#and not just an evil god that they claim is chaos

[madegeeky]

Epic Free Games (til 2 Feb. 2023, 10am cst)

Adios is a cinematic first-person game about sticking to a complicated decision.

You're a pig farmer in Kansas. It's October. Cold, crisp mornings are the norm, and you have decided that you're no longer okay with letting the mob use your pigs to dispose of bodies. When your old friend - a hitman - arrives with his assistant to deliver another body, you finally screw up the courage to tell them that you're done.

Hell is Others is an extraction horror PVPVE top-down shooter. Outside the safety of your apartment lies the noir hellscape of Century City. A city of endless night that straddles the line between reality and insanity. Explore, hunt and loot in a place where blood is currency.

[sinner-as-saint]

scary? my god, you're divine

Hitman/Mob!Bucky x Reader 

Run-through: Your marriage to Bucky Barnes was crucial in stopping the rivalry that had been getting rather violent recently between the two families. You agreed to it. But there was one little problem. Although people knew of Bucky as being a ruthless, fiercely loyal, and feared hitman, no one had ever seen his face. In the rare occasions when he’d been seen out during assignments, it was rumoured that he always wore some sort of mask which covered most of his face. So you ended up marrying a man, and had no idea what he looked like. But surely that wouldn’t be an issue. It’s not like his one touch would get you addicted. Who cared what he looked like? It’s not like you could grow to love someone like him anyway… right? 

Themes: arranged marriage, age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, bucky’s in his late thirties), mentions of violence and death, hitman!Bucky, smut, fluff, explicit language, virgin!reader, HEA

Something woke you up in the middle of the night. 

And you’d been staring at the dark ceiling above your bed for the past few minutes now. What had woken you up? It could’ve been the strong winds hitting the large Georgian windows. Or perhaps it was the soft ticking of the nearby clock. Or maybe even the weight of all the incessant thoughts running through your head. 

Gods, you thought, what a day. 

It had started out like any other. Your father was pacing around, worried and barking orders on the phone, trying to find a way to put a stop to this chaos that was quickly forming into a full war between him and his number one rival. Small attacks had turned to frequent drive-bys, threats had turned into taking turns and blowing up each other’s warehouses and clubs. And it would only get worse and worse. 

But this morning, as he watched you come downstairs and into the dining room for breakfast, something in his eyes was different. And you could tell what was coming. You had been thinking about this for days. So when he sat you down and discussed how you could do your part in helping to put an end to all of this. 

“It’s only a matter of time before he sends his son, his favourite weapon after us all,” Your father sounded defeated. “And none of us would survive him. No one ever does. You know that.” 

You nodded, understanding what he meant. “I know.” 

The son of your father’s rival, Bucky Barnes, was a name which could make even powerful men like your father tremble in fear. He was like a ghost. No one ever saw him. No one knew what he looked like. Those who had seen him claimed that he always wore a muzzle-like mask to conceal his identity. He was known for being his father’s most prized weapon. They say he never misses, that his aim is and has always been as sure as Eros’ arrows. He was like an evil Cupid. 

“The marriage would only be on paper of course, you don’t have to live with him.” Your father explained, seeming desolated, “But you being married to him would make us family, and…” He trailed off, sighing. 

But you knew what he meant. Family meant everything in this society. If your family and the rival’s were joined to each other by marriage, all attacks would cease. Because keeping family safe was everyone’s number one priority, even in this line of work. 

So this was all up to you now. Your family’s safety, the safety of people who worked with and for your father, all the allies, and friends, and acquaintances. It was a heavy weight to carry. 

“I’ll do it.” 

Things happened so quickly after that. Phone calls were had, arrangements and deals were made, and by the afternoon, a sheet of paper was brought to you. That’s it. No groom, no fancy shit. Just a piece of paper on which Bucky Barnes had already signed. And with your signature added next to his, you two were now forever husband and wife by law. 

It was weird, being married to a man you had never seen before. He was just a name. Granted, a name with immense magnitude in the society, but still just a name. No face to go with it. 

By the evening, your things were packed. It was an order by your new husband. He wanted his new bride in his home, and things were so freshly mended that neither you nor your father wanted to argue. So Bucky sent cars and a bunch of his soldiers to escort you to his house. It was not unexpected that he was so absent from all this. Bucky Barnes had a reputation of living in the shadows. He was so rarely seen.

Bucky’s house was not too far from your family home. In fact, the closer you got to your new home, the more you realised that despite everything, you did not mind this as much as you thought you would. 

Your husband’s home was this stunning piece of architecture. A lavish Georgian-style mansion. Beige stone, carved details and mouldings around the many windows and main entrance. Dark shingles on the roof, well-manicured lawn, a long driveway giving it a sense of both elegance and exclusivity. The mansion sat on a beautiful, seemingly endless estate. Lush and green. It was a testament to the wealth and the power of its owner. 

You were politely led inside the home by one of the many staff members who took care of the house. And the interior was just as breathtaking. Luxurious, with the right amount of vintage accents. 

“We did what we could with the limited time we had to prepare a room for you.” The kind lady had said to you. She also mentioned that this room would be entirely yours. Bucky apparently had his own on the other side of the mansion. 

You murmured that it was alright, and when she finally showed you to the room they had ready for you, you were pleasantly impressed. The layout, the colour theme, the decor, all of it was to your liking. You even had a personal little balcony which looked over the endless green backyard. 

That night you dined alone, which was not a surprise. Everyone knew Bucky Barnes was a busy man, and he was apparently above trivial things like dining with his new wife. But the silence was welcomed. After dinner you found yourself back in your bedroom, and soon in bed with a book. 

Well, maybe this was your new life now. Grand mansion with an impressive library. Solo dinners and kind staff members. A giant, dreamy bedroom all for you. Dare you say, it wasn’t too bad. 

–

But here you were now, unable to fall back asleep after some mysterious thing woke you up. You sighed, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. You couldn’t even blame your new surroundings for your inability to sleep. Everything here was so quiet, and comfortable. Even this new bed felt like laying on the fluffiest cloud. Perhaps you could read some more–

You froze when you heard it. 

Someone breathing. Someone else’s breaths. A soft exhale, but it was enough to make your heart race in panic. It was the middle of the night. And there was someone in this dark room with you. 

Slowly, you tried to reach for the lamp on your bedside table to turn it on, but then you heard a voice say, “Don’t.” 

A smooth, relaxed, male voice. Sounding like it came from one corner of the room. It could only be one man, couldn’t it? 

“Bucky?” You questioned, for some reasons pulling the covers up to your chin as if he was not a man but a ghost. 

A pause, then he said, like he was gently teasing you, “Hello, wife. Can’t sleep?” 

You blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness better. You strained your eyes until you could see the silhouette of a man in the corner of the room. He was sitting in one of the sofas near the unlit fireplace, quiet, still like a marble statue. 

There was almost no light coming into the room. The thick curtains allowed very little moonlight in, and it was hard to see. But you couldn’t ignore that large silhouette now that you’d noticed him. Something near him was shiny, almost metal like, you couldn’t tell what it was. 

“Do you always lurk around in the shadows like a ghost?” You asked, wondering where the hell you found the confidence to talk to one of the finest hitmen like this. It’s not like he would shoot you if he didn’t like you. A small voice said. Would he? 

A chuckle. Deep, and careless. A boyish sound. 

“It’s my house,” He responded in that same gentle but teasing tone, “I lurk wherever I please.” 

Well, he did have a point there. 

“Well then,” You said in a casual tone, “If you’re done lurking and spying on me, I’d like to go back to bed.” 

A soft scoff. Then he said, “I’ve watched you toss and turn for the past half an hour. I’d say you’re having trouble turning your brain off.” 

Half an hour?! 

“Wouldn’t you?” You retorted, keeping your voice calm and steady. “If you were forced to marry someone who’s so mysterious that no one’s ever seen them before, wouldn’t you have some trouble turning your brain off?” 

“Ah.” He got up, and you could tell by the sound of his footsteps that he was approaching the bed, “No one forced you to marry me. A suggestion was made and you agreed to it.” 

You replied quickly, “The alternative was watching everyone I love and myself be murdered by you, so semantics.” 

Another chuckle as he stopped at the edge of the bed, so close to you. You refused to move. You tilted your head up but could still only see his silhouette. He spoke in that teasing tone again, “They said you were smart, and beautiful. Guess they forgot to mention you were bratty too.” 

You frowned. “What?” 

Silence. Then he began moving away from your bed and towards the door. “Good night, wife.” 

“Good night,” You muttered, slightly annoyed and confused, “Ghost.” 

You heard his soft chuckle right as he shut the door behind him and left you all alone again in the dark. You didn’t dare turn the lamp on even after he left. 

— 

“Is Bucky ever home?” 

You asked one of the staff members at breakfast the next morning. The lady smiled at you and answered, “He keeps to himself. We rarely ever know if he’s home or not. He works at odd hours, you see? Besides, our job is to take care of the house. We clean, we make the meals and leave them in the fridge, we get our paychecks each month. Everyone is happy. We don’t pry.” 

You nodded, sipping on some tea. “So… are you one of the people who don’t know what he looks like?” 

“Oh no. I saw him recently.” She said, smiling. 

“How recent?” You asked. 

“A couple of months ago. He’s a busy man, he’s rarely ever home.” 

Unbelievable. 

“Doesn’t it feel like you’re employed by a ghost?” 

She smiled again, refilled your cup and said, “Oh, we’re used to Mr. Barnes. Sure, sometimes it feels like the house is way too empty. But look, now you’re here! We get to take proper care of someone for once.” 

She was so cheery and kind that you couldn’t help but smile at her words. How on earth did a man that grim manage to have the best staff members in the whole world? 

— 

The following night, Bucky came to see you again. 

You woke up upon hearing the door of your bedroom opening. You sat up again, leaning against the headboard. You didn’t reach for the lamp on your bedside table this time. Instead you said, “Lurking again, I see.” 

“Oh yes,” He answered, taking a seat on the same sofa by the dark fireplace. “How was your day, wife?” He asked, as if this was the most normal way to have a conversation. 

“Good.” You said, “I spoke with your staff members. They say they barely ever see you at home.” 

He sighed, “I barely ever am at home.” 

You rolled your eyes even though you knew he couldn’t see it. He was too… intangible. Faceless. There was nothing you knew about him aside from his profession. And not knowing was starting to annoy you. 

“Why can’t I see you?” You asked. “I mean it’s not fair. I married you. I’ll eventually see you someday.” 

He was silent for a moment. Then asked, “Will you?” 

“Well, yes.” 

“What for?” There was that teasing tone again. So subtle. But it was there. 

Your face burned. “Well… we’re married.” You stated the obvious. “And it won’t be long till our families start asking for, you know, grandbabies.” 

“Babies can be made in the dark.” His smooth voice felt like a gentle caress. Like the finest, cool silk sliding over your warm body… 

Oh no. You can’t like his voice. Not yet. 

“That’s not what I–,” You sighed, “Why are you so against showing your face? Are you ugly?” 

He chuckled then. Loudly, if you could see him you’d surely see his shoulders shaking. “You think too much, wife.” He got up again, ready to leave. “Good night.” 

You sighed, defeated, and listened to the sounds of him leaving the room. Then almost angrily whispered, “Good night, husband.” 

—

“It’s because he’s ugly, isn’t it?” You asked two of the staff members one morning while they set the table for your breakfast. “That’s why he doesn’t show his face?” 

The two ladies chuckled to themselves, and one of them said, “No he isn’t.” She sounded confident too. 

“Have you seen his face? Like properly?” 

They both nodded. 

“And? You don’t find it weird that he doesn’t show his face?” You questioned. “He refuses to let me see him. He only comes to talk to me in the dark. Like some messed up Eros.” You whispered the last part to yourself. 

One of the ladies said, gently, “Give him time. He’s not… terrible.” 

— 

“Your staff speaks highly of you.” You said to him when he came to see you that night. Again, sat in that corner like a ghost whose only purpose was to haunt your bedroom specifically. 

“Do they?” 

“Yes,” You made yourself comfortable, leaning against the headboard like you had the habit of doing. “Do you pay them to sing your praises?” 

He chuckled. “Is it that hard to believe that I’m not some sort of monster?” 

You sighed. “If not then why can’t I see you?” 

“Not yet.” He said. 

“Why?” 

“Because I said so.” He replied, and by the sounds of it, he stood up. Surely ready to leave. “Now, is there anything you need?” 

You tried to see if you could tell where he was standing but the room was too dark. However, it seemed like, judging by the sound of footsteps, that he’d gotten closer to the end of your bed. “There’s nothing to do around the house. The ladies take care of everything. I appreciate the library, but…” 

He was quiet, like he was thinking. Then said, “I’ll see to it.” 

“I’m assuming you won’t let me go back to work in my family’s companies.” You could tell he wouldn’t. 

“No,” He said, as expected. “You’re my wife now. I’m well equipped to provide for you and see to your needs for the rest of our lives. But if you have any hobbies, please, indulge away.” 

Something about his calm tone made you confess your little secret, “I like to paint. I’ve always wanted to be an artist.” 

You didn’t know why you were telling him all this. Perhaps the dark helped you open up better. Maybe the fact that you didn’t know him made it easier to talk. Like how people tend to prefer texting over calls. Him being so invisible made it so much more effortless. 

You continued, “I always wonder what it must be like to have an exhibition of my works.” You chuckled. “I know it sounds vain but… I’ve always wanted to let my mind and soul leak all over canvases, and share it with the world. I think it’s such a brave thing when people do that.” 

He was quiet for a few seconds, then spoke in that teasing tone, “Painting, huh?” 

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t get to make fun of me, ghost.” 

He chuckled. “Get some sleep, wife.” 

And then he left. 

— 

The following morning, you woke up to two surprises. 

The first one was waiting for you at the breakfast table. You noticed the box on the floor immediately. It was partially opened, and had a note stuck to it. 

The note read: ‘Since there’s nothing to do around the house…’ written in a messy handwriting. Surely Bucky’s. 

You opened the box and in there, on a folded blanket, was a sleeping, fluffy little puppy. A black lab it seemed. With a pink collar around her neck. You gasped as you gently picked it up and couldn’t resist bringing it up to your face. Puppies always smelt so good. 

The little one yawned and let out some cute noises as you held her up to look at her properly. By now the two ladies whom you saw frequently around the house walked up to you and one of them said, “He left something else for you.” 

You followed the ladies, new puppy in hand, and they led you to what seemed like a newly built studio. It was in an area of the mansion where you didn’t go very often. And as you walked in, you gasped in surprise for the second time that morning. 

It was located on the ground floor. A bright and spacious space. The beige walls felt like a giant blank canvas in itself. The large Georgian windows allowed the perfect amount of light in. And everything in the room was neatly organised. Art supplies, paints, canvases, palettes, easels. 

Oh, it was perfect. 

The ladies left you to explore on your own, saying something about bringing you breakfast in here. But you were distracted by the bright yellow sticky note on one of the easels. You walked up to it and it read: ‘For your mind and soul to leak all over. Paint me something. I’ll consider it a wedding gift.’ 

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you read and re-read the note left by your mysterious husband. You whispered to your sleeping puppy, “Maybe our ghost isn’t so bad, huh?” 

-

Hours went by. 

The ladies brought you and the puppy your meals, a bed for the pup, snacks for you, all while you were busy letting your creativity flow as much as possible. 

The first few canvases were horrible according to you. You hadn’t picked up a paintbrush in so long so it felt like day one all over again. But gradually, over the next few canvases, you could see what your brain was trying to create. 

The blank canvas soon turned into flowy shapes. Curves, facial features, hands. Entwining bodies. Two of them. And the colour purple, lots of it. It didn’t make too much sense at first, but the more you worked on it the more you realised what you were painting. 

It was your version of ‘The Abduction of Psyche’. How fitting. 

By the time you were done and happy with it, your back was aching from sitting on that stool all day. It was almost time for dinner. The sun had set. The puppy was awake so you held her up to show her the canvas and asked, “You think our ghost will like it?” 

She let out the tiniest, softest howl. 

“Yeah, I think so too.” 

You left to shower and have dinner. Then once it was time for bed you asked one of the staff members, “Does Bucky have some kind of an office?” 

She replied saying yes he does, and that she could show you where it was. You grabbed the not yet dry canvas and carefully carried it all the way to where Bucky’s office was. The lady again left you all by yourself to explore. 

At first you didn’t want to spend too much time in there. It was Bucky’s space after all. But then you thought, if he was comfortable walking into your bedroom at odd times during the night, why shouldn’t you check out his office? 

So you did. You left the canvas where it could dry without any problem and where Bucky would see it upon entering the room. Then you began exploring. The room was not what you were expecting for someone like Bucky. You thought it would be less… old school. 

He had a vintage looking typewriter on his desk for gods’ sake. Not one he used of course, but it added layers to his character you thought. Dark wooden furniture, comfortable looking chairs, more bookshelves filled with cloth-bound books. It was… cosy. 

So cosy in fact that you grabbed a book and made yourself comfortable on one of the chairs. You’d read for an hour or so then head off to bed, you thought. 

But soon, you drifted off to sleep. Right there. In Bucky’s office. 

-

You woke up and felt something soft and fluffy moving around on your lap. You opened your eyes and quickly realised you weren’t in bed. The room was dark. With very little light coming in from the outside. There were no curtains in this room, but also it was situated in an area of the mansion where very little moonlight came in.

Before you could panic though, a voice spoke up from not too far away, “You’ve been busy today, I see.” 

Ah, Bucky. And fuck. You’d fallen asleep in his office. 

You refused to feel embarrassed. So you asked, “Did you like your wedding gift?” 

“Yes.” He replied, and gauging by the sound you could tell he was sitting at his desk, in the darkest corner of the room. “I’ll hang it in my office.” 

You smiled in the dark, feeling a little proud of yourself. “And where’s my wedding gift?” 

“In your lap.” 

Fair. 

“What should we name her?” You asked, reaching to caress your puppy who let out an adorable grunt. “Hedone? Donnie, for short?” 

He let out a chuckle. “You are really leaning into this whole Eros-Psyche thing, huh?” 

You shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t have to if you’d just show me your face. But you keep choosing not to, so deal with it.” 

A pause. Then he asked, “You like your new studio?” 

That made you sit up straighter. “I love it. Thank you.” Then you added, “My family always thought painting was a waste of time. They said it kept my head in the clouds too much. That it was… pointless.” 

He was quick to say, “It’s not. Besides, your hobbies don’t have to make sense to anyone else but yourself. And I’ve seen the other canvases you left in the studio. They’re good.” 

You turned to face the dark corner he was in. “You think?” 

“Yes,” He said. “We can hold an exhibition if you want. Let me know when you’re ready.” 

You let out a surprised chuckle. And when he didn’t laugh you realised he was serious. “Bucky, it's not so easy.” You explained calmly. “There’s so much work that goes into it, there needs to be some cohesion to the art pieces. There’s marketing, there’s research, there’s…” You exhaled, “There’s a lot of work to be done. Art exhibitions aren’t as easy or quick as you think it is.” 

He replied, “Leave all that to me. Just let me know when you want to hold one.” 

Just like that? 

“I… okay.” 

You felt warm in a way you’d never felt before. No one had ever taken your interests so seriously before. You’d never even been able to discuss this freely about your hobbies. And here Bucky was, ready to listen and interact with it. 

You got up to leave because this was… a lot to process. “Well then. Good night, Bucky.” 

A soft scoff. “Think I liked it more when you called me a ghost.” 

You smiled as you approached the door, puppy in hand and amazed at how well you were able to navigate in the dark. “Night, ghost.” 

He gave you a satisfied hum, then, “Good night, wife.” 

— 

It was bizarre to admit but you’d gotten used to those conversations in the dark with your husband. Days went by quickly given how engrossed you were with painting. Especially with the thought of a potential exhibition now in the back of your mind. Gods, that would be a dream. 

And while your days consisted of painting, playing and training your puppy, exploring more and more of the grounds and your new home, making quick trips to the stores to get more supplies, catching up with your friends who were still trying to grasp the fact that you got married so quickly, getting to know the household staff and the guards better, your night consisted of waiting and fighting your sleep until Bucky came to talk to you. 

It was always short conversations. Filled with easy banter and teasing tones, sarcastic comments and you asking each and every night if he was in the mood to show his face. Bucky always said no. And you always sent him off with a ‘good night, ghost’. 

You had gotten used to your ghost. As had your puppy. She would bark happily each time Bucky would enter your bedroom door at night. She’d run to him for playtime and cuddles as he sat in his dark corner and spoke with you until you fell asleep. 

Bucky would often leave you some kind of a note, for you to read in the morning. At the breakfast table, or in your studio. Sometimes he would leave compliments and comments on your dry canvases. Eventually, you stopped fighting the smiles which formed on your face as you read his notes. 

But all of it only made you want to see him more. Not that it would change anything. Bucky had quickly become… a friend, you’d say. A confidant if you will. He had become a habit. Part of your routine. 

And then one night, he didn’t come to see you. 

You waited. He usually came around midnight. It was well past 2 a.m. and he never came. 

At some point you went downstairs, pretending as if you just needed some water. One of the guards caught you trying to peek out into the driveway from the kitchen window. 

“Boss is not home yet, ma’am.” He said. 

You acted like you didn’t care. But still asked, “He does this often?” 

“Sometimes.” 

You nodded. You took your drink and with your puppy in your arms you walked back upstairs, passing by the many guards who were on duty inside the house at nighttime. 

“It’s alright, he’s probably just busy.” You whispered to the sleeping pup as you made your way up. “Or maybe he’s hurt and tending to his wounds somewhere else.” You felt a gentle pinch in your chest at the thought of Bucky hurt and alone out there. So you forced yourself to think of something else. Something way worse. “Or maybe he’s with someone else.” You scoffed, nuzzling the soft fur of your pup, “This marriage means nothing to him anyway. But that’s alright, we don’t need him. I’ve got you. We’ve got each other. Don’t we?” 

Safe to say, you went to bed slightly annoyed that night. And in denial too because you refused to admit that you missed him. 

– 

There was a note waiting for you in your studio the next morning. 

It read: ‘No I did not spend the night with someone else. I’ll explain later. See you tonight, wife.’ 

Huh. Looks like the guards have really good ears. 

Well, whatever. It’s not like you were impatiently waiting for night to come just so you could talk to your ghost of a husband. Right? 

Except you were though. So much that you couldn’t paint a decent thing. You were easily giving up on each canvas, and leaving a trail of unfinished work the more time went on. 

Eventually you sighed and left the studio. You tried reading but that wasn’t happening either. So you did the only thing you knew would take your mind off things. You asked the ladies to show you where everything was kept in the kitchen and you got to baking. 

Which you did until it was time for bed. Your mood was off, and it was all because of a faceless man. And that somehow annoyed you even more. 

You grabbed a plate of the mini muffins you’d made earlier and made your way upstairs. Your puppy had just gotten used to the stairs so she happily followed you everywhere you went now. 

You proceeded to sit in bed, and eat your muffins angrily and forced yourself to try to sleep. 

-

You woke up sometime later. And you just knew who was in the room with you. 

Except he wasn’t in his usual spot. 

He was standing by the windows which faced your bed this time, with his back to you. The curtains were pulled, the moonlight came and there was his dark silhouette. And… you frowned as you noticed the shiny metal arm. 

“You’re home.” You said. 

Bucky turned his head to the side, “I am.” He said. 

You took a second or two to admire the side profile. With the moonlight shining all around his silhouette he looked like a fallen angel of sorts. “You didn’t come home last night.” 

“I was out working,” He said. 

“Maiming and killing?” 

“You know me so well.” 

“Is that a… metal arm?” You questioned. 

“It is.”  

“Were you hurt?” 

“I was.” 

You sighed again. “Is it always going to be bland answers and mystery with you?” 

“Get used to it.” He said in that teasing tone. 

You got out of bed as quietly as you could. “I think I liked you better without the attitude, when you sat in the corner like a ghost.” You took some steps away from the bed, approaching the giant windows. The room was rather spacious so it would take some more steps to get close to him. If you’d only– 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.” He warned, but remained in the same spot. 

You groaned. “Don’t you think this is getting tiring? I mean, I’m married to a man I’ve never seen before. In fact, no one has ever seen you. Why? What are you hiding?” You added, sounding defeated.  

Bucky lowered his head, which only accentuated how broad his shoulders really were. He sighed. “Do you know how much trouble could’ve been avoided if only Psyche trusted Eros?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I think she had her reasons. A mysterious, faceless lover who only shows up in the dark and hides in the shadows is bound to raise some doubts. Don’t you think so?” 

He chuckled. You blinked and he’d turned around to face you. But despite that, you couldn’t see his face at all. Even though he was inches away. 

He was quiet. Observing you with interest. The moonlight allowed him to see all of you, and he just… stared for a moment or two. A shiver ran down your back. An unfamiliar, but pleasant shiver. 

Without a word said, Bucky reached out and gently touched the thin strap of your silky night dress resting on your shoulder. His metal finger gliding along your skin and making you gasp at his cold touch. 

“What’s this?” He asked in his usual teasing tone. “Trying to tempt me with this excuse of a night dress, wife?” 

Fuck. Had his voice dropped lower? 

Fuck! He was so close to you. You didn’t even notice that your heart had begun racing. Your breaths had deepened. Shit. Why was this so hot?! 

“Are you? Tempted?” You asked with a steady voice, without thinking obviously. You just needed to say something so he wouldn’t notice the way you were basically panting after him like a thirsty dog. 

He chuckled. But remained quiet. 

So you said, “Thought so.” You sounded smug but you were feeling the complete opposite. 

Bucky scoffed in that arrogant way he often did. It was insane how easily you were able to pick up on his mannerism when you hadn’t even known him for that long. “Is that what you think? That I don’t want to sleep with you?” 

Oh. 

Oh this was bad. Because now your brain was making up hot, steamy scenes in your head. Scenes involving you and your faceless, mysterious husband in the dark. Entwining bodies on soft bed sheets. Fuck, you should paint that. No, what?  

“Then why haven’t you?” You found yourself asking. 

Okay then, bold as fuck it is. You’d gone past the point of no return now. Guess it was time for this conversation. 

Bucky’s fingers remained on your shoulder, tracing the thin strap there. And you couldn’t see it, but you could hear the smirk in his voice when he asked, “You want me to?” His metal hand dropped to your waist and before you could fully process it, he pulled you closer, leaned in to whisper into your ear, “You want my hands all over you, wife?” 

You could feel his slight stubble against your skin as he spoke. His lips brushing against your ear, making you gasp and tremble. Your hands found their way to his shoulders. And oh, he was pulling you even closer. Your chest pressing against his. The cool material of his suit felt amazing against your warm skin. 

“Look at you,” He cooed into your ear. “Is this what you want? Hmm?” He placed both his hands on your waist, pulling you into him. His lips moved lower, brushing against your neck as he spoke. “You like how rough my hands feel?” He moved his hands up and down your sides. “Do you know how many people I’ve hurt with these hands?” He chuckled when he heard the tiniest moan leave your mouth. “You’re so soft and warm, aren’t you worried what these hands might do to you?” 

He nuzzled your neck, hands roaming all over your sides and back and squeezing your butt. You became so pliant under his touch. Tilting your head back to allow him to kiss all over your neck, pressing your chest more and more against his like you couldn’t get enough. The layers of clothing, you wanted them gone. 

With a shaky voice you murmured, “I can’t tell if you’re trying to scare me or turn me on.” 

He laughed. And it was the best sound you’d ever heard. 

“You’re sick in that pretty head, huh?” He teased. “That beautiful brain is filled with filthy, dirty, dark thoughts, isn’t it?” His metal hand reached up and carefully wrapped around your throat. 

You gasped as he squeezed just a little bit. Those dirty thoughts he spoke about really started to fill your head. 

“Are you just all talk or–,” 

He cut you off by dragging you all the way to your bed, still holding you by the throat. 

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and he gave you a slight push, ending with you falling onto your bed on your back. You looked up at him, hovering above you, his lower body pressing into yours. 

“Do you just run that mouth?,” He asked, supporting himself with one hand while the metal one remained wrapped around your throat, his voice low and menacing but in a way that made your legs part on their own so his hips settled in between them. Your bodies fit together like the most perfect puzzle pieces. “Or do you know how to take it like a brat as well?” 

You felt the need to let him know then. “I don’t know,” You said, sounding both breathless and bratty. “I’ve never had to take it.” 

He paused for a moment. Then asked in subtle surprise, “What do you mean?” Even his grip around your throat loosened completely. 

You squirmed in slight embarrassment but that only caused your hips to grind against his and for a moment there both of you let out a strained moan. Fuck. The tension between the two of you was almost physical now. Even in the dark, even with Bucky being nothing more than just a shadow above you. 

“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, still feeling his cold fingers all over your skin, “I’ve never been with anyone before.” 

He was quiet. As if thinking. You tried your hardest but you couldn’t see any of his facial features. You knew he had a slight stubble because you’d felt it earlier. But aside from that, you knew nothing. Not even his eye colour. 

“You want us to stop?” He asked, shifting his body slightly as if he was ready to pull away if you asked him to. 

“No,” You answered way too quickly. Then you got bold again and let your hands find their way back to his shoulders. You pulled him down, closer to you just a little and said, “This is okay.” 

His fingers moved up, from your neck to your mouth. “Yeah? You want this, huh?” He mumbled, tracing your mouth with his fingers. You shivered under his touch. “You’ve been a whiny little brat lately, haven’t you, wife? Pouting and all just because I wouldn’t show myself to you.” He whispered, leaning in to just brush his lips against yours. You gasped at the sensation of his soft lips rubbing against yours. Bucky chuckled at your reaction. “Don’t think my staff doesn’t report back to me. I’ve been well aware of all the times you asked the ladies to give you details about me.” 

Now that made you squirm in embarrassment. Still you said, sounding a little annoyed at being caught. “Can you blame me?”

“Can’t you just trust me?” He argued. 

The danger and authority in his tone had your thighs clenching together to try and alleviate the torturous pain in between your legs. You were almost certain you had never been this turned on and annoyed at the same damn time before. You sighed in frustration. “This isn’t fair.” 

“No, it isn’t,” He said, pulling away and began undressing you to your pleasant surprise. “Deal with it.” 

Oh fuck. 

Fuck… You had to hold back from whimpering each time his hands rubbed against your skin. He took his time in sliding the straps of your night dress down your shoulders, dragging the silky fabric down your body, leaving you more and more naked under him. 

You shivered once he left your night dress bunched around your waist carelessly. It wasn’t just because of the slightly cold air. It was because even though you couldn’t see him, you could tell he was staring right at you. 

You spoke in a hushed voice, not daring to speak loud in fear that it might break whatever spell you were under. “So you get to see me naked all you want, but I can’t see your face?” 

He chuckled. “You want me to leave this room right now? Leave you here all wet and squirming? Or do you want me to take care of it and make you come? Huh?” 

That shut you up really quickly. 

“I thought so.” He sounded smug again when he said that. “I should spank you for the brat you are. But since it’s your first time… I’ll be nice.” 

His hands touched you everywhere, your thighs, your stomach, your sides, your chest, your neck… everywhere. He left you gasping and trembling under him. 

“Please.” You caught yourself whispering. 

Bucky leaned down, his soft mouth brushing against your cheek as he said, “Please what?” 

You squirmed, “Touch me, please.” 

He chuckled. You felt his warm breath against your skin as he kissed his way down your naked body. “Look at you,” He murmured, lips brushing against your stomach, “You’re so eager already.” 

You heard the faint chuckle which left his mouth the moment he noticed your legs spread apart for him naturally. Your face felt like it was burning but fuck, you were too turned on to even be properly embarrassed. Also, being in complete darkness helped. 

Damn. You were really getting intimate with your husband whom you hadn’t even seen yet. And somehow that fact was making you want this even more. 

But that mystery stopped being an issue the moment Bucky leaned in and kissed your wet folds, his tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease.

He poked at your entrance with his tongue and your body felt hotter than before. Back arching off the bed as you let out a soft moan at the foreign feeling. Fuck he felt good. You whimpered as you felt his tongue stroke your most sensitive parts. Your immediate reaction was to pull your hips back from the overwhelmingly good sensation his mouth was causing. And that made him grip your thighs tighter, keeping them pinned to the bed. 

“Stop moving.” He ordered and the authority in his voice made you tremble. 

You whined as you felt his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place and close to his mouth. The metal hand on your warm skin made you shiver and tremble so much that you were thankful for the darkness. 

The small amount of moonlight which came in allowed you to only see the silhouette of his broad shoulders, and his head moving slowly, sensually in between your legs. Fuck… somehow the mystery only made it hotter.

Oh you were fucked in the head for real. 

And oh, Bucky was a fucking tease. Once he noticed how easily you cried out and moaned for him, he slowed down and began kissing around your clit just to purposely mess with you. He kissed your thighs, purposely avoiding touching where he knew you needed him the most. He kissed down all the way to your core, and gently bit your skin around your inner thighs. 

“Bucky, please!” You cried out, hand reaching for his hair. When you managed to grab a fistful of his soft hair, you gave it a gentle tug. “Stop teasing me.” 

“You don’t get to give me orders, wife.” He said, sounding all proud and mighty. “I could just walk out of here and leave you like this. Naked and squirming.” 

“Please,” You begged again. You could feel your arousal trickling out of you. 

A scoff. Then he leaned in again. You whined and whimpered under him, with your legs wrapped around his head. Fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp instinctively as he flicked, and sucked, and teasing your clit as much as he could. 

“You’ve been a brat because you wanted your husband’s attention so badly, huh?” He taunted. “Is that what you wanted? Just my attention?” He chuckled. “You’re as calm as a happy kitten now, aren’t you?” 

His stubble rubbed against your sensitive skin, and the friction burned a little but it was the kind of pain you kept wanting more of. You wanted more of him. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” You murmured, throwing your head back, moaning as he kept teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. 

“Come for me, wife.” His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud. 

You couldn’t even hold on for much longer, and ended up coming undone all over his tongue. Heart racing, legs trembling in his grip as you came. Your moans were soft and incessant. 

Fuck… that felt amazing. 

You had barely gotten your heart to stop racing, and Bucky was already standing up and in the dark you couldn’t see very well but it did look like he was moving away from the bed. 

“You’re leaving?” You asked, unable to stop yourself from sounding a little upset at his departure. 

All he said was, “Good night, wife. See you tomorrow.” 

You scoffed after he shut the door behind him, leaving you in darkness yet again. “Ghost.” 

— 

That night ended up being the first of many. 

Your days consisted of painting, and finally finding a flow in most of your pieces. Perhaps if you’re able to make a decent collection, you could start thinking about the exhibition seriously, you thought. When you weren’t painting you were either training your rapidly growing puppy, or baking. You’d begun taking your puppy out for walks around the mansion, consequently doing some more exploring of the grounds. 

After all that, each night you’d get in bed and wait for Bucky. It became part of your routine. And each night with him was different. He’d spend his time touching you slowly until you were purring for him like a kitten. Kissing you all over your body in the dark. Making you come all over his tongue and fingers. Kissing you until you moaned and pulled him closer just to feel his weight pressing down on you. 

But he would always leave after making you come. And you two never actually fucked. Neither would he let you make him come. 

On nights when he wouldn’t make it home, you’d worry yourself to sleep. But then each morning you’d find a note from him either in your studio or the breakfast table. He would always say some cheesy shit. And he would always promise to come see you later that night. 

On nights when you two didn’t engage in anything sexual, it was still just as fulfilling. Bucky would tell you things about his work, his past, his family. You learnt that he was over a decade older than you, and teased him about being an old man until he pinned you to the bed and tickled you until you couldn’t breathe. 

You learnt that he liked to keep to himself and stay as far away from his family as possible. He liked peace and quiet, which would explain his lovely home being here away from most people. 

The more you learned about him, the easier it was to grow fond of him. But the more you grew fond of him, the greedier you got. You wanted more. More of his time, his touch, his attention, and most of all, you wanted to see him. 

The mystery, while hot as fuck, was killing you. 

—

One night, things changed. 

Bucky came into your room as usual. He’d gotten bolder lately, he wouldn’t sit in the corner like a ghost anymore, instead he would find his way to your bed and only leave that bed after making you come hard. 

Tonight started out the same way.  

You felt his hands all over you as he pulled you closer to him under the covers. You giggled as he bit and licked that one sensitive spot on your neck. Your fingers had a habit of finding themselves in his hair. It was insane how easily you’d gotten used to being with him in the dark. How easily you could find his mouth with your own. How easily you’d find your way into his arms. 

It was weirdly comforting. His warmth, his voice, his touch. 

“Tell me about your day,” He murmured, kissing your neck while his hands grabbed you and caressed you wherever he could reach. 

You squealed when you felt his metal fingers wandering dangerously close to your clit. Then said, “It went pretty well. I went out to buy some supplies, made a new friend at the store, I went to see my father but he wasn’t home. I took our dog for a walk, I painted…,” You gasped when his mouth trailed down till he took a nipple into his warm mouth, while he slid two fingers inside you gently. “Oh fuck…” You whined. 

He kissed his way up to your mouth again and said, “You sound so good when you moan for me, wife.” His lips brushed against yours. 

He was so close. And it was dark. And you wanted so desperately to see him. 

He moved his fingers expertly in and out of you. Making sure to brush against your most sensitive spots each time, turning you into a whimpering mess under him. He gave you a gentle kiss, swallowing your moans as he brought you closer to the edge. 

You whimpered and whined, then in the moment you just blurted out, “Can I please see you now?” 

Bucky stopped. He pulled away from you, making you whimper again as he got up and got out of your bed. 

In the dark it took a while for you to figure out where he was, whether he was still nearby or already making his way out the door. But he was here, standing near the bed. 

“We talked about this.” He said, sounding grave and disappointed. 

“But it’s been so long.” You argued. “I trust you.” 

He let out a loud exhale and said, “Then trust me when I say, it’s better this way.” 

You let out a sigh. “You can’t keep me in the dark forever, Bucky. Literally!” 

“Yes I can. I will.” He said arrogantly. That tone of his bothered you. “It’s better this way.” He repeated, but it sounded a lot like he was trying to convince himself instead of you. 

“Oh screw you!” You said with enough bitterness to make a grown man flinch. “If you won’t let me see you then stop coming into my bedroom. I don’t want to see you unless you agree to let go of this weird persona.” 

“Fine.” 

—

That night was the last time you heard from Bucky. 

He didn’t come home the following day. Nor the one after that. 

And no one knew where he went. 

You could tell something was wrong when you began noticing that the guards were talking in hushed voices whenever you were around. You noticed that the amount of security around the house doubled. That’s when you began to worry. 

By the third night, the entire house was filled with this almost tangible tension, worry, and fear. The house staff wouldn’t talk to you as much. The guards were always in and out of the house. The head of security advised you to not wander too far away from the house while you roam the grounds. 

You noticed the guards would follow you whenever you left the property. Be it when you left to visit your father at your old house or when you went out to buy supplies. 

Then you worried some more. But no one had answers to your questions. Nobody knew where he went. Whether he’s away for an assignment or if he’s simply choosing to be away from home. 

You tried your hardest to pretend that you didn’t care. You were still a little angry. After all, why couldn’t you see what he looked like? You’d spend so much time with him in the dark, running your hands all over him, tracing the outline of his facial features, he never had an issue with that. But why couldn’t you see him? 

You were angry, but also very much worried by the fourth day. You missed him, you realised. He had become such a habit, such a constant in your days. His sarcastic humour, his gentle hands, his comforting embrace, the way he left you notes in the morning, the way he took your art seriously. 

Fuck. You sat up in bed one night, patting ‘his’ side of the bed softly. You missed him. Badly. You felt a pinch inside your chest which you had never felt before. It hurt. You wanted him home. You admitted to yourself with a painful sigh. 

“Where are you?” You whispered, looking at the dark corner of your bedroom where he used to sit in silence like a ghost. “It’s okay if you want to stay in the dark forever.” You looked around the dark room which now without him seemed so much bigger and empty, “Just come home.” 

—

The next morning, as you half-heartedly approached the kitchen, you overheard something. And quickly realised you shouldn’t have heard it. It was the two ladies talking in hushed tones, the ones who usually served you your meals and often kept you company while you baked. 

“...cannot tell her, she’ll be heartbroken.” One of them said gravely. 

Sudden panic made your body freeze. You pressed your back against the nearest wall to keep yourself hidden while you processed those cryptic words. No, no, no. Is he hurt? Do they know something you don’t? 

The other replied, “But she deserves to know. Even if it’s not confirmed yet. I mean, do you see how she smiles when she reads his notes? Clearly she had grown to care for him. She needs to know.” 

The other argued, “I know, but I cannot imagine how hurt she will be when she hears about the rumours that her own father kidnapped her husband due to some past rivalry which was supposedly laid to rest after their wedding.” 

“They’ve been looking for him for days now. It’s been too long, he should’ve been found by now.” 

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! 

No. This cannot be happening. 

You carefully walked away from the kitchen. Thinking, processing, analysing. 

If your father did it, it must’ve been for some shitty, arrogant reason. He probably just wanted to rub it in Bucky’s family’s face that he could still eliminate his biggest threat if he wanted to. To show that he could still get rid of them by holding their most precious weapon hostage. To toy with them by making them wait in anticipation. Your father had done it before. Not with Bucky, but other people. He usually never asked for ransom but he liked having his rivals beg him for mercy. 

Shit. He’s had Bucky for days now. 

You moved without thinking twice about it. For some reason, your brain knew exactly what to do even though your heart was still bothered by a multitude of emotions. It felt like you were on autopilot. 

You rushed into Bucky’s office and grabbed a handgun from his desk drawer, checked if it was loaded. It was. You knew Bucky kept it there for safety, he had told you that one time when you two were in bed together. 

You let out a frustrated sigh, then felt movement around your ankles. You looked down at your puppy and gave her a sad smile as you bent down to pet her. “I’m gonna go find daddy, okay? I’ll be home soon.” You left her with a kiss. 

You rushed back downstairs and found a group of armed guards in the foyer near the front door. You didn’t have the time to explain it all to them, especially since you were driven by a gut feeling. Instead you asked, “Do you guys have a way of tracking my phone, or my car?” 

One of them nodded. The rest frowned in confusion. 

You tried to keep your calm as much as you could even though your heart was racing. “Okay, I’m gonna go to my father’s house. Don’t follow me yet, but I need some of you to come find me as soon as I begin driving away from there.” 

Surprisingly, they just nodded and let you go. 

The whole time you drove to your father’s house, it felt you were constantly having to force yourself to keep calm. After four days of having no idea where he was, and now as all the puzzle pieces fit together, it was hard to remain calm. You just wanted to get to him. 

And while you drove, unanswered questions tormented you. 

Was he hurt? Where was he being kept? Was he beaten up? Was he even conscious? Would this end badly? How far would your father take this? Would he hurt him? 

Before you knew it, you were entering your father’s property. The guards let you in like they always did. You had to take a minute to breathe in your car before stepping out and going inside your old home. 

Luckily your father was home. 

You walked in and stopped in the middle of the foyer as you saw him making his way down the stairs. He slowed down when he noticed the glare you sent his way. And when he stopped in the middle of the grand staircase, with you still glaring at him, the guards who were scattered around the entrance noticed. You caught the way they silently got closer and closer, slowly reaching for their guns. 

Good thing you’d brought your own. 

The guards, as well as your father, froze in place the moment you pulled out Bucky’s gun and pointed it at the man responsible for all of this shit. No one made a single sound. No guard moved to even try to disarm you. 

You looked at your hand, which was surprisingly steady as it held the gun. And there, on the side of the shiny metal, you spotted Bucky’s initials. Your heart throbbed in a painful way, but you refused to be emotional right now, even though you needed a good cry after having bottled up your feelings for the last few days. 

You glared at your father, who was still shocked, and asked in a cold tone you’d never used before, “Where’s my husband?” 

Your father frowned. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

You repeated, “Where is he?” 

Your father scoffed, “You’ll shoot your own father? Is this how I raised you?” 

“And you’ll kidnap your own son-in-law? For what? To show that you’re still the shit?” You questioned in a slightly raised voice. 

He sighed like he was disappointed, “You don’t know what–,” 

You cut him off. “We had a deal, right? That these petty attacks would stop after the wedding? That’s why I got married, isn’t it? Because we’re supposed to keep family safe?” 

He was quiet for a moment. Then began talking again, “If I could just get them to–,” 

“Enough!” You sounded just as tired of his bullshit as you were. “Whatever plan you have, just stop!” Then it came spilling out of your mouth, “You were supposed to protect me. All of us,” You said, referring to your older siblings, “Instead you married each of us off in exchange for whatever or whoever was going to benefit you more.” 

He argued, “If this works, you can come back home. Don’t you want that?” 

“No,” You said, and realised you meant it. “This was never home.” You admitted. “He treats me better than my own family ever did. He doesn’t tell me that my art is a waste of time. He doesn’t keep me imprisoned inside his home. He doesn’t choose who I should mingle with and who I shouldn’t. He doesn’t force me to join family businesses because it’ll be good for his image.” You taunted your father. “And he’ll never sell me to the highest bidder.” 

Your father made a sound like he was disgusted. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with him?” 

You remained quiet. I care for him, you wanted to say, deeply. But that would be lying, wouldn’t it? Truth was… you did fall for him. His calm voice. His gentle but playful demeanour. His dark humour. His brilliant mind and sharp tongue, always ready to argue and debate. His gentle touch… you loved him. 

“What I do and who I care for is none of your concern anymore.” You concluded, stepping forward and keeping the gun aimed at his face. “Now, where is my husband?” 

The smirk on your father’s face was maddening. “You’ll never find him,” He said. “I’ve hidden him well.” He added.  

You gave him a smirk as well. One which mirrored his. 

“Oh don’t make me do this.” You cooed. “Did you forget all those times you got drunk and confessed all the bad things you did?” You began listing, “All those times you spilled all your little secrets. About our family businesses, about your allies, the lies and betrayal. The bodies that are buried on this very property. The skeletons in your closet.” You gave him a sick, sweet smile. “Imagine if all that information just magically ends up in the ears of your rivals, dad. Imagine the carnage.” 

His smirk disappeared. “You would betray me by siding with them?” He asked in disbelief. 

You were getting tired of this. So you lowered your gun and said, “I am one of them.” 

You walked out without a single glance back at your father, but you could tell he had his jaws clenched in anger. He hated being outsmarted. But his mistake was underestimating you. 

And as for Bucky’s location, well your father gave it away when he said ‘I’ve hidden him well.’ 

There was only one place he believed you knew nothing about since at the time that he told you about it, he was drunk out of his mind as he confessed more of his crimes: the rundown warehouse which he used as a hideout/storage for weapons and arms. 

Your father had always referred to Bucky being a ‘weapon’ so it was only fitting that he would think to hide him there. Thinking no one would find him. 

But you would. 

As you drove to the warehouse, you hoped that the guards were tracking you as you had instructed them to. Because if Bucky was truly there, there was a high chance that there would be some guards, and that Bucky must be injured. And you’d need help getting him out of there. 

Driving to the warehouse, you had silent tears streaming down your face. Not just out of sadness, but also frustration. Fuck, what had your life become? 

The warehouse was a disaster, you realised as you approached it. Large, crumbling, windows boarded up with rotting wood, broken machinery scattered around the outside. It looked like it had been abandoned for decades. And it was exactly the type of structure no one would bother to look twice at. The perfect place to hide illegal things, and son-in-laws you hate. 

There weren’t as many guards as you expected. Which would mean that Bucky was either chained and locked up like an animal, or that he was injured to the point where he was too weak to fight his way out of here. 

Or both. 

You shivered as you got out of your car. The few guards who were around noticed you and one of them began walking faster towards you the more you got closer to the entrance. 

“Miss, you can’t be here. Your father explicitly said no one is allowed–,” 

You scoffed and said, “Oh, I know what he said.” You kept walking. “What will you do? Shoot me?” 

“Miss,” He tried again, “I can’t let you–,” 

You turned towards him and placed the barrel of Bucky’s gun right under the guard’s chin. “You were saying?” 

Then you heard it. A fleet of cars approaching. The guards heard it too. You heard them yelling at one another while the one in front of you remained frozen in place. You smirked at him and said, “Now go play with them.” 

You had just enough time to duck and run inside before the gunshots began. You didn’t stop. The interior of the warehouse was just as dilapidated as the outside, and by the sound of it, there were quite some guards on the roof. Their heavy footsteps as they ran to duck and try to escape the bullets raining down on them echoed inside the empty warehouse. 

It was fairly easy to spot Bucky. But fuck was it painful to see him that way. 

He was chained to the wall, shackles around his wrists and ankles. His body slumped on the ground, his breaths ragged. You could tell he was tired. Perhaps tired of fighting against the chains. You couldn’t hold back your soft sob as you ran to him. 

They had left his muzzle-like mask on him, covering the lower half of his face. The leather jacket and gloves he wore were covered in blood and dirt. A lot of blood. You knelt down in front of him and that’s when you noticed the bullet wound on his thigh. It looked fresh. 

“Bucky?” You called, reaching a hand to touch his face. He was cold to the touch, but stirred at the sound of your voice. “Bucky, come on. Wake up. Please.” You sniffled and inched closer to him, “I’m here, I’m gonna get us out of here, okay?” 

He let out a weak cough. You could barely hear it over the sound of the gunshots outside. 

“Bucky,” You tried to get the chains and shackles off of him, “Come on, wake up. We need to go home.” Your own voice cracked as you felt the silent tears streaming down your face as you were unable to get the shackles off. “Please,” You begged. 

Then as the gunshots outside faded away, you heard Bucky’s faint voice saying, “Use the gun.” 

You turned to face him. “What?” 

He spoke again, his voice raspier than usual and sounding muffled due to the mask. “Shoot at the chains.” 

Your hands trembled just a little as you reached for the gun you had brought. His gun. And you said, “Okay, don’t move.” 

You did. And only missed twice. 

Breaking the chains left the shackles still around his wrists and ankles but that could be dealt with later. You were panicking, wondering how you’d get him out of here but the guards barged in just in time. And you let out a sigh of relief when they ran straight to Bucky and carefully picked him up. 

As a couple of them managed to get Bucky in the backseat of your car, one of them let you know that there was a doctor and his assistants already waiting at home to tend to Bucky. Another one asked you what to do regarding the warehouse. 

“Burn it.” You told him. “I’ll deal with my father later, right now we need to get Bucky home.” 

On the drive home, Bucky kept trying to talk. But he was so weak he could barely get full sentences out. 

“Weren’t you mad at me?” He asked.

You sniffled and said refused to answer that. Instead you said, “Try not to talk. You’ve been shot, we don’t know how much blood you’ve lost,” You rambled. “Let’s get you to the doctor, okay?”  

“S’okay,” He mumbled, “It went through.” 

That only hurt more. “Bucky please, you need to save energy, okay? We’re almost home.” 

“They… shot me with my own gun.” He refused to keep quiet. 

At first you thought his brain was being delirious and making him ramble. Because of the pain, exhaustion, thirst, hunger. But then a weak sound left his mouth. Still muffled by the mask because no one removed it, and it sounded a lot like a very weak, faint laugh. 

“Eros got pierced by his own arrow after all.” He mumbled. 

You held back a sob. Then muttered, “I hate you so much, Bucky Barnes.” 

Another weak laugh. “No, you don’t, wife.” 

Then he passed out cold. 

— 

The next few days which followed Bucky’s rescue went by so fast and so painfully. The medical team kept close watch on him for days. Bucky was in and out of consciousness a lot. All the meds and the exhaustion kept him constantly out cold. 

The nurses and the house staff were constantly around him. But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to go into his room. Not yet. You’d linger near the door and the doctors and the staff would constantly update you about his condition, but you never went in. 

Mainly it was because of shame. At what your father had done to him. But also you were still making peace with and processing your own emotions and you couldn’t face him until you were fully ready. What was important was that he was rescued and safe in his home. 

About a week later, the medical team finally left. And promised they would do frequent check ups and told you that Bucky needed a lot of rest. 

And that night, you managed to find the courage to finally step inside Bucky’s bedroom. It was a lot like yours, just larger. The room was dark when you walked in. But the open curtains allowed some light in from the outside. 

Okay. You spoke to yourself as you approached Bucky’s bed. It’s high time you find out who you married. 

Your hands shook a little as you reached for the dim lamp on his bedside table. But you turned it on quickly before you could talk yourself out of it. 

The golden light illuminated the room partly, and there he was. A little bruised, with a cut on his lip. His handsome face made you smile and tear up at the same time. You couldn’t hold back from reaching to touch his face softly, carefully. You ran your knuckles along his cheek and whispered, “There you are, ghost.” 

He stirred. And soon, a pair of sparkling blue eyes look up at you. For a moment you panicked, wondering if he would be upset. But instead he said, “This is cheating.” 

You let out a soft laugh and asked, “How are you feeling? You’ve been asleep for days.” 

“I feel like beating your father up.” He mumbled. 

“Oh, same.” You agreed. Then added, “I’m so sorry for what he did to you.” 

Over the past few days, the guards had gathered what had truly happened the day Bucky went missing. Turns out, he did leave for an assignment but your father and his men had been keeping a close eye on him for days, and since the wedding was supposed to have ended all rivalry, Bucky had his guard down as he entered your father’s territory. And your father had the upper hand for once and took advantage of it. Bucky was cornered, outnumbered and taken. He was kept in that warehouse up until you found him. 

“Don’t be,” Bucky whispered, reaching for your hand on your lap. He gave your hand a soft squeeze and said, “You saved me.” 

You couldn’t look away from Bucky. It felt so intimate to finally be able to see his face. Then rather sheepishly, you asked, “Can I sleep here? I’ll be careful.” He was still injured and in pain, but you just wanted to be close to him. You needed to. 

He smirked, “Come on.” You walked to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers, keeping some distance between you and him. He turned to look at you and said, “Want me to leave the light on?” 

You nodded. And he did. 

— 

A lot changed after that. 

Bucky was healing from his injury and was starting to walk again. Which meant that he was home a lot. He did ‘work’ but it mainly consisted of him ordering people around on the phone. 

Him being at home meant that he followed you around as much as he physically could. He would spend time in your studio, sometimes he’d stay for hours and watch you finish your pieces. He also spent a lot more time with your dog, taking her on short walks and teaching her new tricks. 

He’d stay with you in the kitchen while you baked. He’d go with you whenever you went shopping for supplies. Bucky became your shadow. And consequently, spending this much together made you feel closer than ever to him. 

He became your best friend. 

He also became a lot more… bold. 

—

One night Bucky found you in his bathroom. After that night when you first slept in his bed, you hadn’t gone back to your bedroom. So now, most of your things slowly found their way into his space. Like your night time skin care products. 

Bucky crept up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. 

You met his eyes through the mirror and gave him a smile. “Your limp is nearly gone.” You announced, noticing the way he walked was so much better now. 

He gave you a look which meant nothing but mischief, “And you know what that means?” 

You could already tell where this was going. You immediately turned him down. “Bucky, we cannot. You’re still injured.” 

“But it’s been weeks.” He said it like it was the ultimate torture. “Don’t you miss those nights we spent together? Hmm?” He whispered, leaning in to kiss your neck. He knew it was one of your weaknesses. “Remember how good it feels when I make you come?” 

You sighed, letting him kiss you and hold you for a moment. “Buck… you’re still healing.” 

“Come on, baby,” He cooed, nuzzling your neck, “I’ll make it so good. I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts.” 

You almost gave in the moment he playfully bit your neck, his hands finding the belt of your robe and shamelessly undoing it before sliding in to touch your warm skin. “But,” You tried to find something even though all you wanted was to drag him to bed, “Your stitches…” Your words ended in a soft moan as his metal fingers found their way in between your legs, circling around your clit. 

Bucky growled. Growled. Then said, “Fine, you get to be on top then.” 

You froze, and let out a nervous chuckle. “But I…,” You opened your eyes and met his through the mirror. “I–,” 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He reassured you, remembering the time you told him you’d never done anything with anyone before. “I know.” He gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I’ll teach you.” 

And he did. Patiently. 

He took his time in undressing both of you and held your hand in his as he laid down and pulled you on top of him. 

“I’m scared I’ll hurt you.” You murmured. 

He gave you a reassuring smile. “You won’t, baby. Now come on.” 

He watched as you carefully straddled him, settling comfortably around his waist. One hand holding his metal one tightly while the other remained splayed over his chest. 

Bucky looked up at you with nothing but adoration and lust as he tugged on your hand, pulling you in for a kiss. You leaned down gently and pressed your mouth to his. His warm hand immediately rubbed up and down your side lovingly. He pulled away just a little and whispered against your mouth, “We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with, okay?” 

You nodded, already breathless. 

“Tell me, baby. What do you want?” 

You told him the one thing you desperately wanted. “I want to touch you.” 

Bucky smirked and supported his upper body up on his elbows, with you still straddling his waist, your core pressing down on his crotch. “Go on then, touch me.” He murmured. 

He watched you intently as you reached out and touched his face first. Bucky’s heart was racing, you could tell by the way he breathed, as your finger slowly trailed down his face, along his neck and down till his abs, so slowly that you could feel his muscles tensing underneath your touch. 

You gave him a teasing smile when you noticed the effect you have on him, and how he couldn’t help but stare at your naked body. 

“Don’t tease me,” He mumbled. 

You chuckled and leaned in to give him a brief kiss before hesitantly wrapping your hand around his cock. Part of the reason why you kissed him while doing it was because you were worried about your lack of experience, so you did it to distract him. 

But he caught it. And wrapped his own hand around yours, making you grip him tighter. You pulled away from the kiss and looked into his pretty eyes. Bucky was breathing heavily. You let his hand guide you as you gave him an experimental stroke, a gentle up and down movement. 

He felt thick and hard, and big. You looked down for a quick minute as you let him continue guiding your hand, lazily stroking his cock, up and down. Your thumb rubbed his tip slowly, making him groan as you looked back up at him and kissed your way down his neck, around the base of his throat, making him gasp in pleasure. 

“See?” He whispered, “You’re learning already.” He said as he slowly let go of your hand and let you touch him on your own. 

You continued exploring this new feeling. He was completely fine with just being there and letting you take your time. And you did take your time, touching him everywhere you could, stroking him as slowly or as quickly as you wanted to. Until he was so close to the edge, eyes rolled to the back of his head, lips parted and occasional moans escaping his open mouth as  pre cum started dripping down his cock. 

Oh he was a sight to behold. But you were getting impatient, and you wanted him in you as soon as possible. So you stopped, earning a groan from him. 

“I want you,” You said. 

Bucky looked like he was barely able to hold back either. “Come on,” He held your hand again, pulled you in for a quick kiss as you straddled him properly. His hand reached down and aligned the tip of his cock to your hole, teasing you with it by sliding it up and down your slit a few times until you were whimpering. “Now sit on it baby come on,” He encouraged you as you began sinking down on him, gasping as his cock stretched you out. “You can do it.” He murmured, breathless as he watched his cock disappear inside you more and more. “That's it. All the way down, come on baby.” 

You were a moaning mess by the time you sunk all the way down, impaling yourself down on his cock. Fuck. You had never felt so full before. So fucking full. 

“You okay, baby?” He asked, holding you by your hips, moving you back and forth just a little bit to create some friction. 

You nodded, moaning at the slight movement. 

“Want me to help you move?” He asked, lips parted and he had that wild look in his eyes.

Fuck, he was beautiful. 

“Yes, please,” You whined, placing your hands on his chest to brace yourself for what was coming. 

He wasted no time. Bucky grabbed you by the hips and helped you move up and down his cock. Your wet warmth wrapped all around him, making him swear under his breath and groan at how good you felt. 

You couldn’t look away from his ocean blue eyes while you rocked your hips against his. You moved against him perfectly, your walls gripping him tightly and feeling him twitch inside you. 

“Look at you.” He cooed. “Look how well you're taking it.” 

You couldn’t help but lean in to kiss his open mouth. He was so perfect. He was everything you had ever dreamt of, you realised. 

His metal fingers moved to touch your clit while you rode his cock, teasing you and bringing you closer to that edge. It wouldn’t take much. You were so overwhelmed already. 

“Bucky…” You whined, dragging your hands down and pressing both your palms against his toned abdomen, carefully avoiding touching him around his thigh area, where he was shot. 

Bucky watched you, your breasts bouncing gently, lips parted, softly gasping as you got so, so close to the edge. 

And he knew. So he quickened his pace, still moving you up and down his cock while he rubbed your throbbing clit. 

“Baby, I’m gonna need you to come for me, okay?” His voice was low, barely even a whisper. His desperation was quite clear. He began to thrust his hips up even harder, matching your movements.

The air around you got hotter, and that look in his eyes made you want to live in this moment forever. Bucky was the most beautiful mess you’d ever seen. A sweaty, moaning mess under you, messy hair, swollen lips, and a throbbing cock. 

You were sure you looked like a mess too as you felt your walls clench around him, gripping him and milking him perfectly. 

“Come for me,” He whispered, “Come on, baby.” 

You came without a warning, crying out loud and impaling yourself down on him one last time as you did. Bucky thrust up into you one last time and came undone as well, both of you breathing hard and fast. 

You carefully got up from his lap and laid down beside him, body limp and slightly sore in between your legs. 

You were still catching your breath as you asked, “Did I hurt you?” You sounded just as worried as you were. 

Bucky chuckled. “I should be the one asking you that.” 

You smiled and snuggled into his side, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer. 

“I’m fine, baby.” He said and kissed your forehead. 

You both laid there in silence for a while. 

Cuddling and relishing each other’s warmth, caressing each other’s skin. 

You felt his fingers drawing random shapes on your back as you laid your head on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeats against your cheek. You felt the need to ask him, “Why were you so against showing yourself to me?” 

He gave you a soft chuckle. “You just can’t let that go, huh?” 

“Nope.” 

He sighed, pulling you closer. “I was… afraid.” 

You frowned. “Afraid of what?” You pulled away and looked up at him. “Why did you hide this pretty face from me?” You gave him a quick kiss on his chest as you waited for his answer. 

He sighed again. “Everywhere I go, I… whenever people see me up close, it’s already too late. They don’t see a human anymore, they see death staring back at them.” He paused. You remained quiet. He continued. “I see it, you know? In their eyes. When they look at me and plead, or beg, or curse me.” A humourless laugh, then, “After some years of that, I began seeing it in the mirror as well. I saw the same thing they see. After years of brutality, and killing, and spilling blood,” A soft chuckle, “Years of being an evil Eros as you call it, I grew to hate my face.” 

You felt tears forming at your waterline but you couldn’t look away from him. Not when he was being so brave and vulnerable. 

He continued. “And then before our wedding, I looked you up.” He confessed, a little embarrassed. “And you were so beautiful.” He looked you right in the eyes and repeated, “You are so beautiful. I guess, I didn’t want you to look at me and see death, and ugly and all the other dark stuff. I didn’t want to see that look in your eyes, the same one I see in everyone. That look of fear and disgust.” He finally admitted, “So I thought, I’d just hide and be a ghost.” 

“My ghost.” You corrected him, reaching out to cup his chin in your palm. “And I’m gonna need you to never stop haunting me.” You said, leaning in to leave a soft kiss on his lips. “I want you to always be in the shadows. Be with me, even in the dark.” You gave him a smile. “I look at you now and you know what I see? I see a man who treated me with respect. A man who wouldn’t touch me unless I asked for it. A man who gave me so much space for my creativity.” A faint smile, then you added, “You made me fall in love with art all over again, and now everything I paint, I paint with you in my mind.” 

He gave you a smile which both broke and mended your heart. 

“Oh Buck,” You cupped his gorgeous face with both hands and said, “You’re not death, or scary, or any other dark shit. You’re mine, and I love you.” 

He pulled you in for a kiss so quickly you barely processed it. “And I love you.” 

You giggled into the kiss and only pulled away when you were breathless. You kissed your way down his chin and nuzzled his neck, sighing in delight. 

Bucky said, “I think I should retire.” 

“Hmm,” You asked, “And what would you do in retirement?” 

“Watch you paint, raise our dog, adopt some more animals, attend your art exhibitions, and eventually make some babies with you.” He listed it all so easily. 

“Sounds like a plan.” You agreed.

[darklinaforever]

Oh my God... The Green stans really didn't understand the story of the dance and the characters of Aegon II and Rhaenyra ! 😂

In the show, Aegon II does not take the throne to protect his family, but because he was forced to by Alicent. He has no interest in protecting his family, he even sought to flee Westeros in the first place, leaving his entire family behind.

In Fire and Blood, the idea that Aegon II took the throne solely for his family is just pro-Greens propaganda made by Maesters Eustace, easily spotted as false when we see Aegon II's behavior once he he has the crown on his head.

Rhaenyra, in the show, doesn't really want the crown, and primarily wants to protect the kingdom from the prophecy that essentially heralds the apocalypse.

Rhaenyra, in Fire and Blood, on the other hand, wants her crown and will fight for it, because... well it's her inheritance. She therefore has every right to claim it, knowing that in addition she was educated to fulfill this function of sovereign of Westeros, unlike Aegon II.

Rhaenyra, in Fire and Blood or HOTD is not the one who is power hungry.

At least not in the negative sense of the term, in relation to Fire and Blood (since in HOTD the women are pure innocents apparently not interested in power...) in a specific way (because once again, the crown belongs to Rhaenyra, it's not negative greed to want to keep and fight for what's yours, wanting power isn't inherently bad as far as it's concerned).

Because it is the Greens who embody this evil greed for power. It is already obvious from the color that represents this faction and the chaos that they cause and sow around them in this greed for the throne.

[madewithlove-sophie]

What Did Love Do? | ii. | JJK Fanfiction

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Chapter ii. The Fated Pair

A warning for those squeamish with blood and s/h at the beginning

The birth of the honored one shook the Jujutsu World, shifting the balance between chaos and peace.

A child born with the six eyes and limitless technique. A child blessed by the heavens.

It is due to this event that people of the Jujutsu World did not know of the birth of another child just 7 months later.

The birth of the unworthy child. Upon her birth, cursed the fate of her clan.

Thrown away by her own clan at birth and taken by a mere maid. Y/N Akayami was a child cursed by the God's.

Yet who would have thought, these two were destined to cross paths and disrupt the world of Jujustu.

-

"Get that wretched thing away from me!" A woman, beautiful yet terrifying shouts.

Upon feeling the shift of cursed energy, seeing her child's eyes. Red. Beautiful. Dangerous. A Curse. She knew her child she gave birth to a few minutes ago was not hers. A monster.

A chilling scream echos in the hospital room. The newly made mother, throws her child to the ground and attacks the crying baby with her technique.

A barrage of invisible slashes scatter the room, harming the doctors and nurses.

A minute passes. Pause. Silence.

The mother looks around as the dust settles. The window panes shattered. The smooth wooden floor riddled with large jagged splinters.

Before the dust could lay back on the ground. A wailing cry.

The baby is unharmed. On the floor. Wanting the warmth promised by her mother.

A sinister aura of red protects circles the child.

The doctors and nurses unable to move watch helplessly as the baby cries for its mother.

A laughter echoed maniacally through the room. The mother stands and grabs the nearest object that would bring her relief.

A scalpel used for the operation.

Suddenly there are two bodies on the ground. One of the lifeless mother. One of the wailing baby.

The doctors unsure of what to do watch. Unable to move.

Yet one nurse, rushes to the crying baby. The red aura long gone.

"Shhhh it's okay." The nurse coos at the baby, calming her down.

Red. Crystal Red.

Two beautiful rubies stare back the woman. How could this baby be a monster? The nurse thinks as she starts wrapping the baby in white cloth.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps heard from the corridor enters the disheveled room.

Shiro Akayami, the head of the ancient and powerful Akayami Clan, walks in.

He looks around and sees the scene before him.

A woman called his wife lies on the floor. A scalpel on her hand.

A baby softly crying held by a worried nurse.

"Akayami-sama, it happened so fast we didn't-" Before the doctor could finish, a deafening slash tore through the room, silencing his words and claiming the lives of the doctor and two nurses standing nearby. Their bodies splat on the ground as if rags were thrown on the floor.

The nurse gasps in surprise as she witnesses the gore before her.

Shiro Akayami slowly turns to the nurse. Dark evil eyes stare at the woman on the floor holding his child.

He leans over the two. Sinister. Dark. Evil.

"Kill the child. I do not care how gruesome," he declares, his voice devoid of emotion, as he stands tall and resolute. With hands clasped behind his back, he strides toward the door, leaving an unsettling air of determination behind him.

"Make no mistake." he states icily, his gaze fixed ahead as he exits the room, leaving his ominous directive hanging in the air.

- 5 Years Later -

A small child walks hand in hand with a maid, their footsteps echoing softly on the polished wooden floors of their master's traditional Japanese house. The dim glow of lanterns casts flickering shadows across the tatami mats, while the moonlight filters through shoji screens, painting patterns of light and shadow on the walls.

Her beautiful ruby eyes peek out from beneath her long bangs as she rubs the sleep from them.

"Are you sleepy, Y/N?" A gentle voice asks the child.

"A bit," the child yawns as the two make their way across the lavish garden of their master's home, unaware of another child watching them from across the garden.

"Hey! You there!" A young child shouts from his chair, pointing at the two.

The maid stops her steps and turns to her master's child, bowing respectfully as the young girl hides behind her.

"Satoru-sama," she says, mimicking the deferential tone she uses with the child's parents.

"Who's the kid behind you? You're always in a rush to hide her," he points accusingly at the young girl cowering behind the comfort of the maid's skirt.

"She is my child, Satoru-sama," she responds, her voice strained with a hint of urgency, eager to leave the uncomfortable situation behind.

You're a kid too, you know. The maid says to herself, aware of the boy's somewhat superiority complex.

Satoru, with a sneer, comments, "She looks like a scared little mouse. Can she even speak?

The maid, filled with a motherly protectiveness over the child, reprimands Satoru. "Satoru-sama, have you—" but before she could finish her reprimand to the rude child, the young girl behind her leaves the comfort of her shield and yells.

"Yes, I can! And you look like a frog!" she shouts in defense.

The maid, shocked by her child's outburst, gasps and covers the child's mouth with her hand.

"She did not mean that!" the flustered maid says, her voice tense with worry about the repercussions the child's words might have with his parents.

Young Satoru gasps in surprise and points at the young girl. "You're rude!" He shouts in defense.

The maid laughs in embarrassment. "She doesn't mean that." The maid repeats.

The maid removes her hand over the child's mouth and slightly pushes her head down in a bow.

"She's sorry about what she said, Satoru-sama," the maid says, wanting nothing more than to leave the young boy and head to their room. "Apologize to Satoru-sama, Y/N." The maid whispers to the child.

"I didn't meant it," the young girl mutters in apology.

Satoru laughs at the young girl. "It's 'I didn't mean it,' stupid mouse," he says confidently, reveling in his perceived superiority over the girl.

The young girl fueled with anger suddenly stomps on young Satoru's. "You're a meany!" She shouts in frustration over the annoying ugly boy before her.

Satoru gasps although not in pain but surprise at the young girl's defiance. Before he could say anything the maid laughs in embarrassment.

"Ah, young Y/N is cranky for not eating any chocolate this evening for dinner. Please forgive her rude behavior, Satoru-sama," the maid says, her voice tinged with a subtle hint of concern as she carefully chooses her words, hoping to deflect any suspicion or ire from the young boy.

The maid rushes to pick up the young girl and carries her over her shoulder. The child's dress frills in the air as the evening air chills the night.

"I'm not cranky," the girl mutters before turning to look at the young boy at the center of the garden, teasing him as she stares at those big, blue, ugly eyes.

Before the two disappear inside the house, she sticks her tongue out at the young boy in playful retaliation.

Young Satoru sneers in mock annoyance at the girl's antics. What an annoying girl!

Satoru walks to his bedroom, his footsteps softly tapping the ground as he considers their exchange.

Eventually, young Satoru lies on his bed, about to sleep. Before he could succumb to slumber, he exhales loudly, thinking about the encounter. "Red," he murmurs, remembering the peculiar crystal rubies of the girl he encountered.

-

Editor's note: A the start of childhood romance ~

[y-rhywbeth2]

Something I love about BG1+2 is how it simultaneously plays and subverts the demigod/chosen one narrative (which continues in BG3, except with only the subversion. (And Halsin is not joking when Durge tells him what they are: Do NOT advertise that you're a Bhaalspawn.))

I've always been fond of the set up in Saradush in ToB, where the surviving children of Bhaal are being corralled into the besieged city under promise of protection against the entire world - because basically literally the entire world is trying to kill the Bhaalspawn: Your more powerful siblings want you dead; your mortal neighbours, and likely your nation itself either thinks you're inherently evil and are ready to kill you, or you represent such a threat that they're ready to drive you out and/or kill you just in case. Case in point: the aforementioned siege outside the city walls with the army that wants you dead currently raining giant flaming rocks of death over your head.

Some of these guys have no idea what they are, or what's happening, until attempted murder happens.

Like this discussion with one of your random brothers, a guy called Alexander:

Alexander: "You don't look like one of the locals. Are you a child of Bhaal as well, lured here like the rest of us to face our inevitable end?" Charname: "As well? What do you mean?" Alexander: "I myself am one of Bhaal's progeny - or so I've been told. I guess Bhaal's blood runs thicker in some of his children than in others." Sarevok: "By your snivelling manners, I would say Bhaal's blood runs very thin indeed in your veins. Bah-why do I even waste my breath tormenting this cowering cur?" Alexander: "Uh... is there anything else I can help you with?" Charname: "How did you get here exactly?" Alexander: "I wasn't brought here by Melissan, like some of the others. My home village was burned to the ground by a dragon who claimed to be hunting me. My friends... my family... they threatened to give me to the dragon if I didn't leave. So I did. And I heard a lot of other Bhaalspawn were coming here. *sigh* Now I almost wish I hadn't come."

Spoiler alert: He dies. Every single Bhaalspawn in that city dies*, along with everybody except a handful of commoners (*except maybe Viekang, who was not particularly inclined to murder me, so Murder in Baldur's Gate is weird.)

You, a simple peasant from a farming village one day come of age and learn that your absent father was a god, and you are forced to flee forces that are trying to kill you (in this case, your much more powerful half-brother)... it sounds like the start to some kind of fantasy epic, but instead of any fancy destiny you end up in a war torn city surrounded by castoff divine bastards just like you, terrified and unwanted, and then you die, and are forgotten.

And that's what being a Bhaalspawn is!

Whatever grand lies Bhaal tells you in your dreams about how you're special and great power awaits you (if you behave and do his will), your job is: sow death, faith, fear and chaos wherever you roam, strengthen Bhaal's power, and then be a good child and die for Father. No exceptions, save perhaps one, who is explicitly a special prophecy child, and even then is supposed to be doomed by future FR canon because they're still Bhaal's "pawn". There's also Imoen, who might be spared simply by proximity to said prophecy child keeping her alive. Non-game "canon" screwed her over hard. (FR canon and I have a complicated relationship, it must be said. All copies of those books are to be ritualistically burned.)

idk where I'm going with this, I just love how bleak the situation in the city is. No grand destinies, only a discardable pawn to be used, abused and consumed.

...And also that part where Tethyr sends an army to kill you because obviously you are guilty of "crimes against [Tethyr] and, indeed, all of humanity!" by supposedly killing a whole city: They admit they can't prove it, but you're a child of murder, you were born guilty even if you didn't actively do anything.

No, really:

General Jamis Tombelthen: "You are guilty, [Charname]. Of this there is no doubt. And we will not risk your further endangerment of us all. You are a spawn of Bhaal and responsible for the destruction of the city of Saradush*. Your execution has been ordered, [Charname]. May the gods have mercy on your soul."

* I implore you to move with great urgency to intercept the Bhaalspawn before they can do any more damage. Whether or not they are responsible for what occurred in Saradush, we cannot allow them to continue and cannot afford the time for trial... - Tombelthen's orders, courtesy of the Queen of Tethyr

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello can I request a yandere norse and greek gods x innocent reader thankss

-Things in Valhalla have been a little…testy here as of late, and you’re not sure why. It all started a few weeks ago, when Hermes when teaching you how to play chess, and Loki came in, asking you to come with him, claiming it was too nice of a day to be inside.

-To be fair, you did tell Loki that you were with Hermes at the moment and you missed their heated glare between the two of them.

-Loki ran forward and grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder, leaving Hermes to give chase, calling out your name.

-You felt like Loki was just being a gremlin to Hermes, playing keep away from you, leaving the other gods in the Greek pantheon to call out for you, seeing you being held ‘hostage’.

-Loki ended up trying to leap over a balcony with you to be pulled back by Hades, making him drop you.

-Several voices called out in worry for you as you curled into a ball before you felt someone warm grab you before you got drenched. You opened your eyes, seeing Hercules holding you as if you were made of glass, as he had landed on his back in the fountain, drenching the both of you, “Are you okay Y/N?”

-You were alright, smiling up at him, not realizing how your dress was clinging to you now, as you were now soaking wet, but everyone else sure did.

-Aphrodite was quick to snatch you away, “Are you all right Y/N? Come with me- I have some dry clothes for you.”

-Loki glared, seeing this as a loss and was quick to call for reinforcements.

-Brunnhilde entered Aphrodite’s salon as you gave a twirl for Aphrodite, wearing a very short and revealing dress, “Isn’t this a little short?” Aphrodite went to say something before Brunnhilde was quickly there, lifting her skirt to shield you away, “Yes it is!”

-Aphrodite couldn’t help but smirk, seeing the challenge as you were whisked away by the Valkyrie, finding this challenge fun, as Brunnhilde was so cute when she got serious.

-Over the next few weeks it had been nonstop, you were constantly being whisked away, if you were hanging out in the Norse pantheon the Greek gods would come to pull you away to visit them, and if you were with the Greeks, the Norse gods would come to get you to spend time with them.

-It was…a little painful as you didn’t seem to realize they were fighting over you, they wanted your gentle attention, they wanted you to dote on them, hug them, pet their hair, and just spend time with only them, but this other pantheon kept getting in the way.

-It wasn’t until you up and vanished that they worked together, thinking you had been snatched by someone evil and vile, all of them rushing around Valhalla to save you.

-You cuddled up in Buddha’s arms, a smile on your lips as Zerofuku was in your arms, “I’m so glad you came to visit us Y/N!” you smiled down at Zerofuku, happy to be in a quiet place for the first time in weeks, after Buddha asked if you wanted to have a picnic with him and Zerofuku.

-Buddha knew full well what was happening with you, but he didn’t want to upset you by telling you what these other two pantheons were doing, as it would make you sad to learn they were fighting over you.

-Buddha didn’t mind keeping you in his garden with him and Zerofuku, giving you a quiet break while Valhalla was descending into chaos looking for you.

[skaldish]

Hey what's the deal with Thursatru? Something feels off about it to me...

You can ignore my last ask; I saw you answer someone else who had the same question

Well first for posterity: Thurs (or Tussar) are Jötun, and Jötnar are the wild, untameable forces of nature. But unlike most Jötnar, Thurs are wild to the degree that they are actively and decisively incompatible with human wellbeing.

They represent the most extreme and destructive phenomena of nature, like rockslides and volcanic eruptions—stuff you have no chance of surviving if you get caught in its path. The destructive nature of Thurs is where we get the meaning of the rune Thurisas from.

Folklore has it that Thurs commonly dwell where humans fundamentally cannot. Some are said to live in Jötunheimen national park, up where the mountain peaks are swallowed by the clouds and where nothing grows. They throw rocks down at people passing by.

They also live in the volcanos of Iceland (Muspelheim). Thurs such as Sutur are responsible for the destructive nature of volcanos, spewing fire, ash, and molten rocks, while cracking open the land during an eruption.

My understanding is that it's uncommon for people to venerate the Thurs, but not for any taboo reason. Rather, it's the same reason why we don't worship wild tigers; "worship" is not the kind of relationship that builds any rapport with them. For most people, their relationships with Thurs involve being cautious of their nature and staying out of their way.

This is the way Thurs are understood in folklore. Now, to understand what Thursatru is, and what its deal is, take everything I just said and throw it out the window.

"Thursatru," from what I've gathered, basically characterizes itself as the Satanism of Heathenry, and it only makes sense in relation to specifically the American flavor of Asatru.

Keep in mind not refering to all of Heathenry in America, but to the way Icelandic Ásatrú is interpreted by Americans: The Eddas are treated as scripture, the past is treated as doctrine, Valhalla is treated as the goal to aspire to (awarded to those who live by the "viking values" outlined in the Havamal, or the snake-oil known as the Nine Noble Virtues), and Odin is treated as the Supreme Being and Loki his adversary.

The phrase "Asatru"—meaning "true to the Aesir"—is viewed as almost like an oath of office. You are pledging yourself to the Aesir's "side" in a prophesized cosmic war, fought between the forces of Order (represented by the Aesir, especially Odin) and Chaos (represented by the Jötnar, with figures like Loki, Ymir, and Sutur).

Jötnar basically fulfill the same function in American Asatru that demons and devils do in Christianity. If Satanism is the worship of all that is antithetical to the Christian god and Christianity, then Thursatru is the worship of all that is antithetical to the Aesir and Asatru belief. By being Thursatru, you're choosing to oppose the Aesir, aligning yourself with the forces destined to fight against them during Ragnarok.

And yes, all of it is extremely corny.

None of Heathenry was ever like this, and much of American Asatru is Christianity in viking garb.

Rockslides are dangerous, but not evil. Volcanic eruptions are disastrous, but not evil. The natural processes of the world—processes that are essential for life on Earth—don't always align with our needs as individual organisms. In fact, some of these processes will always be to our detriment if we stand in their way, as is the case volcanic eruptions and rockslides. That is the Thurs. That is who they are and what they represent.

So basically, the thing that's "off" about Thursatru is that it exists as a reaction to the narrative of American Asatru, and actually legitimizes that narrative to the public eye because it conforms to the American Asatru claim that venerating the Thurs fundamentally opposes the Aesir.

It's not true though, and that logic doesn't check when you put Heathenry back into its own paradigm. Saying Thurs-venerating opposes the Aesir is like saying "Exploring volcanos means you fundamentally oppose the existence of human-friendly environments." Like, what.

The only thing that actually makes someone Aesir-opposing, is their stance of opposing the Aesir. Venererating Thurs just makes someone Norse Heathen.

It's shenanigans all the way down.

[antigonesghosts]

Thinking about Grace and Blinky and purity culture and how Blinky arguably resembles a Christian God the most out of any of the other LiB - at least how the Chasity's see it, but the thing about Grace is that I think all the LiB can hold claim over her.

I think she's fascinating to them because she does not worship them despite her faith but because of it. In fact she isn't worshipping them at all! She grows up hyper aware of the fact she is constantly being watched, and the moment she realises it is not just Him who has that power she does not question her faith, she takes up the opportunity to please her God in an effort to make for what she perceives as her failures to Him.

And her final song draws a direct parallel with Max and his presumed neglect- Grace grows up with the opposite, a constant oppressive feeling that she is always being watched and judged, and both of their turns to violence can be seen as a direct reaction to that.

Who will pray for Max? Who will pray for Grace? The Lords in Black will because they create chaos and because beneath it all they are both desperate for a connection and a power they don't find anywhere except the Black and White. And Grace thinks God will smile on her for it, but if the LiB were spawned from a deed of evil are they not an equivalent of the Devil?

[hydr0phius]

Welcome back to more crack summaries and notes. Today it's Thrawn Ascendancy: Lesser Evil, and I am absolutely distraught after reading it.

Linked: Chaos Rising and Greater Good

Starting out strong with this one aren't we, Mr. Zahn?

...

Samakro: please let this be a normal fucking side trip-

...

The Springhawk: *appears*

Jixtus: Not this mf again. Give me a damn BREAK-

...

Thrawn, over comms: If there are any Watith here, we have your prisoners.

Generalius Nakirre: I'm going to answer him.

Jixtus: Do NOT

...

Generalius Nakirre: If you're not going to tell me, I'll just ask him.

Jixtus: nO-

...

(word for word)

Generalius Nakirre: The Kilji path will prove superior

Thrawn, flatly: No. It will not.

Generalius Nakirre: Again, you dismiss our wisdom without even hearing it.

Thrawn: In my experience, superior wisdom can stand on its own merits. It does not require a warship to force acceptance.

Generalius Nakirre: You also bring a warship to this place.

Thrawn: But I do not claim to offer superior wisdom. Nor do I intend to impose my wisdom upon others.

(Thrawn, I love you dearly).

...

Jixtus, quietly in the background for the last five minutes of the comm call with Nakirre and Thrawn: Oh my fucking gods, DISENGAGE. DO NOT LET HIM KNOW ANYTHING MORE ABOUT YOU-

...

Nakirre, internally during the comm call and Jixtus' warnings: WHY SHOULDN'T I FUCK HIM UP? HE'S ASKING FOR IT. IT WOULD BE SO EASY.

...

Thrawn: *blank stare on the bridge, facing Thalias*

Thalias: Look at him going into deep thought. *Turns back to Che'ri*

Thrawn, directly behind her now: So have you-

Thalias, jumping about a foot in the air: -STOP SNEAKING UP ON PEOPLE LIKE THAT!!!!

Thrawn: I wasn't????? Anyway, has Che'ri had anymore nightmares?

(He was sneaking but he doesn't know that lmao).

...

Lamiov: *sends Ba'kif a message about Thrawn*

Ba'kif: *Dropping absolutely everything and moving faster than his colleagues would if there was all out war because his Son is up to things*

...

^^^ All that was just in the prologue and I was nearly losing it lmao.

...

Thurfian: *makes a decision*

Thivik: *judgemental vibes*

...

Thrawn: *rattling off info about the paintings in the reception area of the Mitth crib on wherever it is that they were*

Thrass: How the fuck did you know all of that-

...

Lappincyk: Larawn. Has a nice ring to it.

Me thinking of that vine: Larawn James sjsjs

...

Lappincyk: Ok and what is Thrawn to you?

Thrass making a spur of the moment decision: He's my friend.

Thrawn, sitting down: :3

(That felt like a set up. Thooraki and Lamiov going "Thrawn needs someone who knows politics" and then shoving Thrass into his orbit).

...

Jixtus: I have information you'll want

Thistrian: let me consult with the Patriarch.

Thurfian: Tell them to feck off. We don't want anything to do with them.

Thistrian: o h

...

Ba'kif when he found out about the Magys: SORRY YOU WHAT- NO. WHAT POSSESSED YOU

Thrawn: :)

Samakro: I'll see this through. I'm in too deep.

...

Thivik what's on that datacard??? WHAT DID THRASS PUT TOGETHER-

...

All the Thrawn and Thrass interactions give me life.

...

Zistalmu: I got a divorce.

Thurfian: babe, please. :'(

...

Roscu: *blathering on & being all high and mighty while a fucking asteroid missile is lining her up*

Ziinda: Can you shut the fuck up?

Roscu: I- ok.

...

Thrawn: I'll see y'all later. Uingali and I are going on a trip for a bit.

Samakro: k, bye.

later

Samakro: Where are we???

Bridge crew: idk man??

Che'ri: I'm following him. He's in danger and we need to be there.

Samakro after a lot of talking with Thalias: Oh. ok.

...

Thrawn: Can you fire a charric?

Qilori: *nervous wreck* nO

Thrawn dragging him up out of his chair: You're about to learn.

...

Thrass, holding a chair & ready to use it: Yeah, that's right! Drop the knife!

The thief: *slowly puts the knife down, looking behind Thrass the whole time*

Thrawn standing menacingly behind Thrass ready to deck the thief like he did his accomplices: >:)

...

Thrass: Ok, Roscu, but if you did fire on us you'd be killing a Mitth Aristocra and his brother.

Thrawn: :0

Lappincyk: :D

Roscu: Damn, ok.

*after the Odo ceremony*

Thrawn: Are we actually brothers now?

Thrass: Yeah, if you want :3

Thrawn: :') ok

*cue secret sharing*

...

CEDF: *trying to keep the peace in the Ascendancy on Syndicure orders*

CDF and Family Fleets, with the indignant air of a 10 yr old Sephora girl: Oh my GODS, can you LEAVE? You have NO POWER here!!!!

CEDF: Ok, fuck you. *sorts out the fighting anyway then dips off to wherever they get sent to next*

...

Che'ri: I'm fine. I can cook my own food while you're gone, and Mid Captain Samakro can check in on me.

Samakro: *worried Dad being left with the kids for the first time noises*

Thalias: ok.

Che'ri: Niceeee

Samakro: *sweating bullets*

...

Thalias: You Borika?

Borika, fake accent on: You a cop?

Thalias: What-

...

Borika: *nice rancher lady*

Borika 0.5 seconds after Thalias mentions the Seekers program: *pulls a charric on Thalias once they're inside the house and drops the accent*

Thalias: Holy fu- HANg oN-

...

TIMMY!!!! WHY DIDN'T YOU LET BORIKA AND THRAWN MEET!!!!!

...

Fuck the Ascendancy too btw. The systems in place are shit. Those poor sky-walkers.

...

*Two families fighting*

Ar'alani having been sent to deal with it, angry admiral voice engaged: OI, STOP THAT

One gunboat: NO. YOU HAVE NO JURISDICTION HERE CEDF.

Ar'alani, fed up: Flicker all of them, then drag them away from each other

Wutroow: That's going to piss a lot of people off, Admiral.

Ar'alani: idgaf. They're being stupid and putting civilians in danger.

Wutroow: Then might I suggest dragging them back to different orbital levels? if they want at it again, they'll at least have to try.

Ar'alani: Excellent thinking. Let's do that.

...

Ja'fosk 20mins after they flickered everyone and are headed back to UAG: Ar'alani you need to stop hanging around with Thrawn so much.

Ar'alani: Ok but he's right.

Ja'fosk:

Ar'alani: Y'all are just haters.

Ja'fosk: Just get back to UAG.

Ar'alani: Ok.

...

Ar'alani: *Firing on Dy'lothe's ship because he's ignoring her and possibly about to fuck up Thrawn's plan*

Dy'lothe: AR'ALANI, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?

Ar'alani, sick of CDF bs: GETTING YOUR ATTENTION. ANSWER YOUR DAMN COMMS, MAN-

(SHIP, SHIP, SHIP, SHIP)

...

Dy'lothe: Acting on the Syndicure's orders-

Ar'alani: Oh, so illegal orders, then?

Dy'lothe: ...yeah

Ar'alani: ha.

...

Ba'kif: Here's Thrawn's latest plan. I'm giving you and anyone else you can convince permission to go and assist him.

Ar'alani on four hours of sleep: This is completely insane and could ruin our careers.

Ba'kif: So you'll do it, then?

Ar'alani: Of course!

...

Thalias: There's no bus to the spaceport-

Borika: I've got you, girlie. I'll drive you.

...

Samakro: Oh yes, you're Thrawn's big, strong protector.

Thalias: yes.

Samakro: :)

...

Samakro: So, here's Thrawn's plan.

Thalias: Fuckkkkk, that's insane.

Samakro: Yeah... anyway good luck with Thurfian. I'll wait here for you.

(SHIP, SHIP, SHIP!!)

...

Che'ri: *possessed by the Magys*

Samakro, dad mode engaged: IF YOU DON'T LET HER GO, I'LL OBLITERATE YOU AND YOUR PEOPLE

Magys: You jest

Samakro: I do not >:)

Thalias: TAKE ME INSTEAD

Samakro: HELL NO-

...

Thalias: I pulled a charric on the Patriarch.

Samakro: WHAT-

...

Jixtus: And what question would that be?

Thrawn: The most critical one. Are you ready to surrender?

Everyone: oohhHhhoOhohoho, you've got some balls saying that, Senior Captain.

...

QILORI KNOWS ABOUT THE SKY-WALKERS. nOOoooOOOOOOOOO

...

Can we appreciate how well Thrawn's plan went? They tore Jixtus UP.

...

Ja'fosk, pleased: How did Senior Captain Thrawn obtain such accurate information?

Samakro who was fully ready to admit that he fed Thalias false info because he thought she was a spy: o H, uH. Yeah he kinda just pulls things like that out of thin air, you know? I can't explain it.

...

Che'ri has now met both Kivu siblings AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. I think she's going to figure it out if Thalias hasn't told her yet.

...

Everyone going into the chamber thinking Thrawn's going to get a promotion or something and then the Admiralty exiling him and stripping his honour chains sucker punched me in the gut. Thurfian's smugness did not help matters either. I could feel the anger from everyone in that scene.

...

Sorry the way the Aristocra had everyone lined up for serious consequences instead of the commendations etc they got in the end because Thrawn took all of the blame himself to keep them in positions where they'd be able to guide the Ascendancy's forces in his absence got to me oh my gods.

...

Ba'kif: We're telling you so that you don't kick up a fuss about the exile thing

Ar'alani: I would never!

(She would. She was going to)

...

Ba'kif: *explaining the Clone Wars*

Ar'alani: I'm not remembering all that. Happy for them, though. Or Sorry that happened.

...

(Not crack, just pain)

Ar'alani: Don't you dare leave before I say goodbye to you, Thrawn.

Thrawn: Of course not. That's not what friends do.

Timmy: *doesn't write their goodbye scene*

Me: *screaming*

...

Thrawn: It's only for six months. Perhaps a year.

Ar'alani: And then you come home?

Thrawn: Yes. It will be alright.

Me: It was not, in fact, alright. seventeen-ish years and then another nine missing out on Peridea is not 1, mate.

...

Ba'kif: it's a shame I'll never see you in admiral whites.

Thrawn: Nobody here is senseless enough to promote me to admiral lmao

...

Ba'kif: We have time for one final meal together, if you wish

Thrawn: If you don't mind, I'd like to eat alone. There's a bistro where Thrass and I used to meet. I'd like to spend my last evening on Csilla remembering him.

...

I'm not okay. Probably going to have new fics to write now. hhhhhhh. That was sad as hell at the end there.

...

Also these two trilogies just highlight how little Felony understands Thrawn, and I hope all of you understand after reading the books, how badly he massacred our boy in Ahsoka. It shouldn't be, "omg we got him in live action!" anymore. It should be, "who is that blue guy and why are we being given such shit quality shows and expected to like it when the characters that mean so much to us have been reduced to having less dimension than a cardboard cut out, and that a slug could move 1 kilometer at a faster pace than the supposed plot that's scarcely here?" Have some standards that aren't six feet under, please, everyone (this is not aimed at y'all who have seen this from the start <3).

Anyway! Onto the Imperial Era I go :D

[mehiwilldoitlater]

"He's lying to you."

You turn around, finally facing Zhongli.

"...Come again?"

Despite your initial stubbornness to not even look at him, your eyes lock with each other. His golden eyes were fueled by his last resort to convincing you to finally come back where he thought you belonged, alongside your people, the people of Teyvat. Besides him.

"WuKong is lying to you. I'm not sure what he even promised you or told you about us, but I'm sure that everything is nothing but a lie."

Or at least, that was what he thought. 500 years was the period of imprisonment that he had held the Sage hostage on the mountain, or at least it was the right amount that had passed. Zhongli believed that the ape was everything he hated at the time. While he tried to create order, WuKong craved chaos. While he wanted to use contracts to create peace, WuKong believed in freedom of choice. And while Zhongli preferred to be steady as the mountain, WuKong preferred to be like the clouds in their everlasting movements.

But what Zhongli really hated most about that monkey was the fact that he wanted more for himself and was actually able to get it. That creature gained immortality, a taboo for many, and somehow he survived the erosion of the mind that creatures like the Archons were supposed to fall for. He hated that he laughed in his face when Zhongli asked him to become a protector of Liyue, preferring to be an enemy for the nation rather than a slave king.

Only he and the creator themselves were able to free him from his captivity, and there you were. Your poor body is still covered in the scars that Liyue and the other nations caused. It was natural for you to prefer the Sage rose. To have him as your favorite and as your protector.

But Zhongli couldn't. For him, that was the last reason for him to despise the monkey more and claim his head. You chose Wu Kong over him.

For him, it was reasonable to reach the island in secrecy, where you, Wu Kong, and his generals lived. It was reasonable to sneak into your room and try to convince you to leave your friends. But you weren't reasonable, not to him.

"He's not lying to me. He would never!"

"Why? Because he gave you his word? Trust me, that monkey word is nothing! You're just another god to use for his own ambition."

"No! I know it's true! We're friends! You were the one that hurt me!"

Your words were swords in his heart. He knew that he could never apologize enough for your atrocity, but the idea of you with him was unbearable.

For every word you said, a new crack in the stone pavement appeared. He didn't back down.

"I know that the evil that I committed could never be forgiven, but trust me! I will make it up! Just please, come with me!"

"NO!"

More cracks. A rumbling in the sky.

"I'll never, EVER follow you! I prefer to die here right now than spend a single day with you!"

He fell to his knees, his head touching the now-cracked pavement.

"He will never care for you in the same way I do! Please I-"

"Oh really? You think so?"

His tail movements were a clear sign of his irritation at the presence of the Geoarchon there. His body backed on the window; he must have climbed there from outside. He was ready to kill whoever decided to cross his territory, but since it was his longtime friend Morax, he wanted to hear every little stupid sentence about him. Pathetic, that's what he thought.

Zhongli and WuKong's eyes crossed. The Archon distraction gave you the chance to run to your friend. WuKong reached out his hand, grasping you before Zhongli could even get the chance. holding you close to him. He was guarding you.

"First you tried to kill this innocent small flower, and now you're trespassing into my house? You have fallen from high status, old man."

"This is not the place for them, not with you!"

"Oh? So it is with you? With the follower that tried to kill them, tortured them, and then tried to kidnap them because he realized how stupid he was?"

Zhongli's eyes were filled with rage, but he couldn't act, not when you were so close to his enemy. How much he hated that scene—you so close to him, searching for his protection in his arms, his tail wrapping around you in a possessive way.

"Go back to your city, old one. Before I really got mad."

Despite being the god of war, WuKong had many tricks up his sleeves, one of which was you. It was natural; the ones that are the Creator's favorites had access to great powers. Silently, the Archon withdrew, while your eyes followed him with such venom in them.

You two needed five minutes to finally exhale a sigh of relief. Wu Kong gently caressed your head.

"Are you okay?"

You nodded silently, refusing to loosen the grip on his nightrobe.

"Let's stay together for this night. Just in case, uh?"

"Yeah, just in case."

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: 🍎ERIS: GODDESS OF STRIFE AND DISCORD 😈

Hi everyone! Here's something I've been cooking up in the background. This came about whilst I was working on the other previous works and it just sort of happened. Hope you guys like it!! Again, these works will be categorised as the MISCELLANEOUS GODS due to not the fact these gods are minor or anything, but because I did mention this in an ask before and it's easier to think about due to the canon PJO worldbuilding. These works will be a bit more loose since I'm taking a shot in the wild so hopefully you guys like it. Thanks for reading!!

When you get claimed, it’s, unironically, utter chaos. People are scrambling away and elsewhere. When you had first arrived initially, things around at camp had been slowly dissolving into chaos; mishaps, increased arguments and fighting, yelling, strange accidents, etc. At one point, you noticed the clouds looked like cotton candy (you see several pegasus flying upwards and are physically chewing on them), with what looked like to be chocolate milk raining down from them. So when you get claimed with the floating symbol of Eris, a golden apple of Discord, you all realise that was just the preview. Things that should not be and could not happen are happening, and you’re the centre of the storm, completely unaffected like a mysterious barrier of immunity.

It’s only mitigated when a demigod who came to camp with you, got claimed. In the midst of the chaos, you all looked as you saw a floating claim of two Cornucopias. And in a similar manner like you, like a switch had been flipped, the discord stopped and everything was back in perfect harmony. You see Mr. D look at you and the other child before he downs his diet coke before crushing it with a curse before tossing it at the nearest Satyr’s mouth. 

Oh boi, how it feels to be the child of the god that was responsible for what started the Trojan war. Everyone looks at you and wonders if your presence here means that you’ll spark the next Trojan War. 

The Aphrodite and Athena cabins (and the Hera cabin) steer clear away from you in the beginning due to the whole thing with Paris and the three goddesses. 

Eris herself causes trouble and strife wherever she goes, so it was for that reason she didn’t get invited to Thetis and Peleus’ wedding, and in retaliation threw the golden apple which caused the three goddesses to go to Paris and set in motion the Trojan War. On that principle, you cause trouble in your wake and it’s just part of the course. It doesn’t have to be something deliberate, but it can be just you accidentally bumping your hip against a table, which causes a person to accidentally knock off their drink and it spills onto a child of Ares, and it goes from there. So you either get in trouble or start it: you might even consider stirring the pot or spilling the tea as you will. 

On premise, you start things; whether by sheer proximity or deliberately, mostly for fun. Whether it's encouraging the pranks of a child of Hermes or causing arguments for the sake of arguing. 

In fact, when you were first put into the Hermes cabin, people thought you were a child of Hermes given your mischievous and chaotic nature, and the numerous pranks that you concocted. 

Shenanigans galore. 

You are chaos incarnate. Almost quite literally. Not Chaos the primordial himself but the cause of chaos to be exact. In fact, you know the D&D alignment where there is Lawful, Neutral, and Chaotic?Just as all children of Harmonia fall under Lawfuls,  all children of Eris fall under one of the Chaotic alignments: Chaotic Good, Chaotic Neutral, Chaotic Evil. 

A weird quirk you inherited is carving into apples. Whether it's writing words into its flesh or just straight up carving into it like its pseudo jack-o-lantern. At one point, you sort of learn how to peel the skin into words. Now only if the satyrs stopped eating the peels as you’re peeling them. 

The Chaos Theory, the Butterfly effect… Those are all things that are part of your power as a child of Eris. You can cause things to happen in a disastrous way which is useful in a quick get-away, getting yourself out of a pickle, or simply putting things into motion. In fact, you could almost see the chaos unfold before it even happens, that is almost seemingly strategic like a child of Athena; except there’s always a side of chaos and unpredictability.

People often equate Eris’s strife as negative, but that’s not true. It is necessary. You may be seen encouraging the rivalry between two individuals, egging them on, but in the end, you’ve been pushing the other to be better and to stand above the other and make a name for themselves.  When things come to a stale-mate and impasses, you are able to rouse your fellow comrades with fire and egg on your enemies to make a mistake. 

No one knows how and the children of Hecate equate your abilities to a specific use of magic, due to the nature of Eris’ discord. If you tap into the ‘chaotic’ nature side of Discord, you can perform eccentric magic that seems almost mischievous and trickster-like; like unseelie court fairy magic. Like spinning gold from hay. Like Maleficent in the story of Sleeping Beauty. You can also pull out some looney-tunes and general cartoony logic out of thin air; enjoying pull off some bugs bunny or Wild E. Coyote shenanigans. So sit back and watch the show unfold before you.

People will inevitably start pushing you away for the child of Harmonia that was claimed alongside you; given who your respective godly parents are. You’ll feel jealous and hate but don’t hold it against them too much. Just as they bring calmness and harmony to your discord and strife, bringing you some sense of peace to your chaotic life, you help break their monotone and boring life, giving them motivation and energy.

Being claimed by Eris as her kid suddenly made sense in your life. While general discord and chaos was part of your life, you always had thought it was just how you were; causing general mischief here and there with Benny Hill theme playing in the background. Now? It was like living in a Looney-tunes cartoon life which was fabulous. 

You weren’t entirely shamed for being a child of Eris but it was starting to irate your nerves when people were contributing all the misfortune and discord happening around camp, especially since it has only increased tenfold since you were claimed. You had assumed it was just because your general energy being a child of Eris, but as you saw domino effects happening that were originating not because of you and the casualties were becoming concerning, you had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t because all you. 

And especially when the children of Hecate, Nemesis, and Tyche start saying that it’s not just because of you-

 It all comes to a point when you get slammed in the face by a flying pig squealing as it goes past. You’re seeing stars before you blink and then you see what looks like vapor trails pulsing as they wind and wrap around. You’re confused but as you follow the vapor trails, you see certain directions the vapor trails begin and end. 

A memory pops in your brain when you and the child of Harmonia found a place and time secluded enough to catch up, since the campers seem keen on keeping you separate. You remember listening to the child of Harmonia talk about their power, how they could sense things weren’t in harmony like they were tangible and they could be smoothed back over. 

You then start to wonder if that’s your version, seeing the time lapse version of how bits of chaos were happening. You rake your eyes all over, taking it all in until you see what looks like a bundle of tangled trails. You follow it as it gets thicker and thicker and your eyes fall upon the said-child of Harmonia, who looks frantic as they look they’re orchestrating with their hands, detangling and smoothing over their tangled trails while also smoothing others. You can see the others being fixed but theirs? It doesn’t seem like it made even a dent. 

Then you see it. The trails tangled and wrapping around their neck but specifically the source of it all; the necklace they wore; one they had for as long as they could remember-

You rush over as the necklace seems to tug and the child of Harmonia lurches to that direction by force, their body knocking into a child of Hephaestus, their latest invention clearly fizzing and seizuring before it seems to go haywire, spraying its function as it sends a domino effect as it all goes toward the child of Harmonia . Everyone is either hitting the decks or running out to save themselves as doom headed towards the Harmonia demigod. 

“LOOK OUT!” you yelled as you rushed over, using the energy of discord and strife, jumping off an arguing child of Ares’ back as you flew towards your friend. You find the vapor trails and grab it, tugging towards the incoming doom and you begin your own orchestration, causing effects to redirect everything AWAY from everyone and your friend. You’re all surrounded by fire and chaos but everyone is in one piece and okay. You turned to the child of Harmonia who looks at you with awe and fear. Their hands gripping the necklace, as you can clearly see them trying to pull it off. 

“What’s going on here?” you all heard as Chiron and Mr. D rush over; the latter’s expression was unusual and was making everyone uneasy. 

“It was the child of Eris! They’ve been causing all this trouble-” one blamed.

“HEY!” you yelled back offended. 

“Come on, it was that child of Harmonia; you all saw them bump into the Hephaestus kid-” another yelled to your defense. 

“They’re the child of Harmonia, how’s that even remotely possible-” another yelled. The yelling begun to grow and grow as people were taking either sides and Chiron was now faced with dealing an angry crowd-

“Everyone stop! It wasn’t them!” yelled the child of Harmonia, soothing over everyone’s angry energy. They all turned to them who had a deer in headlights look, “It…It was me-”

“But that isn’t possible-” someone said but the Harmonia demigod cut them off. “No, it is. I cause this but-” 

“But what, child?” asked Chiron gently. 

You saw the child of Harmonia try to take off the necklace but as if it had a will of its own, it tug itself back out of their grip. The discord energy you could see around it was growing and you spoke. “It’s the necklace isn’t it?” you asked softly, putting a gentle hand on their hands, making them unwrap their death-gripped fingers. You were also pulling away the energy to re-direct it, but you also knew at that moment that necklace was cursed.

The child of Harmonia looked at you with wide-eyes and nodded. You all heard a deep instake of breath and you turned to see Mr. D with wide eyes. “The Necklace of Harmonia” he said. 

There was a ripple of unease as people took a step back away from you two. “What?” you asked confused before Chiron made a grim face. “You two come with me. All cabin leaders come with me to the Big House.”

There side by side, both you and the child of Harmonia were told about the curse of the necklace of Harmonia, and it was clear that your dual appearance wasn’t just a coincidence, and you were there, a child of Eris, for a reason to your counterpart, the child of Harmonia. 

[moonlight-tmd]

Prowlbee in an a.u. where Bee's father is a decepticon, but his personality is Lucifer from Hazbin Hotel.

He shows up to visit, and everyone questions how that guy is a decepticon.

Even better- Bee's father is a literal god of chaos and destruction.

This is a good opportunity to say that i will be separating the "Unicron and Primus are Bee's parents" AU from the Crack AU. (new au and tag is #god-sparkling au)

SO- to summarize: Unicron is a spirit of Earth and Primus is a spirit of Cybertron and they can materialize into transformers to interact with stuff. Bee is their Sparkling from the time they were a loving couple (now they are divorced per se). He grew up on Cybertron with guidance of his Sire (Primus) and now is living on Earth where he has fun with his Papa (Unicron).

So i had multiple takes on how they would meet. I actually think it would happen in one of the first fights when cons fight with the bots over something and Megs hurts Bee.

They all just hear a screech/roar in the close distance seconds after Megs punched Bee real hard. Megs carries on with his evil speech to the Prime and the next moment he is hit by a mining dump truck going full speed. Then said dump truck starts to shift and tadah- this ginormous bot twice the size of Megatron pops out and he is manhandling that chopper like nothing. The cons (Megatron) barely manages to run away, the moment the autobots think he's gonna wreck more chaos and possibly try to kill them he only shouts after the flyers "AND DON'T YOU DARE HURT MY SPARKLING EVER AGAIN!!".

This was both confusing and concerning. Bee goes running to that obviously dangerous bot and-- wait, why are they hugging?

So turns out this colossal fucker is itty bitty Bee's creator.

Now you'd think he'd be rowdy, aggressive and cause trouble on every occasion. But nah, this guy is smitten over his little kid, kinda like a doberman over a tiny baby. All scary but gentle. He's also cheery and loves to joke around and he will help out anyone if his sparkling asks him to. Parenthood completely changed this guy- at least when he's out in public or with his sparkling.

I haven't seen Hazbin Hotel, I only watch Helluva Boss, but I've seen some shorts about it.

I suppose Prowl would be definitely intimidated because holy fuck that is Bee's creator and he just threw Megatron like a ball across the field. Unis (Unicron's alias) is very happy that his kid got himself someone to love. Prowl hates to admit it but he's kind of questioning whether his relationship with Bee was a good idea, he still sticks with it in the end tho.

Everyone else is just as confused since Unis claims to be the most cruel and destructive warrior in the entire universe and here he is playing with Sari and Bee so gently and carefully, he never gives anything a scrach from his big claws or spike-like armor pieces.

ALTERNATIVELY (and maybe what you wanted in the first place)- Bee still has a Sire but he's not a giant godly being but instead a sleek warframe with a monsterstuck alt (a little taller than Optimus and Bulkhead).

So one time Team Prime gets a Decepticon signal on the outskirts near some abandoned facility and goes there expecting to find Megs and his minions. They spread out to get them from both sides but...

Well, they did stumble upon a Decepticon, one with awfully familiar features in fact, but that one didn't really behave like a Decepticon... He apologized for making a mess cuz he tripped and knocked down some tiny silos when they scared him and was very awkward and asking if they could maybe help him out. He strongly denied wanting to fight them even.

Then Bee came out of the bushes with Ratchet and the two bots with horns locked optics for a single second before running and hugging each other all happy.

So turns out this stray Decepticon they tracked down was Bee's Sire.

Let's name him... Dragonfly. He was a Decepticon, one of the higher ranking ones in fact, but not partaking in any business with the war surprisingly. He was a single parent and had Bee on a neutral colony, when Bee was old enough he helped his kid to get on a ship heading to Cybertron to work and secretly help his Sire out a bit on the colony. He and Bee couldn't communicate often, he didn't know Bee and his crew had gone missing but Bee had gone without replying to any of his messages for the longest time so he knew something must have happened to his bitlet. Worried and slightly paranoid he got into his camouflaged ship and went from place to place looking for him. He was spotted by the Elite Guard's ship and shot down when he neared Earth and now he was kind of stranded until his ship is fixed.

He was very nice and polite unlike the Decepticons all of the Autobots usually met. He even took a liking to the organics and Sari when she visited the next day- she accidentally mistook the new bot for Bee cuz they looked so similar. When she learned that this was Bee's dad she was hella excited tho. When Bee introduced Prowl as his sparkmate he was surprised but very pleased that his little bitlet found love. Oddly enough, he seemed very leaning into the idea of Prowl eventually becoming part of the family.

Despite being a Decepticon, Dragonfly didn't really interacted with either of the sides unless necessary. He wasn't very happy to hear that Megatron and his troops also reside on this planet, more so when his bitty is an autobot and fighting them. He deemed it the best option to just hide and don't interact with the Decepticons here, Megatron had respect for him but Dragonfly knew he would use this for his advantage if he learned Bee was his Sparkling. He's also not happy to hear Optimus boss Bee around for dangerous missions and solo escapades. He's even more upset that this low rank is bossing around a repair crew to fight with trained war soldiers instead of calling backup from the Elite Guard. At one point he confronts him about it and states that he will not let Bee go on any of the dangerous missions and fights to potentially die and that he is incompetent for making an untrained group fight a war. So what if you have field experience and a war vet on the team? They are still untrained and not ready to fight what Megatron has in store.

Optimus hated being a low ranking Prime and did not want to sit there useless when the threat was knocking at their door. But with what Dragonfly said it might have been time he made peace with the fact where he belongs now...

And so, Team Prime becomes more neutral to the Decepticons roaming out and about (outside for the threat of human villains, Optimus refuses to leave the humankind endangered by them) and lets the Elite Guard handle most of the calls, only times they are forced to assist is when an Allspark Shard appears.

Going back to Bee and Dragonfly- Dragonfly stayed on Earth a while after Team Prime fixed his ship to make sure everything was fine. He gave a communicator to his Sparkling to call him undercover at any time, they speak to each other every week. Team Prime still doesn't know why such a kind and nice mech is a Decepticon but Bee is happy and that's all that matters. They may also gotten a tad nicer towards Bee cuz a Decepticon is still a Decepticon, and with the role Bee's sire plays it would end really bad for them if they hurt him.

Welp, you got 2 versions of the same ask, one of them surely was what you wanted so yeh. Thank you for the ask!

[what-even-is-thiss]

Daedra in the elder scrolls are interesting because they’re often called demons but they don’t act like demons. It somehow reads like a translation error even though the game was originally written in English

I guess they’re demons in the demonology sense as a wide category but they’re not literally demons. They are big demons though. As opposed to big gods. Big gods are like God with a capital G or Zeus or Osiris or something. Central to a religion. Big demons are like that but they’re demons.

But demons in the Christianity sense aren’t things that can be copy-pasted onto every belief system that has malevolent entities.

Like if you look at Elder scrolls daedra they range from mostly good but also slightly annoying like Meridia who controls light and returns the undead to the afterlife to unpredictable beings that could help or harm you like Shegorath who influences madness and chaos or Sanguine who’s basically the god of overindulgence and drunkenness

Then there’s the entities that are just different variations of selfish and mostly view humans as tools like Nocturnal the goddess of luck and Hermaeus Mora the demon of knowledge.

Then there’s more traditionally evil beings like Molag Bol. Straight-up a lord of murder and rape.

Like the imperials claim there’s nine divines (or eight) but it’s clear that there’s way more than that. And various races and cultures around have their own view of daedra. It’s clear that these beings exist in-fiction but different people have different interpretations of them. It would appear that in a world where it’s exceedingly clear that the divine and supernatural exist there’s still infinite disagreements on how it functions.

[still-fatemeh]

♤Wolf in sheep's clothing♤

Fyodor Dostoevsky X reader

[The reader is named Anna. As in Anna dostoevskaya, the writer's second wife. But, doesn't necessarily nod back to the real life person, just like how asagiri went with Nobuko Sasaki for the antagonist in dazai's entrance exam novel. I just pick a name because I hate using Y/N, that's all. Also, this goes back in time (fyodor's old as fuck) about the age where he met bram. My English is limited, there may be grammar mistakes. Enjoy 💜 it's hella toxic]

The reflection of flames in the violet eyes of the man, was a subdued version of what the fire truly was. It was a fire as destructive and scorching as a volcano, devouring anything that came in contact with it and giving back ashes. The aftermath was going to be a hassle, something similar to incendium magnum Romae.

She watched the hazardous catastrophe in the form of a fire from above, watching the people and their blood-curdling screams, all terrified, who'd sacrificed all they had for the fire to consume and grow bigger, burning even further. Her expression was tight, unimpressed even.

Clutching the pendant of her pearl necklace in her palm, her eyes stared straight ahead, no uncertainty or fear could be seen in them. It was rather difficult to guess where her train of thought was heading. But to fyodor it wasn't at all hard to guess, he'd come to know her mind well and, also the fact that he was the root of all this chaos.

"Are you enjoying this?" Anna asked him with a hint of disdain in her tone, her eyes still fixed on the fire.

"They aren't suffering for my pleasure, sweetheart. It just happened to be what they had, had to be sacrificed for the cause. For a beautiful world, free of sin." He said simply with a graceful smile as his gaze shifted to look at her instead of the burning city, it was true that a step closer to fulfilling his goal was a beautiful event, but she... She was far more beautiful.

Before she could voice her thoughts regarding his cryptic answer, he spoke again. Partly to kill her train of thought, to prevent her from berating him for being so guiltless and hypocritical. She wasn't going to stay that way for too long though. "Why, are you mad?"

She shook her head in a manner that indicated a negative answer. "No, I have no reason to be mad at you."

"Why?" Fyodor asked, curious.

"Because I'm no eye of God to judge people for their deeds, not the immorality that I, myself assisted in creating. I'm no hand of God to deliver his justice."

Fyodor mused.

"Why? Don't you think of yourself as worthy?"

"It's not a matter of worth, it's a matter of place. And it's no one's place to claim the position of the almighty."

His smile broadened, her words, strangely enough, seemed to amuse him to no end.

"Do you think of me as some lunatic trying to play God?"

He asked once again, his eyes deceptively soft as he awaited her answer.

Her eyes were still on the fire with the same pointed gaze as before but now, they had a glimmer of resignation in them.

"No, I don't think of you as such."

"Why?"

And there came another demand from him; for her to reason, but she was afraid this was a question she didn't have an answer to, her Achilles heel.

Her eyes trailed from the fire to the railing of the balcony, the hint of sharpness in them giving it's place to melancholy.

"Is it because you love me?"

That rolled off his tongue oh-so-easily.

"It's too soon for me to be deciding that." It came off as uncertain, abashed even.

"Worry not, dearest. You have all the time in the world to consider it." He said with a reverent smile.

.

.

.

After a moment of perfect stillness, Anna spoke again.

"My father admired you and everything you stood for, that's the reason I don't think of you as evil."

"And yet his corpse is burning in the same fire that I made. He lost everything trusting one man."

He stated the obvious and her eyes clouded over with unimaginable grief.

"Are you... calling him... foolish?"

She could barely force herself to say the words. And more than the painful question, she dreaded his answer, she feared it.

"Yes."

Fyodor said firmly. Anna's head snapped in his direction with a stunned expression.

"His trust was valuable and his belief was that of a correct nature. And he gave it away to make himself a martyr for the cause. He was foolish for giving away his trust so freely but not for believing that good exists within everyone, that God made us in his own image, perfection. People take refuge in God because they're afraid of the burning fires of hell, the firewood comes from their own crimes, as punishment. The lava that eats up their ashes stems from the volcano of their own wrongdoings. They fancy they serve the cause of religion, because the devils show them their horns from the other world. But your father was rather exceptional..." He was having fun with words and she was listening like she's never been before. As if he was giving her the sweetest promises... Anna was all ears and trembling, as if listening to a pastor preaching about doom's day.

His air of intentness faded as he spared her half-questioning face a glance and gave her a subtle smile. "And he brought up an amazing woman, to continue his legacy. That's not an easy task by any means."

She gulped, shame flooding her expression.

"You... don't have to rub salt on the wound, you don't have to keep reminding me of my betrayal and ungratefulness. I'll stand by my promise, you don't need to take any extra measures to ensure that..."

Fyodor's lips twitched into a thin smile.

"So... you know yourself worthy of telling me what to do, what measures to take, what measures not to take, what to decide..."

Fyodor's tone had a lilt of amusement to it at seeing her mortified expression, she anticipated exactly what was about to come. Smart woman.

"But you don't consider yourself worthy of playing God?"

His voice suddenly became dangerously low. His hand raised her chin to look her in the eyes. Anna held his gaze really well, she was courageous enough to ignore the screams of every fiber of her being begging her to run. To get away from this man. It was also a display of pride, to show him a hint of the noble blood that coursed through her veins. She was raised for greatness, after all.

But all fyodor saw was a sparrow trapped in a predator's grip, unable to flee, her fate as clear as day, her fate as dark as the abyss.

His hand wandered higher, forcefully cupping her cheeks. reddened due to the heat that the huge fire exuded. Her face remained stoic but her eyes were extremely expressive, they gave her away. He could see the fear, the agony, the feeling of worthlessness, determination, devotion, guilt, grief, everything. And above all, despite her unawareness, those doey eyes spoke of innocence. God, her eyes glistening was such a sight. It was as if she was sculpted by the greatest of the great artists, so talented that they could bring the epidemy of perfection and grace to life. And he couldn't wait to take that all for himself.

"You betrayed the man that put his all into raising you... You threw him away for the evil incarnate that I am... Don't you dare think of me as hypocritical when this is what you are... How am I supposed to know you won't betray me for the next man that comes your way? You set yourself up for failure, sweetheart..."

She was frozen, afraid but also... she was still standing. Shivering, but still on her own two feet.

"You bit the hand that fed you,"

His hand wondered lower this time, letting go of his grip on her jaw and grasping the necklace around her neck.

"Now you're going to be licking the boot that kicks you."

He pulled the necklace forward so hard that the thread holding it together snapped and it fell apart. All she could hear was the sound of pearls hitting the ground.

She had nothing to fear anymore. She no longer had anything that she dreaded losing. She was a traitor, a betrayer of her father's trust and she deserved to burn for it...

"Don't be afraid, dearest. I'll rewrite your fate for you. I'm not ever going to let you betray me. You don't even think of such thing, right? Because that'll make you even more worthless. The most worthless harlot that has ever set foot on this earth. But, I'm a generous man. I'm willing to forget the past if you're willing to leave it behind..."

All she could hear was the agonising cries of a mother who was carrying the burned corpse of her child...

She was paying for her crimes but what crime did the poor child have to pay for?

[charg3rs0ck3t]

Anti-heroism

(Alt title- “Save me?”)

TASM! Peter Parker x (vigilante) reader

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of domestic crimes, reader kills someone (not too graphic), almost death, knives, it’s really fucking long, some fluff.

((Unedited))

———————————————————————

Not everyone is worth being saved.

———————————————————————

The first time you really met Spiderman, your hands were around his neck. You were slowly tightening your grip, but, as you looked up to watch the life leave his eyes, something you had eagerly awaited, you stopped as he began to mumble.

You knew that voice.

God fucking damnit.

———————————————————————

You hated heroes. Hated how they were considered salvations to a broken society. Maybe if the rich gave a shit the divide wouldn’t be so great.

Society is run off greed.

And yeah, sometimes the rich do give a shit, you weren’t saying thats the prime evil, the problem comes when assholes use chaos and desperation to make quick cash.

New York City was a prime example of the cesspits designed by and for humanity. In the beginning, there was no night that went by without the sound of an ambulance and a hearse in pursuit with last nights leftovers.

Now they just skipped the ambulance and went straight in with the hearse.

The city chewed people up and spat them out dead.

Heroism is dangerous. It is a false alias for mass destruction and major loss of life, and yet claims to be for the good of the people. A core of wickedness, hidden in a faux utilitarian shell. A being not whole unless causing harm and calling themself in favour of those who they massacre.

Heroism is a plague of the mind, but it doesn’t acquaint to the evil it fights. In concept, the idea was perfect. That’s where you came in.

Neither hero nor villain, but one who admits and atones to their wrongs without a need to do so. You had no image to uphold, doing what was right and paying the cost that took.

At least.. at least until you decided to catch the attention of the ‘local hero’.

———————————————————————

Growing up in New York City had its perks, one such being direction. But it was still a big city, things where constantly changing, so it wasn’t uncommon for you to drop into an alley a block or so over from your intended destination.

Usually, this was fine, however how were you to react when you come face to face with The Spiderman adjusting his costume and packing away casual clothes into a duffle.

Clearly, he didn’t know either because as he seemed to be adjusting the material at his shoulders, he turned a caught a glimpse of you.

There you two stood, at a stale mate, perfectly acquainted through previous minor conflicts and slightly contrasting morals. He began to panic, it was dreadfully obvious when all he could seem to do was gape like a fish.

“Don’t worry spider-boy, knowing what you look like would take all the fun out of it!” You exclaimed, turning your back and walking away, chuckling to yourself as you scale a wall onto another building. Hoping to finally enjoy some peace.

What you didn’t expect however, was for him to follow you.

“Where are you going?” He said, trailing just behind you. He didn’t exactly know why he had followed you up here, but you confused him so and he was intrigued.

Peter knew he was no distinguished labelled hero, Hell, he was reminded by the papers every day. He knew and he accepted that, but he had every intention to be one, no matter what.

You however, you perplexed him. You seemed to hate the evil in the city, and so you did something about it. But you hated being called a hero, you didn’t do anything by the book. In fact there were times Peter found your methods barbaric and oddly personal.

He had watched you beat the literal shit out of your fair share of criminals, but you’d really let it out in cases of domestic crimes. For being so violent, you were so passionate and so caring to victims.

But you just didn’t want to be a hero. Trust that he knows that, he’s asked you on multiple occasions and that black eye from the last time he snuck up on you still aches on occasion.

“None of your business.” You retaliated to him tiredly, soon following with a yawn. You were exhausted, Rightfully so however. You had been parading around since your class ended and it was almost 11 PM by now.

All you wanted to do was get home, finish your coursework, take a bath and sleep.

But here you were, with an eyesore in tight spandex on your ass. You couldn’t go home with him tailing you, so you’d have to go horizontal to your apartment. Sitting on some random roof and hanging your legs over a darkened alley.

Hoping to have lost him, you glanced over your shoulder, only to see him staring at you from across the roof. You sighed, getting out some protein bar and opening it. Eating away as you stared into the busy streets.

The city truly never slept and amongst the ugliness and sorrow, the chaos and twinkling lights seemed ever beautiful and you smiled at the thought.

“Why do you do it?” He muttered as he sat next to you. Getting a hum in response only prompted him to continue. “I mean, you say you hate the city, that you’d leave it first chance you have.. but somewhere in there you must love it, or you wouldn’t do this, put yourself in danger just for the innocent.”

“That’s a dark way of looking at it Spider-man, I thought you were meant to be this place’s glimmer of light!” You laughed a little, majorly just trying to release the harsh tension. “It’s not the city, it’s the people, it’s the people who this place don’t deserve. I think no matter where I was I would have ended up like this because people need something to believe in.”

“Superhero speech! That was totally a superhero speech don’t even deny it! I got it all down!” He yelled accusingly but in a light tone, pointing at you. It was fond, as if you were just two old friends bantering with each other. Even if you did push him off the roof in response with a loud ‘would a superhero do this asshole!?’

But you knew he would catch himself, that he expected it was coming.

You hated heroes, but this one just seemed to be the exception.

———————————————————————

Peter was a sweet boy, respectful, but he was pained.

You could tell he was always hiding a deeper pain, sorrow he never let himself truly feel, sorrow he may never cure himself of.

He was your best friend, a shining ray of hope even through all the dirt, but even the brightest rays where darkened and scarred by the ugly smog that was the city.

Every time you talked to him, every happy moment, he never seemed to let himself truly enjoy it. He seemed to live in the future but always worry about the present.

How can one hope to fix the present if they treat it as the past? Simple answer, you can’t.

———————————————————————

It was another night in New York, even the lume of the many billboards couldn’t shine upon every shadowed corner. So, evil continued in the darkness.

You already hadn’t been having a great day, your job had double booked you for 2 meetings and you had spent hours being yelled at for trying to point out the issue. Plus, you had to miss one of your lectures because the meeting went over by an hour. So really you were just sick of today, wanting nothing more than to curl up at home with a bottle of wine and some shitty tv.

But, unfortunately for you, one of the gangs you’ve been trailing, notedly unsuccessfully, for the past month finally left a huge clue. They would be sending out another shipment tonight, dabbling in special enhancement drugs that made most people go insane.

So here you were, sat on a rooftop watching some goons bicker in-front of the entrance of the warehouse. You were calculating how long until the anonymous tip you’d send to the police would take to dispatch. Either way you had a good Fifteen minutes before anyone came running.

At least, that was until Spiderman decided to grace you with his presence. A presence that you really didn’t need right now, especially when already peeved off.

“What are we doing?~” He whispered mockingly, getting a glare in retaliation. But, not content with that answer he repeated the question again.

“Oh lord give me patience, or atleast a fucking knife.” You muttered to yourself. “ ‘we’ are doing nothing, you, you are going to leave me alone and go save another cat from a tree and I, I am going to go actually make a change in this city.”

He just laughed and shook his head at your response, “oh cmon! Why can’t we be partners! An iconic duo! Like Batman and Robin, Bonnie and Clyde or something!”

“We are not going to be either of those thi- wait shut up for a second.” He began to open his mouth but closed it as you stared intently below, the doors of the warehouse opening mockingly.

“Stay here!” You whispered, the last thing you needed was his moralistic hero speeches as you were using some guy as a punching bag. So as he stood obediently, you scaled down the building to an open window, Three stories high.

The room you entered seemed empty and cold, as though no one had been inside in years. Merely a week prior, their main base of operations was set up in here. It was all a trap.

But who had known you would be coming?

You got your answer in the form of a sharp stab at your side, looking down to find a knife expertly lodged in your flesh. It didn’t seem fatal or anything at the time, but it definitely hurt like a bitch.

Turning around to see the man, hands now covered in your blood, was effortless, even more so as your body seemed to simply flow, contorting in quivers of motion as you eventually left him a bloody pulp, dead, sprawled still upon the floor.

You couldn’t continue, you were tired, woozy and bleeding. Shipment or not, you would have to do this another night, plus you definitely couldn’t be around when the police turned up.

Seeing the flashing lights and hearing the sirens was what drove you to stand up and finally clamber out the window. Admittedly, not as gracefully as usual, but you got a free pass since the knife was still lodged pitifully into your side.

———————————————————————

It comes to a point in a persons life (typically as they’re jumping and weaving from one rooftop to another with their only intention to get home and patch up a literal stab wound), when they wonder if it’s all worth it.

This was that moment for you. As you stumbled from another roof, almost falling into the bustling streets below, you had to take a moment to catch a breath.

Turns out, even that seemed a bad idea because as you closed your eyes, you heard a whoosh of air and the thump of the hero, the one you seemed to come to know so much of, landing next to you.

Today really wasn’t your finest and all you seemed to want to do was sleep. It was infuriating and nothing was going your way.

“What do you want?” You hissed at him, you were in no mood to entertain. All you wanted was to close your eyes, maybe have a little nap, just so you could finally get home tonight.

He took one long look at you, staring at your slumping figure, drooping before him.

It was depressing to see you like this, he didn’t know what happened in the 20 minutes it’d been since you parted, but you were not in a good state. He was worried, and maybe, just maybe, he was scared.

As he went to go pick you up, or at least help you to your feet, his arms wrapped around you. His fingers finally trailed to the bloody hilt of the knife and he gasped, it was light and restricted, but he was shocked nonetheless and didn’t hide it well. He pulled his hand back and observing the reddened substance on his hands, before his eyes landed on your face.

“Calm down, it’s not toxic or anything- it’s just blood- not all of us can be ‘mr I never get hurt in fights’.” You slurred and hiccuped out the sentence, trying to uphold the typical rivalling ‘banter’ you two thrived on.

But He didn’t laugh.

The blank eyes of that mask just bore into yours, especially when he seemed to take in every detail of the injury.

“You are so lucky I care!-“ He was angry, thrashing his arms and pacing back and forward. “If I didn’t I’d shove you in a hospital right now and let them expose you to the world! Shove you off and not let you be my problem.” He was being mean, spiteful, but he was also saddened.

“If I recall Spiderman- you were the one who bothered me.” You laughed in a hushed tone, at least before grabbing at your side as a sharp sensation jolted through it. It hurt and you let out a soft sob.

“My name is Peter, If you’re gonna die here, tonight, on this shitty run down roof, you deserve to know my name.” He was downcast, turning to face you, to grasp a reaction. All he could see was the small shape of a smile under your own mask. How could you just sit there and smile at him? How could you do this to him at a time like this?

“I know, I’ve always known Pete. I probably wouldn’t have put up with you for so long if I didn’t…” you whispered out cautiously, causing his head to whip in your direction.

“How- wait! Wait- No- Please tell me it’s not you! Please (Name)! Please No!” He ran over, dropping to your side and ripping off his own mask before gently going to remove your own.

So you smiled at him, it’d been a few days since you last saw his real face. Even tear stained, his was your favourite.

“I’m sorry Pete, I didn’t mean for it to go this way. I knew, I knew since the first time I met you in costume. I tried to kill you, my hands were around your throat. You only escaped that night because of your voice. So maybe.. maybe this is karma? Maybe this is what I get for killing all of these people! Hell, I don’t regret it, maybe that makes it worse, but what does it all matter anyways if I die on this rooftop tonight?” It all came out in a blur, maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was fear, you couldn’t tell.

“You’re not gonna die tonight, not now I know it’s you. I’m gonna make sure you live.” He was crying, big tears welled up in his eyes, spilling onto his reddened cheeks.

“You can’t save everyone Peter, I know you want to, but you can’t. You can’t save me, not from what I’ve done and not from the consequences of that.” You knew you had done terrible things, and you knew that you didn’t regret a single one. You didn’t regret anything, except maybe dying without apologising, without telling him how you feel.

“No, no I can’t. But you can save yourself.”

———————————————————————

It all went by in a flash, there were moments when you were semi-lucid. You could look around, take it all in, but you couldn’t speak, couldn’t see faces.

You had been treated, not professionally and definitely not in a hospital, but well enough. You would live.

Finally waking up, you felt exhausted. You craved the idea of sleep, but you detested the days of nightmares you had been trapped in.

Not speaking when awake was something you could handle, but being stuck in a constant terror of false reality drove you insane. You saw Peter’s face in them, he was always distorted and full of rage.

“I hate you.” He’d say

“I will never forgive you.” He’d spit.

“If you had died, I’d have one less criminal on the streets to worry about.” He’d hiss.

You knew it wasn’t real, but it hurt all the same. Whilst you knew that those things he was saying were all in your dreams, all the things you had done were very much real.

It was cliché. You had only once rethought your path before now, that was the first time you had ever met him. He was a small boy, hardly could stand up for himself, but he was something good, infinitely flowing with hope for a better future.

Now here you were, trudging your way from the made up bed on his apartments couch. You’d been here many times before, when he was significantly less aware. Before, it always felt like home, but now it felt like even the walls had eyes that looked upon you with hate, pity and betrayal.

If anything, you wished you could apologise to this place you loved so much, to the lies you told under this sturdy roof and to the cement foundations that had fallen akin a victim to your actions.

You stood outside Peters room for a long while, staring at the Chipping paint at the corners of the door. Debating returning to the couch, but before you could retreat back a voice rang from within the room.

“Are you coming in?” He seemed calm, composed and confident.

Entering the room, he seemed all but that, he seemed anxious and at the same time relieved, he was scared and he was happy. He was confusing.

Walking forward was subconscious. Peter often struggled getting to sleep so you had slept in his room many times.

This time was different though, you weren’t just here because your study date ran over.

He gestured to the empty space upon the bed, so you tucked yourself under the duvet. His bed was comfortable, but you wrapped an arm around him and rested your head upon his chest. Your bodies both suddenly began jolting, he had begin to silently sob, and so you laid there, quietly shushing him as he cried, arms wrapped around him.

Finally the world felt right again, maybe he could save you, because If the world felt this good all the time you wouldn’t have to fight.

“Never do that to me again” he muttered finally.

“Okay.. I love you..” you murmured in response, nuzzling your head further into his chest.

“I love you too, we’ll talk in the morning.” He shuffled slightly to place a delicate kiss on your forehead before falling asleep with you finally in his arms again.

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

AI Bracket — Round 3

Propaganda

Eris (Wolf 359):

Basically a game show host but crueller. She puts you through psychological torment as a bonding exercise with your crew, and at the end you have to shoot her with a real actual gun. She is projected directly into your mind by interfacing with your nervous system and she will do something messed up. Her most recent iteration got blasted into space. Personally, I think she's lovely

A VR entity designed to do chaos psychological horror torture tests on Goddard employees. She's not malicious; that's simply her job. It's how she was made. (Maybe she can grow.)

She was in just one episode but so fucking interesting, evil/malicious AI. also a lesbian. Was shot the secound she became a bit too self aware

Mr. Ceiling (Rusty Quill Gaming):

He's an AI made up of human brains who was given extremely flawed instructions and started to erase people's memories while still being 100% convinced he was only helping humanity. He was in control of most of the world's banks, transport and economy. When introduced to philosophical questions, he came to the conclusion that he should simply become a god. Wonderfully morally grey AI :D

(spoilers included) is the reason for a surprise body horror episode (what’s not to love about one of those?)

when not disembodied voice, it appears as a sliver floating orb

alex (the gm) let the party name it, expecting something ominous like “it” or “above”, but got stuck with them calling it “mr. ceiling”

is literally powered by dead people’s brains

claims it wants to help people, but doesn’t understand the suffering its existence is causing

is designed to learn only the worst aspects of whatever the party tries to teach it

after the party tries to enlighten it, it wants to become something like a god

COME ON GUYS WE CAN DO THIS