown. And so, dear readers, keep a weather eye on the horizon for merBucky to reappear with the tide.

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.9

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

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masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

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age 27 // 3rd year - assistant physician

17th July

Barcelona, Spain

The buzzing of the phone in the middle of the night startled Cassandra. Not that she was sleeping. It was way too warm, despite the open window, but an ominous feeling took over her nevertheless as a late-night call rarely meant something good.

Sitting up straight in the dark bedroom, she rubbed her eyes and reached for it. Her heart picking up in pace only more when reading 'cool guy' on the display, though, worry getting replaced by excitement instead.

She swiped to answer, hushed but eager. "Tae?"

There was a beat of silence, then she heard his breath. "Hey, angel."

With just one simple, soft word she felt all the tension she'd been holding inside her body the past days dispel. She'd missed his smooth voice and closed her eyes, letting it soak through her.

Sometimes he'd still use the old nickname and call her 'Doc', but his new one surely was her favourite.

"Thought you might be out."

He heard something of a laugh leave his girlfriend. It was quiet, but it was still there. He was joking, of course and she knew that. It was easy with him after all, always had been. Even if they hadn't seen each other in a month.

"What, at 2 in the morning? No way."

Taehyung chuckled along and her eyes fluttered open at the sound of his deep chuckles, the room suddenly feeling lighter. She'd missed the sound of his laugh.

"Then, sorry for calling so late."

"It's fine, I couldn't sleep anyway," she told him honestly, feeling almost coy and suddenly very aware of her breathing. Her chest falling and raising steadily.

"Me neither."

Silence followed, and she felt a small twinge of panic. Did anything happen? Did he realise he had nothing to say? Please don't hang up, she thought desperately, holding as still as she could underneath the thin sheets.

"I bet I have you beat," he finally said, sounding somewhat amused. And she relaxed. "We were back by eleven. Yoongi was in a terrible mood."

"Oh, how so?" she smiled quietly, adding, "Sorry I'm whispering. I recently discovered I can sometimes hear the neighbours' talking from my bed so I assume they can hear mine as well."

"It's okay. I like it," he whispered back with a smirk, only to still when another question crossed his mind. "Wait, does that mean they heard us when.."

Her lips folded, stifling a giggle as she'd wondered the same thing when discovering that fact. "They might have."

"Oh." His embarrassed chuckle made her smile widen. Taehyung hummed on the other line then, musing for a moment. "Guess we have to be careful next time."

"Mhm. But anyway, why was Yoongi in a terrible mood?"

"He was trying to play it cool, you know?" Taehyung said then, groaning slightly. "Almost blew his cover."

Cassandra snorted softly. Yoongi wasn't exactly discreet when it came to hating their disguises, according to Taehyung. Him and Jimin arguing about it sometimes. It was quite funny to her, two grown men bickering like school kids.  

However, she held herself back from asking what disguise it was and why, knowing it'd be pointless to do so. 

"Hope he and Jimin didn't argue."

"They did, but already made up. They can never stay mad at each other for too long," Taehyung reassured.

She hummed. Realising him reaching out so soon again after their last call had to be a good sign as well.

"Mhm, I assume the job was successful despite that then?"

He huffed in mock-offence only for a boisterous smirk to settle on his lips. "Of course!"

Cassandra smiled to herself, pressing one side of her face further into the pillow.

It always felt nice to talk to him like this. It felt normal, as if they were never apart. As if he lived just across the city. After years of knowing him it was normal to her anyway. The only thing that had changed was the fact it was even more annoying now that they were in an actual relationship. When they were only friends it'd been a pity not hanging out as much, surely, but now it was simply insufferable.

"So.. it's safe to say you didn't really have fun tonight," she concluded then as a joke. Earning an agreeing hum from him.

"No," he simply stated then, "I was forced out and promised a good time, but instead I was surrounded by bickering and debauchery."

A dry laugh left her lips – loudly, unable to help it really. Forgetting about her neighbours possibly hearing her in the middle of the quiet night.

"I guess the latter is referring to Jimin."

"Of course. He made flirting with two hostesses at the same time look easy." Both burst out laughing before Taehyung's tone softened again."Should have been with you instead.."

She had to ignore that, she just had to, otherwise she'd end up doing something foolish like asking him to drop everything and fly over to her. She'd never do that, her pride never allowing that anyway. But she couldn't trust herself a lot after 1am so who knew, she might become weak if she cave into it.

"Pity," she replied instead with a much calmer voice, more appropriate to the late hour, "Did you force him to stop?"

"Had to, otherwise we couldn't have proceeded with the plan," Taehyung huffed out a laugh, "He probably would've had the time of his life right now if it wasn't for me."

A lie, they both knew. Taehyung had told Cassandra everything about his friend being head over heels in love with some other thief who crossed their paths sometimes. Cassandra always found the stories involving Arabella exciting and entertaining, much to her boyfriend's despise really. Of course, she understood his reasons hence why she'd try keeping her amusement over them at bay.

"He didn't think to share with you?" she teased as she stared up to the pitch-black ceiling.

"Me?" he asked, surprised, and for a second she worried she'd gone too far when he continued, "No, he knows I'm not interested in anyone but you."

There was the beat of a silence before both attempted to say the other's name.

"Tae -"

"Cas -" He rushed forward as she held back. "I've missed you." He breathed. "Saying that out loud just makes me miss you more."

Cassandra's heart felt like expanding, drumming against her ribcage. He kept his promise of being vocal about his feelings from now on and it meant everything to her.

She heard him laugh at himself then. Feeling silly. "Do I sound pathetic?"

"No," she insisted, eager for him to know. "No, Tae. I miss you, too." She wanted to tell him everything that had been on her mind, but over the phone like this felt insufficient.

"I called you because I wanted to hear your voice. I thought of you tonight and just wanted to -" He cut himself off with a sigh. "I wanted to pretend everything was normal."

"Everything is normal, what do you mean?"

"I mean actual normal. Like.. like we're a normal couple and I can just see and call you whenever I like."

Without realising, tears had welled up in the corners of her eyes when allowing his words to sink in.

Yeah, that would be nice but it is what it is, she thought. After all, she knew what she got herself into when allowing him into her life. And it wasn't like her own job would've allowed anything 'normal' anyway, with its irregular schedules or being on standby.

One single hot tear slipped away from her eyes then, getting absorbed into her pillow. She blamed the late hour for his voice and words making her so easily over-emotional.

And without realising it, a quiet sob croaked its way past her throat.

"Cas?" His voice laced with concern. "Are you crying?"

She sniffed and wiped her face. "Sorry. It's the late hour."

"No, don't be. I'm the sorry one. I wasn't trying to make you cry."

She took a moment to compose herself, annoyed at herself. Taehyung waited patiently, and when he heard her laugh weakly down the line, he added another, although seemingly unrelated, sorry.

"What for?" He had nothing to be sorry for.

However, Taehyung let out a low whistle. "A lot." A deep exhale followed. "It's hard."

"You mean us?"

"No," he was quick to response. Needing to dissolve any insecurities before they even arose in her mind, "It sucks that we can't see each other as much.. but no, Cas, being with you isn't hard."

Her cheeks were burning by now and it wasn't due to the 23°C and the stuffy air in her bedroom. She couldn't help but grin like an idiot, feeling all jittery for a moment before recalling his sullen tone before.

"What is it then? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really.. I mean, I do. Just not right now." She hummed, relating to that statement. Hearing his mattress move on the other line.

"Is that okay?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Of course."

"Right now I just want to feel close to you," he admitted bashfully, "And hear your voice."

"I want that, too," she said and the corners of her lips tugged into a gentle smile, pretending the warmth of her bed was him. They didn't even need to talk, hearing his breathing was enough. Just like when he was lying next to her.

"I've really missed you, like, a lot." He chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry. It's late, I'm all over the place."

"No, it's cute! Don't worry," her tired smile grew at the thought of his flustered expression, "We'll see each other soon. We'll be okay."

"We will."

His confirmation meant the world to her. For the first time in a while, she felt excited. She opened her mouth, her heart ready to combast, when she stopped herself instead. Something told her he already knew what she so desperately wanted to tell him; why else would he be on the phone with her right after a coup?

Instead, she fell into a comforting silence again with her eyes starting to grow heavy. Sleep began washing over her, until a noise and Taehyung's cursing made her jolt awake. And he laughed faintly.

"Crap. I just hit my head."

The bed moved again, and she imagined that she was there with him.

"Were you falling asleep?"

"Yeah, I think I was."

"Should we hang up?" She felt bad for keeping him up, not even knowing in what timezone he was, but she also didn't want the call to be over yet.

"Let's talk tomorrow."

His assuring tone caught her off guard as she knew how risky it was for them to talk too often or too long.

"You sure?" she grinned lazily.

"Yeah. We need to talk more. I can't take this any longer."

She was suddenly wide awake now. "Okay. I'm free tomorrow. Call whenever you want."

"I'll make sure it's early in the morning then."

She could hear the teasing grin on his face. Picture it, too. "Meanie. As if you'd be up early."

"Just joking."

She giggled faintly, feeling both, excited and relaxed. "I can't wait."

"Me neither."

She could almost feel his breath, wanting him close. Tomorrow, she reminded herself.

"I should go now. You need to sleep."

"So do you," she added with a light scoff.

"So, I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

She knew he was smiling, she could hear it all the miles apart.

"Yeah," she smiled back. "You will."

The phone call ended and she was about to put it away when a text appeared on her display.

cool guy (2.46am): btw goodnight :)

angel (2.46am): goodnight ♡

»»»

3rd October

Cassandra wasn't sure what time it was, nor was she sure if her mind hadn't imagined things in her sleep. Still in a half-daze, she tossed her blankets away, hearing the persistent ringing again which had torn her away from a deep slumber.

The doorbell, she concluded so far. Brown eyes frowning when she took off her sleeping mask and trotted to the door in the dark.

Had she forgotten about an upcoming delivery?

It didn't even cross her mind that it wasn't daytime yet despite the darkness of her apartment. That was how she preferred to sleep after all, blinds all the way down. Besides, the days became shorter and it was raining endlessly, so naturally it was rather dark outside even in the morning.

Only when she unlocked the door and swung it open, she realised how off her assumptions were when in front of her was standing none other than Taehyung. 

Clothes entirely drenched, soaking wet from the pouring rain with pools forming around his feet.

Any sleep that had remained in her system was abruptly blown away, replaced by pure excitement followed by confusion and irritation at his slumped posture. Her lips eventually parted, causing him to flinch.

He was ready to hear her expelling him for showing up there in the middle of the night, when instead she grabbed him by his arm, pulling him firmly inside and closing the door behind him.

"Tae, what happened?"

Her words faded when she noticed his sulked expression underneath the hood. Almost hidden away by long streaks of dark hair sticking onto his forehead. 

It wasn't so much the question itself that completely unarmed him. He had expected it considering the randomness and time of this encounter and his abject state.

No, it was rather the concern in her eyes and the whisper of her voice that made him completely lose any remaining energy to deny it and instead made him tear up. And he almost knocked her off when wrapping his arms around her.

She smelled of almonds and flowers. Just like he remembered.

Startled, the young woman tensed for a moment when her hands instinctively engulfed her boyfriend's torso in a tight hug. Putting her all into squeezing him as much as she could. It was her way of showing him that she was there, whatever it was that he was struggling with. Not even caring the slightest how his soaked clothes were wetting her pyjamas.

She understood not to ask further. He'd tell her eventually, she knew. He always did.

Stepping back, she clasped his arms to take a better look on him. He swallowed, avoiding her worried glance. By now he somewhat regretted coming there in an impulsive moment, acting out the only clear thought in his chaotic mind.

He'd felt so miserably and pathetic, he couldn't even bare himself, let alone fleeing to Panama with Jimin and Yoongi - the next place where an object of interest was located at - after what had happened. Even if they had tried persuading him and ensuring him it hadn't been as bad as he had made it out to be. He was so upset with his own self, however, that he couldn't simply stand being alone either.  

And out of pure selfishness and immaturity he'd spent six hours driving from Marseille to Barcelona, to the only person he wanted to see.

Perhaps it was because Cassandra wasn't one of them but an outsider. Perhaps it was her sweet and campassionate nature. Or how she tried to see all sides and wasn't set on black & white views - and he needed someone like this in that moment. Someone else who'd essentially verify what his friends had been trying to convince him of.

But when he had rung the doorbell, two sudden realisations had hit him.

It was 3am. And she was a physician.

Now it was too late though. She was already standing in front of him with big questioning bambi eyes. The fact she hadn't flipped him off or cussed at him already would've been a miracle, if she was such a person. She wasn't, however, he knew that. And yet, he felt terrible.

Was he using her to make his pity self feel better? To calm his guilty conscious?

When she felt his arms growing tired and loosening around her, she placed a hand on his cold cheek. Carefully inspecting his face with a serious glare.

"Are you hurt?"

He only responded with a small shake of his head to assure he wasn't. It was enough for her. Her hands dropped and she helped him slip off his jacket while he stepped out of his shoes.

She grabbed his hand then and he silently waddled behim her to the bedroom.  

Only when she switched on the small cloud-shaped lamp on the nightstand did she see what time it was.

She had barely slept three hours and had planned to wake up in another six - enough time to properly rest and get prepared for her shift at 2pm - but now it seemed like she had to abandon that plan.

It was alright though, first she had to take care of her favourite patient after all.

"Wait here," she quietly instructed him and Taehyung willingly did as he was told. That was the least he could do in that moment anyway, and he watched her disappear into the hallway. Eyes wandering around her room. It was the same as he remembered it, only with a few more of his postcards on the wall. And he smiled, realising she had kept them all. Along with photos of him between her friends and family.

His heart clenched. The tiny voice in the depths of his conscience telling him yet again he didn't deserve Cassandra. And it only got louder after tonight.

He heard steps then, seeing her reappearing with two mugs and a towel. She rested the mugs onto the nightstand first, the hot steam prominent while rising from the tea she'd made them. He smiled.

She pointed at him then with a scowl. "You should take off your wet clothes."

He couldn't help but chuckle quietly at the suddenly demanding tone. "Is that a doctor's order?"

It was the first time he spoke tonight. Evident in his hoarse voice. And yet, Cassandra only huffed out a laugh at the fact it was a teasing remark out of all things. Of course.

"Not this time. This time it's your girlfriend's order."

His thick eyebrow arched at this. Liking the sound of the word whenever she was referred to as his girlfriend. "Is that so?"

"Yep. I don't want you to wet my bedsheets," she grinned, "If you wet my bedsheets I'll kick you out."

"You didn't mind your clothes though," he retorted, to which she shrugged unimpressed.

"I can always change those. But I don't feel like changing bedsheets in the middle of the night. And besides, it feels disgusting being in wet clothes. Doesn't it?"

He hummed, unable to counter something to her logic like so often. She was definitely not wrong about the disgusting feeling, although it wasn't only physically.

Quietly, he began pulling his hoodie over his head, remaining with a plain shirt and she stepped closer, placing the towel over his head. She held the edges together, framing his face with it. The adorable sight making her lips curl into a smile. She almost cooed but knew to suppress it, so instead her fingers began rubbing his hair dry. Her arms were completely stretched out to properly reach him, although he was already stooping to assist her.

Soon his brown irises disappeared behind his eyelids, the stern expression on his features softening. He hummed at the soothing sensation, lulling him more and more until he couldn't feel the motion anymore.

When she deemed it dry enough, she let the towel slide from his head. Revealing his tousled waves.

"How do you still look so cute even with messy hair?" she jokingly pouted. Earning a lazy smile from him. It was so easy for her to make him smile and he tucked at one of the curls falling from her loose bun then.

"You look cuter."

She puffed her blushing cheeks, dismissing his words as always. And he still found it both, endearing and annoying, how she didn't know how to properly react to his compliments.

"Drink the tea, it should've steeped by now," she mumbled then. Quickly making her way under the covers and choosing one of the mugs to try the tea herself. By the look of her face, however, he could tell that it was still too hot and he stifled a laugh at her grimace when putting it back down. "Okay, maybe wait for a little long."

He only hummed and attempted taking off the equally damp trousers when he unintentionally shuddered at the cold metal of his magnum brushing against his skin. Shoving the gun underneath his clothes as if he tried hiding it and Cassandra noticed, but chose not to comment on it. Already holding the sheets up beside her for him. 

"What about your pj's?" he asked worried.

"It's fine they didn't get wet. Just a tiny bit dampish. It'll dry off quickly."

"Oh, so I'm the only one doing a striptease here, huh?" he smirked before sliding under the warm bedsheets. Only earning an innocent pout from Cassandra as she rested her head on his shoulder. Her arm finding its way around his waist when his draped around hers.

"Aw, poor baby," her tone teasing as she lightly poked his flushed cheek, "But you were the one running around in the rain, not me."

Sitting now next to each other in her cramped bed, they grew quiet. Partially due to their tiredness, partially due to the elephant in the room.

Taehyung didn't mind her twin-sized bed, it made it easier for him to cling onto her like a koala, even if she always complained not being able to sleep that way. Secretely she liked it, it gave her some kind of security. Unless it was the middle of summer, then she indeed hated it.

Cassandra propped her chin onto his shoulder then, glancing at him expectedly. She noticed him licking his dry lips, eyes focusing on something invisible as he held her close. His fingers curling around her hip more as he was seemingly lost in thoughts, staring into space absentmindedly.

It didn't seem like he was ready to talk yet.

With a sigh, she lifted her head and turned to grab her tea and retry. This time the sip was in a much more drinkable temperature and she took another sip. Taking the other mug and handing it over to him.

"Be careful not to spill," she quietly said and he gladly accepted it. Despite feeling warm on the outside by now, there was still an internal coldness that made him shiver.

The tea managed warming him up, but the heaviness in his chest remained. And Taehyung sunk further into the sheets after drinking the last bit of it.

His throbbing head burying itself into the crook of her neck ans she stilled for a moment when he inhaled deeply. His warm breath tingling her skin. He sensed Cassandra's lips on his temple then when a delicate hand of hers reached to his still damp hair. Her fingers beginning combing the soft dark waves.

He smelled of falling rain.

It was a soothing sensation that clouded his mind and his eyes fluttered closed. Getting lost in the anew relaxing movement of her hand. It was steady, despite sleepiness slowly taking over her as well. And his body began feeling numb, falling asleep before his mind could. Taehyung was sinking more and more into his seat. His head slipping from Cassandra's neck and sliding to her chest and to her stomach. Settling there just between.

Cassandra was his save heaven.

With her he was in a bubble. She shielded him from his chaotic and dangerous life, providing him with something he had never believed he'd receive or even deserved. Something that also terrified him though.

She was his weak spot after all, his Achilles' heel. And his profession a threat to her normal life.

It was silent in the small bedroom except for the clock on the nightstand and the pit-a-pat of the falling rain against the window glass. Occasionally, a lonely car would pass by and the sound of splashing water was heard. Their breaths and her heartbeat underneath his ear soothing him even more.

"What if I injured someone innocent?"

The sudden whisper of his voice made her perk up and she began to understand.

"Is that what happened?" she quietly asked. Her fingers not stopping from gliding through his hair. "Did you injure an innocent passerby?"

He swallowed down the lump in his throat, turning his face towards the soft fabric of her pyjamas for a moment.

"Yes."

Cassandra hummed only, peeking down at him. She knew he'd open up on his own and she knew there had been a reason, but only now she grasped why he had been in such an awful state.

She had always been curious about his 'job'. Always wanting to hear heist stories and how they pulled them off. It was an odd fascination, the whole technical part. Whether it was illegal or not what they did, it was still a form of art to her - if done correctly.

However, as he always refused to give too much into her interest and instead kept stories as superficial as possible, for him now to tell her about a job on his own felt like an apology. A depreciation.

And perhaps it was just that. Perhaps that was the reason he had driven all the way there, because she was the only person who could grant him some kind of absolution.

Her knuckles brushed over the side of his agitated face then.

"How did it happen?"

Taking a deep breath, he collected his thoughts before continuing. He didn't want to speak it out, but he had to. He couldn't bare it anymore. "It happened so fast, but.. I should've foreseen it. It was my fault."

Cassandra remained silent. He wasn't sure if it was a good sign but she hadn't pulled away her hands yet.

"Why's it your fault?"

"It just is."

"Why do you th-"

"Because I'm the best shooter in the damn world!" His voice rose with frustration when recalling the incident and he abruptly heaved his head from her warmth. Cassandra tensing at this, startled. "I can aim and hit a target in my sleep, I should've - I should've -" He began stuttering, screwing his eyes shut. A deep crease forming between his prominent brows. Cassandra's face mirroring his pained expression, the corners of her lips pulling downwards. "I should've noticed that goon creeping up behind me and pushing me. I-I shouldn't have missed my target -" He choked up at this point, cutting himself off.

Her hand glided from his hair to his cheek, cupping it as she stared into his afflicted eyes and he swallowed.

"Cassandra, I.. I swear it was an accident - it was the first time - I'd never - Please, believe me."

He needed this. Needed to hear it from her. Needed to hear that she believed him, that she knew he wasn't a common criminal shooting at innocent people without a care. Needed her to confirm he wasn't a monster. Needed her to ensure him she wouldn't despise him, despite her own profession of saving lives. Needed her to forgive him.

Cassandra gave him a look of commiseration and trapped his flushed cheeks between her palms.

His guilty conscious had been visible from the moment she'd opened the door. She knew he felt terrible, she could feel how sincere he was. How much he regretted it. And she knew she was in no way entitled to judge people in situations she'd never gone through herself and went beyond her experience. Hence why it was flattering that Taehyung not only felt the need to tell her but was also concerned for her opinion on the matter. After all those years of knowing each other, she was truly his confidant. And the realisation warmed her heart.

"I've told you time over time you're not a bad guy. This was an accident, you didn't want it to happen," she softly spoke. Her thumb caressing his cheek in an attempt to calm him down. And it seemed to work, his guilt-ridden expression mitigating. His jaw unclenching.

"You truly believe that?" he asked quietly.

She nodded confidently. "I know it."

"It won't happen again," he confirmed. He planned to learn from his mistakes. Perhaps he should try mediating like Yoongi who sensed any threat from miles away.

"I know," she smiled. Her gaze falling then. "What happened to the person you accidentally shot though?"

He frowned. "We fled instantly, so I'm not sure. But I heard sirens of an ambulance in the distance, so I hope.." His index finger went to his hip. "I got him here, it's not a vital part, right?"

Cassandra knew that a hip injury by a gunshot was likely to cause complex peritrochanteric fracture. But orthopaedic procedures had an overall union rate for primary fixation of over sixty percent - which was pretty good. There was, of course as it was the case with all medical procedures, always a remaining chance for complications, however, she chose not to disclose the last part. Not wanting to make him feel worse. Instead she kept it positively vague, just like with patients and their families.

"He should be fine," she nodded, her smile widening, "It's not a life-threatening injury."

With the heavy burden being lifted from his chest, he slowly sank back down to her chest. Closing his eyes as soon as he heard her heartbeat and felt her fingers returning to his chocolate waves.

Cassandra had managed to calm him down like no one else ever could.

He wasn't used to this. To feeling so at ease. There in her warm embrace, with her fingers running through his hair, her chest rising and falling underneath him, her scent in his nose and her steady pulse in his ear, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Realising the reason she was the only person he wanted to see that night, the only person he wanted to ever talk about his heavy heart with and the only person whose words mattered the most to him, was as simpel as the answer to why he always kept coming back to her, despite the risk of getting caught by interpol.

Because he loved her.

»»»

next chapter: 1.0 here

Don't forget to like, comment & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

- btw any detco fans here who caught the shinran reference? 👀 hehe

taglist: @lilanyxta @naoolammao345 @memna234 @tetehion @myblacklilame

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2024-08-04

(Previous post - current page 440)

Breaktime's over, it's about time to continue! Expect me to take a handful of days between each posting-day like this just to pace myself, and have time for fun video games and other such. But I've been really enjoying finally reading more HS2 too, especially seeing such hopeful stuff like this last pair of pages really hitting home on the optimism! Let's get back to it.

Meanwhile...

Wait did we SEE her keel back over like this? Alt!Callie in this younger/teenage corpse of Jade Harley's body I mean? When did that happen? *thumbs back through old pages...* Let's see here... my browser still glitches the fuck out seizureways at the few pages that were Blacked Out, so i'll use a backup browser for those... no, further back... oh wow I forgot Aradia got such a cool Calliope-supporting outfit to show off she's on their side, literally zero memory of that and that's some FINE drip...

Oh shit wait, so it happened back over here??? (289/290)

--I figured back then she'd gotten a snap headache because of having to abandon possessing Jade's MAIN body in the struggle Alt!Calliope had with Jade's consciousness culminating around page 168, but these cuts are all so far apart-- and being knocked out of the other Jade's body shouldn't have knocked her out of this CORPSE. So is somethign entirely NEW going on that has to do perhaps with Dirk Strider's plans to maintain control of the narrative when the other kids arrive there?? Hmmm.

Anyway now I know where that bonus panel I'd accidentally glimpsed with "god-tier bodies don't decompose right" that I mentioned last blogging session came from. But why the fuck?

==>

Gosh I've missed seeing panels like this.

Wait, why are we cutting to CANDY JOHN like that's relevant here? Wasn't he in Roxy's secret lab last we saw him? Does THAT have something to do with this?! Oh shit.

(John: Investigate noise.)

Following Roxy's instructions, you proceed in the direction of the noise to go and meet up with your old friends. You approach where you thought you heard them, but to your surprise you hear an unfamiliar voice grumbling something incoherent.

JOHN: uhhh, rose? jade? JOHN: ... kanaya?

Hm? What was going on upstairs again, Karkat met up with the other liberators right? Okay let me not be so lazy and go back and check again...

Excuse me for a second, I'm going backwards to review and post some older HS2 stuff for a bit:

No they left, then John came from his destroyed old house to his and Roxy's NOT-old house, then they transportalized downstairs to the secret lab buried "hella underground" not directly under the house, where Calliope is wearing... suspiciously the EXACT new outfit that Aradia is wearing, and gives her hints that she enjoys all sorts of alternate stories like watching Roxy be in a relationship with John here in Candy instead of with herself in Meat, and added fuel to our obvious theory suspicions that Meat Alive Calliope is the author-narrator shaping the (Candy) timeline with her wall drawings and Muse of Space powers, and that they are... standing in the location in their reality that corresponds to the exact center of the singularity / black hole they're trying to stabilize? I'd forgotten about that... and then Calliope told John that alt!Calliope and Aradia and such had broken out of the black hole's event horizon for their mission, while Calliope explained that (Candy)'s timeline is so WEIRD because they've been disconnected a little TOO much from the canon of reality, like a fanwork that strays a little too far from the source material, so they need to stabilize it somehow AND NEED VRISKA (to either steal some relevance back from Canon or to get swapped there with something else or, something else we might have theorized?) but I had plumb forgotten that they SPECIFICALLY say that for their plans to work they needed John to leave and do something:

ROXY: this is finally where u come in jegbert ROXY: we gots quests for yous CALLIOPE: hee hee, yes. CALLIOPE: or *a* quest, to be specific. JOHN: oh boy!

ROXY: i mean yeah ur gonna obvs facilitate it in a sense ROXY: but only by going and busting the person who can actually help us outta normal earth jail CALLIOPE: we need yoU to free vriska from the clUtches of oUr misgUided friend jane, and bring her here, to the singUlarity. ROXY: weve been calling it the plot point CALLIOPE: yes, the plot point is a key part of oUr plan. CALLIOPE: as far as we have been able to sUrmise, the only remaining method for escaping oUr grim confinement depends on leveraging the UniqUe properties of this location to create an event of sUch catalcysmic proportions that it simply cannot be contained within the black hole any more. CALLIOPE: something SO dramatic, so hyper-relevant, that it becomes ontologically impossible for anyone to ignore it. CALLIOPE: for that, we need an individUal of sUfficient narrative cloUt, so to speak.

Right, Vriska's constant focus on making herself one of the most relevant characters to Canon and her powerset actually making her perfect TO do that as a Thief of Light (relevance/importance) makes that a good plan. And I fully expected one possibility was that they somehow allow her to break through to the Canon Meat timeline and both (1) influence it some way, and (2) get to a place where she could eventually reunite with Terezi Pyrope finally instead of just having left her a parting message, which may or may not happen if Meat Terezi is going to focus possibly a bit more on her relationship with John(June) once somehow resurrected or such but would definitely be amazing to have them reunited when Terezi spent SO MUCH TIME looking for her that she wasn't even part of the (Candy) timeline of events? Enough re-theorizing let me keep re-reading-- And... oh right,

CALLIOPE: and to liberate her, who better than the embodiment of the aspect of freedom itself?

I'm sure I was happy as hell to see that explicitly spelled out in canon for once instead of implied, because it may have been obvious to those of you who follow theoryblogs but one of the big reasons I'm glad to see these things made more explicit out in HS^2 is so even casual readers can pick up that these aspects always had these additional more important purposes that line up with all the events that happened in the past of the original comic.

But anyway. John's about to go on his bust-Vriska-out-of-prison quest:

And it's not like he has other plans. He may as well do this! It's at least going to get him involved in things again, if nothing else. He turns to go, and then hears a sound. It's the sound of feet and knocking on doors, echoed through stone and digital static.

And then,

JOHN: did you hear that? ROXY: wha ROXY: oh yeah uh ROXY: i may have messaged rose and kan and jade to check on them too ROXY: so its prob onea them showin up ROXY: they don't need to know bout all this tho ROXY: we got time to chat with them b4 u go get vriska JOHN: i'll go stall em. ROXY: thx babe ROXY: oh is it 2 soon for that joke or JOHN: no, weirdly enough, that one's fine. ROXY: oh good ok see u up there soon!

And that's where we left off-- wasn't it their kids' team who got back into their house or something? Eh I'm done looking, now I at least know there was A NOISE that was playing through the monitors from the topside of their house above the teleporter that he's running to intercept.

Okay, past catch-up over. Back to present liveblogging. Looks like this isn't Rose and Kanaya like John expects, from the sound of it-- but the way John's running down a hallway makes it look like this is INSIDE OF THE LAB STILL, so the question is who is down here or CAME down here or...

(==>)

Oh, Sollux is helping Roxy and Calliope out with their project, playing on Roxy's pink retro consoles. That shouldn't actually be too shocking should it.

Wait, how is he playing video games if he's BLIND? Robo-eyes? It's gotta be robo-eyes.

(==>)

Stare

(==>)

Sandwich stare

(==>)

SOLLUX: eating a sandwich.

Brilliant. And yeah he lives here-- but he's actually LOOKING at stuff isn't he, with eyes of some sort? Even though he's still using the 0 quirk? Tell us what's up with that!

(==>)

John stop thinking this is a relationship between Sollux and Roxy, your divorcee/ex. Unless it is, which would be pretty cool honestly.

(==>)

SOLLUX: y0u w0rried im m0ving in 0n y0ur ex? JOHN: ...hmm. SOLLUX: ... JOHN: hm. hmm. hm. JOHN: hm? HMMMM. SOLLUX: what is g0ing 0n here. JOHN: sorry, i had an answer but then i started actually considering it. JOHN: am i jealous? JOHN: hmmm... SOLLUX: if i tell y0u straight up n0 we arent h00king up will y0u st0p? JOHN: ...maybe? SOLLUX: g0ddammit.

I'm really enjoying all this for some reason.

JOHN: are you still hanging out with that creepy alive girl? SOLLUX: SOLLUX: 0n a spiritual level. JOHN: cool! JOHN: is ... she also dating roxy? SOLLUX: what? SOLLUX: idk.

I'm pretty sure I get excited at the idea of literally ANY relationship potentially happening between all these characters I love.

(==>)

Oh no John is offloading his personal problems on him in longform conversation. He doesn't want that! XD

JOHN: and it only changed because i started talking to people again. SOLLUX: (i did this t0 myself why did i ask) JOHN: i guess in gamer terms it's the same as screwing yourself over by not checking every non playable character dialogue box. JOHN: any one of them could have the clues you need.

Feels kind of like we're doing the thing from that Steven Universe: Future episode where Steven is critically upset that important things happened in the lives of his friends offscreen somewhere he wasn't around to be aware of it, when realistically as a person you can't keep up with everything, especially not John who kept to himself in a slump for a decade as he puts it in some of the conversation I'm not fully requoting.

Okay Sollux dunks on John a bit, possibly deservedly... and to some extent, in a misogynist gamer phrasing typical to Sollux, John's lack of agency? Which I think would improve somewhat once the gender issues Roxy alluded to both upstairs and in the lab with him are resolved in part, because he can't be FULLY comfortable swept up in a relationship while he's still considering herself "he"...

SOLLUX: i have n0t been able t0 play this game the wh0le time because s0me0ne was talking 0ver the s0und. JOHN: oh! JOHN: sorry : (

Oh he's been using sound-only and audio assistance to play the game like a speedrunner almost instead of seeing it. That explains that.

(==>)

I don't quite understand the shape of that thing to the right of Sollux's head, like there's some sort of watermark over it WAIT THAT'S A DOOM SYMBOL WATERMARK TAKING UP MOST OF THE FRAME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE

SOLLUX: w0rds d0nt mean much. SOLLUX: 0nly acti0ns.

(This is a perfect sort of thing someone for someone on the Life/Doom spectrum to say, which would be MUCH MUCH HARDER for someone on the Light/Void spectrum to say or especially a Light player. Doom being about the consequences of one's actions in part and all.) Is he about to use some Mage of Doom powers visibly onscreen?

(==>)

Ohhh. So he was making a dramatic Doom Prophecy that will matter to John's choices in the future if he heeds the right lessons, while also hinting toward the nature of Doom itself as I covered. Got it. That's fun! Also it was a pink cat pillow behind his head, that's the thing I was having so much trouble seeing.

(==>)

SOLLUX: WAIT. JOHN: !

He's gonna ask him to pass him a soda from across the room or something.

(==>)

SOLLUX: change my game f0r me.

This is so cute.

(Be Vrissy.)

GODDAMNIT JAILBREAK AGAIN LOL

Vriska the elder has decided to take it upon herself to test if you measure up to the arduous task of being a Vriska. For your first test: find a way to bust out of this dump. What will you do?

Stop judging her on your stupid Vriska standards, Vriska! I hope the way this plays out eventually plays straight into the idea that this very-Vriska-like-but-not-quite-Vriska individual has her own unique strengths. I'm not sure I mentioned it earlier, but when I said that it's possible that Vrissy is a Mind player, I'm actually really excited to see the comic demonstrate that (regardless of whether or not Vrissy is or isn't completely genetically identical to Vriska) because not only would it be a good lesson for the original Vriska that Vrissy has her own value, it's also a great Classpect demonstration of how the difference in their characters and action styles amounts to a different effect on reality in the form of a Hero Title that is different...

...and in fact now that I think about it, even though it may have rubbed me just slightly wrong somewhere inside that Vrissy and Vriska could have different Hero Titles even if they WERE genetically identical, I'm actually gonna turn around and say I've decided I love that, because if Sburb gives the genetically identical Vrissy a different title and she unlocks a different powerset purely because of the unique combination of nature *AND* nurture that resulted in her, that would emphasize much more properly that Sburb isn't FORCING or pigeonholing you into a Hero Title that doesn't suit you, it really is reading into your future and soul to tell you THE MOST EFFECTIVE WAY you PERSONALLY would find right to influence reality around you. That makes the lesson of its title assignment and the answer to the Ultimate Riddle that I've long discussed a STRONGER answer, not a weaker one.

And I'm encouraged by the very first thing Vrissy tries being something the original Vriska would NEVER have tried first, which Vriska over here probably is gonna be snide/discouraging about:

(Vrissy: Call for help.)

Have we SEEN their chumhandles before? I feel like we've seen Vrissy's before at least-- "adamantGriftress" is an awesome chumhandle for her, and I know for SURE I've already seen thespiansGlamor as Harry Anderson's. Who the fuck is glutinousGymnast, is that Yiffy's handle, and what does glutinous mean again?!?? (I had to google it just in case, it's New Tavros's handle. Glutinous is "like glue in texture; sticky.", often referring to sticky rice or baking dough. Ew. Stickiness sort of implies the opposite of Breath doesn't it...? And he's a gymnast?)

Now. Who the fuck is "recidivousGainsayer"? Vrissy didn't know Yiffy existed, so she wouldn't have her in her phone already unless they'd been internet friends without knowing each other personally, which would be... kinda sweet really. And Yiffy is certainly rebellious, but she seems more recalcitrant than recidivous, though I can't rule it out, especially since she's basically grown up at a boarding school; a quick google to see if we'd seen the chumhandle before also highlighted someone commenting that "RG" doesn't follow the ACGT DNA pattern, and even if you switch to RNA it just swaps the T with a U. Could be that this is a chumhandle of one of the characters we had been following over in the Bonus Comics or something.

You're pretty sure that would be an automatic fail on Vriska's test. But even if it wasn't, it isn't like you could message anyone; not anyone worth talking to anyway. There's no service in here, the only bars you've got are the ones on the windows.

Yeah, Vrissy at least knows Vriska well enough to know what she'd approve and disapprove of most broadly, unfortunately. I hope she comes to understand how Vriska should really not be her role model.

Oh not this again--

(Vrissy: Get key.)

Vriska drew this shitty key on the floor "juuuuuuuust in case you need a reminder of what you should be working towards ::::)."

Vriska, you asshole!

(Vrissy: Try the door.)

You fruitlessly pull on the bars. Vriska says it looks like it's still locked. Yeah???????? No shit, you tell her. You're just trying to see if you can get a guard's attention. She says ooooooooh that's a good idea.

If you don't keep complimenting her I'm going to be very cross with you, Vriska.

Hm, it'd be really fitting and interesting if Vrissy Mindgames her way out of this one by putting on a façade of distress and convincing the guard to barge in, maybe saying Vriska's escaped or such.

(Vrissy: Get a guard's attention.)

One of those guards Jane intentionally had all dress like Dave to taunt Jane about Dave's death or just make them harder for her and Rose to stomach fighting, right.

Maybe you should use some of your SICKNASTY BRAIN EXPLOITABLES on this jabroni.

How much practice does she have with her psychic powers? All Aranea was able to do with Cerulean psychics on humans was get a vague sense of the emotions of people around her toward her like she always does, and Vriska WAS able to put a human to sleep or wake them in another universe but only when trying so hard that her Light symbol flashed in her eye, emphasizing that a Cerulean troll who WASN'T using the powers of a God-Tier Thief of Light wouldn't necessarily be able to do the same to a human. Stealing wakefulness or stealing through wakefulness, wakefulness being a part of Agency and thus Light, where Void is associated with sleep and dreams, et cetera. (Vriska put people (like Jade D:) to sleep FAR FAR MORE OFTEN than she woke them up, and when she woke John that one time it could have been considered "stealing THROUGH Light" because it deprived him of an opportunity in his dreams to meet his Dad as his dreamself just to give Vriska the selfish opportunity to speak with him at the exact time she'd wanted to speak with him.)

Also, if Vrissy DOES refer to her Cerulean mind powers as "sicknasty BRAIN exploitables" that does put Mind more in mind than usual... and exploitables could just be flavor or it COULD be a reference to EXPLOIT, the theoretical Knight/Page action verb?! --Nah that's probably a stretch.

(Vrissy: Use your Sicknasty Brain Exploitables.)

You apply the focused totality of your psychic power into this douchebag's cranium. Frustratingly, it looks like this guy is resisting your psychic enthrallment so he can get at that donut. Other than occasionally making Tavros dance when he's being boring, you honestly don't do this much.

Holy shit, if she could make New Tavros DANCE, this actually means that Vrissy has more control over human minds than Vriska ever had?!? That or New Tavros is uniquely impressionable, which is ALSO a possibility; the original comic itself emphasized that the "impressiona8le" were more vulnerable to her abilities... those who had less control or agency over themselves.

Also, Vriska had only just met her first humans when her psychic talents were limited to making them sleep-- Vrissy grew up alongside other humans, and that might just be enough for her to understand their minds enough to do some occasional manipulation.

Your mom is always like, "You Need To Listen To Me Vriska Its Important To Keep These Skills Honed In Case Shit Gets Real", but shit so rarely if ever gets real so mom should get OFF your CASE!!!!!!!! Until now, you guess. Wow do you hate realizing your mom was right about shit. ANYWAYS, LAY OFF THE FUCKING DONUTS AND GET OVER HERE ASSHOLE!!!!!!!!

On the one hand, it's unsurprising that Vrissy didn't keep her talents honed for battle or anything, and wouldn't have invested nearly as much energy into exploiting people with psychic powers as Vriska's twisted childhood forced her to; but on the other hand, like I said, this is STILL a bit more direct influence over humans than Vriska ever had, even if it's not working right now!

(==>)

Hell yeah!!!!!!!!

HOLY SHIT SHE ACTUALLY OUTCLASSED ORIGINAL VRISKA IN CONTROLLING A HUMAN MIND.

Is Vriska going to feel jealous?! Holy shit?!?? Or is this old hat for her now and she's gonna say she could do it all along, or a retcon along those lines or-- gosh just PLEASE I WANNA SEE VRISKA JEALOUS AS FUCK OF VRISSY'S PSYCHIC TALENTS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HAVE ORIGINAL VRISKA GO "WHOA HOW DID YOU DO THAT"

(Vriskas: Exit the cell.)

Damn that felt good. After locking up the guard you turn to Vriska and ask her what next. Vriska says that now it's time to fuck some shit up. You like the sound of that. You ask her if there's any specific shit or place she wants to go fuck up. She says you'll just walk around until you land somewhere cool. You both laugh. You ask her what her real plan is. She keeps laughing as she walks away.

That's definitely her real plan. But anyway-- UGH, missed opportunity here. I guess we're just supposed to take it as a given that if original Vriska had had enough time, or grown up more, she could do the same thing to impressionable-enough humans as she did to trolls too, or the like.

(==>)

ALARMS BLARING, GUARDS RUNNING-- yeah they didn't cause this, this is some other assault on the Jail, right?

Okay, that's a lot of goons. You suggest to Vriska that you should go the other direction. Vriska says nah this is definitely where we wanna be. She says between the two of you, you've probably got enough luck to take this whole place off the map if you really wanted. You ask her what the fuck she means by that. She says you know like with your Thief of Light powers. You tell her you don't have anything like that. She says huh, weird!

VRISKA WHY THE FUCK WOULD IT BE WEIRD, VRISSY DIDN'T PLAY THE GAME OR GO GOD-TIER, YOU DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD LUCK-STEALING POWERS UNTIL YOU PLAYED THE GAME!!!

Wait, let's back up a sec.

Vriska is smart enough to know that you CAN tap into your Hero Title powers even if you're not someone who's hit God-Tier. As a gleaner of deep lore about the game, Vriska ALSO would put together that the powers you get in the game are inherent to you even before you PLAY the game if you're skilled enough or high up on your echeladder enough to access them, so even if she never Stole Light directly before she played Sgrub, she technically COULD have. Maybe she figures Vrissy, as a coincidental genetically identical alt-version of her, should have access to the same powers just by virtue of having the same genes and training from her Seer of Light Mom knowing she'd have that potential in her genetically, OR, hear me out--

Vriska has already let us know that she's PLANNING ON STARTING A NEW GAME SESSION which we all figure will include Vrissy and the other kids as the players, and Vriska probably figures those kids will be the players too!

So, and I know this is some 3D-chess assumption-maneuvering here and I might be way off base, just taking so much from this single exchange...

...My guess is that Vriska thinks Vrissy ought to ALREADY HAVE inherent Thief of Light powers deep inside her and untapped, because she thinks Vrissy is going to be a PLAYER and thus ALWAYS WOULD gain her powers! Powers which she, of course, would ASSUME would match hers given their genetic similarity-- she would ASSUME Vrissy would also be a Thief of Light.

Except that none of the way Vrissy has actually behaved has resembled a Thief of Light much at all, and Hero Titles are inherent to your PERSONALITY and its method of action of influencing reality around you... and we already have background hinting that matches MUCH closer to her character and her behavior/actions in dialogue with others that she may be a Mind player.

Vriska didn't scold Vrissy for not having tried hard enough to develop the Thief of Light abilities she ASSUMED were inherent to Vrissy. She instead seems confused that she's never manifested any, and said "huh, weird!". Despite the knots in her psychology, both Vriska's smarts and her hero title are likely hinting to her that there might be some flaw in her assumptions here-- something that's keeping this from being a sarcastic scolding and instead telling her something isn't right about the knowledge she thought she had at hand.

(==>)

Vriska says that's perfectly fine as she always prefers a challenge. Vriska Serket, the daring Thief of Light and her imitation kid Vriska sidekick against countless foes. Marquise Spinneret Mindfang leading her Neophyte Bluehair, it's a tale for th- w8 w8 hold the fuck up. You ask her what the fuck does she mean "imitation.

Of course, just because Vriska isn't going to be an asshole in that PARTICULAR direction was never any assurance that Vriska wasn't going to be an asshole. She still views (Vrissy) as the less important version of the original her, and she's still going to frame everything in that light because of course she would, it's still in her nature and she still hasn't fully learned her lesson yet.

(==>)

I'm at the image limit so I'm gonna hold off on posting Vriska's hilariously condescending greasy expression and Vrissy squinting hilariously absolutely having fucking none of it:

Vriska says to not let it get to you, but she's pretty much figured out that this whoooooooole timeline is phony. You know, inauthentic. Fake. Bogus even. She says it's somehow the off brand equivalent of a universe and she really hopes you kept the receipt. You assure her that both you and this timeline are in fact, real as shit. She doesn't seem convinced. She says it's mostly from the little things she's noticed. You ask like what, she's only been on this planet for like a day and a half. She gestures vaguely and tells you to give her a boost so she can reach that ventilation shaft.

Yeah, the way this version of reality isn't as tethered to Canon means Vriska isn't going to take it seriously-- she shares Dirk's view of the (Candy) timeline in that regard, really. And they BOTH are going to receive their comeuppance and learn their lesson.

Phew-- that image limit was a good sign, I was already hitting the limits of my energy for the day, that was hours of liveblogging and typing. I guess we'll leave off here until another day! As I said at the outset, I'm still going to be pacing myself and only doing liveblogging every few days like I mentioned, but that doesn't mean I'm not VERY MUCH enjoying this and very looking forward to where it's going. If I weren't liveblogging, I'd get there a lot faster, I assure you, but then you wouldn't get to see me go off on random Classpect tangents about stuff you already guessed! :D

See you in a few days!

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

WIP Wednesday

It has been a Closed Position kind of week! Who's ready for dancing Dieter to take over their thots? 😏

Ask me how many times I have written the name 'Talia' instead of the name of the new OFC, 'Kat'? The answer...too many to fucking count. That is going to be a hard habit to break. 🤦‍♀️😂

Anyway, since it's Wednesday...I thought I might give you a little tease from the first chapter. Enjoy!

I was met with a mess of curls, dark eyes, and a lop-sided grin. It was Dieter fucking Bravo. “Hey there, sweetheart,” he said through a chuckle. We stared at each other for a moment. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he can’t call me that.  He had a slight smirk on his face now, “Katarina, right? Looks like we’re gonna be dance partners.”  I shook my head, my lips set in a tight line, “Don’t call me that.”  His brow furrowed, “What? Katarina?”  I scoffed, “No, sweetheart. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. It’s inappropriate. You can call me Kat like everyone else.”  He was obviously taken off guard by my cold demeanor as he gave me a confused look, “I didn’t...mean anything by it. I-I call everyone sweetheart.”  I rolled my eyes in response, “Well, you're not gonna call me that.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a beat, “I guess I’ve earned that. Sorry, I won’t do it again.”  I inhaled deeply, biting my bottom lip as I did so. It didn’t go unnoticed that his eyes shifted down to my mouth. “Look, this is my last season and I just wanna get through it without any drama, ok?” A crease formed between his brows as his jaw ticked to the side, “What makes you think I’m gonna cause drama?”

Let's just say there is in fact DRAMA all around on the first day of the new season of Dancing with the Stars...Wonder who causes it all? 👀

👉 Some fun facts... we will have alternating points of view in this fic - hearing both from Kat and Dieter. Also, some internal monologue too...

👉 If all goes to plan, the Epilogue for Destiny & Deliverance will post sometime next week. The first chapter for the new dancing Dieter fic will post the following week. I know, I've had you all waiting since October for this one and I apologize for that...but it is finally almost here. Yay!

NPT: @for-a-longlongtime, @rhoorl, @trulybetty, @nerdieforpedro

Closed Position Taglist: @secretelephanttattoo @titlee78 @maggiemayhemnj @legendary-pink-dot @linzels-blog @morallyinept @survivingandenduring  @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin @cakipy-blog @missladym1981 @guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza @girlofchaos @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte @timpletance @musings-of-a-rose @samiamproductions @myloveistoolittle @copperhalfcent @auteurdelabre

[measurelessdreamer]

Part III of my musings of my scogan kid fic idea - How they tell Kayla

Part I | Part II

They need to tell her somehow. They need to tell all of them, obviously, but judging by the situation, telling her takes precedence over the rest, at least in some way. Logan and Scott might not agree on many things, but they have to agree on this.

Naturally, they have no idea how, though. Even if they put aside the fact she is only four, Logan doesn’t know her, and as for Scott, despite the endless list of contingencies he has up his sleeve, this is a situation anyone would be running short on.

It’s another one of these things that show just how different they are. Scott wants to settle on the exact words they’ll say, Logan thinks it’s ridiculous and that no words, no matter how carefully scripted and rehearsed, could make it any easier on her or them. Scott wants to rip the band aid off, Logan wants to avoid shattering that little girl’s world for as long as possible.

“She’s gonna know, Logan,” Scott says through gritted teeth and Logan knows he shouldn’t doubt that when out of the two of them, it’s no competition who is more fluent in her needs and feelings, but it doesn’t really occur to him how much out of the loop he can be about this until it happens and it’s so sudden, heightened senses or not, he doesn’t know he misstepped until it’s too late.

I imagine it’s not his fault, though. He and Scott are wired differently and as much as they both have it in them to easily love this little girl, they go about it in different ways. Scott needed time to become confident and comfortable in the role of a father to such a young child. Logan followed his gut because there was little else he could do when Kayla would thrash in someone else’s arms to the point bones would start breaking and he has at least adamantium to support him. There wasn’t much time to second-guess back then.

But she is older now and as much she has no way of knowing the full extent of her powers, she is much less prone to losing her control. She knows her limits with Logan, she knows her limits with Scott. She can see when they happen not to return the favour.

Logan’s as much to blame for it as a person who has never held a baby in their arms would be for holding them the wrong way, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting to see her smile one second and then look at him with something akin to fear glinting in her eyes for long enough that Logan sees the red beams that are threatening to be let out. It’s not that she wants to hurt him, but something is wrong and worst of all, something is wrong with Logan and she’s scared and she doesn’t know what’s happening until Scott makes his way into her field of vision and gets her to calm down.

I imagine she originally meant to tease Logan. With her teleporting ability, she would sometimes appear out of thin air where he could see her and she would scream “boo!” And laugh halfway through it because she could never catch him off-guard as her teleporting radius is small enough for him to catch her scent or hear her footsteps before she makes her move. But this Logan isn’t as in tune with her and, not only that, he happens to be deeply in thought when it happens and instead of maintaining his composure and greeting her with a smile, she sees him flinch for the first time and waits for the grin to come and for the sense of accomplishment to greet her, but it never comes and it’s terrifying.

Alternatively, I imagine it could have something to do with Logan having memories of drowning. I originally meant for one version to be sort of subtle to the point that no one else would notice Logan’s mistake aside from Kayla, and the other one would have to do with flinching, but it turns out they both are about flinching. But this other time would be scarier in a way. Let’s say that Kayla is playing with a watergun and she finds Logan and Scott and sneaks up on them and shoots and it’s bad luck she chooses Logan as her first target and that she hits him in the face. The Logan from this timeline would glare and groan and, in worst cases, tell her he’s not in the mood right now, but this Logan has no such memories to guide him. Instead, another memory of water resurfaces and it’s the last thing he remembers and he knows he’s no longer there, but he just forgets for a moment and the flinch comes along with the familiar sound of his claws coming out and as if scaring the shit out of Kayla is not enough, he now has Scott staring at him with something he can’t place. He wants it to be judgment but he has a feeling it’s not.

She doesn’t run away, but he thinks that has much more to do with Scott than it does with him. He wishes he could run away the moment Scott tries to explain things to her. It doesn’t sound rehearsed because he is taking cues from her which is so rarely what he does that Logan can’t help noticing.

She has questions because of course she does and as much as Scott could answer all of them to some degree, Logan is best suited for it and it’s damn time he actually looks at her.

“So… you travelled in time? Like Marty?” she asks.

“Marty McFly. From Back to the Future,” Scott supplies, making the math and realising the intricacies of Logan’s time travel far too late and so does not escape the look Logan sends him.

“I got that much. Nice to see something that didn’t change.” Even if it’s just a movie. Even if he has no idea why she could reference it.

She asks where he comes from and he tells her. She asks why he would want to change the future, he says it wasn’t the future anyone would want. He doesn’t see the trap door until it’s too late, doesn’t realise that she is too young to comprehend that her sheer existence is his doing and that everyone in this school would be dead by now if it weren’t for him. She only sees a man who looks like her father and isn’t and his being here means her dad is gone.

“I don’t like this. I don’t want it. I want my dad,” she says and neither Scott or Logan can come up with what to say. They both try, but she doesn’t listen and she runs away before they can try again and Logan feels dread unlike any other. The future was fixed, he’d done the impossible, but he can’t fix this.

“Give her time. She’ll come around,” Scott says, ever the diplomat, but there is an undercurrent to his voice that is the only reason Logan isn’t telling him to go fuck himself because the words sound empty but aren’t a jab and Logan knows he doesn’t know this Scott and how they possibly found themselves being fathers to a little girl, but everyone else seems similar to people he’d come to know and care about, and so things cannot be so different-

“Would you come around?” he asks and it is a jab because he remembers what it was like to see Scott after Jean’s death and even if it no longer applies to this Scott, it is in his head and he cannot unsee it. “Sometimes you just can’t come around, Slim.”

“Clearly,” Scott says and Logan doesn’t know what that means but before he can question it, Scott is walking away and Logan doesn’t stop him and then faces having Scott avoid him the following days.

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Taylor Swift’s Songs (XX): No Body No Crime.

Imagine you uncover Aemond Targaryen’s crimes… until you fall in his trap.

Warnings: smut, incest, drama, fluffy endings.

***

• He did it. He did it…

You enjoy more than what’s appropriate how he indecently holds you, like an unprotected boy who needs assurance of firm, truthful affections. Your body is warmer when his strong arms snake around your waist, unintentionally brushing against your nipples underneath your nightgown.

You wish you did not feel it. It’s sinful, notwithstanding this is an old practice in your family. However, under the sphere of influence of your mother makes you feel repulse at it. Or it’s what you tell yourself since the repulse is only because he doesn’t see you the way you might.

That night you cannot breathe. His breath is hot against your neck, you hear his snore, and you wish you were as pure as your elder sister Helaena. But it appears your innocence exists only on the outside.

As Aemond presses his body on you, your thoughts drift at an alternative universe where he would kiss your neck and explore your nipples with his hands… whispering things you’ve only heard doing with his…whore.

You grumble under your breath, turning subtly and in quiet riot on him. Then the fire dragon dies subsequently at the sweet face your eyes scan, that face whose features conceal an alluring darkness that draws you to him.

Your twin. Your other half, your partner, whose soul is linked to yours for reasons unknown. As you watch him sleep, with no eye-patch to his away his scar, you read through him.

You know why he comes at you instead of her and this gives you small percentages of pleasure, a deliciously tasted illusion upon which the desires of your heart drink to.

As you pull away discreetly the few silver locks that fall on his face, you mumble, lips barely touching:

“Must you always beseech war, my prince?”

And you feel tempted to add that in you he finds peace, but you say nothing, not when you spot tragedy crudely exposed. When he hugs you, it is as if moon and sun meet. It is as if an eclipse rises…

***

• We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine. Este's been losing sleep. Her husband's acting different and it smells like infidelity. She says, "That ain't my merlot on his mouth". "That ain't my jewelry on our joint account". No, there ain't no doubt. I think I'm gonna call him out…

“Infidelity is not always physical, but an aching that begins at the heart”, your sister muses at you in one of these days she gets into your brain like a prophetess.

She looks into your eyes as if she can read your future. What she may not know is that you too possess the ability of dreaming. It just comes perhaps in other shades.

“Treason often starts with ill intentions, whichever these may be”, you agree.

Yet, the conversation disrupts something that troubles your conscience. Specially when you know what he’s about to do, what path Aemond is going to take and in many ways it’s treacherous and horrendous. But you are comprehensive at it.

Later the same day, as you walk to the gardens, Aemond comes to meet you. It’s a sight to behold, the embodiment of innocence—a stark contrast to the darkness there is in him.

“Y/Nickname”, his husky voice startles you, but he sees how easily affected you are towards him.

A good observer like him needs little to see. He’s aware of how your body reacts to his, how synchronized you both are, sharing a unique connection that always binds him to you.

“Aemond, darling”, you turn abruptly and without thinking twice you run to him.

He smiles to himself as he is engulfed in your arms, tasting a rare sentiment of peace that only your company provides him. For some reason, the prince admonishes himself for letting be easily dragged into your kindness, mesmerized by your alluring beauty that matches his dragon fire.

Cleaning his thoughts, Aemond has to remember himself the reason why he’s here. Reluctantly he parts, his heart aching when detecting sadness in your eyes, aware of how attached you are to him.

“I need a favor.”

“Of course you do.”

Aemond blushes, fighting away remorse.

“Don’t look at me like that, my sweet. You know you’re the only one of this family I trust, aside Helaena, but it’s with you I am connected to, emotionally and carnally.”

You sigh, hands resting on your waist. Aemond’s good eye seems to see you as who you are, not as the epitome of handsomeness, but as the woman you’ve become. The gown you dress is silk green with short sleeves, showing some cleavage. He swallows, fighting away this strange urge of possessing you right here right there.

“Tell me, what’s it you require of me?”

“How you speak it makes me sound I only come for you to pursuit redemption for my sins. Though now that it occurs me this may be true.” He chuckles, but there is no joy in him. It’s when his true self comes to surface. “I think I’ve started a war.”

You barely blink, and every sexual tension in the air dissipates as you pale. You are suddenly dizzy and Aemond has to hold your elbows, leading you to a spot nearby.

“D-Do not think ill of me, I ask you this”, he begs, never before looking nor sounding so fragile.

You soften at him, cupping his cheeks before resting your forehead against his.

“I shall not, this I assure you. I suspect I’ve always sensed somehow due to our bond.”

Aemond’s long hands stroke your hair before sliding to your neck, there hesitating for a few seconds before breaking into an embrace in complete ignorance of how deeply he affects you.

“How can you be so good to me? I do not deserve you, Y/Nickname. You’re the only one who understands me”, so he snorts. “How can this be?”

You should not say it, nor think it, but Aemond is not entirely surprised when he hears these next words of you:

“You are my other half, Aemond. I could never refuse you anything.”

You close your eyes, subtly agreeing to be the one to hold his darkest secrets. The prince doesn’t know it yet, but he loves you for it.

***

• I think he did it but I just can't prove it. No, no body, no crime but I ain't letting up until the day I die. No, no. I think he did it. No, no. He did it…

You are bathing yourself at a lake with your sister. With no witnesses, both of you are deprived of your clothes, chuckling at such a defiant moment, aware this would raise your mother’s sharp reprehension.

It’s when he comes, since Aemond is sent to summon you and Helaena. The moment he finds you with your long locks completely wet, exposed in such a state under the sunlights… he freezes.

Aemond’s good eye stares at the happiness glinting behind your lilac gaze, watching how you throw yourself at the grass before standing and getting ready to dive in. He lingers at the sight of your firm breasts and large hips, good thighs to hold on.

His body may react at it. Worse than being mesmerized by you is that he’s caught staring at you.

“Aemond!”, you let a cry out, instantly going red before diving in.

Trying to conceal his boner, Aemond too blushes. Not until now he realized how easily you affect him. He clears his throat before saying:

“Mother is summoning.”

And then like the wind he disappears, leaving a hole where there is a heart beating in your chest.

“I think he’s fond of you”, says Helaena in giggles. “Marry him and the merrier you’ll be, dear sister.”

You hate how red your face is.

“Allow me to disagree, my beloved. Haven’t you heard he’s taken to his bed a bastard named Alys Rivers?”

The Queen laughs quietly at the jealousy that escapes your reasoning. You swim for a little more before getting yourselves dressed, back to meet your mother.

“Carnal needs are hardly met by the ones of the heart, my sister.” And then, before you two disappear into the castle, she mysteriously whispers: “You are the one he needs the most… considering the wayward path the gods chose him to follow.”

*

• Good thing my daddy made me get a boating license when I was fifteen and I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene. Good thing Este's sister's gonna swear she was with me ("She was with me dude"). Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy…

You omit his illicit affairs, not judging him for doing so. You watch as your mother, Queen Alicent, scowls at her dysfunctional children for their misbehavior on a war she attempted to prevent—more likely as she addresses the word to Aegon and Aemond.

Civil war has brokered out and the Seven Kingdoms bleed for Lucerys Velaryon. However, no judgement is found in your eyes as Aemond is scowled upon.

“You should be married to a noblewoman by now”, she says. “Perhaps a Baratheon lady, since this is a house loyal to us. Don’t give me this look, Aemond Targaryen, after disgracing us before the Gods.”

You pity his future wife, knowing his heart and flesh are tied to another woman. Aemond sees how quiet you’ve been in comparison to Aegon and Helaena’s odd bubbling and Daeron’s impatience at how this gleefully dinner is going.

“No body has been found”, you dare to raise your voice and instantly every sound dies. Aemond raises eyebrows and so do the others. You blush, but persist in your speech. “How can anyone think Aemond did it?”

Alicent looks at her daughter, puzzled by your sudden defense of your brother.

“My darling child, I’ve always judged you had put your brain to better use.”

You tilt your head.

“Why, my mother. Has the prince my brother spoken anything at all? You assumed he committed a crime by facts that were brought out by our enemies. Give him some credit!”

Opting to believe that your staunch belief that Aemond is innocent by all costs comes rather from your unshakable faith than your cynicism, Alicent limits herself to laugh away your arguments.

“Y/N, I am not tolerating this. Be quiet and meddle not where you are not concerned!”

It’s enough to cast a shadow in your rarely sentimental display. Disappointed, you are back to your seat, missing the thankful gaze Aemond shoots at you.

Yet, restless as you are, the crowed room does not silence you…

Until Gerold Hightower, unusual guest and witness of his Targaryens cousins squabbling, invites you for a dance. This angers the prince, who projects his frustrations at his mother.

Whilst the world burns in flames, you release your energy when you take your cousin’s hand and let be led him to dance, tired of caring, tired of feeling feelings that are the result of others deeds, you just want to be conducted out of this troubled world.

*

It’s late night when Aemond comes to your privy chambers. He needs you, his partner, his other half. The prince needs to reach his particular heaven, to gravitate to his sun.

You are just slipping inside the soft Dornish sheets when he follows you.

“Goodness me!”, you let a cry out when seeing Aemond next to you. “Aemond! I hate when you do that!”

“You don’t!”, he chuckles before poking your sides. “I’ve always done it and you never complained it.”

You squeak, falling into laughters as he tickles your side until you are breathless and laying on his lap.

“What brings you here, Aem?”, you ask him eventually rolling back on your side of bed.

He throws himself back at your bed, hands behind his neck, never unlocking the gaze you hold.

“I missed you”, he takes your fingers and interlock with his. “Your sweet disposition, your wit… everything I cannot be, the embodiment of virtues I cannot possess…”

You turn abruptly at him, and Aemond realizes how beautiful you look under candlelight, with a few locks dropping on your brow. He promptly takes them and puts behind your ear, diving in your lilac eyes and seeing the protest that has been forming in your mind.

“You are good. I know my prince, my other half.”

His gaze lingers at you, but lowers too to your neck. You still wear the necklace he gave you many moons ago, the day you reached ten and three summers. Aemond smirks, peeking your pink nipples that are this close to leave your nightgown.

“You do not what you say”, he quickly looks away, now stroking your cheek. “Such a faithful woman.”

“What a faithless man you’ve become”, you put him to an embrace, caressing his long locks, playing with your hand as he nuzzles against your neck, which makes you shake lightly.

Aemond cannot help a smile, feeling what you feel. This unusual connection never ended, he sees it now. It remains strong enough to erase him… the woman he’d publicly made his paramour.

As if you read his thoughts, you speak with a hint of disdain in your voice:

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?”

Aemond detects the poorly dissimulated jealousy he finds in you and it makes him smile. You two really complete the other.

“What makes you think I have another place to be at?”

He now plays with the necklace and you pretend you do not feel that old ache rising to burn what’s between your legs. Aemond, however, spots the moment your nipples get hard. He sighs in content, pleased to have his confirmation. But the prince is in no rush to stop enjoying it.

He remembers the day he had an inter course with lady Alys and it does scare him that he came to climax thinking of you.

Aemond blushes at the memory.

“We all know the woman you are devoted to”, you say, gently turning against him in a manner to push him away.

“Come on, now, love. Do not do that”, he pouts, resting his chin on your shoulder, snaking his arms around your waist. “Who am I without my fiercest defender?”

Gently, he places a kiss on top of your shoulder, eyes glued at your face, part of him praying not to be shooed away. You don’t do so, but neither give in as he hopes.

“Somebody’s husband and paramour”, you snark sarcastically, folding your arms.

Aemond chuckles, between annoyed and amused at your words. You try to ignore how suddenly his hand rest in your belly, pushing gently your nightgown as in a way to make you look at him.

You feel your breasts are about to leave the cloth that covers each, so you are about to adjust yourself when you find yourself locked in his arms. It doesn’t help you how he puts a knee to part your legs and discreetly lay in your womanhood.

Which of course messes with your reason, but you still hesitate.

“What do you think you are doing? Do you take me as your whore?!”, you frown, already moody because fire now burns your belly.

“Never”, Aemond scoffs at you, speaking more seriously now. “I meant every word I said. You are dear to me, my sweet loving sister to whom I devout myself to.”

You sigh, unsure what to say. You rest your head against his shoulder now, unknowing what to say.

“I think you keep too much to yourself”, he whispers, gently pressing his knee into your womanhood, earning a gasp that makes him smirk.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?”, you protest rather weakly.

“You think I wouldn’t notice?”, he looks down at you, his fingers now stroking your face before letting his index finger brush over your rosy lips.

“Notice what?”, by now your voice betrays you and almost unconsciously you rub onto his knee.

Aemond holds back a heavy sigh, sensing a boner growing the moment you suck his finger.

“You know what”, he takes it out of your lips and lifting your nightgown, slowly inserts it in your core. “There is no need to repress yourself, my love.”

You flutter your eyelashes, barely believing in what is happening. Your mouth forms an “o” as his finger investigates you, sliding farther before being joined by a second finger.

“Heavens!”, you throw your head back at the pillow, his gaze burning you.

“Yes”, he looks at your mouth, wondering what’s like to kiss it, to taste your tongue, but the prince is patient. Even if it arouses him to an unbearable point where his boner is troubling his self control. “Burn with me. It’s something you have always wanted haven’t you?”

He smirks as you arch your back, giving in completely.

“How’d you know?”, you ask in between whimpers.

Closing the distance between your lips, he says:

“What you feel I feel. The fire burning you inside, consuming desperately all that you heave…”, he bites your bottom lip, increasing the pace of his fingering. “I felt it too. You should have woken me up, told me countless times…”

“Aemond!”, you whimper under his good care of you.

No words are needed to be said. The moment his lips collide against yours coincides with when your legs are heavier, as if you are levitating, and then…

Every tension dissipates.

“I love you”. Aemond whispers against your ear, cuddling you protectively.

Rolling onto him, you kiss him again.

“I love you”, you mewl under his care, locking him still with your legs as his hands help removing you out of your nightgown.

“That day I spotted you at the lake”, says he, whose famine hands are now pursuing your freed nipples, which make you moan quite loudly. “Got me into another woman’s bed that wasn’t yours.”

You purr under his words, forsaking reason and good sense at your best. It is insensible to fight your heart’s desire, to not be consumed by the fire as he burns you with the other part of you he possesses so well.

“Aemond”, you moan out his name as his hands begin to play with your weak spots.

When he’s with you, no need there is to conceal who he truly is. His eye-patch is not there to hide away his scar, as well as others begin to be seen when your hand removes his clothes.

“Will you stay?”, you ask, insecurity shadowing the moment m.

Aemond looks into your eyes as he holds your face with both hands.

“Yes, my sweet princess. I shall make you my wife…”

“Lawfully”, you hint at refusing becoming his mistress.

Aemond chuckles.

“Lawfully”, he agrees.

So he kisses you.

***

• They think she did it but they just can't prove it. She thinks I did it but she just can't prove it. No, no body, no crime…

You are there when another crime happens. Aemond has been committed to his word. You are going to be espoused by your twin, thus respecting the Targaryen tradition that has been followed for ages.

But to every great delight is followed by a greater torment.

You are the one looking after your niece and nephew with your sister today. She’s been occupied with sewing and you are noticing sadness growing so suddenly in her features. You know what cause is there—you dreamed about it too, the loss of the precious Jaehaera and her twin Jaehaerys. The image daunts you.

As if moved by strange instinct, you summon them:

“My darlings, come here. I want to show you something…”

It happens very fast. Before the twins come to you, the royal privy chambers are taken by two strangers. Lowborn men dressing nothing but wickedness in their eyes take possess of the heirs of the crown.

“My children!”, Helaena squeaks. “Lords, please! Give them back to me!”

You try to get to the door, but not only it’s locked as the man who holds Jaehaerys slaps hard on your face, making you fall.

“An eye for an eye… But maybe this can be prevented if you choose one of your children to be saved!”

You panic, and so does Helaena. The older one that smells bad and holds a fanciful dagger says:

“Well? Beauty is not eternal, Madame. So perhaps you’d like to continue the lineage with your prince and let your princess attend the divine call?”

“This is not a divine call”, you scream. “It’s a crime!”

You try to find a weapon to avenge your sister, who is too nervous and shocked, having a breakdown at the scene, but the next thing you know you get yourself to a fight.

The next event was not predicted by Helaena. You jump into the back of the man who’s kidnapping Jaehaerys and thus release the boy. As you try to steal the man’s dagger, you manage to hurt him, which makes his partner get himself distracted and promoted to help him.

Whatever the case, you are not Aemond and your lack of strength is only an advantage to cause distraction. It works, but at what cost?

Soon the blade meets your belly and screams are heard like a haunted ghost throughout the castle. The sound is not yours, but Helaena’s.

Your beloved sister is about to lose her best friend for the sake of a dynasty that was damned from the beginning.

Your mind goes blank, though. All you remember is the days spent in relatively peace, quiet and studying, always omitting Aemond’s sins and ensuring these never reached your mother’s knowledge.

As you gasp in pain, weeping silently as your murderer twists the dagger in you. Believing your body will be disappeared after your last breath, Aemond will not know a crime has occurred.

Is your sacrifice worth of this dusted and dysfunctional family you are part of? When thinking of the safety of your nephews and the love you received of Aemond, you believe so.

Then you comfortably slip out of your conscience.

***

For some reason, you are spared by the Gods. Aemond is there next to you, concern stamping his features. It softens though when you move your hand, surprised to find it holding his.

“Y/N! Y/Nickname!”, you see tears in his good eye when he reaches for you, peppering your face with kisses. “I thought I lost you. I…”

He could not say another word. Still shaken for finding yourself alive and well, you have nothing to say as he rocks you in his arms. Only then you look at him, confused.

“What happened? I thought…”, and then you remember the events of that evening and you start to panic. “Aemond! The children, where are…?”

“Shh, shh…”, says the prince, kissing your lips gently. “No need to stress yourself over this matter, love. All has been resolved and our nephews are well. You are well and y his is mostly important.”

You snuggle onto his arms, weeping silently. Aemond understands what you’ve gone through, having spent the last days in great distress. He could not fight a war knowing you are not well. He could not bear in mind a world where you are not part of it.

Later you’d know Aemond rescued you because of the strong bond you two share. When he was about to fly Vhagar, he felt an excruciating pain flinch over his body, a terror that tormented his reason. Quickly he understood this was about you, that you needed him.

By the time he arrived at the Great Tower of the Red Keep, you have been just under a terrible attack that nearly costed your wife. The attackers escaped but Aemond hunted them down—after ensuring you were under the best care of the best men of the realm—and personally ensured to execute such criminals.

As he did, Aemond knew who was the responsible for sending these two after his nephew and niece. The prince soon found his uncle Daemon’s whereabouts and a fight followed—to no avail, although Daemon was forced to seek exile.

The blacks are now momentarily defeated and now all of your family are present in Aemond’s privy bedchambers—to where you were taken—looking after you.

“My dear girl. How imprudent of you to behave the way you did”, Alicent is weeping since the moment she saw you are awake. “I frightened for you. I prayed for your soul. I… My sweet Y/N! I have no words for what you’ve done and the great pain you made me suffer! Do you care so little about your life?”

Before you could give her an answer, which includes an apology, another teary relative comes to your sight. The Queen Helaena rushes to your side before carefully holding you in her arms.

“I didn’t see it coming, please forgive me!”

“There’s nothing to forgive. What it matters is that they are well… aren’t they?”

“They are”, a male, embargoed voice joins the party. It’s Aegon’s. “Y/N, your loyalty has always been the most admirable trait of a sweet heart none but Helaena possesses genuinely. Thank you.”

It’s an emotional scene, a reward for a duty you’ve never expected to earn. Aemond is there by your left side, him too sharing your sentiments. It is clear by now that what one feels, so does the other.

But what a greater victory there is to rejoice now than the harmony of the Dowager Queen and her children?

You know it… because you’ve dreamt it.

***

• Epilogue.

Harrenhal Castle, many years later.

No more shadows nor sorrows since war came to an end. For once every enemy is defeated and the king reigns uncontestedly with his family by his side.

Politics here, politics there, a rival to your man’s love is nowhere to be seen. Some of the servants believe you possess the same wickedness there is in Lord Aemond’s heart, for since you and him were married, Alys Rivers has gone to dust. Where has she gone, the ambitious witch?

A name that doesn’t remain in anyone’s mind when your Valyrian beauty is seen inside and out of the Castle. You are a good landowner and you do your charity.

You earn the epithet of “the good lady wife of Aemond, the kinslayer”. But you do not mind it. Not when you rule your household… and him.

Whilst children are fast asleep, you are found in great intimacy with your lord husband. In nude state, you sit at the edge of your bed, subduing him at your will.

“Aemond!”, you throw your head back, going insane at the wonderfulness his tongue does inside your womanhood, dancing around your clit until he drinks all the liquid you provide him. “Oh, oh Aem…!”

You gently push his face to your core, arching your back as that familiar wave rises from your already levitating thighs… before crushing in your belly. And you almost scream, had he not placed a hand over your mouth.

Soon after, he doesn’t let you take a break and promptly slides inside you, making you whimper and squint in surprise.

“My lady is soaked!”, Aemond pushed you by your thighs, his tone so indecently hot that you squirm and drop back in bed. “Goodness me, woman!”

The prince groans loud, throbbing right into you, watching you with lust and desire as you are about to get undone again. Specially when he intercalates his deep thrusts with his fingers.

“Sing it to me”, he now inclines his body over yours, both of you soaked. Aemond wraps a hand around your neck, holding it the way you like him to all the whilst slapping your bum respectfully. He’s about to come undone himself. “Yes, wife!”

And to his surprise, you lock him with your legs and turn positions. Barely you begin to ride him, though, when both of you reach orgasm.

“This was so good!”, Aemond cries out before making out with you passionately.

He then helps you come to his side, and there your bodies remain interlocked.

“I think we conceived”, you muse mischievously.

Aemond is cuddling onto you, holding you tightly close. You don’t mind his sweat, so mixed to yours that smell as one. You love him intently so and he feels it.

“I don’t mind if we do”, he chuckles. “The more, the merrier.”

One exchange of glances is enough to express how one feels for the other. It makes you happy, it contents him likewise. No signs of war, no crimes to be slandered of. No more.

It’s all good. Perfectly good…

[groverapologist]

Hello! Ok here's an ask for you: i've had this storyline in my head about rrverse next generation, and i'm trying to decide Percabeth's kids' names? Like, on one hand, i want their names to be meaningful, but also i really think Percy and Annabeth would NOT give their kids the same name as their friends who died, because, you know, names have power and all that.

So I was thinking something like little Jay, or Jaycee or some variation, in honor of Jason maybe? (I really want one of the kids to be named after Jason, but let's be real "Jason" is a cursed name, it's definitly not a good idea to name your kid that and Percy and Annabeth would both know it).

I think it'd also be likely if they named on of their kids for Grover maybe? But i personally don't really like the name Grover and idk if it'd be weird if they'd give the name of someone still in their lives? So maybe some variation of it? Maybe as a second name? Idk

Also for a little girl, i thought it'd be nice if they could name a kid after Sally or Thalia, and then i just found out the name Tally exists, soooooo....

Any thoughts on those suggestions? Ideas for other names? How many kids do you think they'd have?

Also also i really like your New Athens post and Percy and Annabeth and their kids would totally live there

i love to think they'd have two daughters, girl dad percy and girl mom annabeth may actually fix me.

for names, i like to think they went with the sally blofis-jackson method of naming which is using names of mythological beings with happy endings/happy lives. maybe a name of an Amazonian queen or powerful Amazonian in general. other names include Ida, Penelope, Myrene, Tara, Nelisa, Neda, Melissa, Melaina, etc. With the whole concept that names have power, I doubt they'd name their child over any goddess or person with a tragic ending.

if you want names inspired by the characters, there are a lot to choose from! you're absolutely right about them not naming their child jason. instead, there's jamie, jaycee, jay/jaye, jayden, jace, jess, jessy, jonas (annagram like annabeth's name), sonny, mason, even grace, though grace may be tricky due to thalia's disdain for her last name.

i feel it would be very normal and sweet for them to just outright name their daughter sally; if you still want alternatives, a lot of similar names are out there (sal, sammy, and sarah, which is the origin of the name sally). with thalia, i'd recommend a similar name, or even a name of another muse as piper is named after the muse of comedy. with grover, i'd recommend a middle name. i don't think it would be weird at all to name their child after someone they love that is still alive, but i'm arab and have seen a lot of arabs name their children after family, so my opinion may not apply here as i'm not american and don't know american naming styles too well.

now, personally, i don't think they'd name their children after anyone except maybe sally. i think the more likely alternative is making grover a godfather to their firstborn and another close friend (rachel? thalia? frank and hazel?) the godparent(s) of their second born. i think giving a jason-inspired middle name would be a nice idea, but i do have to say i would expect that more from piper or leo who were his best friends. i feel annabeth and percy have seen too much death and mourning to really name anyone after the dead.

these are all just opinions and i really appreciate your ask! i hope this helps, and thank you so much for the compliment!

[killerlittlerejects]

“I want you to remember the name of the woman that’s gonna end you.”

Needles And Smiles/MBK fans, where you at? XD

Usually I post art on, well, my art blog! But I thought it would be better to post it here since she is one of my muses.

Jane Keaton, my beloved. The reason why goth Jane has been engraved into my mind. She’s got to be one of my favourite interpretations of the character, with the unique twists in her story. Not the victim, but the sister of the monster that is Jeff the killer, and her struggles with the realization that her family were monsters- and that she can be one too.

After the second part of the series, the next few instalments (minus the third) focus on her internal conflict over being what she’s supposed to be VS what she wants to be, her relationships with other characters and how that conflict affects them, and her feelings towards Jeff. These were elements that kept me hooked and had me routing for her throughout the rest of the series, and I’m honestly still disappointed to this day that we never got a proper conclusion to the series or character arcs. But hey, thats what AUs are for!

If you’ve checked my alternate muse list, you’d have seen that I put her on it. But the version I write isn’t the “canon,” it’s more so based off the MBK version with a little twist.

Instead of being adopted, Jane is raised with Jeff and David in a pretty shitty home environment. Both parents being neglectful/abusive, her only main caretakers/parental roles were her brothers, and despite their… uniqueness, she loved them both dearly. So of course, having one of them die and the other slash her face open (in this AU her cheeks were cut by bullies, Jeff just reopened the wounds) left her pretty traumatized.

Like in the original, she becomes a slasher hunter alongside Toby, however my version can be a bit more sadistic and is more open to killing people she believes deserves it. However, she does her best to not let it affect the job. Despite everything, she keeps Jeff’s hoodie and can often been see wearing it over whatever attire she is dawning.

This drawing was really fun, I’m proud of how it turned out!

A little special thanks to @nathantheauthor for inspiring me to do more with the character. Seeing their creepypasta rewrites gave me the courage to say “fuck it, we’re doing this,” so thank you for that lol!

[malec-ao3feed]

Is it better to speak or to die?

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/lOArzDb by zestylemoncurd "Now," Magnus sighs, leaning back against the many pillows on the bed, "what do you have planned for us tonight, my darling?" "I-well, I mean-" Of their own accord, Alec's hands flapped uselessly around his head, as they usually did when he was in close proximity to Magnus. "-Just, the usual. Painting. You, painting you." He took a deep breath, "all of you." Magnus' grin widened to resemble that of the Cheshire Cat on the cover of some of Alec's childhood story books. Magnus had always had a feline quality to him, what with his swaying hips and purring voice, but they only added to his already seductive character. "Very well." He murmured, and his hands delicately wrapped around the ties of his ornate satin robe, letting it fall open. Or: Alec is a nobleman in Victorian England who, despite his intentions, becomes quickly addicted to the charms of his new muse, a street worker. Or: Alec is a bumbling gay disaster for 11k and Magnus is amusedly charmed. Words: 11389, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood, Isabelle Lightwood, Jace Wayland, Chairman Meow (Shadowhunter Chronicles) Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Regency Romance, Alec Lightwood Loves Magnus Bane, Friends With Benefits, kind of??, How Do I Tag, Not Beta Read, Artist Alec Lightwood, Secret Relationship, Period-Typical Homophobia, Forbidden Love, Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Magnus Bane Is a Nice Thing, Possessive Behavior, Sort of? - Freeform, not in a toxic way i hope, Thirsty Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane Is Quite Magical, Non-Explicit Sex, barely though - Freeform, ive tried to keep my digintiy here, Light Angst, Domestic Bliss, First Kiss, First Time, Sex Work, they just really love eachother okay?, Chairman Meow is an icon, oh and theres some slight voyerism btw, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, The Author Regrets Nothing, Overuse of italics read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/lOArzDb

[cilil]

Day 7 ~ Remembrance & New Beginnings

AN: My contribution for day 7 of @silmarillionepistolary and quick side note: I am aware that the Hobbits are said to stay on Tol Eressëa, but I prefer to hc that they went to the gardens of Lórien to hang out with Irmo and be healed by Estë and possibly visited other locations in Valinor as well.

𓂃🖋 Characters/pairings: Bilbo & Manwë 𓂃🖋 Synopsis: Bilbo receives an invitation from the Elder King himself. 𓂃🖋 Warnings: / 𓂃🖋 Oneshot (~600 words) | AO3

Dear Mr. Baggins,

I hope you are well and enjoy your stay in the gardens of Lórien. 

It has come to my attention that, during your time in Middle-earth, you wrote a book about your adventures. Now, I hear that you didn't take said book with you on your journey — which, as sad as it may be for those among us who love and cherish such stories, myself included, was a wise choice. It appears that written records are currently the safest and most convenient way to preserve tales and knowledge for future generations of Ilúvatar's mortal children. 

Even so, your memories remain, and I have been wondering if you would like to tell us about your adventures. My wife and I, as well as our friends, would love to listen. Your stories could, if you wish, also be recorded for the libraries of Valinor — though do not worry, you will of course not have to write everything down again, our dear friend Vairë and her Maiar would be happy to do so for you. 

I am certain you have wonderful tales for us, Mr. Baggins, and my birds tell me that you are a very entertaining storyteller as well. What they have told me over the years was lovely already, though their record of events would naturally pale in comparison to yours. 

Please let me know if you would be willing to entertain such a request. Either way, we would be honoured to have you as a guest, should you choose to visit us on Taniquetil — or, alternatively, we can also visit you in Lórien. The other Ring-bearers are, of course, welcome as well; after all they have their own stories to tell. 

I look forward to hearing from you. 

King regards,  Manwë Súlimo 

Pleased with himself, Bilbo folded the letter and caressed the fine paper. He reached out with his free hand to pet the bird that had delivered it to him — some species of falcon, if he wasn't mistaken — and smiled when it leaned into his touch without question. 

Even the animals are different here in the Undying Lands.

"Well, wouldn't you know that," Bilbo mumbled, addressing no one in particular, "who would have thought that an old Hobbit like me could get a letter from the Elder King himself?" 

He omitted the fact that he hadn't been entirely sure of his existence at times and instead thought of the birds Manwë had mentioned. So he had heard bits and pieces of his grand tales before, brought to him by them? Bilbo thought about the birds he had seen in the Shire, mostly tiny songbirds, and how they may have listened to idle Hobbit gossip and brought it home to their esteemed lord. 

To think that the Elder King may have heard us argue about silverware... The thought made him chuckle, and he carefully pocketed the letter. 

As for Manwë's request, Bilbo already knew what his answer would be. Of course he was going to seize the opportunity to tell the King and Queen of Arda about his adventures — especially when at least one of them seemed curious, which was quite flattering to say the least. And he would be able to leave another book behind, one that would be written and kept by immortal hands in an immortal land. 

He would leave this world one day, but his tales would remain. 

The bird stayed where it was even as he headed for his desk, watching him attentively. Perhaps it was going to wait until he had composed his answer, Bilbo thought, and sat down to do just that. 

"A long and wonderful tale indeed," he mused aloud, "and at the beginning, I would have never thought that an old wizard knocking on my door would one day lead me to the Elder King's palace."

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @saintstars

[holycatsandrabbits]

From OTP to OC’s: How to scrub your favorite fandom couple into original characters

Plot out a completely new story that you are dying to write—because all your favorite stuff is still there.

If you’re a fanfiction writer, you probably have at least one OTP (One True Pairing, meaning your favorite fictional romantic couple). You might have written them a beautiful story (or thirty) on AO3.

But at some point, you may want to take your OTP out of fandom and into the world of original fiction. Possibly because it makes your writing accessible to people who aren’t part of your fandom, and possibly (probably) because unlike fanfic, for original fiction, you can actually get paid.

So how on earth do you take other people’s characters and make them your own, without getting rid of the fire that sparks your muse?

In my journey from fanfic to original fic, I started by writing AUs (alternate universes) of my first OTP, Aziraphale and Crowley from Good Omens. In an AU, you are making big changes to the source material, but leaving in most of what your fandom loves about the characters. In a Good Omens AU, Aziraphale and Crowley are often human instead of angel and demon, but the basic enemies-to-lovers trope usually remains, along with the personalities of the characters, and as many similarities to the original story as you can fit in.

Scrubbing (that really is the technical term) fandom all the way to original is the same process, it just goes farther. When you’re done scrubbing, the only things left about your OTP will be the pieces you as a writer can’t live without.

So what are those pieces? Well, it’s entirely subjective. But you can follow these five steps to find them:

1. List your characters’ traits

We’re going to take as example an OTP I am currently scrubbing, which is just as cringy as all of your OTP’s: Link and Sidon from The Legend of Zelda Nintendo games. You don’t need to have any idea who that is to follow this article. But here are their character traits, the good and the flaws:

Link: human (or elf?) male, great hero of legend, very good at fighting, quiet, private, helpful, mischievous, possibly in love with someone he doesn’t remember (Princess Zelda), guilty, and haunted by past failures.

Sidon: 7-foot-tall shark man, gregarious, ridiculously optimistic and complimentary, charming, nerdy, sometimes over-confident, a good fighter, ages slowly compared to humans (or elves), and oh yeah, he’s a prince. 

Note that these don’t have to be the traits the fandom at large assigns to these characters. This is the way you see them.

2. List your ship’s tropes

“Ship” is short for relationship, in this case our romance. So for these dudes, we have: human/nonhuman or human/monster, royal/commoner, long lifespan/short lifespan, and size difference.

3. List your plot’s main points

In the two games that have Sidon (Link’s in all the games), Link has to go to four different places and help four different peoples (leaving Sidon behind), then beat a bad guy in a castle, and save the world.

4. Scrub in

Now we’re ready for the operation. You’re going to go through everything you listed and start throwing things out. As you do, ask yourself this question: Does my heart still race? 

If you take out a piece and your muse is still humming for this OTP, then let it go. But if the absence of that part ruins the whole thing for you, then leave it in. Remember, you don’t want people to recognize this as a certain fandom or ship, so take out everything you possibly can.

So for the Link/Sidon ship, I’m asking myself, Does it matter (to me) that one is royalty? Does it matter that they age differently? Does it matter that one’s two feet taller? Does it matter that one is a monster? Do I still need to have a save-the-world plot? Do I still need them to be separated sometimes during the story? And so on. Again, this is entirely subjective: leave in only what floats your personal boat.

5. Make it weird

You have your list! Congrats! Now it’s time to change every other detail you can, because you want to make your story as different from the original as possible.

Let’s say I decide I really want to keep my monster character. Then it definitely shouldn’t be a shark man like Sidon. So I’m asking myself the same kinds of questions: Does it matter (to me) that he’s seven feet tall? Does it matter that he has sharp teeth? Does it matter that he can breathe underwater? And so on. 

Perhaps the only thing I really care about is my monster’s size. In that case, I need to come up with a large humanoid creature that’s as different from a shark as possible: maybe a centaur, bear shapeshifter, giant alien bird person, or scientist that had an accident in the cloning lab. 

Let character and plot shape each other into a completely new story that you are dying to write—because all your favorite stuff is still there.

Here are two original stories I wrote based on fandom ships:

You Don’t Say: When two fake psychic con men who secretly pine for each other are forced to work together to solve a disappearance, they discover that one of them is actually psychic. But which one? This is Aziraphale and Crowley, with the tropes of enemies-to-lovers, dorkiness, and bickerflirting preserved, along with elements of magic. Turns out those were the only pieces I couldn’t let go, and the resulting story is nothing like Good Omens, but was really fun to write.

Bloom: A shy older man with magical abilities becomes the muse of a beautiful young male artist. This comes from one of my OTPs from the 2018 TV show The Terror: John Bridgens and Henry Peglar, an older man/younger man, teacher/student ship. I left in the age difference (toned down quite a bit), and kept the outgoing/shy trope, but changed the teacher into an artist’s muse with a gift of magic. This story has very little in common with a horror show about Sir John Franklin’s doomed 1840’s arctic expedition—except the few parts I couldn’t live without.

There is one major disadvantage for a fanfic writer moving to original fiction: you will not get nearly as many readers for original fic. But remember, readers in your fandom are there because they love the same character traits and tropes you do, some of which will be preserved in your story. You may not have as many readers, but you will get some fans of your own! And maybe even some sales.

Thanks for reading! Speaking of sales—here’s how I do it: How to publish a short story

Looking for more inspiration? Get some weird writing prompts. 

DannyeChase.com ~ AO3 ~ Linktree ~ Resources for Writers

Image credit

[waterparksdrama]

waterparks blurbs from their fbr press release pack (2022)

BIO

For as much as Waterparks is a genre-busting collective of three friends who play music, hang out, and constantly flip the script, Waterparks really represents a bigger, dare we say, movement. The Houston trio— Awsten Knight, Otto Wood, and Geoff Wigington—have unassumingly brought vibrancy back to rock. (The only thing bolder than their melodies is whatever hair dye Awsten opted for this week!) Their strange magnetic pull has attracted a growing cohort of fans who pack sold out shows, stream their songs like crazy, and have even elevated them to multiple Billboard charts. 

However, the next era begins with the band’s fifth full-length and debut album for Fueled By Ramen, headlining the Sad Summer Festival, an arena tour with My Chemical Romance, and even more adventures…

“Waterparks is so much fucking bigger than Otto, Geoff, and me,” muses Awsten. “However, it wouldn’t be Waterparks without the fans at the shows. It wouldn’t be Waterparks without the presence online. It wouldn’t be Waterparks without this awesome community. There are so many people who are a big part of this. It has completely evolved from where it started, and it feels massive to me. I’m lucky enough to guide it.”

Waterparks might just be the biggest band of tomorrow. They reached unprecedented heights with 2021’s Greatest Hits. Don’t let that title fool you—it didn’t collect their best-performing songs at a discounted price, but it did showcase their best material to date. As such, it moved 15K units first-week, cracked the Billboard Top 200 and landed in the Top 10 of the Top Alternative Albums Chart and Top Rock Albums Chart. In the wake of its release, they impressively eclipsed half-a-billion streams thus far. Beyond acclaim from Rolling Stone, MTV, Kerrang!, and Alternative Press, they graced the cover of V Magazine and Upset Magazine (who also awarded the record a “five-out-of-five star” perfect score!). Perhaps, NME summed it up best though, “Instead of celebrating the past, ‘Greatest Hits’ is opening the door to what comes next.” Along the way, they sold out various headline tours. 2022 saw the band sign to Fueled By Ramen and turn the page on a new chapter.

“Whereas I saw Greatest Hits as a dark indoor album, I see this next body of work as a light outdoor album,” he reveals. “There’s a bright vibe with very high energy to it. So much of what we do is about how it’s going to be experienced by the community. We did a lot of programming on the last record. I wanted to get more tactile and touch shit now,” he laughs. “I needed to hold a guitar and have the strings vibrating on my fingers.”

That brings us to the first single “FUNERAL GREY.” Powered by four different guitars (including a toy guitar for the main riff), the track swings like a wrecking ball from a buoyant verse into a distortion-lifted hyper-hypnotic hook, “She wore a sweater in summer weather. She wore a sweater. It was FUNERAL GREY!”

“This is—and I fucking hate the term—more love-driven,” he confesses. “It’s a reintroduction, and it’s more about other people than just me. When I wrote the song, I was walking around my friend’s neighborhood. I was laughing, because it looked so haunted—like something out of an M. Night Shyamalan movie. I thought, ‘If this was an Instagram filter, it would be ‘Funeral Grey’.’ It’s got a dark title, but I love how bright it sounds. To me, that’s Waterparks.”

In the end, the new music is meant for the people comprising this greater movement—like everything Waterparks do.

“When you listen to us, I just want you to feel good,” Awsten leaves off. “It’s bouncy shit. Even if it’s aggressive, it’s enthusiastic. There’s a lot of energy behind this. I try to make music that tingles people’s fucking brains, which is what my favorite music does for me.”

BOILER

For as much as Waterparks is a genre-busting collective of three friends who play music, hang out, and constantly flip the script, Waterparks really represents a bigger, dare we say, movement. The Houston trio— Awsten Knight, Otto Wood, and Geoff Wigington—have unassumingly brought vibrancy back to rock. (The only thing bolder than their melodies is whatever hair dye Awsten opted for this week!)  Waterparks might just be the biggest band of tomorrow. They reached unprecedented heights with 2021’s Greatest Hits. Don’t let that title fool you—it didn’t collect their best-performing songs at a discounted price, but it did showcase their best material to date. As such, it moved 15K units first-week, cracked the Billboard Top 200 and landed in the Top 10 of the Top Alternative Albums Chart and Top Rock Albums Chart. In its wake, they impressively eclipsed half-a-billion streams thus far. Beyond acclaim from Rolling Stone, MTV, Kerrang!, and Alternative Press, they graced the cover of V Magazine and Upset Magazine (who also awarded the record a “five-out-of-five star” perfect score!). Perhaps, NME summed it up best though, “Instead of celebrating the past, ‘Greatest Hits’ is opening the door to what comes next.” Along the way, they sold out various headline tours. 2022 saw the band sign to Fueled By Ramen and turn the page on this next chapter kickstarted by the single “FUNERAL GREY.”