#Val blanche

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Starfield

Rating: E

Pairing: Delgado x Oc

Chapter 6 Excerpt:

Even with the ComSpike and Conduction grid, navigating to Bannoc IV proves to be a shitstorm. Thank the stars for her brother Val or she would’ve had a difficult time trying to fly through the turbulence and getting the damn targeting system to lock onto The Legacy. But he manages it, no problem. They ease through the red haze that rocks their ship, teeth gritting against the vibrations. In front of them, a zigzag of electromagnetic energy flashes hot white then disappears as she steers away from a spinning asteroid. Carefully pushing forward, the haze clears just enough for the Legacy to come into view. Rerouting power from her grav drive to her engines, the ship speeds up, inching close to The Legacy. Another vibration rocks them but she manages to dock the ship.

“We’re all set to board,” Val tells her.

She breathes deep as she exits the cockpit, heading to the armory with Val. They suit up and grab their packs, guns and extra ammo, preparing for whatever the hell might be waiting for them on that ship. She expects a few robots and maybe even some heatleeches. Those fuckers manage to sneak onto any ship somehow. Packs on their backs, they waste no extra time. Together, they board The Legacy.

They’re hit with a blaring alarm and a rush of cool air. Though stale and laden with dust, the air is almost earthy sweet, invisible yet clinging to their skin like dew in morning grass. It sends a strange sort of chill up Verity’s spine as she covers her ears to block out the alarm. Broken robot at her feet, her eyes adjust to the dim surroundings and she doesn’t quite catch what the automated voice says as it comes to an abrupt ending. She uncovers her ears.

“Apparently we’re not the first to have come here,” Verity says, stepping over the detached robot leg and making a left up the stairs.

“Shit. Yeah, this doesn’t look encouraging.”

“Can't back out now.”

“Technically, we can.”

“No you can’t. You kidding me? I know you’re dying to see what’s on this ship, same as me.”

Val chuckles. “Hate that you know me so well.”

“Honestly,” Verity adjusts the straps of the pack on her shoulders, “I also hate that.”

The stairway opens up into a room that splits. She pauses, contemplating her options.

“I would’ve preferred a lie.” Val kicks an empty box out of his way to stand against the wall. “I like having my feelings spared. Besides, you don’t mean that.” He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and offers it to her. She plucks one out and he does too, pocketing the pack and trading it for a lighter. Flicking the lighter, the flame glows and he holds it to the end of her cigarette. Then lights his own while he plays with the lighter.

“I do mean it,” she replies after taking a drag. Her brow quirks as she meets his gaze. “Sometimes you can know too much about someone.”

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[amara-laz]

This story is holding itself together with one (1) staple

[late-to-the-party-81]

Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right

AN: Have a silly little ficlet that fills my last June-iverse space and an adoptable from Stucky Bingo.

Unbeta’d

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden/Kudos are loved, comments are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Join my tag list here

Master list | Stucky Bingo Master List | June-iverse Round 2 Master list

Summary: Knife thrower Bucky is just trying to practise with his act mates. What he doesn’t need is Nat and Clint speculating about what has made Trapeze artist Steve move stiffer today.

Relationships: Knife Thrower Bucky x Trapeze Artist Steve

WC: 1k

CW: Modern AU, Circus AU, Top Bucky, Bottom Steve, Light Bondage, Flashbacks, Secret relationship.

Bingo Fills and Challenges:

@stuckybingo - May Adoptable: “Have you done this before?”

@buckybarnesevents Into an alternate June-iverse - C4: Circus AU

Thunk!

The handle of the knife vibrated where it was sticking out of the target board, a scant half inch from the top of Natasha’s head. The redhead herself was totally non-plussed, her attention focussed not on either of her act partners, but on the rehearsal that was happening up above them all.

Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes at her blasé attitude and threw another knife which found purchase in the wood between her outspread fingers. Beside him, Clint was checking the fletchings on his arrows.

“You really should be paying attention, Nat,” Bucky grumbled. “What if you need to move at the last moment because my aim is off?”

“That has never happened and I doubt it ever will,” Nat replied, her eyes still on the aerial artistry that was holding her focus. 

Bucky couldn’t really blame her. It was amazing the way that Sam, Steve, and now Peter, flew through the air, almost as though they had wings. Sam and Steve had been working together for years, honing their performance as trapeze artists, with Peter recently joining them permanently after years of diligent training in and amongst his performances with the Clown troop.

Just as Bucky was about to throw his next knife he saw Nat’s eyebrows draw together. “Is it my imagination or is Steve looking a little stiffer than usual?” she asked.

Clint pulled his gaze from his beloved arrows and craned his neck. “Maybe he pulled a muscle or something?” 

At his words, a memory from the night before flashed before Bucky’s eyes.

The muscles in Steve’s arms strained and his chest heaved. His signature white vest had been pulled up to reveal his sculpted pectorals and was now tangled around his wrists, limiting his movements. One of Bucky’s knives was thrust through the wadded cotton, pinning it, and Steve, to the wooden tent support behind him, leaving the blonde trapeze artist totally at his mercy.

“Maybe Brock finally wore him down?” Nat mused and Bucky blanched at the thought. 

“I don’t think so,” he countered, hoping that his voice sounded merely conversational. “Steve’s been quite vocal about how he isn’t interested in Brock. He isn’t one of Brock’s lions to be tamed.”

Steve was trying so hard to keep his vocal responses as quiet as possible, but all those little moans and whimpers that spilled from his lips as Bucky explored the expanse of his chest with his fingers, lips, teeth and tongue were like music to his ears.

“Have you done this before?” Bucky’s voice was low and husky and he knew there was no way he was disguising the hunger in his eyes.

“Yes,” was Steve’s breathy response. “Give it to me, Buck. I won’t break.”

“Who was he hanging out with last night?” Clint asked.

“I thought it was Thor, Carol and Val? Maybe they finally succeeded in luring him to their bed?” Nat stepped away from the target and pulled out Bucky’s knives one by one, handing them to him as they switched places. 

“Maybe he tried lifting one of Carol’s weights again?” Clint pulled on his bow string, warming it up, before notching an arrow and loosing it. Bucky felt the breeze from it pass his left ear before he heard it imbed itself.

“Well he is strong,” Nat responded, “but not like them. He’d be better off sticking to aerobatics.”

Steve’s legs were wrapped around his waist, and Bucky pressed as close in as possible as they kissed, their teeth clashing. With his hands he held Steve up as they rutted against each other.

“Doesn’t seem to be affecting him too much though, if he has hurt himself,” Clint stated before loosing another arrow. 

Bucky cast his eyes upwards to watch as Steve, hanging upside down from one of the trapeze swings by his legs, reached out and caught Peter as he was thrown from Sam’s grip. Everytime he watched them his heart was in his mouth, which felt ridiculous considering the act that he was involved in was equally as dangerous. Peter’s former act mates stood manning the ropes of the safety net, ready to let it down at a moment's notice if anyone fell into it. The thunk of another arrow, landing between his spread legs, the flight feathers kissing his crotch brought Bucky’s focus back to where it should be.

“He seems as flexible as normal. And look at his glutes!”

Steve was almost folded in half, his legs over Bucky’s forearms, as Bucky held on to his glorious ass and fucked into him, delirious with pleasure.

“Down boy,” Nat chuckled as Bucky moved away from the target, Clint taking position ready for Nat to practise with her throwing stars.

“‘M just saying,” Clint replied with a shrug that was almost ill-timed. “It’s not like you can’t not notice Steve’s ass. Although Sam’s is definitely a close second.”

“You’re quiet, James,” Nat observed with a tilt of her head. “Don’t wanna speculate as to what made Steve walk with a limp today?”

Under Bucky’s gaze, Steve bit down hard on his lip and the fabric of his DIY bondage started to tear. Steve’s muscles flexed even more and then he was coming, his cock spurting between them as his body pulsed and squeezed around Bucky’s cock. Bucky threw back his head, letting go of his control, and filled Steve up.

Bucky snorted derisively. “I’ve got better things to do than get involved in gossip. Why don’t you ask Wanda? Isn’t she supposed to be the mind reader?” Nat opened her mouth to reply but at that moment the trapeze trio all jumped down into the safety net and Joaquín, Kate, Yelana and Miles hastily lowered it down. Making use of the distraction, Bucky decided to make a swift exit. “See you guys later. I got some stuff to do.”

Clint looked at Nat, confusion writ on his face, but then Steve passed them with a preoccupied expression, having excused himself from Sam and Peter.  As if a light bulb had gone off, Clint said “They’re fucking aren’t they?”

Nat smiled, knowingly before she threw her second star. “Absolutely.”

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @crayongirl-linz, @mightstill, @nicoline1998enilocin, @starrkermarvel, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796

[pintoras]

Blanche Hoschedé-Monet (French, 1865 - 1947): Paysage effet de neige, le Val près de Giverny (1888) (via Sotheby's)

[alacetor-the-duckies-deer]

So we know Angel's soul was sold under contract, that Val may have the majority of power. But it isn't cart blanche to do whatever whenever wherever. It has stipulations, specifically that we know of now, he can't tell Angel Dust what to do outside the studio.

Presumably, there's an end that Angel Dust can fulfill a get out of the deal, or else that Val can fail to meet and lose rights to Angels Soul, right?

But Husker gambled his away. It was up for the winner right? A game of luck, no strings attached, Alastor can keep it and do whatever he wants continuously, forever.

Alastor states outright in his verse of the finale song that he made a deal. He didn't lose it in a bet, which nixed my original theory that Alastor lost it to a 3rd party while gambling with Husker, as my only believable reason Husker would know about the situation, because I can't think of any reason Alastor would TELL Husker.

And by the way he speaks in his song he thinks at his full power, which he is not at because of said deal, that he could have taken on an angel like Adam who was only defeated by an Archangel.

So

My thing is,

Did he REALLY show up in hell will all that power?

And then,,,, sell some of it (not his soul? He is dealing in favors with Charlie, maybe you can deal in power level too???) for,,, something? For WHAT?

I could imagine he sold his soul for all that power when he first arrived.

But then, why would whoever's holding the contract,,, cut him off?

If he spawned into hell that powerful, I could imagine another entity wanting to cut him off, but why would Alastor TAKE a deal like that if he had so much power?

Honestly, I'm back to the gambled it away bit, except he plainly states it was a DEAL he made.

But then again, actually, I just remembered. Husker implies he lost his souls, Gambling to Alstor in an early episode, but in Loser Baby, he says he sold it to Alastor "to save his power."

What if when they were both overlords at one point, you think they were friends? He's friends with Rosie for sure. You think Husker knew he, Husker, was about to lose whatever betting pool they had going with some 3rd party and folded early to Alastor, thinking he'd be safer? Thinking if he teamed up with Alastor, they might both win?

Do you think Aastor back stabbed him? Or just straight up lost to the 3rd party and took it out on Husker???

There is just too much unreliable narration right now it's so frustrating!

[iydiamartinx]

FLAMES OF STARLIGHT

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁���𝗿 𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 | 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

Pairing: Poly!Azriel x OC x Lucien

❝ 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯

𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯. ❞

— 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐬

FROM HER SPOT, leaning against the wall, Val studied the queens. They weren't exactly what she expected. She honestly didn't know what she expected, but it wasn't this.

They were all a mixture of age, colouring, height, and temperament, yet there was just something about them that made them seem so...off. They lacked regality, and there was no mistaking the hungry gleam in their eyes.

These weren't queens, these were power-hungry women, and something told Val that these women wouldn't help them no matter what they did.

Rhysand was the first to break the silence, "Well met," He said.

They didn't reply. A nod from the golden queen, the most beautiful of the five, had their guards moving to hold position by the walls.

Nesta and Elain both shuffled aside from the bay windows to make room, but Val refused to move from her spot, leaning against the wall.

The guard closest to her glared and took a threatening step forward, but she remained where she was, stone-faced. This was her home, and she wouldn't let herself be bullied. She would stand where she damned pleased.

Val heard a slight growl come from behind her, where the two Illyrians stood not too far from where she did. It was so low Val nearly missed it. The guard's eyes drifted passed the shoulder that wasn't against the wall, and whatever he saw had his face blanching, and reluctantly he shifted back a few steps and found a different spot.

Rhysand took a small step forward, and the queens sucked in a sharp breath; whether to prepare themselves or in fear, Val wasn't sure. The guards casually moved their hands to the hilt of their swords, and Val refrained from snickering.

She didn't know the full extent of their power, but even she was wise enough to know that these human guards stood no chance against the High Lord and his inner circle.

Rhysand just bowed his head slightly and said, "We are grateful you accepted our invitation." He took in the five queens before lifting an eyebrow. "Where is the sixth?"

It was the eldest of the queens who spoke first, her eyes were cold and calculating, but her tone was neutral, giving nothing away.

"She is unwell and could not make the journey." Her beady eyes looked to Feyre. "You are the emissary."

Val noticed Feyre slightly stiffen at being acknowledged. Slowly, she nodded her head and said, "Yes, I am Feyre."

Her cold gaze then cut to Rhysand. "And you are the High Lord who wrote us such an interesting letter after your first few were dispatched."

Val stopped herself from curling her lip at the queen's tone. It toed the line between boredom and amusement. She was mocking him.

If Rhysand noticed, he didn't let on. "I am," He replied with a slight nod. "And this is my cousin, Morrigan."

The beautiful golden-haired Fae that had come with Feyre and the others glided forward. Her walk was filled with a feline-like grace, and beauty, power and dominance exuded off of her. It was evident with the way the golden and the second youngest queen sized her up that they thought she was a threat to them.

Morrigan came to a stop by Feyre's side and bowed. "It has been a long time since I met with a mortal queen."

The queen clad in black placed a pale hand on her lower bodice. "Morrigan—the Morrigan from the War."

The queens paused, and their looks shifted into awe and fear.

Morrigan once again bowed before gesturing to the chairs laid out. "Please—sit."

The queens sat down in unison, but the guards remained in their current spots.

"I assume these are our hosts," The golden queen said, running a gaze over Nesta, then Elain before finally stopping at Val.

Nesta had gone ramrod straight, while Elain—always the perfect lady—curtsied. Val, however, did nothing. Showed no reaction. Her face set into a mask of cool indifference as she evenly met the Golden Queen's gaze. Gold clashed against silver, and something sparked deep in that golden gaze.

"My sisters," Feyre clarified, her words drawing the golden queen's attention away from Val.

The golden queen looked to Rhysand. "An emissary wears a golden crown. Is that a tradition in Prythian?"

"No," Rhysand said smoothly, "but she certainly looks good enough in one that I can't resist."

Val couldn't help but smirk at his audacity. If this was who her sister had fallen for, Val would have no problem getting along with him.

The golden queen, however, didn't smile as she continued to muse, "A human turned into a High Fae...and who is now standing beside a High Lord at the place of honour. Interesting."

Val tilted her head, the sharp words at the tip of her tongue, but she held back, knowing her words would end the meeting before it even began. Don't sound so jealous. Val could hear the envy soaked in the queen's tone. She could see it clear as day on her face.

A game of power that's what the queens were playing, or at least trying to. It was something Val had learned from a young age. Nesta called herself their mother's monster, but if Nesta was the monster, then Val was something much more vicious. The only difference was that she had learned to suppress that side of herself unless her family was threatened.

Yet, this meeting with the queens was coaxing that side out. She watched with a certain level of detachment and coldness. Analyzing every move the queens made and every word that slipped past their poisonous lips. 

The eldest once again spoke, "You have an hour of our time. Make it count."

It should have meant the end of the game, but it was only now that the games were truly about to begin. 

"How is it that you can winnow?" Mor questioned from her seat beside Feyre.

The golden queen gave a small, mocking smile as she replied, "It is our secret and our gift from your kind."

"War is coming. We called you here to warn you—and to beg a boon," Feyre spoke. Her sister's voice was soft, too soft.

Val's lip slightly curled. She felt like her sister's use of the word beg reinforced the fact that they were in a position of vulnerability, that queens had all the power because they had something Rhysand and the inner circle needed.

"We know war is coming," The eldest said blandly. "We have been preparing for it for many years."

Val's jaw clenched as she realized the implications of their words. Rhysand glanced over at Val—whose attention was still on the queens—and his eyes slightly narrowed in thoughtfulness.

"The humans in this territory seem unaware of the larger threat. We've seen no signs of preparation," Feyre commented.

"This territory," The golden one explained coolly, "is a slip of land compared to the vastness of the continent. It is not in our interests to defend it. It would be a waste of resources." 

A surge of anger went through Val as the golden queen confirmed Val's conclusion.

"Surely, the loss of even one innocent life would be abhorrent," Rhysand drawled out.

The eldest queen sniffed, folding her withered hands onto her lap. "Yes. To lose one life is always a horror. But war is war. If we must sacrifice this tiny territory to save the majority, then we shall do it."

"There are good people here." Feyre rasped out, her voice hoarse with emotion.

Feyre was probably the most outwardly emotional sister out of all the Archeron sisters. It was both her greatest strength and her weakness. Right now, it was proving to be the latter. These women were prepared to sacrifice thousands of lives in this impending war, and they didn't even show an ounce of remorse. They wouldn't change their mind even if Feyre begged them.

The golden Queen proved Val to be right as she retorted, her voice laced with sweetness, "Then let the High Fae of Prythian defend them."

For a moment, there was silence, then Nesta spoke. Her words were an angered hiss, "We have servants here. With families. There are children in these lands. And you mean to leave us all in the hands of the Fae?"

The eldest one's face softened. "It is no easy choice, girl—"

"The choice of cowards and fools never is," Val spoke up. Her voice was as equally sweet as the golden queen's had been, filled with faux understanding even as her eyes shined with disgust.

The queens' eyes flared at her clear insult, but before they could say anything, Feyre was quick to interject.

"For all that your kind hates ours...You'd leave the Fae to defend your people?"

"Shouldn't they?" the golden one questioned, her head tilted slightly, sending that cascade of curls sliding over a shoulder. "Shouldn't they defend against a threat of their own making?" She snorted. "Should Fae blood not be spilled for their crimes over the years?"

And what of your blood, should it not be spilled for the neglect of your people? The words were once again at the tip of Val's tongue, but the sharp warning look from Rhysand had her biting her tongue.

"Neither side is innocent," Rhys countered calmly. "But we might protect those who are. Together."

"Oh?" The eldest queen mused, her wrinkled face hardening. "The High Lord of the Night Court asks us to join with him, save lives with him. To fight for peace. And what of the lives you have taken during your long, hideous existence? What of the High Lord who walks with darkness in his wake, and shatters minds as he sees fit?" She cawed out a laugh. "We have heard of you, even on the continent, Rhysand. We have heard what the Night Court does, what you do to your enemies. Peace? For a male who melts minds and tortures for sport, I did not think you knew the word."

Feyre spoke, her tone laced with anger and frustration. "If you will not send forces here to defend your people, then the artifact we requested—"

"Our half of the Book, child," The crone cut her off, "does not leave our sacred palace. It has not left those white walls since the day it was gifted as part of the Treaty. It will never leave those walls, not while we stand against the terrors in the North."

"Please," She said simply, all anger gone and left with defeat.

Silence again.

"Please," Feyre repeated. "I was turned into this—into a faerie—because one of the commanders from Hybern killed me."

"For fifty years," Feyre continued, "she terrorized Prythian, and when I defeated her, when I freed its people, she killed me. And before she did, I witnessed the horrors that she unleashed on human and faerie alike. One of them—just one of them was able to cause such destruction and suffering. Imagine what an army like her might do. And now their king plans to use a weapon to shatter the wall, to destroy all of you. The war will be swift, and brutal. And you will not win. We will not win. Survivors will be slaves, and their children's children will be slaves. Please...Please, give us the other half of the Book."

The eldest queen swapped a glance with the golden one before saying in a gentle, placatingly tone, "You are young, child. You have much to learn about the ways of the world—"

Val let out a low growl, about to snap at the crone, but Rhysand beat her to it. "Do not," He said with a deadly quiet, "condescend to her."

Azriel had told her he was centuries old. Feyre had mentioned he, Rhysand and Cassian grew up together. Which meant Rhysand was also centuries old. The eldest queen was nothing but a child compared to him.

It seemed she also realized that fact as she had the good sense to look nervous at that tone.

His face was unforgiving and hard as his voice, as he went on, "Do not insult Feyre for speaking with her heart, with compassion for those who cannot defend themselves, when you speak from only selfishness and cowardice."

It was at that moment Val's respect for the High Lord grew.

The eldest stiffened. "For the greater good—"

"Many atrocities," Rhys purred, "have been done in the name of the greater good."

Val let out a snort, drawing the attention onto herself. She didn't miss the way a flicker of disgust ran over the queens' faces at the sight of her.

Val knew in their eyes she was a nobody, a mere human girl with no standing. With the hunting clothes she wore, she wouldn't be surprised if they thought her equivalent to a wild beast. They wouldn't be far off in their thoughts, yet, Val also didn't care. She might not have any power in their eyes, but she knew who she was, and she was far from powerless. She may not have magic or a crown, but she would do anything to protect those she cared for, and that was infinitely more dangerous than being driven by greed.

Val straightened up and returned the look of loathing, but unlike them, she made no effort to hide it.

"Do. not. come into my home and lie to our faces," She warned. "You claim you are doing this for the greater good, but the truth is you care for no one but yourselves. You would sooner see us suffer and die than push past your bigotry against the Fae to help us." She spoke in a soft yet deadly tone that was filled with nothing but ice. "Fools, liars, and cowards, that's what you all are."

"How dare you?!" The second youngest queen snarled, losing her composure for a second.

From the corner of Feyre's eyes, she saw the way the shadows around Azriel darkened, a few wisps curled in agitation—or was it in protectiveness? She watched as the darkened wisps moved away from their master to circle around Val instead.

Val didn't notice as she stood tall and composed, unperturbed by the young queen's ire. Yet, the queen's eyes widened as she saw the darkness slither around Val's form.

"Quite as easily as you seem to put your lives above thousands of others," She boldly answered. "There is a chance to stop this war, but you let pride and prejudice cloud your judgment." Val shrugged. "If I'm wrong in my words, then prove it and give us the book. Let us stop this war before it can even begin."

The Elder queen interjected, eyeing the dark wisps warily, "The Book will remain with us. We will weather this storm—"

Val smirked humourlessly and shook her head, but before she could once again call them cowards or something worse, Mor cut in.

"That's enough," She interrupted firmly.

She got to her feet and stepped up beside Val. There was only one word that came to Feyre's mind when she saw her sister and Mor standing together, deadly. One of darkness, and the other of light, both equally dangerous in their own right.

Mor looked each and every one of those queens in the eye as she said, "I am the Morrigan. You know me. What I am. You know that my gift is truth. So you will hear my words now and know them as truth—as your ancestors once did."

None of the queens spoke, and Mor gestured to where Feyre sat.

"Do you think it is any simple coincidence that a human has been made immortal again, at the very moment when our old enemy resurfaces? I fought side by side with Miryam in the War, fought beside her as Jurian's ambition and bloodlust drove him mad, and drove them apart. Drove him to torture Clythia to death, then battle Amarantha until his own."

Mor took in a sharp breath, and Feyre's attention once again drifted to Azriel when she saw him inch closer.

"I marched back into the Black Land with Miryam to free the slaves left in that burning sand, the slavery she had herself escaped. The slaves Miryam had promised to return to free. I marched with her—my friend. Along with Prince Drakon's legion. Miryam was my friend, as Feyre is now. And your ancestors, those queens who signed that Treaty...They were my friends, too. And when I look at you..." She bared her teeth. "I see nothing of those women in you. When I look at you, I know that your ancestors would be ashamed."

"You laugh at the idea of peace? That we can have it between our peoples?" Mor's voice cracked, and Azriel subtly shifted nearer to her, though his face revealed nothing. "There is an island in a forgotten, stormy part of the sea. A vast, lush island, shielded from time and spying eyes. And on that island, Miryam and Drakon still live. With their children. With both of their peoples. Fae and human and those in between. Side by side. For five hundred years, they have prospered on that island, letting the world believe them dead—"

"Mor," Rhysand cut Mor off in a quiet yet sharp reprimand, and Val realized whatever she said or was about to say was supposed to remain a secret.

When the Eldest spoke, her eyes were bright, "Give us proof. If you are not the High Lord that rumour claims, give us one shred of proof that you are as you say—a male of peace."

Val narrowed her eyes. She didn't know why but those words felt like a trap. All she saw when she looked into the queen's eyes was greed and victory swirling in those dark depths.

Rhysand stood up in a fluid motion, and the queens followed.

"You desire proof?" He asked before shrugging. "I shall get it for you. Await my word, and return when we summon you."

"We are summoned by no one, human or faerie," The golden queen simpered, and Val didn't even bother to hide it as she rolled her eyes.

"Then come at your leisure," Rhys said, with enough of a bite that the queens' guards stepped forward.

Their eyes once again drifted to the two Illyrians behind her and whatever the guards saw had them paling.

"We will consider it once we have your proof." The crone nearly spat out. "That book has been ours to protect for five hundred years. We will not hand it over without due consideration."

Empty words that's what the queen's words were. Val didn't believe them. No matter what proof Rhysand would offer, she didn't believe that they would hand over the book.

Rhys barely inclined his head as he added, "Perhaps then you'll comprehend how vital the Book is to both our efforts."

The golden queen smirked as she looked to Feyre. "Good luck."

Then they were gone. The room was silent, and it was Elain who broke it by letting out a sigh.

"I hope they all burn in hell," She murmured.

Val let out a quiet snort. "So do I, sweet sister, so do I."

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[fangbangerghoul]

I was tagged by @therealgchu which I appreciate SO MUCH! I honestly wasn't sure if I was going to post a snippet sunday/sunday snippet (im dyslexic damnit) because I had just posted my new Logan fanart yesterday. I had spent the majority of the week on that and not much else if I am being honest. I also posted the first chapter to Over Exposure this week as well.

I do have some wips in the chamber I can swipe from so I will post that under the cut!

I hope everyone is having a wonderful week!

Tagging: @bearlytolerant @lisa-and-shadow @kimberbohwrites @staticpallour @arisenreborn

Godless Realms | Starfield fic with Ghoul and Valentine Blanche (bearlytolerant's OC) |

“Long day at work?” A familiar voice asked, and she did not look at him at first. His words earlier still irritated her, and she partially blamed him for being off her normal groove.

“No.” She opened her eyes to see the entire room covered in clutter and bags. Val was sitting in the middle of the hotel room on top of a blown-up purple pool chair with pink sunglasses and holding an unnecessarily extravagant chalice with a bending straw. He had a devilish grin on his face has he sipped from the drink and let out an extra loud ‘ahh’.

“Did you at least leave enough room to sleep?” She asked drily as she scanned all the items that were strewn about. None of them were of importance and it was obvious that was the point he was trying to make. He could have just fucked off instead.

“You don’t want to sleep with all your new things?” He asked sarcastically.

| I have been thinking heavily about this particular fic lately and have been considering coming back to work on it. Also been thinking about starting the fic that is supposed to come after Fleeting Pleasures. |

[girafeduvexin]

Très random mais j'y pense parce qu'étant officiellement au chômage, je postule à des offres d'emploi et vraiment, sur mon CV, y a pas ma photo, juste mon prénom (pas Miriam, mon prénom de naissance, que j'utilise au quotidien) et mon nom de famille et vraiment mes parents, mes parents bien blancs hein, quand je suis née, au coeur du Val d'Oise, au fin fond du Vexin, ils se sont vraiment dits "On va lui donner un prénom arabe, ça passe crème" vraiment des visionnaires.

Et ils ont donné un prénom ultra français à ma petite sœur, genre français bourgeois catho de fou. Et un nom italo-russe (?) à la dernière, mais avec une orthographe unique parce que l'infirmière a fait une erreur en l'écrivant. Trois enfants, aucune cohérence, et le tout avec un nom de famille italien, mes parents sont vraiment les personnages principaux de leur ville de 3000 habitants.

Après, j'exagère un peu, mon prénom peut se retrouver dans d'autres langues, il a un côté multiculturel et je vois de plus en plus de meuf blanches le porter + je vais pas faire genre j'ai été discriminée à cause de mon prénom parce que vraiment pas du tout, mais très marrant le nombre de chauffeurs uber, même des élèves une fois !, qui m'ont dit "je croyais que vous étiez arabe" ah non gars, y a juste un couple de bobos dans les années 90 qui ont voulu délirer un peu.

[holmesillustrations]

Vote for your favourite, the top 9 will proceed in the bracket. Since theyre all different shapes and sizes, make sure to click into the full views!

Paget Eliminations // Other Artist Eliminations

Full captions and details for each illustration below the cut:

"In the light of the lantern i read, with a thrill of horror, 'the sign of the four'." HM Kerr, Sign of Four (1890 Spencer Blackett Novel) Characters: Watson, Holmes, Batholomew Sholto

[Holmes and Watson hiding on the train platform] Harry C. Edwards, Final Problem (McClure’s) Characters: Holmes

"You infernal spies!" the man cried." FD Steele, Priory School (Collier’s) Characters: Holmes

"The lady lay back exhausted upon a couch enveloped in a loose dressing-gown of blue and silver." FD Steele, Abbey Grange (Collier’s) Characters: Hopkins, Holmes, Lady Brackenstall, Theresa, Watson

"Halloa, Watson! What is this?" Arthur Twidle, Bruce-Partington Plans (The Strand) Characters: Watson, Holmes

"What has happened to the Lady Frances? Is she alive or dead? There is our problem" FD Steele, Lady Frances Carfax (The American Magazine) Characters: Watson, Holmes

"Mrs. Douglas turned, and in an instant her arms were round him. Barker has seized his outstretched hand." Frank Wiles, Valley of Fear (The Strand) Characters: Cecil Barker, Douglas/McMurdo, Mrs Douglas, Holmes, Watson

"This quiet house is the center of half the mischief in England; the sporting squire the most astute secret-service man in Europe!" FD Steele, His Last Bow (Collier’s) Characters: Baron von Herling, Von Bork

"Dog and man were rolling on the ground together, the one roaring in rage, the other screaming in a strange shrill falsetto of terror." HK Elcock, Creeping Man (The Strand) Characters: Prof Presbury, Trevor Bennett, Holmes, Watson

"In the great drawing-room a lady awaited us, demure and remote as a snow image on a mountain." JR Flanagan, Illustrious Client (Collier’s) Characters: Violet deMerville

"I gripped the old man by the shoulder, but he shrank away." HK Elcock, Blanched Soldier (The Strand) Characters: Col Emsworth, James Dodd

"There was something in the woman's voice which arrested Holmes' attention." Frank Wiles, Veiled Lodger (The Strand) Characters: Watson, Holmes, Eugenia Ronder

[hsmtmts-arrows]

(jsyk, i'm keeping ash's pov! maybe we can write maddox's pov of this later on but can we keep ash's hehe)

silence reigns, neither of them speaking. their little camp wakes up, bit by bit, until they're all awake. nini shout-whispers that one of them should've waken someone up, but they'd shrugged in unison.

that's when the guard is finally left alone. the guy that's been staying with him for a while, a thin fuck with black hair, pats him on the shoulder, speaks to him, and leaves.

ashlyn hisses, "alright, he's gone."

"we discussed this, and you all remember the plan?" miss jenn tells them seriously, and they all nod. "alright, let's go!"

nini feeds the horses a few of their apples to keep them busy while they're gone, then mazzara claps ash on the back, jolting her, and away they go.

all eight of them rush across, and somehow the sound of their feet either doesn't register or doesn't alarm the guard (either way, he's stupid), but when he finally turns around, he shouts in alarm as eight people pretty much tackle him. well, mazzara's the one that actually tackles him, getting him on the floor and pressing some handcuffs over his wrists, and the rest stay for just to moment to make sure it's handled before rushing to the captives. ej immediately rushes to val's side, making sure she's okay before starting to cut at the ropes that bind her and ashlyn immediately drops down to her knees to see ricky.

he's not looking good, and the wound looks pretty bad, and he's definitely unconscious. ash instantly checks his pulse and sighs, her whole body filling with relief. gina immediately starts crying and tenderly brushing his hair out of his face while nini opens one of his eyes to see if they're dilated.

ash briefly looks to the side to see jenn, carlos (seb stands nearby) and, most importantly, maddox kneeling by jet's side. maddox holds her brother's face with so much tenderness.

"maddie?" ash can hear him whisper in a cracked voice.

"shh, it's me, jet." she sounds like she's close to crying, clearly keeping it together for her brother. "we're gonna get you safe, okay? we're gonna get you—"

"TAKE COVER!" seb shouts and leaps over to carlos, jenn and maddox, a second before the sound of gunshots fill the air.

ash yelps and she hears her cousin yank a close set of boxes (marked 'for cali hunters', and ash feels sick seeing it) in front of them to sheidl them; the rest pull more boxes and miss jenn hides behind a wooden chair. val herself looks very out of it, gaze distant and pretty lashes fluttering as she clearly fights for consciousness.

"shit!" ej shouts, above the sound of the gunshots, shaking val a bit to keep her awake. she whines at the discomfort of being moved, clearly not knowing what's going on. "shit, val, are you—"

gunshots from their side now, miss jenn and mr mazzara, shooting in sync as if born to fight together, and as ashlyn looks over, northern heights immediately disperse. even when lily screams for them to cover her, none of them do and instead hide behind houses to either, well, hide, or get a better vantage point. one runs away at the sight of mazzara, clearly having known him, and the black haired one sees miss jenn and blanches, dropping his gun and rushing to hide. jenn and mazzara go after those two, while nini shoots someone trying to escape in the leg. these are the people that are so fearsome? seems like in the face of their old enemies (jenn and mazzara), they have no real strength.

it takes ash a second to realize that lily's alone. no one to cover her. her people have abandoned her.

ash knows what maddox is going to do a second before she actually does. carlos shouts, "MADDOX—!" but it's too late, maddox has already set off running. lily, seeing a very angry outlaw captain running full speed towards her, visibly pales and veers off behind a building and just a moment later, maddox disappears behind it too.

ash gets up, but ej grabs her wrist. "ricky." he whispers, choked, and ash looks over and sees ricky's on the ground now, and there's a small blood pool around him and gina's sobbing—

ash swears, glancing at where maddox had vanished before running to ricky's side.

he got grazed during the fight, a tiny thing that had clearly just clipped his lower leg, but he's losing blood. gina's trying to sit him straight.

"let me." she whispers, and gina hesitates for only a moment before relinquishing her attempts. ash rips off part of her shirt (for the second time recently), and wraps it around his injured foot, and good news! it doesn't immediately soak through. ash lets out a deep breath and puts a hand on gina's shoulder. "he'll be alright." she tells her gently.

gina just nods, a second before there's the worst sound ashlyn has ever heard in her life, and one she never wants to hear again.

maddox screams.

(is this alright. bc i can always add more. sorry FHJRHFJHFH sorry <//3)

okay so i’m slightly ill (my head hurts like a bitch) as i type this but i still wanna give u something king JEJDJD <3:

the scream could play a key role in ashlyn's nightmares. it was horrifying. she'd never thought she'd even hear such a scream- especially from maddox. hell, she'd only been this close with maddox in the last few days, but she felt as though she'd learnt more in those few days than she had in the rest of her life so far.

she runs to the sound of the screams, leaving the others in the dust. maddox. maddox.

she didn't know what she had expected to see but fuck, it wasn't this. lily, with maddox against the wall and a hand buried into the same wound that she had stitched up only days ago. lily's hand, now bloody as the consequences of her own actions.

ashlyn doesn't need to think about this situation. no one with more than five braincells, did.

"step away, now." she held the gun in her hands and aimed it directly at lily's face. for a second, it seemed as though lily would do just that. to be in such a position, one wrong move and ash could blow her brains out, after all.

but lily's face that was once shocked, now is one that is smirking. her hand digs further into maddox and she yells again in more pain than ever before. ash holds the gun even closer to lily temple as a warning when seeing maddox's suffering continue. she never should've let her run off on her own, fuck.

"i mean it, lily." ash warns her, the safety of her gun clicking off as each second passed. "step. away." the smile that was printed across lily's face could tell a thousand words to ashlyn, yet she still wouldn't know what it meant.

as she began to move away, her fingers left the wound by maddox's side, bloodstained. maddie can't help but hiss out in agony as it all unfolds, her hand attempting to grab her side, but falling in the process.

as ash goes to move and pick up maddox, lily moves just as quickly at the same time, taking the gun out of her own holester and pointing it. ashlyn goes to hold maddox but stops once again when she sees where lily points said gun. directly at maddie.

“your turn, sheriff.” god she hated it. being the sheriff. being called sheriff. it was meant to be something great, but it was only ever half great when maddox called her it. “back off, i got places to be, and your girlfriend here is my ticket out-”

“she’s not my girlfriend-” a barely conscious maddox says under her breath. she can hardly stand, and ash couldn’t even move to help her otherwise lily could pull the trigger. fuck. shit.

“right.” lily doesn’t believe it one bit. “is that why she came running to your aid quicker than a fucking horse?” lily’s glances angrily between the two of them, “no. you may not see it now but-” a laugh escapes lily at such a terrible time as she then reaches over to grab maddox. ashlyn wants to move and stop her. take her out of lily’s hands immediately. to re stitch her wound and take her back to the village, where she could just nurse her back to health in better conditions.

she couldn’t let lily get away with it. she wouldn’t.

[photos-de-france]

Pierre Vals - Place Blanche, Paris, 25 août 1944.

[bearlytolerant]

Used this picrew to make Val and Ver:

[mediefictions]

Ami lectrice(teur), j'ai grand besoin de toi. Ma campagne Ulule est remplie à 70%. J'en fais appel à toi. Peux-tu contribuer? Toutes sortes de contreparties te sont proposées en retour. Un grand merci à mes premiers contributeurs :) .

Faisons un retour sur les oblats et les périls qui se sont dressés sur leur route de Lhynn aux jardins de Sainte Hildegarde

Le sang noir !

Festi Entifluz est assailli. L'équipage de l'Archéron Noir va devoir protéger la dernière place forte des chevaliers du Tar Val, tout en amont de l'affluent maudit. Par malheur, une mès nécromante rajoutera au péril.

Reprenons. L'Archéron Noir accoste à Festi Entifluz, dernière citadelle humaine sur l'affluent maudit.

La capitaine Brida vient en escale afin de porter message au duc Guillaume des Marches blanches.

Son fret embarqué à Fluschstadt va lui rapporter, car la navarque compte bien tirer profit de la guerre qui fait rage dans les marches de Myrbois.

Aelys et Lubin vont donc déambuler dans cette cité citadelle en toute innocence. Mais le couvert ténébreux favorise ceux du sang noir. Les clans viennent à l'assaut de la ville, incursion dans un territoire qu'ils ont toujours jugé leur.

Je vous laisse lire le Tome 1 pour avoir la suite. Si dessous, voyons de quoi sont capables les orcs enragés. Merci à Lenwë Ciryatan @asta-daily Atlante Fou et Nelefanfurtif d'avoir créé avec moi ces PNJ pour notre partie Waaaagh! P132 sur le forum Pathfinder. Partie qui me donna beaucoup d'inspiration pour cette série en cours, et pourquoi pas une prochaine.

[nikubunbun]

Hello and Welcome to the Official blog about a Backrooms group known as The Pantheon.

The Pantheon is a group of powerful godlike entities that oversee everything. It all begins with the Pillars, which are the incarnations of certain concepts. These concepts vary from fundamental ones that keep reality together (Such as Chaos) to those related to lesser subjects, yet still important (Love, Justice).

The Pillars create Avatars, which represent but an infinitesimal fraction of their power and obtain a part of their abilities. Avatars can have all kinds of forms and can be of infinite number. Usually they do not represent all aspects of a concept, but often focus on specific traits of one.

The avatars are incarnated all throughout the multiverse, with two prominent versions of the pantheon being known across the Fandom and Wikidot of the Backrooms. Both versions are canon in the Backrooms multiverse, though this blog will focus on the Wikidot version. Information about them can be found here:

http://backrooms-wiki.wikidot.com/pantheon-hub

http://backrooms-wiki.wikidot.com/the-pantheon

In this blog, it will be possible to ask the Gods themselves any kind of intriguing question. Favorite foods? Dynamics? Not like they have anything better to do nowadays, with the fall of the Pantheon.

Scenarios and AUs can also be enacted, and you'll be able to see them in all kinds of situations. Want an AU where all the gods turn into babies? That can happen. Requests can be made as long as they are kept SFW. (Absolutely no NSFW questions/scenarios)

Ask the Gods about personal questions, dig deep into their intricate story and find out what happened to the Pantheon and its members through their words!

The characters that will be the protagonists of the blog are listed below:

Argos

Philia (Æ’gaph), Olivia

The Pillar Scribe, the Terminus

Icarus

The Dark Sovereign

Fengári

Blanche (Azel’kyra)

The Game Master, Puzzle Maker, Komo’oide

The Red Knight, Jaga’dain

Y’liad

The Keymaster, Kei’

Nostalgi Gaius

Kirai (Xal’kyrai)

Val

Everyone is available.

(Art drawn by https://twitter.com/BUBBLINGBEACH go check them out they are pretty cool : 3)

( @mctoran @justapikachusart Two very cool collaborators that are very poggers, go check them out)

[loosesodamarble]

One Stubborn Wind

Summary: Morgen cares for his son Valerian while he's sick. Genre: general Word count: ~700

..........

Morgen sighed and mentally cursed his weak constitution. He wasn’t so frail as to be bedridden his whole life but his immune system was far from hardy. And it seemed that Valerian had inherited that trait from his father.

I’m so sorry, Valerian, Morgen thought as he carried a tray with a bowl of porridge and tea to Valerian’s room. He could’ve left it to a member of the staff but why would Morgen choose to miss out on time with his child, even if Valerian was sick as a dog at the moment? Maybe you’ll grow out of it one day. Unlike myself…

The door to Valerian’s room came into view. Morgen balanced the tray on one arm long enough to open the bedroom door.

And found his son halfway through jumping out the window.

“Valerian?!”

“Uh, bye!” Even with that short exclamation, it was clear how stuffed up Valerian was. He moved to push himself off the window frame

However, faster than the blink of an eye, he was stopped.

A rope of silver light caught Valerian by the wrist and kept him safely in the room. A low, congested groan filled the room. Normally gentle brown eyes narrowed on Morgen in a show of offense.

“You ought to be resting, young man,” Morgen said plainly. He tugged on his spell and urged Valerian towards his bed.

Valerian scowled but shuffled to the mattress. With another undignified groan, he flopped face forward on the bed. Morgen, meanwhile, took a seat in a chair set at the bedside and set the food tray on the nightstand. Father looked at his son.

Then, there was the sound of a voice being muffled as Valerian spoke directly into the mattress, having not bothered to move.

“Oh you…” Morgen sighed. Then he rolled Valerian onto the boy’s back. “Mind telling me that again?”

With Valerian’s face visible again, Morgen could see that his son was now pouting instead of glaring.

“I’m not that sick, dad…” Valerian attempted to argue. “It’s only a stuffy nose. It’s probably just aller—!” He was cut off by a coughing fit, one so volatile that he winced and curled in on himself. When the fit calmed down, Valerian looked up at Morgen. “Maybe also a cough?”

“Tsk tsk tsk. You take after your mother,” Morgen remarked with a chuckle. “Back in the day, Josie would stubbornly refuse to be doted upon if she was anything less than bedridden.”

“But I just can’t sit still in bed while stuff happens outside without me! Al and Varg are probably out on missions! Iris could be training and I need to train too! And Fried could be going to House Vangeance without me!”

Morgen let Valerian vent and took a moment to stir the porridge, keeping the heat evenly distributed.

“I bet even Sable and Blanche are doing something fun while I’m stuck here sick…”

“Val, you don’t have to worry about missing out on life,” Morgen said. He held out the porridge and waited for Valerian to sit up and take the bowl from his hands. “Being sick is a part of life, albeit an unpleasant part. You simply have to learn how to make the most of the time you spend not being at 100%.”

“How exactly do I do that?” asked Valerian before blowing on a spoonful of porridge and taking the bite. “I mean, you won’t exactly—” He coughed a couple times. “You won’t let me go outside…”

“You could curl up with a book, for one.”

“Boring.”

“You just haven’t found the right type of book to read.”

Valerian gave a half-hearted shrug in reply.

“I can bring you a Sound Magic projector so you can listen to music. You could take a long soak in the bath with some expensive bath salts. Or maybe I could be convinced to go to the butcher shop and buy your favorite jerky.”

At that last suggestion, Valerian paused mid-bite.

Morgen wasn’t proud to offer a bribe but it couldn’t have been wrong if it was merely between father and son.

[fangbangerghoul]

My Valentine's Day piece for @bearlytolerant and @thatsgoodsquishy0 !!!!!!!!!

top: @thatsgoodsquishy0 Anton Novak bottom left: @bearlytolerant's Valetine Blanche bottom right: My very own Carmilla Ghoul Imada (they can only call her by her first name when they are being nice to her)

It's each of our OC's having too much fun as usual in The Settled Sytems! Somehow, they all ended up at Anton's penthouse and don't let his annoyed look full you, he loves the attention Val and Ghoul give him.

I say canonically each of them have this framed somewhere safe where only they can see because they are babies about it.

side note: this was very much inspired by Type O Negative's My Girlfriend's Girlfriend