#and then mock fans…. even if they don’t mock them directly… other fans non fans etc will mock them

[shinylights]

So since celebs keep creeping into our lane & breaking the fourth wall, we can start talking to them about the stuff they keep mentioning/etc that we were always told to never bring up, right?……

[lovesupernova25]

Broken Glass

a Quackity Oneshot

warnings: torture (non-explicit), blood, insanity, brief alcohol

i sat down at my computer, blacked out, looked up at 3 am and this was here. please enjoy. (idea from this one comment on this one tiktok that suggested that quackity uses the shape shifting powers some people hc him to have to torment dream. i’ll see if i can find the tiktok!)

~~~ *** ~~~

Quackity knew what broken glass felt like. He knew how it felt slicing up his hands, his face, being kissed into his skin. But this was the first time he knew what it felt like in his soul. Yeah- that's what this feeling was.

Broken glass.

Quackity didn’t turn around when he heard footsteps getting closer. He knew who it was already. No one else would be in this wasteland he’d built, anyways. No one was ever here.

“Q?” The rumble of Sam’s voice was concerned, almost hesitant. Quackity grabbed a bottle from the rack. “Quackity- you said it was urgent. What’s going on?” He turned, and the liquor slammed onto the counter. He might’ve relished the way Sam startled, on a better day. Quackity’s hands found the shot glasses, twisted the cap of the bottle. The neon blue that sloshed from the cup reflected the thunder in his gaze.

“Quackity, it’s still early-” But he tipped his head, knocked back the burning liquor. This time, Sam didn’t jump when the glass crashed down next to his hand. Quackity splayed his palms on the cool granite and leaned across to level his gaze with Sam’s.

“I need to visit the prison, Sam.”

Sam had the good sense to nod.

Maybe this was the wrong way to deal with things. Maybe strapping on armor and sharpening his knives wasn’t a healthy way to process his ex-fiances showing up trying to- what? Apologize? Make things ‘how they used to be’? If that was the case, they really were just mocking him. Nothing would ever be the way it used to.

It ended in a fight, of course. It ended in his already cracking heart fully giving out, splintering into a thousand shards like shattered fvcking glass. It ended in him envying Schlatt, because at least when his heart broke down he got to leave.

Quackity’s stuck here, with this void in his chest that keeps him floating oddly outside his body as Pandora swallows him whole.

They don’t even bother signing the waivers anymore. It would be ridiculous, at this point, especially since Quackity’s fully decked out in armor and tools. He guesses Sam’s just realized Quackity won’t be the reason Dream gets out of the hell they’ve so carefully crafted for him.

Levers, keys. The threshold to the heart of the prison is as claustrophobic as ever, but Quackity embraces the suffocating heat. There’s not much for his mind to wander on, here. There is the wall of lava, and there is the rasp of his boots on obsidian, and there is the rough leather pommel of his sword. There is, on the other side of the fire, a sacrificial lamb. Quackity grins and it hurts as the lava simmers down.

Sam says nothing.

“Dream…” He leans on the butt of his axe, looming, and his ears are still ringing with screams. “Wouldn’t it be so much easier to give me what I want?” He kneels next to the ragged lump of man on the ground and grabs his chin, forces it up. “C’mon… I would leave you alone then, right? I wouldn’t come, wouldn’t have to hurt you- you would get so much peace and quiet… you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Quackity makes his voice honey, his hand gentle. Gods, he thinks he even sees Dream lean into the touch. It’s pitiful, what the admin has become. One of Dream’s acid-green eyes is bloodied and purple, swollen shut, and a cut on his face oozes crimson. His mouth is positively dripping with the stuff, courtesy of Quackity’s pliers and some molars that were just begging to be yanked. He can hear the ragged, wheezing breaths of the man in front of him and Quackity has never felt so sickeningly alive.

“Heh…” Dream flicks his working eye up to hold Quackity’s gaze. “No-” He coughs violently, wheezing and convulsing. The hacking subsides and he forces out; “No peace in death, Big Q. You’ll know that s-soon.”

Quackity’s lip curls. He stands abruptly, taking little satisfaction in the way Dream’s chin cracks against the obsidian.

“You’re pitiful.” This was supposed to help. He thought it did- when he funneled all the glass inside of him into the swing of his axe, the cut of his knife. When the voices in his head were drowned out by the screaming. But Dream was on the ground, bleeding and broken and still acting like he had the upper fvcking hand, and it turned out the glass had grown only sharper.

This isn’t working.

He paces to the back of the cell and yanks a tattered book off the lectern, flipping through it with a scowl. He’s about to chuck the thing in the lava--just to see if it’ll get a reaction out of its’ author--when a name catches his eye. Gingerly, he thumbs back to the page it was written on. Quackity feels so sick he grins when he finds it.

It’s not just one name. It’s hundreds. Some he doesn’t recognize, but most from this server. In fact- it looks like everyone who’s ever stepped foot in Dream’s land has been scrawled on the black-bleeding page. Quackity even thinks he sees his own name in there somewhere. They cover the page almost entirely in ink, written and rewritten and scribbled over each other.

George, Sapnap, Karl, Tommy. Tommy seems to be in there a lot.

Dream must have sat here for hours, scribbling the names of people he would never see again, alone in his personal hell. It’s sick. And something in the back of Quackity’s mind sparks.

“Dream,” He says, as the start of an idea appears. “How would you like to see your friends again?” He sees the confusion in the prisoner’s eyes and has to fight to keep from grinning. “Or… your old friends, I suppose. But I bet they still care about you, don’t you think?” He sets the book down, pacing towards the heap of blood-streaked orange jumpsuit with mock sincerity plastered over his face. His mouth twitches at the look in Dream’s eyes. There’s fear, suspicion, pain… but also, delightfully, hope. He can see Dream trying to crush it, but it’s there. Gods, Quackity could get drunk on that look. Maybe he already is.

“How do you think,” He leans over Dream, hands folded behind his back. “They would feel about you if they saw you now?”

Quackity really is grinning now. The axe wasn’t working, the knives weren’t working, the pliers only made Dream more determined. It was time for a new tactic. He feels that spark in the back of his mind and fans it, turning away from Dream as it grows. He hasn’t dipped into this ability for a long time--people don’t much like his kind--but the only person to see him now is barely human himself. Quackity closes his eyes as the fire washes over him.

When he turns around, he almost breaks character at the shock in Dream’s eyes.

“George?”

There’s so much raw hurt in his voice- gods, why didn’t he think of this sooner?

“Dream…” Quackity says in George’s voice. “Gods… what happened to you?”

“No… how- George-”

“I mean, everybody says you deserved it.” Quackity makes sure the revulsion is clear on his--George’s--face as he steps closer. “I guess you did… Still, though… this is a new low for you.” Dream is actually trying to push himself up now, trembling on wounded arms. “I mean, don’t you remember how things used to be? When we were all together? And now you’re… this. Not to be rude, Dream, but it’s kind of no wonder no one’s broken you out.”

“Stop, you’re… you’re not even real, I…” Dream screws his eyes shut, chest heaving. Aw. It looks like he’s starting to catch on.

“We were all happy, before.” He continues, letting the glass, the anger, slip back into his voice. “Like a family. And then you ruined it. All you’ve ever been is a parasite- it’s just amazing we didn’t notice sooner.” Quackity snarls with George’s face and he knows Dream can’t separate the illusion from reality. “You know what everyone says? They say good fvcking riddance.” Quackity--George--takes a step toward Dream with every word, until he’s sneering directly down at him. “I used to defend you. Down to the very end, I’d defend everything you did- all the wars, all the hurt, broken promises and broken hearts. I was loyal to you.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Not anymore. Now, I say good riddance with the rest of them.”

Quackity doesn’t know much about George and Dream’s history, but he knew they were close. And Dream, for all his boasting about cutting ties, has never truly let go. “I loved you, Dream. And look where it got us. You’re bleeding out in a cell, alone and powerless, and I…” Quackity turns. It’s a damn good thing he’s an amazing actor, or the look on Dream’s face might just make him lose it. It’s the same look he’s seen on just three people’s faces before; three people with worthless rings and broken promises to tie them together.

(“Didn’t you ever love us?”)

But Dream was right about one thing. Attachments are dangerous. And Quackity can wield them like a sword.

“I’m leaving. I don’t need you, Dream. And neither does anyone else.” His lip curls. “You’re worthless, Clay. I hope you rot.”

And the curtain falls.

Dream has pushed himself against a chest by now, heaving and trembling.

“Stop. Stop this, you’re not him, you’re not-” Another coughing fit seizes him and he hacks up blood.

“Wasn’t it a good performance, though? I think I was spot on, Clay.” Quackity leers, in his own voice now. Gods, that was exhilarating.

Dream rests his forehead against the chest, face contorted. “What do you want?” It sounds almost like a sob. Quackity’s smile drops.

“Oh, you know exactly what I want, Dream. You know exactly why I’m still here, and why you can barely stand.” He cocks his head, lip twitching up into a smile. There are a thousand names scrawled into that book, all of them knives sharpened to cut. Quackity’s just gotten started. “Let's see if someone else could encourage you more.”

Dream barely has time to look afraid before the fire has washed over Quackity again.

Lights, camera, action.

“...You always wanted to be remembered, huh.” Sapnap’s voice says. Dream closes his eyes, breath hitching. “You’d always play the hero, when we were kids. Make George and I be the villains every time.” His eyes have been on the ground, but he lifts them now, stares down the figure in the corner. “Look where that fvcking got us.” And this hurts both of them, Quackity knows- because he knows Sapnap’s voice, his mannerisms, the way he sounds when he’s devastated and the way he sounds when he wants to burn the world with rage. Slipping into his skin is as easy as breathing and feels like suffocating all at once.

“You promised me- you promised me this would be our world. That we’d stay together, that we’d finally be happy.” And it is too easy to let that heartbreak bleed into his voice, sprinkle it with the rage and hate of wasted memories.

(“You promised me we’d be happy together.”)

He paces towards Dream with a glare like wildfire. “Well guess what, Dream. I am happy now. This whole server is happier now.” Quackity yanks the man in the orange jumpsuit up by the collar and snarls at his whimper of pain. “Without you. Without your sick fvcking games, without your wars, without your broken promises!” He’s shouting now, and he can see the whites of Dream’s eyes, like a horse near a fire. Quackity drops him with Sapnap’s hands like a rat he’d been holding by the tail. “Do you remember the promises you’d make, Dream?”

And now Quackity feels himself shifting again, almost involuntarily. His voice pitches higher and demonic horns scrape the obsidian above them. “You promised me peace.” Quackity says in BBH’s voice. “You said we’d be safe, that we’d win the wars!” It’s almost sickening to take the form of someone whose mind he knows is long gone. Worth it, though, to watch Dream squirm. “Is this what peace looks like to you, Dream? I can’t even remember what your face looks like!” There’s desperation in his voice, though Quackity doesn’t even know if what he’s saying is true. For all he knows it could be. “I can’t remember,” He takes a step towards Dream, glowing eyes wide with horror “What my own face looks like.”

“Bad-” Dream’s voice is almost pleading. He doesn’t want to hear this.

Good.

"Every time I look in the mirror-” Quackity’s breath hitches, just for dramatic effect. “All I see is red. Crimson. I’m poisoned, Dream. Because that’s what this place does to people.” The fire is back, transforming him. Quackity doesn’t even try to control it this time.

“That’s what you do to people.” Ponk’s voice rings throughout the cell.

“You poison them.” Alyssa.

“You tear them down.” Fundy.

“You think you’re so powerful,” Punz.

“But in reality-” Skeppy.

“You’re. Just. A. Parasite.” Karl hisses at the god on the floor who bleeds red regret instead of ichor.

Quackity doesn’t know where the words are coming from, now.

(“This country- it’s like a parasite, Q!”)

His breaths come ragged. When the fire sweeps through him again, Quackity nearly burns away himself.

Sapnap’s voice is tired when he speaks with it.

“You were never the hero, Dream. Turns out, you were never even part of the story.”

And Dream is left a crumpled mess of grief and blood at his feet as the fire dies to ashes.

Quackity’s tired when he leaves the cell that evening. It’s the bone-deep exhaustion that comes from more than lack of sleep, and it drags at his limbs. Sam does not look at him, and Quackity wonders if he knows what horrors were used in that cell today. He somehow can’t bring himself to care.

It was cruel, he knows. He slipped into their skin and cut Dream to shreds with the broken glass at his fingertips, ripped open his soul instead of his flesh and took pleasure in just tearing something down. It was cruel, but so is (was) Dream, and so is the world he created. Everyone gets cut and everyone bleeds, and the only thing to do is hope that your weapon is sharper than theirs. He’s had that lesson seared into his mind and cut into his skin too many times. So today when Quackity leaves a trembling mess behind the wall of fire, he cannot see Sam’s eyes- but if he could, he thinks they would hold something like fear.

So he steps out into the night, and he smiles, sharp and painful as broken glass.

[crow-summoner]

Darklina Week Day 2: Role Reversal

Sun Summoner!Darkling and Shadow Summoner!Alina

Alina, a cartographer for the Ravken Army, undertakes a dangerous mission to stay by her only friend’s side. They must cross the Forge, a hellscape of intense heat and unrelenting light that has torn their country in two. Nothing can survive the Forge for long. Nothing but the monsters that call it home. Alina thinks she and Mal will make it as long as they’re together, but when their mission falls to pieces, Alina discovers something shocking about herself. She can banish light. Her powers draw the attention of the Golden General, a military leader who scares and intrigues Alina in equal measure. One thing’s for sure. Alina can’t go back to life of a mouse, and the General’s her best option to fight for something more. Can Alina save her world, or will she die trying?

Or, an AU where light powers aren’t necessarily good, and shadow powers get to be heroic. Content warning for some volcra expy related gore and some canon-consistent sprinkles of Malina at the beginning. There’s plenty of Darkles after that, now with extra sparkles.

Story under the jump

The Forge

Alina sits at the inn window, adding the last buttery yellow lines to her painting. For being such a blight against their nation, the Forge made a lovely landscape. She dons her fabrikator sunglasses, and turning her back to the unrelenting sunlight, she lifts her tented mirror up to compare her painting to the real thing. Her superior officers would kill her if they knew what she was using their equipment for, but the Forge is too bright to look at directly. Her superiors may not appreciate art, but if she’s going to risk her life for more supplies, she wants to leave a memorial for herself.

“It looks too much like a vacation spot,” Mal says, dragging up a chair so he can sit next to her. He’s already wearing his glasses and darkened veil, which will supposedly keep the Forge from boiling their eyes out and trap moisture near their faces. Alina would be happier if more than army issued fashion stood between her and certain death.

“You make a pretty bride, you know that?” Alina says instead of responding to the criticism. There were enough horrors in the Forge. She wanted make something pleasant. She places her canvas between the shelf and the wall, hoping that someone working at the inn will find it.

Mal huffs. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw the bags under my eyes. Don’t know how people sleep around here.”

Alina supposes people can get used to anything, even perpetual daylight. She secures her mirror and knives to her belt and dons her veil and gloves. She shimmies down the narrow walkway as if showing off the latest fashion. “What do you think?”

Mal makes a show of considering it, rubbing his chin under the veil. “I think the sveta will be too smitten to eat you.”

Alina tilts her head in mock coyness. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me.” She leaves it unspoken that she wishes someone else was smitten with her.

“Come on,” Mal says, taking her by the arm. “I want to be on time for once.”

By the time they reach the skiff, Alina and Mal are five minutes late. Thankfully, Alexei, her fellow cartographer, covered for her.

“You owe me,” he says, shoving her maps into her hands.

“I’ll bake you a cake,” Alina promises.

“You already owe me twelve cakes!”

“Then I’ll name my first born after you.”

Alexei snorts. “Like any of us are going to live long enough to have kids. We’re all going to be beef jerky in a few hours.”

“Squeak. Squeak, Alexei.” It’s the code their cartographers have for when Alexei’s boundless optimism is bringing them down.

Normally, Alexei would grumble but acquiesce. Today, he just stares at the skiff. “Do you really think the sveta are real?”

Alina shrugs. “What else could eat our men out there?” Admittedly, invisible creatures made of light sounded farfetched, but she’s seen the battle scars. Other soldiers had claw mark scars across their chest and spots where something inhuman had taken a bite out of them. The light could blister, burn and tan flesh, but it couldn’t do that.

“I dunno. Maybe him,” Alexei said, eyeing the golden carriage in the distance. “The Geldling.”

Alina quickly hushes him. General Kirigan tolerates others calling him the Golden General, but he does not take kindly to the Geldling. Sure, the epitaph was based on an old Kerch word for gold, but gelding is also what one did to a prized horse to keep it docile. It was as good as saying their leader is a ballless pet, and everyone knows it.  

Sure enough, one of the heartrenders lifts his veil and glares at them. He might have been handsome once, but his sour expression makes the lines on his face hard.

“Captain Herring may be rough, but he’s not a cannibal.” Alina hopes this is enough to cover over their mistake. The heartrender doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t fight them either. That suited Alina well enough.

“Watch what you say,” she whispers to Alexei. “We have to depend on these people to survive. Don’t make them mad.”

Alexei nods. “Sorry.”

Thankfully, the rest of their time at the dock goes smoothly. Soon, all the soldiers and Girsha gather inside the metal skiff, ready to take off. A tidemaker hoses them all down, making Alina feel like a drenched rat, but the water is important in such a hot place.

Alina makes sure to stand by Mal, gripping his arm for support as the skiff slides along the sand. There’s enough space to move around, but something about the lack of windows makes the room feel unbearably tight. It’s like one big coffin.

Squeak, squeak, Alina tells herself. No one’s going to die today.

The skiff rattles as they pass over marker zero. They’re officially in the Forge. The panels in the side of the skiff slide up. Rows of dark nets allow squallers to force air out without letting the light in. They’ll have to use the tinted mirrors along the sides of the skiff to direct it.

Alina fans herself, wishing the nets could ease the heat. She was drenched just minutes ago, but her uniform’s now bone dry. Sure, the tidemakers periodically release a mist from their fancy containers and push it around the cabin, but that’s like giving a starving man a single bite.

“I bet I can sweat more than you,” Mal jokes, and she’s sure it’s to help distract her. Even the dumbest man in their unit wouldn’t brag about that.

“No way. Sweat more than that heartrender over there, and you have a deal,” she whispers back. It was a hard challenge. The heartrender already smelled like he’d bathed in nothing but used socks for years.

Mal leans back in shock. “Yikes. Are you trying to kill me? I can’t beat that.”

Alexei sniffs beside them, rubbing under his veil. “My lids are scraping my eyeballs.”

Alina reaches over and slaps his hand the way she used to do with the younger kids at the orphanage. “Then stop picking at them.”

Alexei mumbles. He’s a good cartographer, but he also comes from money, and that didn’t always make for a good soldier. Alina wonders if she should have erased his name instead of Ruby’s. This mission called for two cartographers, and Ruby could withstand discomfort better than he could, but Alina wasn’t thinking rationally. Mal was going to go into the Forge by himself, and Alina needed to remove someone so she could forge her own name on the mission papers. Mal wouldn’t give Alexei a second glance, but Ruby had red hair and a slim figure. Alina couldn’t risk Mal having “glad we’re still alive” sex with her after the mission. It was petty, childish even, but Alina couldn’t help herself. If they all survive the skiff, she’ll woman up and tell Mal how she feels. Lord knows hanging in this middle ground wasn’t doing either of them any favors.  

The skiff shakes, and Alexei grabs the walls. “Saints! It’s the sveta.”

The squaller at the helm shushes him. “Just a bump. Don’t call attention to us.”

Alexei’s shoulders slump, but he retakes his position behind the squaller without another word.

Alina can’t help but lean around her squaller to peak in her mirror. She’d heard about calcified roots surviving the Forge long after the crops perished. The real thing must be prettier than the paintings. Instead of a root, Alina finds the fragments of a skull and the front of a skiff.

She steps back, her stomach sinking into her boots. It’s one thing to know the odds, but it’s another to stare the evidence in the face. Better men than them have failed to cross.

The crew stand in silence as the skiff passes the first marker. Alina gives her squaller the proper directions and distances, and soon they pass the second marker. The third. The fourth. Alina allows herself to hope. Just eleven more and they’re home free.

She scratches her arm, and flakes of dry skin come off. No wonder the skiff regulars look like leather. She’d rather go AWOL than do this again. Then again, she didn’t have be here this time either. She has no one to blame but herself.

The skiff rumbles and tilts. It’s just another bump, she assures herself, but something raps against the ceiling. The heartrenders tense up, and the squallers shift their positions.

Oh, no.

She checks on Mal just to be sure, but he’s clutching his gun tight, his head tilted up. It’s the same stance he took when he found that rabbit in a barren forest or when he was about to catch her during hide and seek. He’s sighted something, only this time, that something is stronger than them.

The squaller at the helm brings the skiff to a stop and signals for the shooters and heartrenders to take position. All the non-combat staff – cartographers included – must gather at the center. Alina takes out her knife and her tented mirror, praying she won’t have to use them.

“Protect yourselves if you must,” the squaller whispers, “but don’t get in anyone’s way.”

Alina’s never felt more useless in her life.

The skiff continues to shake, harder this time. Something whines above them. Something answers it’s call from somewhere in front of them. Another whine sounds from behind the skiff. From all sides. How many of them are out there? At least a dozen given the sheer number of cries. No one dares make a sound. The sveta are fierce, but they’re just as blind as a human in the Forge. Maybe if they don’t hear anything, they’ll get bored and hunt elsewhere.

The ceiling dents in with a clank, knocking the skiff to the right. One of the soldiers jumps at the sound, aiming where it came from. The squaller at the helm blows him away, but not in time. The shot blows a hole in the ceiling, letting the light in. The beam hits a tidemaker’s shoulders, carving a smoking black line through her kefta. She screams, tearing off the cloth to expose a blistering gash. A healer pulls her to the side as one her friends tries to stifle her screams with a damp cloth, but it’s too late. The sveta cries draw closer.

Something claws a large hole through the ceiling, the soldiers scrambling to avoid the new beams. Some squallers attempt to blow up a tarp to cover the open areas, but it stops in thin air. No. Not thin air. The tarp drapes over something Alina can’t see with her naked eye. Under the plastic, she can make out its large, pointed wings and snout.

“Blast it,” the squaller at the helm shouts, and the soldiers open fire on the creature. It whines, batting away the tarp, and then it’s gone.

For a moment, no one makes a move. The cabin is utterly silent. Then something flashes across Alina’s mirror, and the next thing she knows, the soldier beside her explodes in a splash of red. On the other side of the skiff, a healer’s hand disappears. He draws back, clutching his now bloody stump as one of the creatures screeches in triumph.

Alina backs up, though there’s nowhere left to go. Oh, saints. She should have never come here. She begs every saint she can think of to forgive whatever sin brought her to this horrible moment. Shooting her fellow man in combat. Wishing harm to the girls Mal so much as looked at. Disregarding Ana Kuya’s rules at every turn. Whatever it was, she repented. Just please don’t let her die at some monster’s hand.

The durasts burst dust in the air. It makes their own people cough, but it helps make the sveta more visible.

BAM!

Another chunk of ceiling caves in, forcing the crew to huddle along the perimeter to escape the light. Not all of them were quick enough. Several soldiers blister and peel, crying as the sveta tear off chunks of flesh from their bodies.

Alina can only stare. It’s too late for prayers. Too late to run. She should have talked Mal into fleeing while she had the chance, and now ... Alina holds out her mirror, a new hope setting in. They might not make it out, but she can at least die by Mal’s side. He has to know how she feels.

Alina slowly shifts through the chaos, dodging shots and beams of light. She finds him by the helm, taking deep breaths as he aims and shoots. Something heavy hits the floor, gurgling. Of course. Leave it to Mal to find the creatures without a mirror.

She shines her mirror in the direction the creature fell, hoping to avoid tripping its body, but to her surprise, she can just make out the sheen of its skin. The colors change as she tilts the mirror, first blue, then pink and maybe green. All the colors of the rainbow. It reminds her of looking through a prism. Not invisible then. The sveta are just reflective.

Alina giggles. Ana Kuya would be so proud of her, committing to her education even as she’s about to die. She keeps giggling over and over, knowing that if she stops, she’ll have to cry. There are just so many bodies around her. They used to be people, and now they’re meat.

Someone grabs her wrist, and a shot of energy courses through her, quieting the hysteria. Mal drags her beside him.

“I’m sorry,” she says, but he’s busy readying his next shot. “I lo – ” She doesn’t get any further. Another soldier’s bullet ricochets off the wall and hits Mal in the shoulder. He doubles over, his gun clattering to the floor.

Alina drops her mirror, pressing a palm against the wound. The blood seeps from between her fingers no matter how hard she tries to stop the flow.

Mal slides to the floor, Alina crouching beside him. The light streams against them, burning her chest and his back. The pain means nothing compared to the loss.

“No. Not like this,” she says, covering Mal’s body with her own.

The pain in her back only lasts a second. It occurs to her that this is not a good thing. It means her nerves have been eaten away, but she’s glad to do it if it means Mal can live.

Something rumbles in the pit of her stomach. She feels like she’s going to burst, and she doesn’t have the strength to fight it.

All around her, the creatures cry and flap their wings erratically. She doesn’t have time think about it as the world goes dark, sinking her into a deep oblivion.

 *****************************

 Alina wakes, draped over someone’s shoulder, face buried in the red cloth of his kefta. She only lifts her head for one moment, but the light’s unbearable.

The light?

“Mal,” Alina shouts. She wiggles to free herself from the Grisha’s grip. The sveta will come back at any moment. She has to find Mal. Protect him. Where is he?

But they’re not on the skiff anymore. They’re back at the dock, the skiff a shredded husk. People rush every which way, some tending to the wounded and some salvaging the cargo from the hold. Mal could be anywhere among them. Then Alina catches sight of the ground. Oh, saints! So many people lay unmoving on the dock, and Grisha and First Army soldiers keep dragging out more. All these people she trained with. Ate with. Sung bawdy songs with when they’d all had too much kvas. Dead. They can’t all be gone. Right? Right?

Alina kicks at the Grisha. She needs to see for herself who made it out. Mal better be among them. Of course, he would be. He was the best tracker Ravka’s ever seen. He’d always find his way back home. Home to her.

The Grisha swears at her, trying to stop her feet with one arm. “Be still.” She recognizes him. The heartrender that had sneered at Alexei’s comment earlier. Alina drives a fist in the heartrender’s back. If Grisha like him had done more they wouldn’t be in the situation. He did it on purpose, didn’t he? He let their soldiers die because someone spoke against his leader. His pride meant more than the supplies they’d get from West Ravka. More than human life.

“Fine.” With a huff, the Grisha drops her flat on her butt, sand puffing in her face. She’s coughing too much to fight him off when the heartrender takes her by her bicep and drags her towards the camp. Another heartrender takes her other arm, his grip gentler than his coworker’s.

“Was that necessary, Ivan?” The second heartrender asked.

Ivan only grunts “Fedyor” as a warning in response. Fedyor shakes his head with what Alina would call fondness if she thought anyone could be fond of something as sour as Ivan.

“Where’s Mal?” Alina asks Fedyor, but he only lifts a brow. Of course, he wouldn’t recognize the name of a common solider. There were so many of them, and Grisha only concerned themselves with their own. “The boy I was with on the skiff.”

“Ah. Him,” Fedyor says. “The First Army tends to their own wounded. He’s in their care.”

Alina knows what that means. He’s laying outside the infirmary tent, waiting for his turn to have an undertrained medic pour alcohol in his wounds then pack them with mustard plaster. If he’s lucky, they’ll still have enough bandages for him to get his own. Having to use the scraps from old uniforms inevitably led to infection, and without supplies from the west, the camp outpost could not provide the steady diet of alcohol needed to survive that misery. Mal is popular, though. She’s sure someone will be willing to sacrifice their stash for his comfort.

Then it occurs to her that she’s not doing the same thing. She’d been horribly burned by the light, and yet her back doesn’t ache. Someone must have removed her jacket while Alina was unconscious, but her undershirt is scorched where the light hit it. Her chest is unusually red, but it’s not blistering or charred. The worst she can say is that she feels like she’s been awake for days.

“Why would someone heal me?” She’s heard it a thousand times before. Healers were too rare to waste on common soldiers. They were for Grisha and those wealthy enough to be a priority. She is neither, and yet when she looks up at Fedyor, he’s gazing down at her with some feeling she dares not define. It was the same look the Grisha gave the golden carriage when it barreled into the encampment. The same look the peasants near Keramzin gave the bones of Saint Felix on his day of worship. If she didn’t know better, she’d call it reverence.

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity when he finally says, “We survived.” Alina doesn’t know what she has to do with that. It was luck. Pure and simple. But then Fedyor closes his eyes and whispers, “Thank you.”

A chill runs through Alina despite the heat. She looks at the tents, the people running around them, anywhere and everywhere but at Fedyor and that look, full of expectations she can never fill. They’ve long since passed the First Army section, but they’re now leaving the main Grisha area, heading up the northmost path. There’s nothing there except for the single yellow tent towering over the rest of the encampment.

Alina pulls back, but it does nothing to stop the heartrenders. “What does the General want with me?”

“Just answer his questions, so we call all get on with our day,” Ivan says.

“I don’t know anything! Let go of me!” She turns to look back at the First Army camp, too far away for anyone to see her let alone help. Not that they could do anything if they wanted to. No one says no to the General.

Fedyor grips the back of her neck, and her whole body turns to puddy. The heartrenders lean into her, holding her upright because her knees can no longer bear her weight. She’s too relaxed to move at all.

Ivan sniffs. “You weren’t supposed to do that for anyone but me.”

Fedyor grins. “Sorry, luv. Desperate times and all that.”

They march her straight into the lion’s den.

She doesn’t know what she expected to see. A jeweled throne and a menagerie of exotic animals like the ones she’d seen in the illustrated book of fairy tales back at the orphanage? Enemy soldiers kept in cages and chained otkazat’sya serving the Grisha like the Fjerdan pamphlet a traveler tried to give them before Ana Kuya kicked them off the duke’s property? But this place resembled the main tent for the First Army. Soldiers clustered together around a round table. A large map hung from a board, thread and pegs marking paths, places and interesting parties. And yet the General’s tent was larger than theirs, made of bulletproof core cloth while they had to make do with spun cotten. They must not need to ration oil either given the number of lamps lit, and the gathered Grisha shone like banners in their blue, red and purple keftas. No olive drab for them.

Most of the room turned to face them when the heartrenders dragged Alina in. Some now look at her with open curiosity and others with incredulous expressions. Soft mummers pass through the crowd until someone raises their hand, and the whole lot fall silent. Saints, Alina never heard a tent so quiet before. Even during lights out, at least one person snored.

Without needing to be told, the Grisha step back, parting down the center to make a path. A lone man strides forward, his telltale yellow kefta billowing around him. Notes of silver, white and gold weave through it, enough thread to stitch three tents of this size together, but he’s not wearing the jewelry she’d expect from his high rank, and his clothes are core cloth like any other Grisha. She’s never seen a high officer without any silk on, no matter how impractical it might be. After all, most never saw battle. Not like this one had.

The Golden General is younger than she’d expected given what others said about him. She’d seen a shriveled man with boney hands covered in warts in her mind’s eye, but this man barely had a decade on her, and his warm blonde hair and fair, flawless complexion were pleasing on the eyes. Too pleasing. Even the most beautiful boy back home had some freckle or ruddiness to his skin, but the General’s looks almost painted on. It’s eerie, and yet she can’t look away. He’s like the very embodiment of the light, except there’s a coldness in his gaze and calm comportment.

He may be light, but he’s not warmth.

That right, she tells herself. Ana Kuya warned her about such things before. One of the orphans she’d grown up with saw a gold coin glittering in some bushes under a hill. He’d climbed down for it, only to be rolled by some travelers. They took the buttons from his coat and the boots from his feet. He came home with nothing but his pants and a gash on his forehead. Ana Kuya warned them all then: not all that’s gold glitters. Sometimes, it burns instead. Gold tempts the desperate, but Alina is not blind. The General only looked like a man. He can boil someone’s insides. Make their flesh rot from their bone as if they were already dead.  Burn them with a glance. And here he is, looking straight at her.

The General stops a few feet away and clasps his hands behind his back. He looks her over, and she doesn’t know whether to be scared or grateful that she can’t read what conclusions he’s drawn. He nods at the heartrenders, and Fedyor rubs the back of Alina’s neck. Her limbs come back to life, panic rising from her core. She wants to run, but there’s no point.

The General stares at her, impassive, and then finally: “Is it true?”

For a moment, Alina believes the absurd. He’s read her thoughts and knows what she said about him being a monster. Then it occurs to her that he’s talking about the skiff. She closes her eyes. What does he want her to say? She was unconscious for most of what went down, and she can barely remember what she was present for. Flashes of her coworker’s blood and blistering arms intrude behind her closed lids, forcing them open again. Maybe it’s best she can’t remember.

She must have taken too long to answer because the General speaks again. “Is it true that you can banish the light?”

All Alina can do is blink. This has to be a joke, but the General’s expression is serious, and everyone around them is leaning in with anticipation. She knows better than to laugh in their faces and question their intelligence, so she makes do by stuttering, “No one can do that.” It takes a moment, but she remembers to add a quick “sir.” She’s not used to being around anyone important.

She braces herself for him to yell at her the way the generals in their army do, but he merely nods. “Then what did happen?”

Alina struggles for an answer. She tries to tell him that she doesn’t know how the sveta got in, or how their ship made it, but no matter what she says, she keeps returning to those burning soldiers. The General frowns, and she knows she needs to come up with something – anything – to appease him.

The General raises a hand to silence her, and when he speaks, his tone is smooth and calm. “It must have been scary out there. It’s one thing to read about the attacks, but it’s another to live it.”

Alina hadn’t expecting any sympathy, so she just nods.

“You must be exhausted.” When Alina nods again, the General continues. “It’s hard to make sense of anything when you hurt so much. I could help with that if you’ll let me.” He gestures beside him, inviting her closer.

He may have asked for permission, but Alina isn’t sure she really has a choice. Still, he’s been nothing but polite so far. She has nothing to lose by playing along.

Alina slowly closes the gap between them, and the closer she gets, the closer she wants to get. It’s like he’s a magnet, and she’s loose filigree coming together for the first time. She feels the warmth now, not in his continence, but all around him. It doesn’t burn. It doesn’t tingle. It numbs the heaviness of her limbs and banishes the panic that’s haunted her since the skiff penetrated the Forge. Before she knows it, Alina’s pressed up against the General. She’s vaguely aware that it’s not appropriate to stand so close to a superior, and it’s definitely not safe to be within biting distance of a monster, but it feels right. She doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

The General doesn’t seem to mind either, staring deep into her eyes like he’s trapped, too. Her reflection stares back at her in his eyes. They’re just so bright and shiny. She has a hard time placing the color. It reminds her of one of the duke’s vases. The blown glass was iridescent and shimmered with every color around it. She and Mal had argued for years over what color it really was. He said purple. She said green. They finally settled things with a good arm wrestle. Green won, of course. Alina decides that the General’s eyes are green, too.

“May I?” He asks, and though she can’t see where he’s pointing, she answers his unspoken request, sliding her hand in his. His palms are rough from life on the road, but they’re warm, and his grip os gentler than Fedyor’s had been. She could hold his hand and stare into his eyes forever.

“What happened?” The General asks in a voice softer than silks.

The words spill out of Alina on their own. She tells him about forging her name on the staff list. The attack. Shielding Mal. The sveta descending on them, and then – “All I could look at was him, but I could feel the light getting sucked away. Everything went black, and then I woke up on the docks.”

The General says nothing, but his eyes briefly narrow. It’s not a threat as far as Alina can tell. Whatever she said seemed to confirm something for him. The General pushes up her sleeve with his free hand, never breaking her gaze. She doesn’t fight it. She’s curious, too. Something happened back on that skiff. It’s there lurking there in the back of her brain, begging to be revealed. She knows once it’s free, it can never be caged again. The thought simultaneously thrills her and makes her shiver.

The General trails one finger up her arm. Something inside her responds to act, rejoices in it. His finger stops and curls around her forearm. She notes that the nail on his thumb is longer than the others. Sharp. He drives that nail into her flesh, and it’s like a thousand arms stream out of her at once.

Darkness surrounds them, putting out the lights. No, the lamps are still on. She can feel their flames licking at the shadows just as easily as she can feel the General’s grip on her arm. All around them, the Grisha shout. She can’t see them so much as she feels where they are in the dark. It the strangest sensation, and yet it feels like home. Everything is darkness.

Everything but him.

The General glows, smiling down at her. A true lamp would illuminate the world around them, but there he stands, the sole bright spot in the blackness. Standing together, it feels like they’re the only two people in the world. Then the General lets go of her arm and the darkness withers, fading into the ground or retreating under Alina’s skin to fight another day.

Alina clutches her chest, suddenly empty inside. Her head swivels every which way, desperate to find that surety again, but it’s gone. The aches have returned, magnified tenfold. She can barely keep herself upright, and soon, she’s on her knees, her head swimming.

“A shadow summoner,” some squaller says, and it’s as if a dam broke in Alina’s mind. She stares at her rough, ruddy hands. They’re not the hands of a hero, and yet it’s true. It’s all true. She can banish the light. She saved the skiff from the Forge.

She’s … Grisha.

Alina frowns, remembering what Mal said when that Grisha girl made eyes at him from the General’s carriage. He doesn’t tumble witches. Alina was glad to hear it then. It meant less competition for her, and she and Mal had exchanged plenty of digs at the Grisha over the years. Surely, he wouldn’t think she’s like the rest of them just because she has powers. She didn’t grow up coddled and self-important like the rest of them. That had to count for something. He knew her. The real her. He wouldn’t be scared of her because of her shadows.

No matter how hard Alina tries, she can’t bring herself to believe it.

The General holds out his hand. Alina stares up at him, sure she should bat it away. She’s not one of his Grisha. She’s a mapmaker and an orphan and Mal’s best friend. But that may not be true anymore, and she’d be a fool to burn any bridges.

She takes his hand, letting the General lift her to her feet. He pulls her close again, so close she can feel his breath against her face. She should let go, but she clings to his hand like it’s the last safe ledge in a rockslide. He gives her a knowing smirk, and she wants to wipe it off his stupid face. She’s had a rough day. She would have clung to literally anybody, but then the General leans in, and she feels that warmth again. His lips brush her ear as he whispers, “You and I are going to change the world.”

Notes:

Whoo! This is my first Grishaverse fanfic. It may be a little late, but it’s here. One shot for now, but I might be interested in continuing this in the future. Hope you enjoyed!

[p-redux]

Gloating about being an insider during a time of sadness is DISGUSTING

I'm not gloating, I'm posting INFO and FACTS like I always do...and showing restraint and discretion in not posting it sooner, and not posting the details, which I haven’t and won’t.

But you know what IS disgusting? Here’s a LONG list, and by no means, a comprehensive one, of what Extreme Shippers, Former Extreme Shippers, and Assorted Haters have done that is VERY DISGUSTING. I’ll write it stream of consciousness-like and not in order. Put your feet up and grab a tall drink. Here we go...

Click on Keep Reading

Extreme Shippers found Cait’s condo when she used to live in Los Angeles and sat outside for hours waiting to see if they saw her with Sam. ES blackmailed and coerced a minor, a 14 year old girl who was a super fan of Abbie’s sister, Charlotte Salt, into giving them info regarding Abbie and Sam. The girl was following Abbie’s locked Instagram account and could see the Sam related stuff Abbie was posting. ES won her trust, she gave them info about Abbie and Sam, they then told her if she didn’t screencap and give them the Sam related pics on Abbie’s IG account, they would tell Abbie and Charlotte that she had been giving them info. Sick doesn’t begin to describe it. ES tried to dox and did dox anyone and everyone who got in the way of their SamCait ship. Doxed, as in PUBLICLY posted, the names, addresses, pictures of their houses, professions, husbands’ and children’s names, employer names of ANYONE and EVERYONE who posted something to contradict the ship. They even posted pictures of their children. Again, messing with minors is a big no no, and usually a crime. ES created fake Ashley Madison accounts (that’s the website for married people who want to meet people to cheat on their spouses with) and pretended to be non-shippers’ husbands to try to make it seem like the husband was cheating. It got so bad, that in some cases, non-shippers had to get restraining orders, cease and desist orders, get the police, lawyers, and in TWO cases, the F B I involved. Yes, the F B I has come a knocking on a couple of Extreme Shipper’s doors because of their ILLEGAL actions. ES lured some of Sam’s girlfriends into believing they had their best interest at heart, gained their trust, and they PUBLICLY posted their PRIVATE messages. Luckily, in the case of one Sam’s ex, Abbie Salt, she later did confirm she and Sam dated, which totally negated everything that shipper had said Abbie told her.  ES directly BULLIED and HARASSED fans, Outlander cast, crew, journalists, reporters, family and friends of Sam and Cait. ES contacted people’s employers to try to get them fired...literally messed with people’s livelihoods. They tried to get the Outlander drivers fired because they started posting stuff against shippers AFTER shippers turned on them. ES waited outside Sam and Cait’s residences in whatever location they were in to try to “catch them together.” Taking pics at someone’s private residence is very different than getting pics or video in PUBLIC places. For years, ES have manipulated pictures, gifs, video to sell the SamCait LIE to their gullible shipper friends. They’ve made money off selling these lies. ES have ostracized and banished any shipper friends who acknowledged the ship wasn’t real. They sent their best friend to Tony’s bar in London to try to prove he and Cait weren’t together, and when she unwittingly found out they were, they then bullied her and kicked her out of shipperville. ES created multiple hate sock accounts for the SOLE purpose of CYBERBULLYING Sam’s girlfriends and dates. Any time Sam dates a woman, ES follow the same pattern. They contact the women’s employers, parents, siblings, other family members, friends, ex-boyfriends trying to malign the women. Some examples: They pretended to have gone to high school with Mackenzie Mauzy and spread lies that she had a bad reputation in high school. They spread lies that Gia was a paid escort. ES contacted social media outlets to spread LIES about Sam and Cait and their significant others. Contacted anyone associated with Cait and Tony’s wedding trying to intimidate them into saying there was no wedding. They posted the picture of a waiter at one of the Outlander premieres and tried to pass him off as Tony to prove Tony didn’t go with Cait. ES have continuously posted pics of Cait with her naturally poochy belly trying to prove that she’s been pregnant with Sam’s children for the last 7 years. ES publicly questioned her if she was pregnant. Sam haters and disgruntled ex-shippers have spread rumors that Sam is gay. Nothing wrong with being gay, but what is wrong is spreading LIES. ES have badmouthed Cait’s HUSBAND, Tony McGill saying he was: her assistant, gay, her gay assistant, a loser, broke, boring, ugly, her purse holder, etc. And trust me, what I’ve posted above is the SHORT list.

And that’s not even mentioning what they’ve done to ME. Ever since I committed the unforgivable sin of posting source info CONFIRMING Sam and Cait were never a couple, and Cait was dating Tony, way back in 2014, this is what SamCait Extreme Shippers have done to me. Tagged me endlessly when I had my Twitter account telling me things like “Die, b*tch,” “Die, c*nt,” “You should be gang rap*d,” “Drop a house on her,” “You’re worse than AIDS,” and those are the “nice” comments. They literally BULLIED me every day, all day for YEARS. They also created hate accounts on Twitter and Instagram to mock me, parody me, and post lies about me. They were convinced they’d found my real identity (based on circumstantial evidence, which I’ve countered and can counter with the actual truth), and proceeded to post THAT woman’s FULL NAME, city where she lived, profession, reported her to her licensing board, and created a fake Twitter account pretending to be her. She got a lawyer and was able to get everything taken down, but they basically tried to ruin her life. They’ve spread LIES about me being the one harassing THEM and managed to convince over 60 dopes with disposable incomes to give them money for a GoFundMe campaign where they hired a Private Investigator to try to find me. They started a witchhunt letter writing campaign, hashtagged it on Twitter, #takebackourfandom, or some such bullsh*t, tagged everyone in Outlander cast and crew “telling” on me and even sent letters and e-mails to Starz and Sony executives trying to...I don’t know what. Hahahaha. It’s so ridiculous, my brain is scrambling as I write this. They told their followers not to believe anything I say and that I’m evil personified. ALL of that and more because they couldn’t face the FACT that their SamCait ship NEVER EXISTED and I was the one that confirmed it. When I think about it, I can’t believe I lived through all that. But I stayed because I knew I had the TRUTH on my side and that eventually it would all come out, which of course it did. And because I’m a bad bitch who doesn’t scare easily.  EVERYTHING I’m referring to here is well DOCUMENTED with screencap proof. Or just ask anyone who’s been in the fandom long enough, they’ll attest that what I’m saying did actually happen, and that Extreme Shippers, Former Shippers, and Haters did do all of that.

So, Anon, when you come at me with “disgusting” things in this fandom, please refer to the above before you start pointing fingers at me. 

PS. “Anon,” I’ve got your Los Angeles/Anaheim Samsung Galaxy S10e IP address tagged. So, send me another hate Ask and you’ll get blocked. And don’t bother using a VPN...once the tag is on, it follows the user no matter what IP they use. Now you know. 

[hemingway-papers]

I have no authority on this whatsoever but going off instinct I feel that a few of the lupin Marie moments are actually kinda funny and not transphobic and some of the moments really are the unfortunate“man in a dress” transphobia/transmisogyny. That kind of humor plagues media especially in the past like the 70s when it was made or the early 2000s when it was dubbed. Lupin can be kinda a great chance for everyone to dive into these things. But it’s ok if you still like Marie! The series is pretty much inseparable from these things and I would rather use them as a learning moment than any outright cancelation.

ALSO I think a lot of gay and trans people embrace and reclaim Marie and other cross dressing moments since being GNC, doing drag or simply being gender fluid involves a lot of different gender expression. And that’s especially ok to like her cause of that ! it can be fun and really positive to reclaim something that might have been thoughtless originally or meant to hurt you and make it into something to celebrate and represent you. I’m not blaming or judging trans people or gay people for reclaiming that! Only that when reclaiming anything it’s really important and good to be aware of the likely original intent of the joke. (Although I’m sure many are, others in the fan community might not be). And it’s good to know and be prepared for why some members of the community might not feel good about it, may ask you to tag and trigger warn. Or not associate with those episodes altogether. Particularly if they’re trans women and directly impacted by it

Anyway the “fujiko this is the most important moment in a girls lifetime” line is really cute to me. the delivery is so sincere it feels more like lupin is fully committed to this character as if he’s doing drag or expressing himself non-traditionally I love that moment. It didn’t feel like he was making fun of the girl he’s playing at all and the humor was in the absurdity of him focusing on his fake wedding instead of the heist and in him saying something so cute and wistful at such a critical moment.

It can be hard to describe why some cross-dressing moments in the series don’t come off as hateful but others do. But it might have something to do with if the underdog and vulnerable party in the situation is being mocked or not or if the gag is more a subverted expectation that doesn’t involve gender (like in this case the subverted expectation is lupin caring about his wedding more instead of the crime, even if he was saying that jokingly cause he doesn’t want fujiko to blow their cover. The joke itself there isn’t hehe man in a dress which can carry a lot more mockery) I just think these nuances can be interesting to look at for why some humor on those subjects can land for me and others just feel cruel and do not, for me at least

Again I do want this to be an open discussion this is my musings and not the voice of any authority. I identify as a cis woman and bi 👍 so this is all more my best guess and various thoughts with an invitation to take it away, especially if it applies to you

[btssmutficslovingfan01]

The Afterparty

Summary: You’ve been a fan of BTS for seven years and counting. When you see them at the GRAMMYs after-party, you’re surprised to find that no one is even going up to talk to them. They’re making a spectacle of them, as the boys lounge lazily on the couches. With sweaty palms, you finally manage to stutter out a “hello,” to Namjoon, the leader of the group. A lot can happen in one night, especially when you’re the only one who makes them feel welcome.

Words: 6.8k

Pairing: BTS x Reader (all members)

Genre: Smut, pwp

Warnings: Gangbang, Vanilla sex, Oral (m & f receiving), spit-roasting, Unprotected Sex, Bad use of condoms (if you have them, use ‘em!), Double Penetration, Sex toys, rope-play, hints at Jungkook getting together with reader, possessive pillow-talk

                         ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hey guys, I’m a huge fan.” You wave at all the members, feeling immediately small as they say a small “hello” back. It was your first time getting tickets to a huge awards show, much less coming to an afterparty where only the hottest celebrities gather together for one night. You weren’t a celebrity, but at least you were making an effort to talk to them without clout-chasing.

They could tell you were nervous, so Joon speaks to you in a soft voice.

“Hi, it’s always great to meet a fan. How long have you been listening to our music?” You look down, feeling too dizzy to look at him directly in the eyes. You could feel the eyes of jealous onlookers on you as you speak to your favorite artist.

“Seven years. I found out about you guys during the ORUL8,2? Era. I fell in love with your cute grunge band type theme there.” Namjoon, for the first time in a long time, actually blushes at your words. As he rubs his neck, Hoseok and Jin who were sitting next to him gaze at you in bewilderment.

“Yeah, not my greatest era.” His genuine laugh catches everyone off-guard, they thought they weren’t supposed to socialize with anyone.

“I love your songs though, and your lyrics are amazing. Jin, may I just say, Epiphany was so well sung. I even got a tattoo of the lyrics!” You pull your sleeve up to show Jin your tattoo. He exclaims, “Wow.” before setting your arm down. “By the way, when is D-2 gonna come out, Yoongi? The first one was so good. Oh sorry, was I rambling? Oh God, I’m rambling.” You sigh in embarrassment as the members find themselves thinking about how cute you look all self-aware of your surroundings. 

“It’s fine. Here, you can sit between Jimin and Yoongi. There’s room on the seat of the couch, since they decided to take the armrests.” You can’t believe you’re between your bias and biaswrecker. Well, you are an OT7 bias, but you were sitting at the hip level between the two men. Who you idolize. 13-year old you is dying.

“So, Yoongi...are you at least bringing back Tony Montana for a studio version?” Jimin says something to him in Korean before shoving him playfully and then Yoongi turns to you, saying,

“Sorry, no spoilers.”

“Okay, I’m not an interviewer or a reporter. You can tell me, honestly, are you fluent in English?” You direct the question to both the boys as they give you cheeky smiles before Jimin leans in and whispers seductively in your ear. “Yes. We all know English but we pretend like we don’t because we’re too lazy to answer stupid questions.” You blush at the close proximity but mostly because it sounded like Jimin was telling you to piss off.

“Wow. You guys are cool. I could never act so well,” You find yourself more at ease with them, locking eyes with Taehyung across on the other couch opposite of you, with Jungkook on his phone and too distracted to notice your silent eye-fucking. You wouldn’t know, you were too oblivious to pick up on his arousal. He wanted you, bad. “Well, I’m gonna head down to the snack table. Anyone want anything?” This time Jungkook looks up, tucking his phone into his pocket before running after you.

“Me too.” His broken English is so cute, as he follows you to the table to find a feast. He licks his lips, in seeing the giant chicken untouched and ready for consumption. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a couple of girls pretending like they’re scrolling through their phones and taking pictures of him. You wish there was a no phone rule or something like that at this afterparty.

You move to his other side, blocking his view from the girls as he obviously looks up at you after grabbing some drinks.

“You take four. I took two. Jin and V on diet.” 

“I know your secret. You don’t have to talk in broken English, Jungkook.” He smiles as you call him by his name correctly, you’re sure he’s grateful to you for not prying. Most Americans would get all up in his business.

“Thank you.” He whispers softly as you grab the cups and balance them on a plate.

“For you guys.” You pass out the drinks to the members and immediately Namjoon starts up another conversation with you.

“Is this your first after party?” 

“Yeah, but it’s fun. At least it’s memorable for me because I got to meet you guys. Sorry, I’m still a little star struck.” He lets out a chuckle as you take a sip of the champagne.

“You’re handling it pretty well. If I were in your shoes I would’ve freaked out. It’s so cool that you stuck with us for so long.” You shrug, a smirk tugging at your lips as Namjoon takes a sip of his drink as well.

“Not really. You guys are just regular people and I think fans forget that sometimes, it’s easy to forget when you guys dance so in sync and robotically without even thinking.” 

“It takes a lot of hard work.” He reassures you.

“So, did you bring your girlfriends?” You mock the interviewers’ questions as Namjoon guffaws. “I’m just kidding. I don’t care, I stan you for your music and your animated personalities, cheers guys.” You clink glasses with them as they take a sip, all eyes on you as you stand among them instead of looking at them like trophies in a glass case. Everyone in the room was watching you, as you interacted with the “Korean act” so naturally.

There was nothing to it, you didn’t care if they were staring anymore. If anything, you felt more welcome standing next to Bangtan.

“So is asking about personal relationships just an American thing?” You cringe thinking about the Ellen show and how she asked inappropriate questions such as “have you ever hooked up with ARMY?” and completely disrespected them. You didn’t want them to get the wrong impression of you from that bad encounter.

“It’s a strange concept but unfortunately yes, it is normalized here. I think you handled it pretty well though, Tae’s reaction was memed when in reality it was completely understandable!” Taehyung looks up from his phone at the mention of his name, staring directly at you once again.

“Why does he keep looking at me like that?”

“I think he wants to talk to you, dear.” Namjoon’s sudden change in demeanor intimidates you. You shake it off as Namjoon pushes you towards the couch where Taehyung is lounging on while Jungkook disappears off to the bathroom.

“H-Hi Tae.” You awkwardly stock over to the couch as the second youngest BTS member eyes you up and down.

“What’s your deal? Do you want a picture, an autograph? I can’t figure you out.” He sounds cold and calculating, despite your thoughts kindling telling you he was a warm and kindhearted person.

“I’ve been honest this entire night. I wanted to drop by and say hi to the group that I’ve been stanning for seven years. Is that suspicious?” He rubs his jaw, gulping the rest of his drink before setting it down on the table next to him. He looked like he was about to eat you alive, and you loved it.

“No. I can tell you’re being sincere. We’re chill. Joon, everything’s chill.” 

“Alright, now that that's done, our manager told us to be back in our hotel room in 10. We were supposed to skip the after party as we do in all awards shows but he insisted we make an appearance. That’s why we’re here.” Namjoon rounds the members up and everyone adjusts his pants accordingly as they stand up.

“Oh, you guys are leaving?” You sound hurt, but with Jimin’s warm fingertips suddenly on your cold shoulder, you shudder at the small shock from his touch.

“Sorry, how about we just take a quick picture together? I think you’re one of the coolest fans we’ve met.” You didn’t want this night to end. 

The Park Jimin just told you that you’re cool. You felt complete.

After snapping a couple pictures, Jungkook quickly appears by your side, stopping the other members.

“Wait, they’re playing “Cotton Eye-Joe” I wanna dance!” Namjoon rolls his eyes before dismissing him. To your surprise, he asks you to dance (very anxiously at that) and you follow him to the dance floor.

Even if it’s a private event, there are a lot of people in the crowd. You and Jungkook also hold hands so you don’t get separated. Suddenly, everyone forms lines. As the song starts, the crowd starts dancing in sync. You teach Jungkook the moves and just as his curious eyes meet yours, you hear the sound of a bell. They were gonna say toasts.

“That was…” You can’t place your finger on it, but Jungkook looked like he had just seen a ghost. He looked strange. You’ve never seen him give anyone that look. Could he be...Jungshook?

You raise an eyebrow as he suddenly runs back to Namjoon, whispering something in his ear and then going to the other members as well. You’re confused as Namjoon pulls you aside, tapping your shoulder instead of grabbing your hand to follow him. You go to a smaller area blocked off from the crowd.

“Sorry, there were too many cameras around there. I was wondering if you wanted to come with us for the private after-party celebration and have some drinks? We normally go live and then after we turn off the camera we get a little drunk and wild. Plus, Jungkook said he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.” As he smirks you realize what he just meant. Jungkook was attracted to you?! Either that or he meant it in the most friendly, non-sexual way possible.

“Alright. Um, where are you guys staying by the way?” Namjoon gives you a sexy smirk before leaning and whispering right up against your ear:

“Room 327 on the third floor. That floor is off limits but we’ll let the guards know you’re allowed in there.” You look around before following him out and discreetly making your way to the girls’ bathroom.

“Did you see that bitch parading around the boys like she was their eighth member or something? Pathetic, honestly I gotta give her a C+ for trying. I couldn’t talk to their leader Jimin looking like a trashbag.”

“K, they were literally ogling her. Like you gotta admit, her dress was super cute and her makeup was pretty too.”

“What’s wrong with you G? Are you crushing on her or something? You’ve got to get your eyes checked. She wasn’t even pretty. If anything our boys were uncomfortable.” You open the stall door, washing your hands quickly and quietly ducking out after patting dry. The girls in the restroom make wide big eyes when they realize they just messed with the wrong bitch.

They’re pretending like they were the ones that got invited to the secret BTS party. Losers, they were just sour because Jungkook didn’t even give them the time of day.

You decide to head up to the room after 10 minutes of Namjoon signaling you to get ready and then as soon as you see them leave the party, you sneak up the stairwell. A bulky, tall and surprisingly handsome bodyguard stops you.

He pushes his glasses down to see you, and then lets you through to go join the boys.

You quietly knock on the door to be greeted by a smiling Hobi, and he shushes you before pushing you behind the couch in their suite. The room was so wide and big, different from the hotel room you were staying in for sure.

Within five minutes or so the boys wrap up and then Yoongi leans over and pulls you out of your hiding spot.

“Hey! It’s you, um what’s your name?” Jin scratches his head for an answer. All the members seem a lot more talkative in comparison to earlier. The mood is light and merry.

“Y/N! And bring on the drinks, I’m gonna get tipsy.” The boys chant for you as you chug half a bottle within five seconds, still sober as you burp. 

“Cute.” Jungkook laughs as you excuse yourself and take a sip of water to even out the playing field.

                                         ⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

“So now that we’re all drunk, how about we play a game of sexual ‘never have I ever’?” Namjoon’s proposal is favored as all of the members murmur words of agreement.

“Sounds good. Okay, I’ll go first. Never have I ever humped a pillow.” You, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok put a finger down at Yoongi’s confession.

“Never have I ever sucked dick.” Hoseok says, immediately spurring you, Jimin, Yoongi, and Namjoon.

“Really Tae? I thought you did.” Jin says, slapping his thigh as he turns bright red.

“No. I never experimented either.”

“Okay...hmm this is hard. Never have I ever been in a threesome.” Everyone puts their fingers down except Jin, who cries in the corner. 

“Damn, that’s rough. Okay, never have I ever used lube.” Every man in the room groans as Jimin grins toothily. You found it charming how he managed to sound so cheeky but alluring at the same time.

“Never have I ever been in a romantic relationship that lasted for more than a month,”  Namjoon and Yoongi put their fingers down as the other members complain about being too busy. You also put your finger down, biting your lip. “It’s your turn.” He reminds you.

“Um..never have I ever been sexually intimate with a woman.” All of the guys groan as you target them, putting their fingers down at your words.

“Never have I ever been in a gangbang. I had friends who talked about doing the same girl plenty of times in school and shit before we debuted. It was fucking annoying, I just wish I could get it out of the way.” 

The room falls silent as you pipe up, clearing your throat before speaking, “Well, why don’t you? There’s one girl here and...ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ...so I’m just gonna stop talking now.”

Jin breaks the silence with a stupid dad joke, making Hoseok and Jimin fall into a fit of giggles.

“So are we done? There’s no way any of you have been in a gangbang before,” Your voice stands out as all of the boys look at you, half-offended and half-aroused. “Am I the only one here who has actually been in the middle of three or more guys like that?” More accurately, you had a gangbang with two pairs of boys from neighboring schools, so no one ever found out about your promiscuous activities while you were 17.

“And you have? How could we believe you?” Yoongi spits out, sounding more defensive than anyone else in the room.

“I can suck three dicks at the same time. I’m not ashamed of my talents.” Yoongi gives you a harsh, judgemental stare. You’ve seen that look from your peers and teachers way back in high school and your workplace. They are doubting your abilities.

“Joon, why don’t you tell her why you really invited her here tonight?” Namjoon puts his glass on the table before standing up and pulling you towards him, your body lands on his, your head resting on his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

“We like sharing. Tonight, it seemed that Jungkookie took a liking to you. And we agreed, it would be good to get the maknae some pussy, especially since he hasn’t gotten laid in months. We decided you were the perfect candidate.” You gawk as he allows you to drop to your knees, your eyes wide as if you were asking for permission. Joon nods, sitting back down to give you access to his thighs as you crawl between his legs and inhale the wonderful scent of expensive cologne.

“Guys, are you really doing this in the middle of the couch? At least take it to the big bed where we can all see you, geez.” You’re surprised to see Yoongi unwinding on the couch, his dick large and bouncing against his thigh as he rubs the tip and goes back to the base as you’ve seen in porn.

“Jungkook-Ah, come here. You said you can suck three dicks at once, right Y/N?” You nod, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock and feeling Jungkook’s growing bulge through his boxers first before pulling them to the floor and then taking his dick into your mouth as well.

Both men moan as you simultaneously suck them off, your tongue sneaking down to the bases of each individual cock so you could lick them to orgasm. You know simple little tricks can make all the impact.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that. Shit.” It was strange, hearing curses fall from your favorite idols’ lips. Namjoon’s cock was much longer in comparison to Jungkook’s, but in whatever Jungkook lacked in length, he made up for in thickness. You were having trouble now, breathing heavily as you discard their clothes one by one.

The boys watch you intently as you suck them off, and you’re also equally aware of the men on the couches, who are watching your display of expert cocksucking.

Jimin, Tae, Yoongi, Hoseok and Jin have their hands in their pants or on their boxers as each man strokes himself to the site of you sucking their band members. You liked the taste, since they most likely ate fruits and drank sweet things to make their cum taste good. You can tell how healthy a person is just by the taste of their juices.

You lick your lips with a smack, your eye makeup is smeared and it makes you look like a raccoon before Namjoon grabs a tissue and wipes your eyes off for you.  

You smile before peeling off the dress completely to reveal your lingerie. The men watch as you play with your huge breasts in front of them, toying with your bra as if you have trouble taking it off.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum.” Jungkook groans as you start working and them again, now taking both cocks into your mouth at the same time and letting them see stars before pinching the tips with your long fake nails.

“Shit.” Namjoon and Jungkook came simultaneously, thanks to you. You smile as Jungkook grabs another tissue and helps wipe the cum off your cheeks and mouth before pressing the softest kiss to your lips. “I hope you’re okay with intimacy. We’re boys with hearts.” Namjoon puts a hand on his chest, signaling the “heart,” on his right side. That also adds onto his clumsy charm, the “God of Destruction” making an impromptu appearance as you make your mark.

“Yes, because your heart is totally on the right side of your chest. Come here, big boy.” You give Namjoon a lingering kiss after breaking from Jungkook and then you turn to the other boys on the couch.

“I wanna taste you.” Suddenly Jimin is kissing down your inner thighs, trailing saliva down your entire leg before kissing back up and staring up at you, just as Jungkook squeezes your boobs.

“I hope you don’t mind. We’re far from being done here.” You groan and close your eyes as pleasure takes you from all sides. Hoseok and Yoongi are circling your navel, joining Jimin in the attack on your clit, while Taehyung and Jin are working on your breasts as Jungkook and Namjoon hold your hair back, allowing the others to get a piece of you. When Yoongi and Hoseok step back, rubbing their naked dicks in their hands you realize everyone in the room is naked, including you. Jimin ripped off your panties and threw them on the floor next to the door while Namjoon took your bra off. 

This is the first time you’ve seen all of them naked. They look even better without clothes on, in all honesty.

“Ji—FUCK!” You moan, bucking your hips as Jimin swirls his tongue right between your folds, hitting the perfect spot as you whine like a horny bitch.

“You’re fine sweetheart, just take his tongue. You can take another dick, right?” Before you can process what’s happening, Taehyung is fucking your mouth, his bulge poking the back of your neck uncomfortably. You still enjoy the sensation of being filled, so you don’t mind too much.

“Is everything okay? Thumbs up if you’re good, thumbs down if you feel bad.” Namjoon brings you back to reality as you give him a thumbs up, your heart racing in your ribcage as Tae fucks your face and Jimin eats you out.

Jin, during this whole time, was nowhere to be found. You wondered what he was doing. Maybe he was preparing a surprise for you? Your thoughts fail to wander as Taehyung’s testes slap against your cheeks, hard enough for you to go numb. Your face hurts but the gesture itself was so kinky, you wanted to see it again.

“Tae, slow down, make her feel good first. Jimin, fuck her faster.” Namjoon takes the lead as you lie back, panting heavily as Tae gives you a moment to catch your breath, his cock resting on your chin as you catch your breath, the sensation of Jimin’s lips testing your bundle of nerves as you shudder with an all-too familiar feeling. 

You couldn’t believe a BTS member was about to make you cum tonight, for real, and not some drawn-out fantasy like the many lonely nights you spent with your vibrator and dildos at home. You’re so glad all of your friends passed up on this opportunity, according to them BTS were a bunch of “gay kpop dudes,” and “girls,” because they wear makeup like any other celebrity that would appear on camera. You would’ve gone back to your hotel room early to sleep in so you could wake up and go home after an unexciting night of wasted opportunity. You were so happy that this was happening.

At least you shoot your shot, and it actually worked this time.

When you open your eyes, you’re surprised to see that both men have switched positions, this time Taehyung ripping open a condom as your eyes widen, your mouth watering at the sight of his huge dick. You knew he had a big dick from the moment you stanned BTS. Now here it was, in the flesh, ready to enter your hungry, hungry hole. Your pussy tightens immediately at the thought, and you’re soon distracted by Jimin and Hoseok’s actions as they begin peppering your body with hickies. You don’t really mind, it’s not like anyone important is going to see you when you go home. Besides, this is Bangtan for pete’s sake, who the fuck would stop them from leaving marks? You wanted a reminder of this night, since this was just as special to you as it was to them.

Jimin moves his plush lips down to meet yours as Hoseok kisses your weak spot, right on the side of your neck. You giggle from the ticklish feeling of his tongue on your neck, practically melting into the bed as Taehyung rubs his cockhead against your weeping entrance, your pussy already slick wet with arousal as he nudges your legs further apart. His cock is huge, but it’s not ridiculously out of proportion. It fits his body, as a cock should look on a man, naturally. You’re so glad you aren’t a virgin. You remember freaking out after first seeing a dick in an erotic film.

Tae’s cock is far from weird or awkward, it’s actually as pretty and ethereal as the rest of him. You could say the same for the other guys, as their cocks fit their bodies too. It’s just a minute detail, but since you were obsessed with these seven men since forever, you pick up on it. Tae gives you that signature boxy smirk once again as you finish ogling him, making awkward eye contact with the 5’ 10” man as he teasingly slides his cock right up your most sensitive area.

“Cute, you’re so wet, I don’t think I could resist now.” You moan obnoxiously loud as your body convulses from the sheer force of his thighs meeting yours. You whimper out of pain, but as soon as your inner walls adjust to his size, you let out another sinful moan.

“Hobi...Jimin.” You see both men above you as you open your eyes slightly, their cocks hanging in front of your face. You love it, being treated like a whore when in reality you wouldn’t think of even holding hands with a boy. Maybe it’s the Bangtan effect. They’re all hot and they treat you so well, kissing you and checking up on you every few minutes. It’s not like an awkward fanfiction where the characters are mostly silent with prolonged descriptions of sex and wayyy too much background when it’s supposed to be a simple pwp smut. 

You personally love reading those things, especially the 10,000 word ones. Now that you’re actually living it, you can see why authors would want to elaborate. The feeling can’t be expressed with dialogue, it’s so much more than that.

You sigh into their cocks as you suck them interchangeably. Both men are entirely fixated on you, watching as you somehow manage to please them while getting brutally fucked by their roughest bandmate. It was impressive, they’ve never seen a girl as talented as you. Maybe that’s because you’re the first girl they’ve ever fucked altogether. 

This is a very special day for them indeed, as the city flashes purple outside in celebration of BTS attending the Grammys, the eight of you are trapped in your own little world, exploring each other.

Taehyung finishes fucking you after several minutes, your mouth filled with cum and your face stained white as well. Namjoon gives the two men a serious look before signalling the next pair of boys, Yoongi and Jin. Jin cleans you up first, while Yoongi gets you some water to help you recharge. You don’t know if you can truly get through seven men. Only Tae had penetrated you but you still felt incomplete. This wouldn’t be a true gangbang if you didn’t fuck every man at least once.

Yoongi seems to read your expressions, putting an arm around your shoulder and reassuring you first before moving on.

“You make the last call. We’re all okay with this but the moment you say no, it’s all over. I don’t wanna force you.” You find yourself leaning into a kiss, a gentle but firm kiss planting the first seed of desire on his lips. He can’t back away now.

“Can you bend me over and fuck me from behind? I’ve always had that fantasy in my mind from the time I discovered Yoongi smut fiction.” The other men seem impressed, watching you with drinks in hand as you seduce their second-oldest band member.

“Ahem, just so you remember, I’m here too. I grabbed toys earlier so I can prep you, don’t worry it’s clean.” You wanted to so desperately ask Jin where he got them but you snap yourself out of the little fantasy. You’re just a one night stand to them, you probably won’t see them ever again in person, whether it's in a sexual context or not.

“Mmmm, tie me up while you’re at it, would ya? Fuck, I’m into that kinky shit.” Jin gives you a wicked grin. For the first time, you notice his “jokester” persona has a dark side as well. If luck is on your side then sex will Jin will the perfect way to end this amazing night. A finale for the books, tabloids and magazines would eat it up! But you can’t tell anyone. You probably won’t tell anybody. It’s not like you’re a teenage girl from the hills. You can keep a secret.

“Me too, so are you sure you’re okay with this?” You nod as he finishes tying your arms to your sides, your feet still free in case you have to stretch. 

“This is so hot, oh look she’s wet again. Why don’t you fuck her first hyung? We can take turns fucking her with the toy and using our dicks.” Yoongi smirks, drooling a little bit at the thought of you completely helpless at their mercy.

“That’s a perfect idea. Princess, you know what to do if it gets to be too much.” You give him a thumbs up as he pushes the dildo up your second hole, the one in the back. You’ve never had anal sex with a guy before. You’ve also never been tied up. This was a new experience for you, and you were excited that the men of BTS were the ones taking your sexperience to another level.

“Ohhhh, that feels amazing Yoongi.” You close your eyes, resting your head on a pillow as Jimin quickly wipes your sweaty forehead with a moist towelette. You give him a small mutter of “thanks,” before feeling a foreign emptiness in your body. Someone took the dildo out! Just as you were about to freak out, Jin quickly replaces it with his fingers. You watch in awe as they play with your clit like you’re a toy. 

Then, you finally feel it, a cock wrapped in a condom, but the condom is so thin it feels like it’s barely there! After adjusting to him, you feel Yoongi slipping in behind you. You let out a scream, Jin pressing a harsh kiss to your lips and shushing you as you handle having two relatively large dicks inside you.

Your body shudders with shock and your muscles are tense as you move ever so slightly, adjusting to their slowing pace as they near their release, both men groaning ever so lewdly in your ears. You receive kisses and grunts of praise as they continue thrusting into you with no end.

“I’m so close, you’re so tight baby, so fucking tight.” Yoongi kisses your neck, biting down and leaving another hickey on an unmarked spot.

“Nggg, I’m coming, shit, fuck your pussy feels so good.” You’re so glad you shaved before you attended the awards show. Your lower body was silky smooth, and it made the experience just that much more pleasurable. Jin definitely appreciates it, as you buck your hips up and slam into his cock. Your inner walls are so stretched that you take all 9 inches of his erect gargantuan cock

“Oh, Jin! Yoongi…!” You moan as Yoongi starts rubbing your clit exactly above where Jin’s cock rests, your body jerking forward as you orgasm immediately. Your toes curl and you instinctively suck on something to mask the moans, much similar to how you used to suck your fingers to bite back a moan or two when you were a teenager still living with your parents. 

You were so glad there was no one here to interrupt, it was just you and the seven men you adored so much. “Fuck me harder,” You roll your hips back on Yoongi’s body, as he and Jin readjust so you were on your side again but this time Yoongi loosens the ropes holding your arms down. You kiss him gratefully, quickly finding yourself in the middle of a dick sandwich as both men enter you simultaneously, fucking you at a quick pace. 

Your body is numb and the only thing you feel is pleasure. It’s too good to be true, you just know it. “Cum in me. Fuck me hard and fill me up with your seed. I don’t care, just someone–anyone fuuuuckk.” You lewdly throw your head back in pleasure, Yoongi kissing your neck softly as he and Jin seemingly switched places, now with Yoongi in the front and Jin in the back.

“Look at her tits bounce. Oh you look so fucking sexy taking our cocks babe. Wish I could live inside you. I bet you’d love being my little cocksleeve, wouldn’t you?” You couldn’t deny his words, he spoke the truth. If a man such as Jin wanted to fuck you anywhere you would let him. That’s just how life is. You know you couldn’t pass up such an opportunity the moment you decided to strip down in front of them. You could take it, all seven of their cocks at once if they let you.

“Mmmph, I’m cumming Hyung. I wanna fuck her, fuck her forever.” Yoongi’s words only hang heavy in your heart, since you know this is just sex talk. In reality you’d have to leave tomorrow only to never see them again. It was the harsh reality of One Night Stands, one every person hates to go through. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t know this would happen, of course you would grow attached to the person you’re fucking. It’s a natural reaction, you just didn’t expect Yoongi to be the emotional one, that’s all.

“Cum with me Yoongz, let’s cum inside her together.” The two let out synchronized moans before releasing their precious juices inside of you. Even though they came, they don’t bother pulling out, remaining in their positions as Yoongi presses his lips against yours in a post-sex daze.

“We did it. We all fucked her.” Jin whispers as your uneven breaths slow down, your racing heart calming down as you come down from your euphoric state. You could see their juices dripping down your thighs and spilling onto the white sheets, your body warm as you squeeze your legs so that your pussy really clamps down on Yoongi’s cock, while Jin’s cock twitches in your ass once more.

“It’s over then…?” Yoongi gives you a mischievous smirk, one you recognize from all his MVs. He has a calming laugh as well, the mood somber and fitting instead of an awkward post-sex shuffle for clothes and food. You suppose this is because the members of BTS have been friends for over ten years now, and they just had a way of understanding each other and lightening the mood just by murmuring to each other about random things. 

Both men finally pull out of you, leaving you in your own little pool of sex as you lie atop the lonely king-sized bed, feeling more alone than you ever have. At least, you assume they left when an eerie silence settles into the room filled with a fragrance of musk and cologne and a putrid stench that you could only assume was your own sweat. 

It’s funny how all the boys still smelled good even after fucking you like how they did. You missed them, even though they were with you just a moment ago.

“I just realized something, I forgot to ask for your name.” You’re surprised to find Jungkook standing before you, holding a towel and a water bottle.

“Y/N.” You didn’t realize it either, but then again you were too distracted getting fucked by monster cocks. 

“That’s a pretty name. I was wondering if you wanted to sleep over here tonight? This is my room and I kinda wanted you to myself anyways so what do you say?” You liked the thought of Jungkook fawning over you, but it was even better now that he’s back so you can stare at him all night long.

“Sure.”

“Good, for a second I thought you were doing to say no. That would’ve been embarrassing considering that I kicked everyone out so I could have you.”

“Nuh-uh, that bed can support five people. We played rock paper scissors just so we could figure out who the heck gets to sleep with you tonight. Y/N, if you’re up for it?” You see a fully dressed Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok at the door, the men filing in as Jimin, Tae, and Jin remain nowhere to be found.

“Of course. Just cuddle me for warmth, it’s super cold in here.” The men take care of you just as you’d asked, Namjoon and Yoongi cuddling you from one side while Jungkook and Hoseok cuddle you from the other. You feel like this is definitely more than just a one night stand.

When the morning comes, you’re still in the big bed, surrounded by sleeping BTS members. You couldn’t believe they were real and waking up here was proof that last night really happened and you weren’t drunk off your ass. You remembered it so vividly, Jimin’s lips, Yoongi’s tongue, Hoseok’s fingers. Everyone touched you one way or another and you got to eat a lot of dick.

It all came with the price of your stamina, though. You weren’t the most active person, so your muscles were a little bit sore from all the extraneous activity. It was worth it, you would definitely go through it again even if it meant you had to limp to work the next day. Speaking of work, you had to go to your office today. You were in town for the concert but you had some business to take care of too. You still had a few hours before you had to leave, though, and your things were still in your room which was on a different floor, thank God you picked the same hotel that BTS was staying in without knowing.

“You need a shower, don’t you?” You’re surprised to find Jungkook awake and ready to carry you to the bathroom. You shyly follow him, heart rate rising as he gives you an adorable bunny-toothed smile. His doe eyes are so wide and filled with sparkles, as usual.

“No sex, right? I don’t think my body can handle another round so soon, although I wouldn’t mind if you bent me over and-” Jungkook’s eyes widen as you start.

“Ah, no. I’m not gonna do anything. I’m respectful. Even if we had amazing sex last night that doesn’t mean you can’t say no. You always have a choice.” You never thought of it that way. You thought it was always a permanent deal, just something everyone agreed on.

“So why did you decide to sleep with me? It’s not like you guys planned this, right?” He nods, as you start washing yourself with the shower curtain half open in case Kook wants to join.

“We didn’t. Well, I didn’t. Everyone was bored and we thought we could find different girls to spend the night with each of us. Obviously, things didn’t go as planned since everyone was too intimidated to approach us so we all narrowed our focus down to you. Argh, I should stop speaking for the whole group. What I meant to say was, I actually liked you from the start. Not because you approached me, but just because you treated me like an old friend. It was refreshing, and really nice to see a confident woman for once.”

“You think I’m confident?” You shut off the water as you begin scrubbing your body with soap.

“Of course, you danced in front of a crowd with me, that kind of thing takes guts. It’s like if I asked my childhood idol to dance with me. You did what others couldn’t. You’re amazing Y/N.” You turn the water back on, moaning as the warm water hits your skin just right. That wasn’t all; you were becoming hornier by the second.

Jungkook must’ve sensed it, since he pounces into the shower, fully naked and displaying everything. You can’t help but drop to your knees, innocently sucking his cock head and kissing his underside down to his balls where the last piece of hair remains. Jungkook’s pale face is flushed a lovely rosy pink as you lick the miniscule hairs, his whines setting you on edge as the water drowns out your noise once and for all.

“Cum on my face, Kook. I wanna taste your juices.” Jungkook lets out a girlish whine as you drive him over the edge with your dirty talk. He thrusts his hips forward, making you gag on his cock and tears well up in your eyes as his cum bubbles in the back of your throat. Seeing you actually covered in his cum is a different story, it activates a side of him he didn’t know he had until now.

“On your feet. I’m gonna bend you over and fuck you loud enough for my bandmates to hear.” Your moans are all that could be heard throughout the vicinity as Jungkook gives it to you good. His cock is swollen red, blood rushing to his face, heart, and lungs as he absolutely ruins you like you wished.

“I don’t think I can walk.” You croak, voice destroyed since he fucked your throat well before.

“You don’t have to. From now on, let me take care of you.” You didn’t have a problem with that, but little did you know that his bandmates had a very different vision for you in the near future.

                             ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

                         Dark Ending, hope you enjoyed the story! ♡

[vodkassassin]

Hello supreme overlord, ruler of all, writer of the most amazing of sentances and of the nicest of words, could you please write SQQ and SQH interacting in public and forgetting where they are so they just share friendly touches (like touch-starved millenials do) which ppl see and loose their minds over? Like SQH casually throws his hand over SQQ's shoulder and the other just looks pleased youdon'thavetoifyoudon'twantto Ty <3

Moth babe I swear to god

Here’s some platonic cucumberplane for you guys! @overlordmoth

-

Shen Yuan has been in the body of Shen Qingqiu for seven months. Seven warm months of early spring, a beautiful, gorgeous summer befitting of a xianxia world, and a colorful yet mild fall.

He’s been so busy with worrying about the plot, about dismantling the OOC function, about what this exasperating, crazy world (or the System) would throw at him next, that he hasn’t really had the chance to concern himself with the smaller things, like the weather. Especially since those smaller things have been content to be rather wonderful and non-problematic.

Until now, that is. It’s the beginning of his eighth month in this ridiculous place, and it seems winter is finally here.

Yesterday, now that Shen Qingqiu has the belated gift of hindsight, he realizes that all the trees — usually so full of brightly colored leaves in warm tones of oranges and reds and yellows and even some pinks — they’d all gone completely skeletal, very abruptly losing all those final leaves at once. And, seemingly overnight, three feet of snow apparently fell to blanket the mountain sect — because it’s a mountain! Lots of snow! Who’s grand idea was it to build the sect high up on a mountain range? Fuck you, Airplane! — while Shen Qingqiu was asleep, and now….

Shen Qingqiu kicks the door that obstructs his way open with his foot, and Shang Qinghua flinches back in his seat across the room.

“I’m sorry! What? Oh! U—Um, hey bro, what’s —?”

Crossing the office, Shen Qingqiu takes a brief, self-indulgent moment to loom over his fellow transmigrator and watch him sweat, before he whips open his fan and presses the tip of one of its spokes to his mouth in contemplation.

“Scoot over.”

“What?” Shang Qinghua asks, and squeaks when Shen Qingqiu doesn’t wait any longer before plopping down directly beside him and leaning over to burrow into his side. “Sh-Shen bro—?!”

“It’s fucking cold,” Shen Qinqiu hisses, “and I am wearing silk. And I own nothing but silk! Who’s idea was that, huh, Qinghua?”

Shang Qinghua doesn’t make a sound for a few long seconds, but Shen Qingqiu can feel the man trembling. He can’t tell, however, whether it is because the man is nervous or laughing at him.

“I-I would have assumed it was Shen-shixiong’s idea, seeing as how it’s his wardrobe,” Shang Qinghua finally says, voice shaking, and clearly talking about the original goods, whose character and wardrobe he had written himself!

It sounds enough like mocking that Shen Qingqiu gives into his urge and snaps his fan closed, using it to jab his friend — yes, his friend — in the ribs. The shorter man yelps.

“Ow! Bro, c’mon—!”

“I’ll kill you.” Shen Qingqiu tells him in a stage whisper, lifting his eyebrows up to show how serious he is about it.

“You would never.” Shang Qinghua sounds so sure of himself. “You love me too much, bro!”

“Would you stop squirming?” Shen Qingqiu huffs in irritation as the other peak lord’s movements makes him slip off his shoulder and slide down to land in his lap instead. “Shang Qinghua!”

“I didn’t do it!” Shang Qinghua wails, nonetheless teaching out to wrap an arm around Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder and tugging him up a bit to rest against his chest instead. “There, is that better? You know, you interrupted me. I’m trying to work!”

“You can still write with me here, stop whining,” Shen Qingqiu gripes, and leans forward to shove his frozen nose directly against Shang Qinghua’s neck. The man jerks back and whines.

“Stop! You’re cold!”

“I know, that’s why I’m here! Order me a winter wardrobe right now!”

“I don’t have the right forms for that at my desk!” His friend says, a brush dripping ink still held aloft in one hand. “I’ll have a disciple hunt them down for me and do it later!”

“I’ll turn into a popsicle before then! Bitch, do I look like Captain America to you?” Shen Qingqiu demands.

“You ain’t nearly blonde enough,” Shang Qinghua huffs, setting down his brush and rubbing some warmth into his bro’s upper arm. The other sighs slightly and leans even more of his weight into him. Neither of them are very heavy, though, so it doesn’t make much of a difference. “You wanna borrow one of my fur-lined robes until I get you your own?”

“I could kiss you for that,” Shen Qingqiu admits. “Please.”

There’s a loud, strangled sound from the doorway.

Both of them whip their heads around to stare in surprise at the utterly befuddled Yue Qingyuan that stands in the doorway. Slightly behind the sect leader, a red-faced Luo Binghe stares at the two cuddling peak lords with wide eyes. A few seconds tick by in complete silence, before the boy turns away and flees.

“Uh,” Shang Qinghua says smartly.

Shen Qingqiu withholds a groan and smacks his friend on the shoulder with an open palm, burying his face into Shang Qinghua’s neck so that he doesn’t have to look at the still-staring sect leader. “Well, shit.”

“I—” Yue Qingyuan attempts to speak, but his voice fails him immediately, and the three peak lords are left in a stifling, awkward silence.

Shang Qinghua clears his throat. “M-Maybe sect leader should come back later?” He asks.

Shen Qingqiu is suddenly hyper-aware of the arm that his friend has wrapped around him, and the way he’s sitting across Shang Qinghua’s thighs, and mentally swears again. This is a little bit too much for ancient China xianxia sensibilities, isn't it? Fuck.

Yue Qingyuan tries to speak again, but no words come out. After a second, the man settles for giving them a sharp nod. He then turns on his heel and leaves without a word.

Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua stare at one another in silence.

“Awkward.” Shen Qingqiu eventually manages, burrowing even closer against his friend. Honestly, he’s just too fucking cold to be overly concerned about the consequences of this blunder just yet.

“I hate you.” Shang Qinghua says, reaching a hand up to hit him. There’s absolutely no power behind it at all. “This is your fault.”

“It absolutely is not,” Shen Qingqiu denies. “You’re the one who gave me an entirely silk wardrobe. Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.”

“Please,” someone whimpers, and they turn to see Shang Qinghua’s head disciple cowering in the corner of the room, beet-red face buried into both his hands. “Please, stop.”

“Haha, whoops,” Shang Qinghua laughs nervously. “Sorry, A-Kao! Why don’t you take a break?”

“I’m never coming back,” the disciple says, emotionally. He pushes away from the wall and high tails it out of the offices faster than even Luo Binghe had fled.

The two of them are silent as they watch him leave.

“God dammit,” Shen Qingqiu sighs tiredly. He slumps even further against Shang Qinghua, and the other man adjusts his grip on him. “The System is going to kill me for this later.”

“Not if we kill it first,” Shang Qinghua says, a malicious light appearing in his eyes.

Shen Qingqiu looks up at him. “... I’m listening.”

They both ignore the neon red, flashing warning screens that only they can see.

[echo-of-sounds]

Wow. Didn't actually expect that to turn into anything. The original poster made a lighthearted post about plagiarism within the BNHA community to let them know. I reblogged said post, providing direct evidence of plagiarism from my and my friend's, myreaderacademia (not tagging them as I know they're going through stuff right now, and I have no inclination to involve them any more), blogs.

The OP was 'lowkey honored' by this, as they have a right to be. I also have the right to not be honored by this. I quoted the OP because I had different feelings on the matter. That's it. It was also a non-issue to them. It isn't a non-issue to me. I'm frustrated by someone doing this, so it's a very big issue to me and many other content creators on the internet.

The 'aggression' I had in my reblog was towards the person who took my work and my friend's work. And it actually did accomplish something: the 'migraines' piece was taken down and I'm talking with someone from Wattpad to take mine down next. If you report the plagiarism, it will be taken it down.

Another person responded on my behalf, and I agree with what they said. Then OP said they may not want to highlight plagiarism in the future, which, in my honest opinion, isn't that great. Though there are many different forms of content creation across the internet, and I may not be a fan of them all, I understand and appreciate that it is their work, and if I come across any form of plagiarism, I'm going to highlight it so the original creators get credit and the plagiarizer gets exposed.

Nothing I said came from a mocking or rude stance. I actually appreciate them and their post as it let me know about the plagiarism. And to the OP, I'm sorry if it did come across like my words were directly pointed at you. They weren't. All my anger was towards this random person taking my, my friend's, and other's work.

But it's important for OP to know many, many, many content creators do not take a 'lighthearted approach' to these things as it's their work, and possibly their money, being stolen, so don't be surprised when they cannot respond in the same lighthearted way.

The OP doesn't want to "debate" this further, although, I think this was nothing more than a discussion. And I never even got a chance to respond to OP to clear up what I said, so making a separate post, saying they've blocked me and this other person, that they feel alienated for speaking up, talking like my being upset was unreasonable, and that they're no longer going to post about plagiarism, isn't, uh, really fair to me, and comes across as odd, as I was the other half of this conversation.

And by the way OP, if you happen to see this, you didn't actually block me as I can still see all of your blog.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (2)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Oh man. My dudes. I received so much love and support and excited feedback on the first chapter that I thought my heart was going to explode. Y’all are so wonderful. Keep it up. <3

*****

Luckily, Matty lets them take the Phoenix jet to Houston. Flying commercial would make today even more tortuous than it already promises to be, albeit for a different reason. 

No matter how hard he tries to distract himself, Mac cannot stop staring at the diamond ring on Riley’s finger. The princess cut gem is stunning and ridiculously large, but it suits her cover as a lucrative arms dealer. A white gold wedding band sits below it. Riley left her usual assortment of rings at home, and Mac can’t help but think her long, delicate fingers look bare without them. 

He tears his eyes away from the rings again and again, both on the plane and while driving to the safe house. Riley drives with just her left hand, her right elbow resting on the center console. Mac likes driving, but there’s something relaxing about riding shotgun while Riley drives instead. He’s never been able to put a finger on it, but the sense of ease washes over him all the same. Admiring the way sunlight illuminates her engagement ring is simply a bonus. 

He doesn’t let himself imagine what he might give her, in an alternate future where she reciprocates his feelings and one day wants to marry him. 

Harley obediently lays in the backseat, staring out the windshield. She's been on her best behavior the entire twenty four hours Mac's known her, ever the professional. 

Which puts her completely at odds with Mac and Riley's shenanigans—cracking jokes, dancing on the plane and in the car, doing purposefully bad impersonations of Russ. These are the best parts of going on ops alone with Riley. They can let loose in a way they just couldn’t when anyone else other than Bozer was around. Everyone else is professional all the time; Mac and Riley are only professional when they have to be. 

Riley taps the steering wheel in time to the classic rock song on the radio. “What do you want for dinner?” 

“Dinner? We haven’t even had lunch yet!” 

“True.” Riley chuckles. “Can you tell I’m hungry?” 

Mac gives her a sly look. “Not at all.” 

They settle on Texas barbecue for lunch on their way to the safe house, because that’s what Jack would choose if he was here. If only the old man could see them now, all grown up and getting sent to take down terrorists unsupervised. 

Seated in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant, Mac raises his brisket sandwich in a toast to Jack, in whatever afterlife he found himself in. Hopefully it’s the one with an endless supply of good barbecue. 

“Oh man, Jack would’ve loved this,” Riley says through a mouthful of food. She sneaks Harley a piece of brisket. 

Mac smiles. “Yeah, he would’ve.” 

It’s easier, now, to talk about him. At first, Mac hadn’t been sure he could ever get to a point where talking about Jack didn’t make him want to hit something or just curl up and sob. 

But here he is, on the other side. Him and Riley both. 

Their safe house is another twenty minutes away from the restaurant, in a nice neighborhood full of trees and children playing on the sidewalks. It’s so much greener than a California neighborhood could ever dream of being. There’s even a park across the street from their apartment complex. It’s exactly the sort of place a young, affluent couple would want to live. 

Riley parks in their designated space, and the pair ascend the stairs to apartment number 202. Outside of the car, they don’t dare use each other’s real names until they’re sure the apartment is free of bugs. The place was furnished earlier that week by other Phoenix agents, but Mac and Riley do a thorough sweep of every room just in case. 

It’s a nice apartment. Wood flooring, granite countertops, matching cabinets throughout. There are pictures on the walls, but Mac doesn’t bother to stop and check what they are. 

Riley clears the space from back to front, so Mac does the opposite. He clears the kitchen first, frowning at the absence of any sort of food, before moving on to the living room. 

Mac stops dead in his tracks when he enters the bedroom. The singular bedroom. With a singular, queen-sized bed. 

Oh no. This is not happening. 

Mac shakes his head and rubs his eyes, hoping his mind is just playing tricks on him and that there’s actually two beds. Or a whole other room he missed before. 

The one and only bed seems to mock him. 

He walks back out, finding Riley already sitting at the kitchen table, turning on her laptop. “Uhh, Riles? There’s only—”

“One bed,” she finishes, not bothering to look up. “I know.” 

Oh god. He can’t do this. He can’t. Not with his dignity still intact. Mac stammers, “I’ll, uhh, sleep on the couch. You can have it.”

That gets Riley’s attention. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re going to be here for weeks. You’ll hurt your back sleeping on the couch that long. Just sleep with me.” Riley’s eyes widen as she realizes what she just said. “In the bed,” she quickly adds. 

Mac ducks his head to hide his blush. 

“What are you working on?” he asks in a feeble attempt to distract himself from their sleeping situation. Because it will definitely be a situation if Mac’s not careful. 

“Connecting to the Wi-Fi,” Riley says in a slow, “What else would I be doing?” sort of way. 

“Right.” Mac silently curses himself. Of course that’s what she’s doing. “Anyway, I’m assuming you already know this, since you probably opened the fridge too, but we have no food.” 

“I saw.” She’s multitasking again, manicured fingers flying faster across her keyboard than Mac can keep track of. “Why don’t you unload our bags while I finish this, and then we can go.” 

Unable to help feeling like he’s been dismissed, Mac complies without protest. 

Soon they’re back in the car, headed to the grocery store, and the whole thing feels ridiculously domestic. Mac’s never been a fan of grocery shopping, but Riley makes it almost...fun. For starters, she’s not methodical about it the way Bozer and Desi are. But more than that, getting to spend time with her doing mundane, non-work stuff is a nice reminder that their relationship is more than just the job. They’re friends too. 

Mac wishes there is a way to tell her all that without it sounding weird. 

They come home, unload the groceries, and take Harley for a long walk, and that feels easy too. It feels normal, even though literally nothing about this situation is normal, and Mac already knows he’ll miss this when the op is over. 

But normalcy ends when Riley beckons Mac to sit beside her at the kitchen table, and together they write an advertisement for their arms dealing business. Once they’re satisfied with it, Riley sends it off into the dark web, and there’s nothing to do but wait, like a spider after spinning her web. 

The waiting is the worst part. 

Mac is contemplating taking Harley for a second walk when Riley asks, “Want to help me make dinner?” He takes one look at her hands on her hips and the “you don’t actually have a choice” look on her face and knows he’ll be left to fend for himself if he doesn’t help now. Mac learned that the hard way back when he and Riley lived together. 

“Sure.” 

They work in comfortable silence. Mac chops vegetables and grates cheese for their quesadillas while Riley does the actual cooking part. Even though they are doing separate tasks, Mac is acutely aware of every move Riley makes, no matter how insignificant. Flexing her long, thin fingers around a knife. Itching the back of her calf with her foot. Dancing in place, spatula in hand, while she waits to flip the quesadillas sizzling in the pan. 

Mac smiles softly. Her random little dances are cute. He’s noticed them more and more since realizing he has feelings for her, but if Mac is being honest, he’s always thought the dances are cute. 

Riley hisses as she peeks under the tortilla, checking to see if it’s browned yet. 

“You good?” Mac asks, frowning. 

“Yeah, I touched the pan by accident.” Riley runs her thumb under cold water. 

Her laptop dings while they eat. Wide-eyed, Mac glances at Riley. That was fast. She grimaces before sliding the laptop closer and checking the notification. 

“Is it them?” he asks tentatively. That’s the hard part about this; in order for their business to look more legit, they had to just put an ad out and hope for a response, rather than target the terrorist organization directly. 

Riley exhales. “No, it’s not them. It’s someone else.” 

Swallowing another bite of quesadilla, Mac says, “I don’t know whether I’m relieved or if that’s worse.” 

“Same.” 

There are no more responses that night.

*****

Mac wakes up in the same position he fell asleep in—on his side, facing outward, with as much space between him and Riley as possible. When they crawled into bed the night before, Riley did the same. 

Harley spent the night on the couch. 

She’s a very guarded dog, Mac is slowly realizing. Tolerating, but not trusting. Mac supposes he would be like that too if he was a dog and he got stuck with a bunch of strangers after his human suddenly disappeared one day. 

He makes coffee, feeds Harley breakfast, and takes a shower, all before Riley loses her battle with the snooze button and finally gets out of bed. While she showers, Mac takes Harley for a walk in hopes that the cool, spring air will ease the anxiety that took root the moment Riley released their ad into the void. 

It doesn’t. 

Dark, puffy clouds loom on the horizon, and the few birds Mac hears shriek at each other in warning. It looks like a storm is coming. 

When Mac returns, he’s met with a grim expression, one he understands without Riley uttering a single word. “They answered,” she confirms. 

“What did they say?” Unclipping Harley’s leash, Mac moves to stand behind Riley, resting his hands on the back of her chair. The scent of her shampoo tickles his nose, and he forces himself to ignore it and focus on what Riley’s saying. 

“They want to meet. Today.” 

“Time or place?” 

Riley points at a small box on her screen. “Just an address.” 

“What’s there?” 

“A warehouse,” Riley says. “Owned by the same shell corporation other Phoenix techs already tied to the organization.” 

“Not very clandestine, are they?” 

“No, they’re not.” Riley looks up at him, her head bumping his sternum, and butterflies ricochet inside Mac’s rib cage. There’s something soft in Riley’s expression that makes Mac want to kiss her. “Are you ready for this?” 

Mac sighs. “As ready as I ever am. Are you?” 

“Yeah,” she says, but her confidence falters. Without thinking, Mac squeezes her shoulders in reassurance before walking away to change.

*****

The warehouse is located on the edge of the city, in an industrial area that has certainly seen better days. Even from a distance, Mac can see cobwebs decorating the warehouse windows and rust creeping up the roller doors. Aside from Riley, there’s not another soul in sight. 

As per the directions the organization sent after Riley confirmed the meeting, Mac parks on the south side of the building, near the only functional-looking door. He doesn’t look at Riley as they get out of the car, instead desperately trying not to cringe at the cold, heavy weight of the gun holstered at his side, hidden beneath his jacket. 

High-end arms dealers couldn’t walk around unarmed, unfortunately. 

Although her hands are occupied with holding Harley’s leash, there’s a gun hidden beneath Riley’s suit jacket as well. Mac’s stomach churns. The second Riley emerged from their bedroom earlier wearing that jet black suit, she was a different person. She was wholly Genevieve Turner, and no matter how hard Mac tried, he couldn’t find even a single trace of his best friend beneath the icy exterior. 

Locking their SUV, Mac smooths the lapels of his own black suit and slips into character as well. 

The dark clouds Mac noticed earlier are directly overhead now. Mac has never believed in omens the way Jack did, but he can’t help hearing Jack’s voice in his head, warning him that black clouds are a sign of certain doom. Or something like that. 

There’s no one inside the warehouse, at least as far as Mac can see. “Hello?” he calls, the word echoing slightly in the open space. Aside from a few random wooden crates, the room is empty. 

A door slams, and then an older man comes into view. He’s probably in his late fifties, with graying hair and a beer belly his shirt doesn’t quite cover. The man swaggers like he owns the place, although Mac doubts the leader of a terrorist cell would deign to play tour guide. 

No doubt there’s a quip on the edge of Riley’s tongue about entitled white men, but she doesn’t share it. 

The man extends a hand to Mac in introduction. “Conrad.” His sneer doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Mac frowns, keeping his hands at his sides. “Last name?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

What he’s about to say might screw everything up before it even starts, but Mac says it anyway. In his gut, he knows it’s the right call. “If it doesn’t matter, then we’re done here. My wife and I have no interest in entering a business relationship with someone too inexperienced to understand that trust is integral to any transaction.” Mac spins on his heel and strides toward the door, Riley falling into step beside him. 

“Wait!” the man calls. They pause, turning around slowly. “Deacon. Conrad Deacon.” The man seems to know he’s already lost. Good. “Welcome to the cause.” He gestures for Mac and Riley to follow him. 

Mac stands his ground. In his peripheral, Riley stands utterly still, the perfect mask of cool, collected neutrality. Almost bored, even. It’s scary how easily she becomes her cover. 

“Come on now,” Conrad says, taking a single step forward. “We have much to discuss.” 

That’s enough of the power play, Mac thinks, but just as he’s about to give in and follow Conrad, Riley utters a single, sharp command that rings through the room. “Sit.” 

Harley obeys. 

Riley’s lips curve in a cruel, taunting smile. “Then enlighten us.” Mac suppresses a shiver; he’s seen this side of Riley plenty of times before, watched her hone it over the years, but it’s still unnerving. Admittedly, it’s also kind of hot. 

Conrad ignores her entirely. He croons, “Why don’t we start with your names?” It’s phrased like a question. It sounds like a question, but Mac sees the demand for what it really is. 

Mac gestures to Riley. “This is my wife, Genevieve Turner. And my name is James.” His father’s name tastes like ash on Mac’s tongue. 

“And the dog?” 

“Killer,” Riley sneers. Mac isn’t sure if she’s kidding or not. 

Again, Conrad doesn’t acknowledge her. “James, why don’t I give you the tour and explain what we do here.” 

“We’ll go on the tour, but we are not here to join your cause.” It takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower to maintain his neutral tone. “All we care about is what you’d like us to provide and how much you’ll pay for it.” 

Conrad doesn’t hide his displeasure. “Fine. Follow me.” 

Mac and Riley are led through the open warehouse. The layout is straightforward and nearly impossible to get lost in. But after Conrad shows them a room full of rifles—countless hung on the walls, floor to ceiling, the rest in half-open crates—Mac finds himself counting the number of wooden shipping crates scattered around the building. 

He doesn’t like his final number. 

Arming terrorists doesn’t sit well with Mac, even if it serves a purpose. It makes him sick, knowing he will likely be indirectly responsible for their next attack. 

Especially because those crates are no doubt full of the kind of rifles designed to kill people most effectively. The ones hanging on the wall are military grade, probably cutting-edge. Desi would know exactly what they are and how they work. 

Trusting Riley is paying close attention, Mac only half listens to Conrad babble about the cause. But then the older man says something that stops Mac in his tracks. “Our country is being run into the ground by whiny do-nothings,” Conrad asserts, “who waste our money and spew garbage that some people matter more than others. Well, you know what? Hardworking, everyday Americans matter. But no,” he scoffs, “those damn liberals don’t like it when we remind them of the truth. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off.” 

The ground sways under Mac’s feet. He knows these people believe this, read it in Matty’s extensive briefing notes. But it’s another thing entirely to hear someone say it to his face. 

He can only imagine what Riley must be thinking. 

Clearing his throat, Mac tries to redirect the conversation. “Like I said, we don’t care about your cause. Just tell us what you’re looking for, and we’ll be on our way.” 

Conrad eyes him suspiciously, but complies. “We’re looking for something a little more than what you can get at the store, you know?” 

Mac doesn’t, not exactly. He’ll have to ask Desi later. “I do,” he lies. 

“Good. Here’s what we’re willing to pay for it.” He hands Mac a folded piece of paper, and Mac does a double take when he reads the number. There are a lot of zeroes. “And as a show of good faith, we’d like it delivered tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?” Riley splutters. Mac feels it then, the broiling rage slipping through a crack in her persona. He needs to get her out of there. Now. Not just to preserve the op, but for Riley’s wellbeing. Some audacity Matty has making Riley play nice with men like this. 

Mac slides his hands into his pockets, using the movement as a cover to brush his knuckles against Riley’s fist. I know. I’m here. I’m sorry. 

For the first time, Conrad addresses Riley directly. “Yes. Tomorrow. Unless that’s something you can’t do?” 

“We can do that,” she replies calmly, and the difference between her reactions is like night and day. As quickly as that crack appeared, it was gone. 

“Excellent.” Conrad takes another step toward Riley, offering to shake hands, but Harley’s low, menacing growl keeps him at bay. Rewarding the dog with a quick scratch on the head, Riley closes the gap and shakes Conrad’s still-outstretched hand. 

“It’s a deal,” she says. Following suit, Mac shakes Conrad’s hand as well and follows Riley out the door, neither of them uttering another word. 

Mac drives. One look at Riley’s trembling fist decides for him. 

By the time the warehouse disappears from the rearview mirror, he can’t take the silence anymore. “Hey,” Mac starts, but Riley cuts him off with a hand. 

“Not until we’re inside.” 

They hit every single red light between the warehouse and the apartment, and Mac anxiously taps the steering wheel. Raindrops land on the windshield. They’re small at first, but soon the drops are large and numerous enough to refract the streetlights, and Mac struggles to see where he’s going. He adjusts the windshield wipers over and over, never landing on the right speed. 

Too slow. Too fast. Too slow. Too fast. 

Mac settles on a setting that’s slightly too fast, and the squeak of rubber on glass nearly matches his heart thudding in his chest. 

Riley stares straight ahead, unmoving, unblinking. Mac wants to reach out, to let a gentle touch say what he verbally can’t, but the road is slick enough to make him keep two hands on the wheel. We’re almost there, he reassures himself. 

By the time he parks, it’s pouring hard enough that the ten second walk from the car to the door soaks them to the bone. Riley’s hands shake as she unlocks the apartment door. 

Once they’re inside and Mac unclips Harley’s leash, Riley turns to him with pained, pleading eyes. His heart breaking all over again, Mac draws her in for a long, tight hug. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. 

Mac just cradles the back of her head and sways gently, wishing he could fix the world for her. 

Neither pulls away, even when Riley suddenly says, “If Conrad was smart, he would’ve had someone bug our car while he paraded us around the warehouse. I don’t think he’s actually smart enough to do that, but we should check first, just in case.” 

Mac curses himself for not thinking of that. “Good call.” He rubs Riley’s back, hoping the gesture is soothing. “I hate the way he treated you,” he snarls. “Like you weren’t even worth acknowledging.” 

“Welcome to being a woman.” 

It was more than that. They both know it. But neither say it.

*****

“You need what?” Matty shrieks over the phone. 

Mac winces. “Sorry.” He’d called Desi first, to ask what kind of guns Conrad meant with his innuendo, and received a verbal lashing for not asking any follow-up questions. But she made her best guess anyway. Now on the phone with Matty, it doesn’t take even a single brain cell to know that her reaction will be much, much worse. 

“He wants us to prove ourselves,” Riley adds. “As a show of good faith.” The words come out dripping in venom, but their boss doesn’t comment. Mac takes a second to study her; Riley changed into leggings and an oversized flannel shirt, and there are still remnants of dark makeup smudges under her eyes. Now, she’s sitting on the kitchen counter with her knees tucked into her chest. It’s weird to see her take up so little space. 

Matty sighs, deeply and loudly in a way conveys her annoyance more than words ever could. “Fine. A few weeks ago, Border Control confiscated a huge shipment of smuggled guns near El Paso, so I’ll see if we can borrow those. But next time, Blondie, don’t make promises you can’t keep.” He doesn’t correct Matty in that it was Riley who made the deal. That would only add fuel to the fire. 

“Thank you,” he says, and Matty hangs up. Mac runs a hand through his damp hair. “That went well.” Riley’s lips twitch, but it’s not the amused reaction he hopes for. He’s at a complete loss regarding what to say to her, so Mac gently asks, “What can I do?” 

Riley slides off the counter, and Mac reaches for her automatically, although he doesn’t actually touch her; his hand hovers just beside Riley’s elbow. She doesn’t shrink away, but she makes no move to touch him either. 

“Help me put him and everyone like him in a deep, dark hole where they can’t hurt anybody. And then just…” she trails off, taking a deep breath. “Keep being you.” 

With that, she walks away, leaving Mac alone in the kitchen, racking his brain to figure out what that last part means.

*****

Later that night, Mac tosses and turns, replaying Conrad’s words. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off. They seem off-kilter, like what the man said and what he really meant are misaligned. Mac sighs, rubbing his face. 

Another bolt of lightning illuminates the bedroom, and Mac automatically counts the seconds until he hears thunder rumbling in the distance. The storm is moving closer. 

Beside him, Riley lies on her back with her eyes closed, although her breathing is too light for her to be asleep. Mac wonders if her mind is just as loud and chaotic as his. 

For Riley’s sake, he hopes it’s not.

*****

Sleep never finds Mac. 

The storm rages all through the night, but by the time dawn arrives, the thunder and wind dissipate, leaving just the steady downpour. The clouds are dark enough that Mac can hardly tell the sun even bothered to rise this morning. 

When Riley’s alarm goes off, it’s like the shrill tone is mocking Mac for being awake. Riley groans as she shuts it off. 

“Morning,” he mumbles. His throat hurts. He needs water. “Did you sleep well?”

Another groan. “No.” 

“At least you slept,” Mac mutters.

Riley rolls onto her side, drawing one of the extra pillows into her chest. “Do you always toss and turn that much?”

It was his fault, he realizes, that she didn’t sleep. Mac suddenly feels guilty. “Sorry. And no.” 

He expects Riley to be upset at being kept awake, but she isn’t. With a look that just might be understanding, she softly asks, “What were you thinking about?” 

Mac can’t say that his thoughts whip around his mind like raindrops in last night’s storm. Not without sounding crazy, at least. So instead he says, “I don’t even know. I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Me too,” Riley admits. “It feels off.” Her eyes are heavy, and Mac’s had enough early mornings with Riley to know it’s not just the lack of sleep weighing her down. 

“Go back to sleep. I can handle the delivery.” 

Riley rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not letting you do that by yourself.” 

He doesn’t argue. “Okay.” 

A moment passes between them. It’s been happening more and more lately—holding eye contact a little too long, sharing smirks when no one else is looking, stealing moments where it’s just the two of them and nothing else matters. Each one gives him hope that there’s not a wall between them, but instead, a door. Someone just has to be brave enough to open it. 

Sitting up, Riley quipps, “Just don’t make me regret letting you sleep in the bed with me.” Mac snorts. 

“No promises.”

.

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[labtrinthine]

just finished binging

I have thoughts and feels.

1. I went into this knowing that General Kirigan/Aleksander Morozova was the villain. But, um, bitch where? Perhaps it’s in the books, but all I see is a man pushed to the extremes by the prejudice and hatred of others, even his own mother. I see a psychologically abused boy with an emotionally-distant at best mother. I see a young man trying to do his best for his people, to save them, to try and make them safe, only for everything he was trying to do be torn down and made into something vile by people who refused to let go of their prejudice and hatred and fear. 

2. Is he a manipulative ho and kind of a dick? Yeah, but he’s also a centuries years old man used to operating in the dark, power-behind-the-throne style. You don’t live in that kind of setting for as long as he did without becoming what he is. He survived as long as he did, became as politically powerful as he did, because he became a liar, because he became manipulative, because he learned to plan with one face and speak with another, molding himself into whatever the audience wanted or needed to see. But, at the truth of him, everything he did, he did to keep his kind safe.

3. Baghra is a just a large bag of dicks, and I’m sorry for any fans of hers. SO MANY THINGS could have ended differently if she just, I don’t know, maybe supported her fucking son? Based on the flashback, she weaponized him, isolated him even from others of their kind, constantly ripped down his hope and his dreams, and then has the gall to be disappointed when he goes down the wrong path? 

4. Alina makes me so mad at the end of episode 5. At this point she has a decision: trust the ancient lady that keeps hitting her, mocking her, and ridiculing her OR trust the man who on every level kept checking in with her to make sure he didn’t overstep. His body language is open and non-aggressive. He puts himself down to her level or raises her up, time and time again. I’m guessing a lot of this is down to the actor and how he portrays the role, but it’s practically written on his face in every scene that he’s so fucking whipped. The fact that she didn’t even consider getting his side of the story tells me a lot about her, especially with how quickly she falls back into line with Mal as soon as he finds her. She didn’t love him - she noticed Aleksander’s affection for her and decided to use it, use him. Partly as revenge against the boy she did love and thought abandoned her, and partly to make her life easier in the Little Palace. After all, no one’s going to fuck with the general’s sweetheart, whether she’s half-Shu or not. 

5. Major points to her though for pointing out and sticking to her guns on the lack of consent regarding the collaring situation. I love that she flat out tells him that he maybe could have had her cooperation had he been fully honest with her from the start - though honestly how does one really disclose that kind of information? Is that first date territory? “Sorry luv, I’m actually a quasi-immortal being of indeterminate age  - at least a few hundred, possibly more but I’m not admitting to anything - who is directly responsible for that terrible monstrosity ripping apart the nation you grew up in and yeah it was an accident, but I would greatly like to make it not-an-accident and find a way to make use of it.” How do you even begin that conversation?

6. I’m actually kind of mad that absolutely NO ONE at any point in time thanks him for what he’s done and what he’s doing? Like, before him, all grisha were basically treated the same way we see the Fjerdans’ treating them - something to be hunted down with extreme prejudice. Under his ‘rule’ they grew up in comfort with others of their kind, casually mingling with nobility, knowing that if they are hurt or talked down to or anything, their General will fucking butcher things in their name. They are well-fed, well clothed, and protected as much as he can.

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 31

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The memories come to an end

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

It didn’t matter that they dragged him, restrained with glyphed chains and shackles, through a glowing portal that had looked very similar to the one he’d first gone through.

It didn’t matter that their headquarters seemed to be an old manor filled with strange artifacts and old furniture.

It didn’t matter that they told him, after throwing him into a basement cell lined with glyphs, that they were a group called the Masters of the Mystic Arts.

They were HYDRA and they were going to use him like they always used him. Bucky expected Colonel Vasily Karpov to walk through the door any moment, but his only visitor was a soft-spoken bald woman. She was pale, unnaturally so, and had a very precise way of speaking. She apparently knew who he was but would only refer to him as “James.”

He hated it. Hated her sweet words given through iron bars. It was no different than how Fairbanks had treated him. Tricked Bucky with promises of hot meals, warm baths, and protection from the guards if he would just cooperate with Fairbanks’ vision.

But that’s not what the woman asked of him. Bucky didn’t know what she wanted. She would visit him, talk to him, ask him questions about his life before HYDRA. His captors had never done that before, had never encouraged him to talk about his past as a human before they managed to burn away his memories and trick him into believing he was a full-fledged demon.

It was confusing, even more so when he was moved out of the cell and into a proper room. He still had to wear the bespelled shackles that left him weak and harmless, but they didn’t beat him or taunt him or force him to feed. In fact, the woman, who called herself the Ancient One like it was an actual title, gave him a tonic that would make the hunger go away.

Bucky didn’t believe a damn word she said. He remembered the last time he’d been offered something like this from Lukin. It had been a salve that had artificially induced his next heat, and he’d been mocked cruelly before Lukin would allow his men to sate Bucky’s cursed hunger.

And now that same hunger grew so strong that eventually Bucky drank the liquid, because nothing could be worse than the agony twisting through his body. To his eternal shock, it helped. Made the searing desire in his gut vanish into a dull ache.

That was when Bucky had finally begun to believe her. This wasn’t HYDRA, and he wasn’t going to be used as a weapon again. When he’d told the Ancient One of his conclusions, she had smiled and said, “I know that must have been very difficult for you, James. I appreciate your trust.”

Bucky wouldn’t go that far, he was a long way from trusting his new captors, but when she returned the stuffed cat to him with the strange advice that he should “take care of precious things,” he was well on his way to tolerating her.

For the next few months, Bucky spent his time relearning how to be a person. He rediscovered his love of knowledge, and the Sanctum provided much of that. The books, especially. He was fascinated by the large, bound tomes that smelled like dust and forgotten time. Focusing on consuming as many books as possible was a way for him to adjust to living as a… well, as a human again.

The Ancient One had encouraged his time in the library once she trusted him with having more access to the Sanctum. The other sorcerers had wanted to keep Bucky contained in the glyph-warded cell, but she told them, “If you cage a man like an animal, expect him to act as a beast.”

Bucky was growing quite fond of her.

For the first time in a long time, Bucky wasn’t hypervigilant and waiting for the next attack, whether from HYDRA soldiers or other demons. He was healing, very slowly recovering from the decades of traumatic memories he had to sort through. It was even more confusing with the “time dilation” he’d experienced in the demon realm. Forty-eight years had passed for him when only four years had passed on Earth. It was 1995, he was in New York City, and his only acquaintances were a sect of secretive sorcerers who kept him locked up in an ancient manor.

Things could have been worse, all things considered.

Something did happen one day to dampen his spirits. It was a warm early summer day, and they were enjoying the sunshine within the Sanctum rooftop garden. The Ancient One was training him to extend his guise around his clawed feet to make them appear as if he was wearing boots. She insisted it was possible, that Bucky had already shown an affinity for magic with his ability to take away, and later they learned, share memories.

But making his demonic aspects disappear was one thing, trying to create illusionary clothing was another, and he was growing frustrated with his efforts, or lack thereof.

“Fairbanks told me my transformation was complete,” Bucky grumbled, staring at his clawed feet as if they’d done him personal wrong. “There weren’t supposed to be any more changes, but now I have to lug these things around.”

He flexed his talons to demonstrate his meaning, grimacing at the animalistic shape of them. At least with his other changes, he’d managed to guise himself enough to look human. Now, with this…

“As if I didn’t already look like a monster,” he muttered.

“Evil men lie. You know this more intimately than most.” The Ancient One seemed almost distracted, staring over the rooftop and toward the city skyline. Then she turned toward him, her smile muted in sadness. “You’re no monster, James.”

Bucky looked away, unable to look at such sincerity for too long. She really did believe what she said.

“This isn’t working.” He sat back with a huff. “I can’t do it.”

Instead of her mild chastisement for giving up so easily, the Ancient One remained silent. Bucky looked up to find her staring off to the side again, her gaze fixed on something that wasn’t there.

“What’s wrong?”

She blinked and turned back to him, giving him one of those small smiles.

“Nothing, James. Why do you ask?”

“You seem distracted.” She was never distracted. Thoughtful and meditative, sure, but never unfocused like she’d been all day.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “I thought I heard a voice.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped, mired with guilt. He’d forgotten all about his own mysterious voice. He experienced the same shade of guilt and grief whenever he remembered what had happened to Steve. Died saving the world, not long after Bucky had been imprisoned. And here Bucky was, alive and whole, and he hadn’t bothered to think about the entity, real or imagined, that had kept him from going insane in the demon realm. It had helped him remember who he was and kept at bay the devastating loneliness.

He could barely remember what the voice sounded like.

He opened his mouth to ask her to explain what she meant, but the Ancient One clapped her hands together and said, “Let us try again. You’re letting your frustration get the better of you. Focus on what you desire and shape it into the world.”

Bucky sighed and unwillingly turned back to his lessons, the weight of loneliness still lingering at the back of his mind.

***

“This isn’t working.”

You watched Bucky struggle, unable to help or communicate with him. Not like you’d done before. Trapped on the demon world, Bucky had somehow been able to hear you. Even talk to you.

You’d almost forgotten who you were in that place. It had been so easy to just be with Bucky, to sink into his mind and be so close you weren’t sure who was who. And then you’d been jostled awake when he’d had leapt through the portal. It had been agony, split in two, and you’d been torn from Bucky and forced back into your own non-corporeal state.

And that’s where you’d remained. Seeing yourself as a child lose your memories. Forced to watch Bucky feed and suffer and then be captured, but when you’d realized who had him, you’d been relieved for the first time since being trapped in Bucky’s memories.

Now that you knew the Ancient One, had witnessed firsthand how kind and gentle she was with Bucky, you were shamed by your previous jealousy. She grew on you, and after a time, you felt like you knew her just as well as Bucky did.

Perhaps that explained what happened next.

“I can’t do it.”

Bucky’s frustration was aimed at the Ancient One, but she paid him no attention. Her eyes were focused directly on the spot where you stood.

The world grew quiet and still. The wizards around you, moving to and from their tasks, were now frozen in midstride. The water bubbling up from a nearby fountain hung in the air like a glass sculpture. Bucky sat half-hunched on the stone bench, glaring at his clawed feet.

Cold fear washed through your non-spine as the Ancient One smiled.

“Ah, there you are.”

You glanced around just to be extra sure she was addressing you, but the world was still frozen. Even the air was a dead weight against your skin.

“You…” Your voice trembled, unused in so long. “You can see me?”

“Of course,” she said, addressing you by name just to make the moment more surreal. “I sensed James had a passenger. How long have you been attached to him?”

Horror, hope, terror, all of it vied for control. Your next words were a messy jumble.

“I… I don’t know. I was, we were just. He was showing me his memories, but they were the wrong ones, and I got stuck—Please, you have to help me!”

The Ancient One raised a hand, palm toward you in a soothing manner.

“It’s all right. There’s no need to be afraid. Take your time, for we have plenty of it.”

You closed your mouth and took a deep breath, allowing the tension to leech from your muscles.

“That’s better,” she said, her voice smooth and her smile kind. “We shall start with something simple. Have we met before?”

“I… no. I don’t think so.” That was something simple? “I mean, I thought you were…”

Your voice trailed off into silence. Were you supposed to tell her she was dead? Or… would be dead. How were you even able to speak to her? Wasn’t this just a memory? You couldn’t affect a memory, right?

“Ah.” She gave you a knowing look. “I see.”

Her gaze drifted down to where Bucky sat, her expression fond. She didn’t seem to be very upset with the fact she would be dead sometime in the future.

“I take it you are important to James? You must be, for him to willingly share his memories with you.”

“I… yes,” you said, following her gaze to Bucky. Even now in a strange, frozen moment, you ached to touch him again. Hell, you ached just to speak with him, for him to see you and know you again. Being a stranger to Bucky was unbearable. “He’s important to me, too.”

“I sense that is true. Perhaps more than you realize.”

After a moment of quietness, she met your eye again. Something had shifted within her, and her tone grew serious.

“To answer the question you wish to ask, this is James’ memory, but it is also your present. You are untethered from reality and trapped in a time-loop.”

“A… a what?”

“It’s very fortunate I found you at this moment, in this place,” she continued as if you hadn’t spoken. “I suspect you would have been trapped, until such a time you would have caught up to the place you had become untethered, and time would have repeated itself.”

Her eyes darkened and the smile was gone. You wanted to retreat but your feet, as they had been from the start, were unable to move.

“Journeying through time is extremely dangerous.” There was thunder in her words, quiet but frightening, and you wanted to recoil. “Who is your teacher? Surely they would not have been so negligent with your education.”

“I—“ You swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. A teacher? For what?”

She stared at you for a hard minute, expression never changing, and in that moment you could sense the vast, unknowable power that lingered within this seemingly frail-looking woman.

“Listen to me well, young one,” she said. “When you return to your present, seek out the Sorcerer Supreme. I will not gaze forward to see who it is, as one should not know too much of their own fate. But when you return, go to the leader of the Order, and tell them I said…”

Her gaze dropped downward, a fond smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Even though you didn’t technically had lungs, you could breathe easier now that her dark gaze was gone.

“Tell them it’s their responsibility to shape the future of our kind. No matter what tests they’ve conducted or conclusions they’ve come to, you must be taught our ways. Neglecting to do so will result in consequences like these. Or worse.”

The Ancient One clapped her hands together again, the oversized sleeves pooling at her elbow to expose her thin arms.

“Now, it’s time I send you back, yes? Oh, one last thing.”

“Oh. Uh, y-yeah?”

“When the moment comes and the obvious choice feels wrong…” She looked you directly in the eye, a piercing gaze that went right through. “…trust yourself to find a different answer. Do not doubt yourself, even while others will. Your life, and James’, both depend on it. Do you understand?”

“Uh—no,” you stuttered. “No, I don’t understand—Wait!”

Your protest went unheeded as the Ancient One moved toward you while also remaining firmly in place. A shimmering second copy of her walked across the stone, raised a palm, and shoved you hard in the chest.

Gasping and clutching your shirt, you bolted upright with a cry. You were back in your bedroom, sprawled out on your bed and panting as if you’d run a marathon.

And Bucky was staring down at you with complete and utter horror.

Next Chapter

[off-in-the-moors]

Joseph Kavinsky analysis, part 1

aka how did I get here and why is he the reason

Warnings: spoilers for the whole Raven Cycle, mentions of: drug-use, abuse, death, murder, homophobic slurs, xenophobia

Part 1 // Part 2

After finishing The Raven Cycle and analyzing every chapter, character and the overarching plot with my friend, we were left feeling empty. It's been few months, I kept looking-up more TRC related things, other people's opinions, look through fandom content and even read some post from the author's, now deleted, tumblr account, trying to find answers to why I'm feeling like this. Why the books seem to decline for me in quality as I kept reading? Why I can't see Ronan in the same light as the rest of the fandom? Why I couldn't like the author? And the answer was looking me in the eyes the whole time.

"Depending on where you began the story, it was about Joseph Kavinsky."

I loved his character from the moment we met him in The Dream Thieves and still think about him to this day. But why? In a way, Kavinsky is too familiar to me, from his attitude, through appearance to his voice. It’s like I knew him, and this isn’t surprising. I met/saw Kavinskys on the streets, I know Kavinskys, and I was a Kavinsky once in my life. Although I'm the opposed to him, I still sympathies with him and understand how it feels to be in dark places in your life. And I'm not the only one, many people adore him and don't deny his actions to be terrible. But on the other side, the majority of fans hates him and titles him "the worst/most evil antagonist of the series". But why? What about K makes him so polarizing? The simple answer is: the way he was presented and the function he played in the plot. Even then, K's whole arc in TDT was handled horribly and damaged the way readers will view, not only people like K but also themselves. This and also future posts, I’ll be analyzing everything relied to K, including his treatment after book's release by the author and what some deleted scenes and unused ending can shine on.

This is part 1 of a series of posts to come.

This part is about the narrative and characters views of Kavinsky.

Narrative and characters

Narrative is a powerful tool of telling a story, well crafted and coupled with character's internal-voice makes the reader view the story under different light. In a PoV of one character, one thing might bring-up different emotions and ideas, than the others. Exploring relationships and events differ, because everybody experience it differently. But problem begins when the narrative forces a reader to a opinion, without backing it up with reasons or giving a opposing one. In case of Joseph Kavinsky, before we properly meet him, we are told by the characters to hate him and the narrative backs them up in reasons to hate him. All the reasons given to us at that time, boil down to "I heard a rumor."

Gansey hates him, because "There was nothing about Kavinsky that wasn’t despicable" and "he thinks life is a music video". He doesn't want Ronan to associated with him, which is connected with him covering and getting Ronan's ass for the mess he made, having him project his anger and frustration he has with Ronan on to K, who part-takes in the same activities and probably with Ronan, is understandable. But I didn't expect much from a guy who: payed the school officials so they won't kick Ronan out; insulted Adam and throw Adam’s abuse at his face, just to instant of apologizing to him, make a pity party for himself (also having Adam apologies to Gansey for his rightful outburst isn't okay), is fine with having a romantic relationship with Blue while she's still with Adam, hurting him even further but makes it all about himself, etc. Him hating K, just because of his lifestyle, made sense. But were the line was crossed, was when he started to decide on other people's worth. Lines like "we matter" (on which I'll extend later in the post) or "Ronan is fixable and has a soul [Kavinsky doesn't]", were used not only to show what Gansey himself thinks of K (he isn't a human being to him), but also demonize K and make the reader not consider him an equal to the Gangsey (a teenage).

Blue hates him, because he's yet another Raven Boy. Her hatred comes mostly from her distance for them, rich boys with privilege to which Gansey gang is an exception (although two out of four are exactly the kind she hates, and she told Noah directly she wouldn't be friends with him if he was alive) (There can be made a whole post about Blue's hypocrites regarding Raven Boys, but this isn't it). She also talks about how she doesn't feel comfortable around K and "if she couldn’t forgive Kavinsky for always managing to make her feel so insignificant", which makes sense. But while describing him, she calls him "a import from somewhere else", not only lessening him as a person but also making a xenophobic comment, noting his long nose as one of the factors (you could say, she meant him being from New Jersey, but you don't "import" stuff from inside a country, you only "import" from abroad and K is Bulgarian, doesn't matter if he's an immigrant or just has Bulgarian roots). Later, while discussing what to do with K draining the ley lines, Greyman offers to talk to him, to which Blue asks him "can you make him feel worthless while you do?”. Yes, she asked a hit-man, who killed not only Niall Lynch but also multiple people (including three on pages, which was described in the case of the ones breaking into Montmouth) for money. (Yes, fans say it's fine he murdered Niall, because he was a dick and horrible father, but what we forget is that it wasn't a fast death. It was slow and brutal, having him bludgeoned to send a message to Declan. No "he was a weapon in Greenmatle's hand" can excuse it.). Plus, he beat-up and threatened Declan with a gun if he doesn't give him the Greywaren. "Making him feel worthless" can only mean the worst. Kavinsky was a asshole, but he didn't deserved that. Also Blue gives the idea to give Kavisnky to the Greyman instant of Ronan, which was shot down, but not because it's horrible, inhuman and they can't decide on someone else's life, but because they think Greenmantle's people will come back also for Ronan. They were ok, with K being basically a scapegoat so Ronan will live.

Adam just "hates that prick" and "looked at the table with a studied disinterest" when K approached their table at Nino's, those are his only interaction in anything Kavinsky related (In a part regarding the "original" ending, we'll see it wasn't always the case.).

Noah barely exists in the series after The Raven Boys and never comes in contact with K or gives any opinion on him, outside of "ducked his head down into his shoulders, but couldn't take his eyes off the newcomer".

Ronan's relation with K could be its own post all together and there already are some good post about it, but for this one, I'll only mention few things. He gives us a very "I hate him but I'm into this lifestyle" attitude. He races against K but doesn't want to have anything to do with him or he's "dogs". (Yes, Dream Packs canon name is "Kavinsky's pack of dogs" as Ronan calls them. Ironically, Ronan gets angry then Declan and K called him "Gansey's dog" but is fine when Gansey calls him "his dog".) He never thanked or acknowledged K saved his life from the Night Horror. He accepted K's help in dreaming-up the new Pig but afterwords ditches him without even a slit gratefulness (his motivation being remembering Gansey's words), and mocks that K thought there could be anything between them (friendship or relationship, it dependents how you interpret it), turning this into just using K to get what he wanted. And yes, what K did while Ronan slept (tracing Ronan's back tattoo with his finger) was unacceptable, if it really happened and wasn't just phantom-touch while falling asleep (if it was real, it can be interpreted as K acting out of his internalized homophobia, letting himself a moment of “curiosity”, but it still wouldn't make it fine).

Ronan and K insult one-another multiple times through-out the story but the difference is quite showing. K's insults are mostly homophobic, calling Ronan a "fag" or implying Ronan and Gansey are together. This is a typical teenage insults, but are also showing of K's internalized homophobia if viewed through "Don’t say Dick Gansey, man. Do not say it. He is never going to be with you. And don’t me tell you don’t swing that way, man. I’m in your head." and "It's a bomb. Just like you." scenes.

But Ronan, excepting the typical insults like "ball-sack", goes after who K is. "Bulgarian mobster Jersey trash piece of shit" or "Russian" (to the latter, K responded "Hey now, let's not make this ugly") are personal, referring not only to from where K's from, implying he's a mobster like his father and just calling him "a waste". Unfortunately, K's whole character is already one big stereotype of Slavs as viewed not only by Americans. But insulting someone for being "Bulgarian", something they had no control over, is xenophobic. (And for "Russian", as a Slav myself, let me tell you. Calling a non-Russian Slav "Russian" is a quick way to get on their bad side.) And if you're like "Ronan isn't xenophobic, because he's Irish" or "Maggie isn't xenophobic, because Ronan...", you have no idea how things work in Europe. This is the same argument as "He can't be racist, because he's black". TRC fandom is always ready to bring-up all K's sins and even enlarge them, but when in comes to Ronan, all his sins are either forgotten or excused.

One more thing I want to touch on is one of K's parties. After Monmouth got broken into by people looking for Greywaren (which Greyman broke into first), Gansey thinks it must be Kavinsky's doing, because of the fake ID left in front of the door. Him and Ronan go to K's party, he tells them, it's a substance party and asks where are theirs. As an answer, Ronan hits him in the face and throws through a car, just to show him his blooded knuckles with "This is your substance.". The rest is Gansey and Ronan not believing K, that he didn't trash their place, and a "different Gansey" throwing a Molotov cocktail at K's car. After that, they leave. But one thing isn't sitting right with me. The "This is your substance" is a beloved, may I say iconic, scene that is glorified by fans and cited as this "Ronan is so cool and K soo deserved it" thing.

Here's the thing. K is in full right. It's his party, on his rules. Gansey and Ronan just came from nowhere, probably for the first time, so the rule is stated for them. And Ronan's response? Physically assault K. Even if he's angry about the apartment, still he shouldn't just assault him. And Gansey does nothing. And one more thing: K never hits Ronan back. Not in next chapters, not at the end. Never.

Before the chapter ends, we get probably my most hated line from this book:

"Closing his eyes, Gansey leaned his head back on his seat, chin tilted up, throat green in the dash lights. There was still an unsafe sort of smile about his mouth — what a torment the possibility in that smile was — and he said, “There was never a time when that could’ve been you and me. You know the difference between us and Kavinsky? We matter."

We matter. And he doesn't. I could talk about this line and how damaging it is to people who see themselves in Kavinsky, but instant I'll say, why I hate it.

I have anxiety mixed with being introverted and back-in-the-day I felt isolated from my classmates, desperate for friends but only had toxic ones who dropped me so the popular girls would talk with them, just to be friends with me again after some time, bullied to the point of breaking multiple times, and hating myself for not fitting in, unable to connected with my peers in anyway. The line "we matter" echos my worst fear and thoughts from that time. "Everyone matter, you don't". I was too young to even have those thoughts, but they were always there. In the back of my head, like a recurring nightmare.

Just the idea, someone can say with confidence that someone, anyone, doesn't matter, makes me sick. No one has the inside to what's going on in someones life, to what thought are plaguing their head. Everyone's life matter and to say something like this in a book targeted to 12-18 year olds, who are at there most vulnerable stage, is not only irresponsible but enraging. Gansey is saying this about a guy his age, who is drug-addicted and self-destructive, because he doesn't like him and wants Ronan to stay away from. No one calls him out on it. Not Ronan, not the narrative. Nothing.

Until the kidnapping of Matthew and the paradox/question "did the tattoo tracing scene happened?", Kavinsky did nothing to earn hatred from the reader. He was living his life, being a stupid, reckless teenage boy with a power to get everything he wanted. Ask yourself a question: "If you had the power to pulled anything* from your dreams, wouldn't you go crazy with it? Maybe in a very selfish way?"

*  Throughout TRC and CDtH, we see no limit to what a dreamer can pull-out. From a pen or working car, living creatures (animals, copies of real people or purely made-up) to abstract things, like a word with power to animate the dead or an apocalypses.

Yes, K's dreaming drained the ley lines, causing Cabeswater to disappear. But did K knew about it? He knew that he needed to wait for it to recharge before dreaming more things and he did just that. The over-draining was cause by preparations for this Fourth of July party (dreaming many copies of his Mitsubishi) but same did Ronan’s dreaming (but Cabeswater acts as weird gatekeeper, so Ronan seems to be forgiven). But did he knew about Cabeswater? Or furthermore, Glendower? We can't confirm or deny it, but considering K isn't from Henrietta and probably is there only for school, he's there for about 2 years. Would he be interested in some random forest or some Welsh King, which just idea of him being in America is so far fetched to believe in?

No. All he was interested it, was parting and wasting himself away.

We don't get any other or opposing opinions on Kavinsky, only the ones given by Gangsey. They are the outsiders looking in, not having any inside, just rumors and their shallow observations/interactions. But we don't even get any "inside", not from other Raven Boys or even the Dream Pack (who are barely characters). After K's death, the only thing we get is Gangsey's not caring or being glad K's gone. Aglionby is silent and Henrietta, doesn't even acknowledge Fourth of July's Party even happened (but to be honest, the town feels like a theater stage than a living place). The only mentions about K that gives some idea someone noticed anything, was his name alongside Whelk’s and Dittley's in the newspaper at the end of BLLB (but this plot point is never mentioned again).

[secrets-of-the-library]

This is a fan-created personal home of Antonio Carriedo, the Hetalia personified nation of Spain. I did look up a few reference pictures but I mostly just took a few ideas I liked from them (A courtyard, a tower, certain design features, etc etc) but it is mostly ‘winged’ and ‘as I felt like it’. I’m not Spanish and I wasn’t aiming to do a 100% authentic or accurate build here. Just for fun. I like to imagine that he loves this huge mansion that he has built up over the years and there is TONS of plants and things to do to entertain not only himself but also guests, friends, and family. Like Arthur, he has his own personal office too. I can imagine Arthur complaining about his home being too big and spacious though lol.

Remember: This is fan/headcanon created. I build for fun and am not a professional. I do not build with the intention of having it livable/non-clashing. If something clashes it will be up to you to fix it because I build for the pure aesthetic and not functionality. I own a lot of packs so if you don’t own all the ones used in this there might be issues.

After the cut here I will provide a visual walk-through via screen captures. You’re more than welcome to download it and look at it for yourself. My username on Sims4 is Shinoshallbugyou.

This project in particular was HUGE, again, I like to do huge projects and mansions. Because of its size the ‘cut’ will be huge as well, keep that in mind. I’ll do my best to walk you guys through it but if you have the game and packs the easiest way would be to just download it yourself.

I chose Oasis Springs because of its desert surroundings. The only lot bigger than this one is park lots. I was tempted to do a ‘central courtyard’ and a house essentially wrapped around it but I chose this one instead. I like to pretend that his property actually extends down several paths on the cliff and to some stables, horses, and etc down below. I like to think the road leading to his house is more long and windy but the lot simply isn’t big enough for it so I compromised. I’ll be showing an occasional night-time photo of the building here and there but for the most part I’ll stay in ‘Afternoon’ because it’s the brightest to see in.

The overall look...

Now the overhead breakdown of each floor, overall...

Now for some shots around the outside in certain spots. I really liked the idea of a courtyard and I wanted to do that. I’m always a fan of driveways that go down to another level of the house. Please note, I am aware that the driveway would be too steep realistically but this lot is NOT big enough so I made do. While cars are not a thing in the Sims 4 (They were in 3) I still like to pretend and put them in there anyways even if the objects do not work. I wanted to try my hand at a lot more balconies and playing around with the outside of a house more as well as trying things I normally wouldn’t do like leaving a section on the roof uncovered or throwing in more gazebos (Or whatever). I especially liked the below photo of a wall that kind of comes out in increments? It looked neat!

The front door. We’ll explore the 1st floor now. I wanted a ‘rug’ that would descend down with the leveled steps/platform here. There wasn’t one like that so I created one. I often play around with things and use them in ways they wouldn’t have been normally used in the game: Such as upsizing that tiny toy horse into a ‘statue’ of a horse.

Next up: The Living room. I can imagine that he shoved in some things to entertain people with like Foosball and more. This area has a balcony too and a lot of areas on this floor open up directly outside to have airflow. Each area kind of has its own ‘major color’ to it. This area is more ‘orange’.

Downstairs here is where I decided to put a bar, storage for drinks (He’s a mass producer of wine, after all, and he likes to drink on top of it) as well as the garage for where the cars would go, etc. I usually improvise and take other objects to look like other objects. ‘Wine caskets’ don’t exist- Those are some weird metal object in the game that is a wall decoration.

Next up is the bottom of the tower connected to the living room. The tower is the tallest building on the map with it being four stories high. The bottom is connected to the living room and it contains a small changing/towel area (This could double up for the pool/hot tub) but mainly for the sauna I have installed in there (Because why not?). I also plugged in a bathroom with the remaining room there. Because it is such a small space it is hard to see.

The next room we’re going to is the opposing wing on the 1st floor, on the opposite side of the main entry room. There is a staircase that goes upstairs here but through the archways is a small reading nook. There are multiple ‘flowing corridors’ around this building, both internally and externally, that are very open for air and breezes.Often these will have a lot of seating and decor mainly on the way to other rooms. I went for more white/grey here.

Next up is the first guest bedroom. It is sandwiched between two of these flowing ‘corridors’ and it has its own personal bathroom. These spaces are big enough for people to stay in plus an additional seating area.

The next is that corridor on the other side that leads out onto an outside corridor as well as the courtyard. I tried often to get different decorations and objects going on in some of these rooms that would differ them from the other ones so it wouldn’t all just blend together into nothingness.

Next up is the courtyard. I had to have some kind of courtyard in here and I really liked how this one turned out with its nooks and crannies. It leads back towards the front door, back to where we came from, or to a wrap-around corridor that is only specifically on this side of the house.

Next up is that wrap-around outside corridor. The first one has a wall separating it from the front of the property. What follows it is what I filled that property with. I thought it would be neat to place what would’ve been an old ruin there that has long since faded away. I thought it would be a treat for the eye. I’ve never been able to use those weird rounded structures from the romantic garden pack before so I wanted to see how they would look here.

Now here is the other half of the wrap-around corridor but what makes this one so different is... Even though it is plain it doesn’t have a wall barricading you and thus you can walk outside with your sim more here. This corridor leads into the solarium.

The Solarium is two stories tall with the 2nd floor being hallowed out in the middle with a pathway surrounding it and a  glass dome on top in a mock greenhouse effect. I wanted to play around with arches and I’ve always loved indoor gardens and such like these so I wanted to include it.

The Solarium branches out towards the ‘backyard’ where there is a pool, hot tub, karaoke, a fire pit, outdoor grilling area, and more. I really wanted to include this ‘gazebo’ effect not only for the look and aesthetic of it but also for potential ‘structural support’ for the 2nd floor balcony up there. Plus it ties in the same effect on the 3rd floor corridor up on top.

I forgot to get a picture of it but if you do an aerial view of the pool (Or perhaps basement level) I did add turtle decorations to the bottom of it. Tortugaaaa.

Here I’m going to show off the tower a bit. Please note: You can’t make rounded walls in the Sims 4. This is my closest attempt to being able to do that. I knew I wanted a tower and I’m happy with how it turned out. As I started it though it was trouble because I simply didn’t know what to do at first. I had no idea how to fill it and at first I was trying to put the staircase INSIDE rather than out. I finally got the idea for a wrap-around staircase which is also difficult given that they only make right angles. Putting them on the outside massively helped save on space inside. That and, actually, I had difficulty in general with stairs on this map. The awkward building spaces made it difficult to place them.

The overall look of the ‘backyard’ with roofs up.

The overall map layout of the 2nd floor with the stairs specifically outlined. I ended up giving up on trying to build another flight of stairs on the 2nd floor leading to the 3rd and settled for putting it, too, outside on the main back balcony. Out of everything on this map that was one of the most frustrating things that I struggled with. I don’t ever do outside stairs so this was interesting for me to try.

Next we’re going up the tower and coming into the pantry. It’s rather nice and big, he can grow stuff in there on hand to eat, a collection of fish, spices, oils, and etc is all in there.

The next up is the kitchen. This one was frustrating too but once it came together it was nice. I went out of my comfort zone here, too. I’ve never made a blue kitchen and while I loved the idea the Sims 4 pallet was NOT working with me. I even tried with yellow cabinets and it just wasn’t working. These cabinets were the best I could do which is rather unfortunate because I wanted older looking cabinets but... It’ll do. I accented it with white and it is very spacious for lots of company! This kitchen has its own balcony and small eating area out there too. While most would argue that the kitchen should go on the bottom floor I actually really liked it here specifically because of the panty, the additional balcony, and the large eating area on the back balcony too. That and the stairs into the main entryway are actually in here and near that front door so it isn’t as far as one would think.

If you look in the below photo, though you can barely see it... On the left countertop against the wall there is actually a ‘tea’ area. We ship spuk/engspa and so I like to think Antonio, while he does drink tea, doesn’t as much. He does have this little cute area for Arthur to make his tea at though. He himself has his own counter under a window where he stores all his coffee stuff. Also, while I’ve never done it before, I really like hiding the stairway with that china cabinet because it just changed the whole atmosphere of the room.

Below is a rather chunky corridor that I chose a ‘black and white’ tile scheme for. It really only serves as a point A to B type of thing. The kitchen is to the right, another corridor to the left, below is a balcony that overhangs the front entryway and the doors at the top of the image lead to a massive back balcony that serves as an outside dining area that I imagine Antonio actually prefers to eat in because of the views and especially when he hosts guests.

Next is the corridor to the left of that chunky middle section. This is a rather odd-shaped corridor that was one of the last things I put together because I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do with it. I ended up having it being a seating area, a bathroom, a piano area, a small library area, and another seating area. It leads to another guest bedroom as well as the solarium/wrap-around-corridor on that side of the building, to continue the pattern from below. I went with a ‘yellow’ kind of theme here which is completely out of my element. Also, I realize that the lighting on the piano area looks out of place compared to the rest of it but I wanted it that way so that the piano had a spotlight feature.

Alright- The last ‘room’ on this floor. The second guest bedroom. This one doesn’t have its own personal bathroom (Just down the hall) but it does have its own balcony and it is bigger. I actually like this one more, I think.

Alright. This is the last main wrap-around corridor. It opens up and is not separated from the 2nd floor of the solarium. I decided to differentiate this one big time by introducing colored carpets and furniture to give it a fun touch. Also it does have a ‘hookah’ area lmao. The solarium part is  alittle more boring but it does have activities for your sim to do such as painting, woodworking, and more. I figured it was a good spot to put misc hobbies since it is more out of the way of the usual social areas but has a great view and airspace.

Now for the last section of the 2nd floor: The main back balcony. This thing is huge and has a LOT of seating. I really like that big main dining table, the record player, and decorations. There is a stairway here that I put in, cutting through the roof, to get to the 3rd floor because I could‘t figure out how else to do it. I actually picture Antonio preferring to eat out here.

This is that stairwell with the 3rd floor cut off.

And here it is with the 3rd floor activated. It was a pain to get that to work but once I got it it worked just fine. I couldn’t figure out how to really connect the two separate buildings but then realized I could do an open-air corridor with no roof. That was DEFINITELY new for me and interesting to do!

With the roof on.

Next we’ll go to the office. I imagine that because he often shows up late (If even at all) and so he really utilizes this personal office and library a lot. It has its own personal bathroom, small kitchen, small records area, and eve a TV and fireplace near his desk. I often picture him trying to turn his desk around on the rug so that people on camera or on his zoom call won’t see his kitchen but I often see him forgetting to do that and so they just see a big microwave behind him lmao. Also I imagine, while the TV is helpful a lot for news and etc he is often distracted by soap operas, sports, and etc on it. Get to work, Antonio!

So we’re going to go back across that open-air corridor to the other wing and that is Antonio’s personal master bedroom and master bathroom. He has his own personal balcony that is colorful and relaxing.

First we’ll go into the master bathroom. I wanted a nice tub, plenty of space, more yellow accents... And I couldn’t figure out the shower and had to improvise. I actually put up stand-alone showerheads and nozzles into each of those pillars so he could take a really cool shower, if he wanted. I just didn’t want the shower to take away from the overall look of it and that seemed like the best option. Again, improvise, adapt, overcome.

Now for the final room on the 3rd floor: Antonio’s master bedroom. I went with ‘green for this’. It’s really cozy and colorful. I like to pretend that Arthur stitched those designs above his door and he hung them up because he loves them. Antonio also has a large walk-in closet/wardrobe that has been fitted onto the 3rd floor of this tower. I couldn’t get any good brown furniture to work so I shifted it to black in here. He’s a really fashionable guy and loves to care for his looks so it felt natural to make this his closet and area to get ready in.

From Antonio’s wardrobe... You have to use the stairs outside leading upstairs to the last and final room at the top of the tower and the 4th floor. It’s actually an attic/storage area and I often love putting these in the homes I build. I like to make them messy, cluttered, full of memories, and personal things to the person that lives specifically here. I always have a fun time trying to cram them full of stuff.

And with these last few pictures I wanted to show some of the scenery around in the area. It was a massive build and I’m glad I finally finished it at long last! Thanks for checking it out, it was a lot of hard work and time but I love it!

[ibijau]

Hi. Hope you are doing well. Mpreg anon again. You said you might take a prompt? Prompt: A month after Guanyin Temple, NHS visits LXC in seclusion and vents. They have a argument and LXC ends up fainting from stress. On examination, it's found out that LXC is pregnant with JGY's child, conceived on the same day he was kidnapped. Whether you want to make that con, dub con or non con is up to you. Even though the wounds are fresh, the two try to start over and fall in love.

well. I guess this will give you ONE of the things you asked for. But, like, I deviated a lot, oops?

warning for mentions of rape, and for a/b/o

“It's the easiest trick of all, isn't it?” Lan Xichen bitterly remarked. “Anyone knows how to make an unbound omega behave.”

Nie Huaisang could only stare at the other man's neck in horror.

He had wondered, more than once, how Jin Guangyao had managed to get such docility out of Lan Xichen that night, why their Er-ge had been so willing to listen to every excuse, every lie.

It was to ask about this that Nie Huaisang had come to the Cloud Recesses, entering in secret. His jade token still worked, granting him free access to the entire place. It had been easy to avoid what few disciples patrolled around (the Lans were all too trusting) and make his way to the Hanshi. Nie Huaisang hadn't knocked, knowing already that his presence was undesirable. He'd gone inside directly and found Lan Xichen getting ready for bed, wearing only loose underclothes that revealed what his usually tight and high riding collars otherwise hid.

A bite mark on the side of his neck.

“How long ago?” Nie Huaisang hissed, feeling betrayed all over again.

If Lan Xichen had been Jin Guangyao's lover all along, perhaps even before Nie Mingjue's death, then Nie Huaisang should have planned for both of them to die.

Lan Xichen glared at him.

“Is that what you think of me?”

“Er-ge can't blame me for being curious.”

Glaring harder, Lan Xichen tried to wrap the collar of his shirt closer against in skin, vainly trying to hide the mark on his skin.

“You've never told me what you were going through,” he accused. “Why should I owe you the truth when you never thought I deserved it?”

“I'm not the one who mated with a murderer, Xichen,” Nie Huaisang retorted. “I hope you understand how different our situations are.”

“Are they really?” Lan Xichen snapped, taking a step forward.

Nie Huaisang took a step back without thinking, fear spiking in his guts, then returned to his position, pretending he'd never moved.

“I did not choose this,” Lan Xichen hissed, towering over Nie Huaisang. “And it would not have happened if you'd told me what he did to Da-ge as soon as you discovered it.”

“And risk exposing myself to his accomplice?” Nie Huaisang mocked. “I think not. How long ago, Er-ge? Just give me that much, at least. Or should I guess?” he suggested, sneering at the other man. “Ah... perhaps it was when you first met him? Another stupid omega falling for the wrong alpha and opening his legs right away, I've seen it happen again and again. But no, you wouldn't have let him go that easily, would you? And you wouldn't have sent him to Nightless City. Later then... When you swore brotherhood with him and Da-ge? A rather strong way to celebrate that new link between you.”

Nie Huaisang took out his fan and nervously played with it, pretending the look of sheer pure hatred in Lan Xichen's eyes did not terrify him.

That it did not hurt him, for things to have gotten this bad between them.

“No, A-Yao wouldn't have needed to marry Qin Su if you'd let him mount you then,” Nie Huaisang decided, opening his fan, only to close it again right away. “Later still. Maybe when...”

“He did this to me when I went to confront him about killing Da-ge,” Lan Xichen shouted, baring his neck. “He blocked my spiritual energy, fed me a potion, and sent me into a forced heat so he could do this to me!”

Nie Huaisang stumbled backward, nearly dropping his fan in shock.

He'd known that Jin Guangyao was desperate toward the end. Nie Huaisang had planned for him to get desperate, so he would make mistakes and reveal himself. Many others had suffered, certainly, but none of that had matter, not compared to the satisfaction of driving Jin Guangyao to absolute terror, to making him lose everything he'd worked so hard for.

It didn't matter if others were hurt as well.

It didn't matter, until Lan Xichen was hurt.

“I'd never have imagined he'd go that far!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “I swear I didn't think...”

“Neither did I,” Lan Xichen dryly cut him. “After so many years, I almost forgot sometimes that he was an alpha. I'll never forget again.”

Nie Huaisang nodded. It had never fully registered before that Jin Guangyao was, in spite of his size and mild manners, an alpha. He looked and acted more like he was a beta, like Nie Huaisang himself, or even sometimes an omega.

But he had been an alpha after all, in all the worst ways, and Nie Huaisang suddenly half wished he could bring Jin Guangyao back to life, just for the pleasure of seeing him die again. It was something to discuss with Wei Wuxian perhaps.

“Did it take?” Nie Huaisang asked. “You said he forced you to have a heat, did it take?”

Lan Xichen grimaced, and covered his mark again.

“I think that hardly concerns you. I've already told you more than I wished to say, just to make sure I'm not the next person you decide to be rid of.”

“Er-ge, I swear...”

“You swear? And what value does your word hold now?” Lan Xichen asked. “You swore also that you weren't sure whether Jin Guangyao moved or not. But this,” he gestured at his neck, “goes both way. He would have found it as hard to hurt me as it would have been for me to stand against him. So swear all you want, Nie zongzhu. I'm done trusting people who have shown themselves unworthy of it.”

“Er-ge, I really didn't mean to...”

“You really didn't mean to hurt me, perhaps?”

Nie Huaisang flinched at the unspoken comparison to Jin Guangyao who had professed the same thing. He'd known for a long while that they were too similar. The only way to destroy a man like Jin Guangyao was to use the same weapons as him, to become nearly indistinguishable from the evil one sought to eliminate.

Nie Huaisang had succeeded in one aspect, and in doing so had failed in all others.

“I understand, Er-ge,” he whispered with a bow. “I will leave now. Do you... should I return the jade token to you?”

“You'll need it to leave the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Xichen replied. “Keep it if you like. I'll have it be deactivated tomorrow. Unless you have sect business to deal with, I don't think you should return here, Nie zongzhu.”

“Of course. Then... farewell, Er-ge.”

“Lan zongzhu, if you don't mind.”

Nie Huaisang flinched again, but nodded.

“As you wish. Farewell, Lan zongzhu. I hope... I hope things will be better, from now on.”

Lan Xichen sneered, an unsettling expression to see on him, but did not reply. Nie Huaisang knew better than to insist, and promptly exited the Hanshi, knowing he was unlikely to ever enter it again.

[kob131]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=byjiwECylIE

So EruptionFang made a video about Raven Branwen. 

Considering his last video I watched (his Volume 8 Episode 2 Breakdown) was basically him shitting himself continuously because he’s STILL bitter about his headcanon being disproven, I don’t have high hopes.

But who knows, maybe he’ll make a good point.

0:00 - 1:24 “In RWBY, other characters get torn down to make Team RWBY look better, like the show only wants you to like Team RWBY! No one gets to be fleshed out or understood by the show! It’s SOOO disrespectful!”

...

*SMASH!*

Sorry, that was the sound of me faceplanting so hard I smashed a desk in half.

Really, Team RWBY never rises up and only other characters get torn down to make them look good? Yang never had to develop from being reckless as all hell to actually using her head in a fight? Blake didn’t have to get over her own fears and learn to accept help from others? Weiss didn’t have to struggle against her own personality to become a better person overall? Ruby didn’t have to struggle against the world itself and her own worldview to keep going?

This shit that is OBSERVABLE IN THE FUCKING SHOW didn’t happen? Sure, and there are two Adams. Even by the example you visually give (Avatar The Last Airbender)- Team RWBY still rose up like Team Aang did.

And don’t give me that ‘other characters get torn down!’ bullshit. The Ace Ops weren’t made to look bad to make Team RWBY look good- They failed because of their own personal flaws that were already established before that fight (Harriet’s recklessness, Elm’s temper, Vine’s detached attitude, Marrow’s disconnect). And Adam wasn’t torn down AT ALL: he remained the same damn character throughout his appearances and failed through his own failures born from his character.

And funny how you talk about other character not getting developed and yet ignore the Ace Ops’ boss. What’s wrong? Oh yeah, Ironwood IS developed (EXTENSIVELY. As in, we know more about his thought process, reasoning and actions than even WEISS, let alone Blake, Yang and Ruby.) so he just becomes a walking debunking of your OPENING ARGUMENT.

Not even past the intro and I’m already pissed.

1:46 ‘Any character’s righteous revolutions-’

Which didn’t exist, was disproven in the first episode and completely ignores BASIC writing tropes (like ‘Villians LIE’).

But please, keep talking about your delusions.

1:56 ‘There is an inescapable bubble Raven is in by both the audience and the characters!’

Spoiler Alert: It’s a bubble Raven HERSELF made in the first place.

‘A bubble that she’s a coward and cares about no one but herself.’

True and effectively true. I’ll explain WHY later.

(Nothing to say about the ‘Meeting Yang and Raven’ part, moving on)

8:37 - 8:51 *quotes Shane’s letter, portraying it as a cruel choice to ignore the Volume 2 stinger scene.*

So now we’ve moved on to tearing off chunks of Monty’s corpse and Shane’s grief to use for his own headcanon. Fan-fucking-tastic.

I have absolutely no sympathy for anyone using this- partially because it’s always using an emotional connection to Monty to manipulate the audience. Partially because this was a DUMB decision. 

Where the FUCK would Raven fit into Volume 3? Even the section EF takes from is about a fight that everyone agrees wouldn’t have fit into Volume 3 at all and served no purpose and this is the ONLY mention of Raven. Combine this with how Volume 3 is structured (where Raven can’t do anything that Qrow didn’t already do), how ambiguous the final scene of Volume 2 was, the Mary Sue accusations against Yang at this point and Raven’s revealed personality- She wouldn’t WORK in Volume 3. Just because Monty had the idea doesn’t make it a good one. Fuck, he BROUGHT ON Miles and Kerry BECAUSE he knew he wasn’t a writer and his last contribution (Maidens) was BY FAR the worst aspect of RWBY which proves that even more.

EF, you’re bitching that Raven wasn’t shoved into a Volume already overstuffed and lacking in time and resources. With NO purpose and contradicting her personality.

Congrats on encouraging bad writing.

10:43 ‘It doesn’t make sense that in introducing the maidens and making Raven one, they cut her attacking Pyrrha to get her Maiden powers!’

Yeah- nice headcanon. Too bad your own quote says they didn’t know the purpose, Shane’s letter never says the purpose either and you even say it’s speculation. Also too bad that we’re suppose to SYMPATHIZE with Raven on some level later on and a large part of why Cinder isn’t portrtayed as sympathetic is that she KILLED Pyrrha, Raven’s theoretical target. Thus Raven’s attack would make her even MORE unlikeable.

‘B-but it changes the context of what we know, like Yang’s search for her!”

And how? 

“Through her message to Yang, which was hostile and angry!”

... Really? The message of “I won’t save you again” is angry and hostile? It seems more matter of fact to me, informing Yang she won’t help her again not out of anger or dislike but through her worldview, which would be disconnected from her emotions on the surface.

Qrow’s words never include an insult or attack on Yang, like calling her weak or mocking her. You can INTERPRET it as hostile and angry but that depends on the subjective worldview of the person. The actual words and message don’t carry hostility or anger. They carry apathy.

‘B-but it splits her character in two-!’

Oh my god, did you SERIOUSLY try to pull another ‘Two Adams’ on me?

Raven DIDN’T HAVE a character to spilts in those two appearances. We knew nothing about her as a person. Her saving Yang and that supposed talk could have been for and about ANYTHING. That’s why there were so many theories: NOTHING was known. And nothing about those actions inform her character without context, which Volume 2 never gives.

This ‘first Raven’, like CJ Black’s ‘First Adam’, DOESN’T EXIST. It’s just a headcanon you refused to accept as being debunked.

‘W-well, Raven still looked after Yang when her arm was cut off!’

In bird form. And only bird form. And never directly interacts with Yang. All in a form Yang DOESN’T KNOW she’s in. Suffering from problems RAVEN HERSELF caused. WITH A FUCKING PORTAL TO HER AT ALL TIMES.

‘B-but her actions say that she DOES care!’

I knew PRECISELY what arguments you were gonna make the moment I started this video. Because they’re the SAME DAMN SHIT I’ve seen to defend Raven before. And let me go ahead and tear it down now: Raven being around in bird form means NOTHING. Without Yang knowing it’s her, it is meaningless. It’s WORSE than nothing because it demonstrates that Raven could have been with Yang throughout her life with no apparent cost to her because SHE WAS ALREADY DOING IT. And it means she watched Yang struggle with her abandonment and the toll it took on her family and ESPECIALLY Yang and did NOTHING to fix the problem. 

Even ignoring the portal thing, taking this one scene in a vacuum- her looking at her depressed daughter and then fucking off paints her as either so lacking in empathy that she can’t be bothered to help HER OWN CHILD or so ill equipped to be a parent she makes TFS Goku look like...well, Taiyang. With CONTEXT, (still ignoring the portal thing), she CAUSED this depression by scarring Yang all those years ago and made Yang’s life worse for it. With the portal, she couldn’t even do the barest of minimum standards.

You can try to portray this as beautiful all you want: Nothing is shown stopping Raven from actually BEING A PARENT FOR ONCE before this and after this, we KNOW it wouldn’t be difficult in the slightest and she STILL chooses to not help. It’s one of the worst cases of parental apathy I have ever seen and fuck you for trying to bitch out the creators because you chose to IGNORE CONTEXT.

‘Instead of making it so Raven abandoned Yang because of her Maiden powers, they instead chose to abandon her role as a mother!’

You mean they had a character make a decision that completely fits with how the audience would perceive the character at this point?

Everyone, consider what we know about Raven. She’s Qrow’s twin sister, meaning she’s logically just skilled and strong as Qrow is. She’s also a Maiden, something that gives characters an IMMENSE amount of power separate from their normal abilities. She has a decoy so no one knows what she actually is. She has a portal to and from Yang at ALL times. She’s as strong as the strongest non-Maiden character shown so far, IS a Maiden bolstering her power beyond the Maidens we DO know of and can instantly be there for Yang at any time in her life and get away if someone tries to go after her, which makes no sense if it’s about her being a Maiden because she has a DECOY for this thing.

And yet, with all these things working for her, giving her every advantage that DEFIES the common trope EF is pushing- Raven still ditched her, ditched her a second time and couldn’t even be bothered to give her deeply apathetic message herself. And now supposedly, Raven would suddenly become a mother to Yang...and we’re expected to feel happy about this.

Yeah, no. People would be outraged that Raven got off scot free. In no part

“Everyone keeps being hostile and angry with Raven, who is also being hostile and angry. This means that the other guys are just pidgeonholding her into this role!”

Yes, a trend that Raven HERSELF causes. Qrow is hostile towards her because she tried to act as though she cared about her family to Qrow, a character shown to be a loyal person, but ignores her own DAUGHTER when it’s supposedly about family. Yang is hostile towards Raven because she knows Raven could have been there for her but chose not to, all while she NEEDS to find her ACTUAL family. Even Taiyang’s look at the end of Volume 5 makes sense as if she’s there, that means she’s likely running from their daughter, whom she has failed as a parent YET AGAIN despite Taiyang giving her a generous interpretation.

Raven is being forced into a role SHE MADE FOR HERSELF.

“This isn’t how it was at the beginning of the show. Yang and by extension the audience is sad and curious while Raven and Qrow are angry and toxic.”

Again, you ignore context.

Yang knows NOTHING about Raven and was abandoned by her. Of course she’d be sad and curious.

But Qrow is different. He DOES know Raven, saw first hand what her actions have done to his family while being the type of person who would HATE this and Raven is actively being manipulative while also avoiding him as he asks for help in SAVING THE WORLD.

Later on, Yang finds Raven...after learning that Raven had every chance in the world to be there for her and chose NOT to. All while Raven exudes arrogance and a selfish pride in being a ‘prize’ for Yang to work towards.

Then Raven proceeds to use her as BAIT, abandon her, try to turn her against the family that HAS been there for her, insults the father and uncle who loved and cared for her- all for more power...that wouldn’t even solve the problem Raven has. She stabbed her own brother and daughter in the back...for nothing. Because of her own flaws, something Yang fought against and overcame making her more mature than her MOTHER.

And after all that, she is given one last chance to truly show her love for Yang: to help her and join her. To go with her and put herself at risk for Yang’s safety or at least taking the Relic so Salem will target her instead of Yang. And what does Raven do? Abandons her AGAIN.

Abandons her to run off near her ex, the man she left with a child and a broken heart. She uses her connection to him to run away from her responsibility as a parent, running away from THEIR DAUGHTER. The girl he raised up without blaming Raven for anything, instead trying to paint a good picture of her in Yang’s head.

No shit people are hostile or unhappy with her- She keeps FAILING.

‘Oh hey, they made her an antagonist and thus EVIL! The writer’s CLEARLY think that there’s no way a parent who abandoned their child can be anything other than EVIL!’

... Then how come they portray her as conflicted and sad in the finale of Volume 5?

Much like how Adam’s unmasking fundamentally BREAKS his previous arguments of ‘HE EVIL!’ because it helps humanize Adam and give him pity and sorrow, the same is done here with the finale and Raven’s final actions so far. If Raven were evil, she wouldn’t have tried justifying her actions. Salem, Tyrian and , actively evil characters, don’t act like Raven. And they certainly don’t show regret or sorrow for their actions or conflicts about the results. This goes AGAINST how people perceive evil, even in the show itself.

So if she’s supposedly EVIL, why is her climax all about aspects that are fundamentally incompatible with how evil is portrayed in the show?

Answer: Raven’s not portrayed as evil. She’s portrayed as FLAWED, with actual negative flaws that cause her grief and pain like any normal character. EF is just throwing a fit that a ‘character’ he likes isn’t being treated as positive.

‘Volume 4 wasn’t where we got our first impression of Raven, it was Volume 2 and 3!’

And what impression could you get?

That she’s strong...and that’s it. At least, that’s it for positive traits. Raven is strong because she scared off Neo and that’s all the positive traits we have of her.

Everything else is negative. She apparently doesn’t care enough about Yang to stay around in any capacity for whatever reason. She refuses to see Yang and is largely apathetic towards her. She can be there for Yang but chooses not to. And her own twin brother Qrow doesn’t really like her.

The things we saw of Raven then paint a picture of someone who doesn’t care about Yang in any meaningful way. Even though I’ve chosen to ignore the portal thing, I really shouldn’t because she showed the portals off since Volume 2, meaning since her physical introduction she ALWAYS had a path to Yang but never chose to. EF acts as though these aspects of Raven didn’t exist before Volume 4...when the barest minimum of thought shows them in before that.

‘Their biggest mistake was the Volume 2 end credits scene since it goes against everything they wanted to do with her as a character!’

Yeah...and you argue for including it even though your own source shows that the other writers KNEW this issue.

‘The first impression we got of her was her saving Yang’s life and then confronting her!’

Yeah, and guess what? Those are not inherently positive. She could have saved Yang to manipulate her and use her as a pawn for all we knew. For as many positive interpretations you can give for these actions, I can give a negative interpretation. All because these actions lacked context at the time so it was neither positive nor negative.

The context dictated what these actions were. And context defined them as ultimately positive...but flawed. Which you conflate with malice.

‘The Volume 2 scene was meant to be a kicking off point-’

For what? Once again, the scene is not inherently positive. Raven never shows care or love for Yang in that scene, all she shows is a desire to talk (which without context of what she says, what it means, what her intentions are, how informed she is and how she uses this opportunity- makes it neutral.)

After this you do this cartoonish ‘oh they changed direction!’ thing without a single shred of evidence beyond a letter made by a grief madden man which doesn’t even say what you are saying. You keep assigning direction to something without a clear direction.

‘So how do you address her Maiden plotline with her Yang plotline?’

You make it about her personal failing of trying to use power to hide her cowardice, show that she lies to herself as well as others to justify her actions and show how she fails? Like how they showed that her ditching Yang lines up with how she refuses to take action until backed into a corner, gets confronted repeatedly with her flaws as her daughter (someone far weaker and less informed) keeps going and the show forces her to see how she’s being cowardly?

‘Don’t do one.’

... Translation: ‘i didn’t like what the show did so I’m gonna do selective remembering to make it look like nothing happened. ... What? I did it with Adam.’

Regardless of how you feel about the plotlines- They were BOTH addressed. It wasn’t dropped, it wasn’t forgotten- It was resolved as I have shown multiple times here.

And here at 20:33 I’m ending this. It’s pretty damn clear that Erup-Cole is just ignoring whatever doesn’t fit his view. Instead of taking a look at what happened and trying to understand the pattern that comes, he’s making up a pattern and patchworking it together through cherry picking.

I see that he hasn’t changed from his Adam tantrum, because this is the EXACT SAME VIDEO, just stretched out and about Adam’s MILF form. And I do mean ‘Adam’s MILF form’ because I don’t think a character with such superficial similarities to him getting the same treatment is a coincidence.

Cole, you can’t try selling me something with THIS much bullshit. It’s like trying to serve me a maggot infested steak and telling me it’s well cooked. You’re full of shit and no matter how much you try to hide it, it won’t change.

Your headcanons are not canon and it’s your fault you take such offense. Deal with it.

[gascon-en-exil]

Who Can Say if I've Been Changed For the Better?: Ferdibert Does Wicked

This concept has been a bit in building. It started from a much-loved cover by Hubert and Ferdinand’s VAs inspired by their support line and the broad observation that these two are a musicals couple who absolutely would sing their feelings in all manner of theatrical AUs. It continued through my later observation that there’s ample material to carry that idea even further, albeit with a shift outside of Crimson Flower for a better tonal match. Still, I’m not quite sure what to call this project; it’s not really a headcanon nor is it fanfic by any means. I’ve written a handful of longform character/narrative explorations before, although when it comes to FE I’ve previously been inspired to do so only for Jugdral characters. That setting is somehow both underdeveloped and deceptively dense - and I suppose in a way you could say the same of Three Houses as well, insofar as it’s been incredibly popular for fan content of all sorts.

Regardless of what this post is in terms of my fandom output, the following isn’t exactly a Wicked AU as such. Rather, it’s how I would envision a hypothetical blend of the non-CF routes of FE16 centering around the Eagles trio and set to the structure and songs of the musical as organically as possible. There are no 1:1 analogues with characters and plotlines from Wicked, because few if any would exist without a lot of tweaking; to use the VA cover example, Ferdinand might be a decent proxy for G(a)linda, but the mere presence of Edelgard substantially complicates Hubert’s claim to the Elphaba role. The similarities only unravel further from there, but I did my best.

Writing this out gave me the opportunity to play around with Edelgard’s character as a way of addressing what I and many others in my circle have long considered to be some of the major problems with her canon presentation. For Ferdibert meanwhile I got to make use of my headcanons for how their relationship would develop outside of their support line, in a way that mostly preserves Hubert’s delightful evil wickedness. Add some ruminations on how one would splice together the non-CF routes in a dramatically satisfying fashion, some snark directed at the non-character of Byleth, and a bit of background Dimidue/Lions OT5 for spice and that just about sums it up. Enjoy this…whatever this is.

Act I

“No One Mourns the Wicked”

The show opens on the citizens of Adrestia celebrating the death of their emperor and the end of her bloody war. Ferdinand rides in, resplendent on his steed, and is hailed as the new Duke Aegir as he relates to the crowd the news of Edelgard’s death at the hands of the combined army of liberators. The “Are people born wicked?” flashback sequence is replaced with a summary mostly in pantomime of Edelgard’s backstory: the Insurrection, her being taken to Faerghus and then returning, and then being experimented on by the Agarthans before agreeing to work with them. Notably Hubert is not named or referenced anywhere in this song, appearing only as a boy at Edelgard’s side at appropriate times during the flashback.

“Dear Old Shiz”

Someone in the crowd finally brings up Hubert, the emperor’s vile and murderous minister, and accuses Ferdinand of having been his friend. With Ferdinand even more flustered than Glinda since his “It depends on what you mean by friend” definitely carries sexual undertones, so begins the flashback to Part 1. There’s an equivalent intro of Garreg Mach, so one may feel free to insert any headcanons for school songs here. The following dialogue scene establishes the student body in general and the dynamic of the Eagles trio in particular: Ferdinand pompous and eager to one-up Edelgard at any opportunity, and Edelgard and Hubert cold and dismissive toward his antics and just about everyone else for that matter. Edelgard is instantly enamored of the quiet new professor, of course. Because the room assignment conflict doesn’t make a lot of sense with the monastery’s setup, instead Ferdinand is incensed that Edelgard is chosen as the Eagles’ house leader over him even though it’s been ages since a Hresvelg has attended. Neither Nessarose nor Morrible has an exact equivalent (although Seteth can act in Morrible’s role as the academy’s main authority figure), so the segue into the next song ends there.

“The Wizard and I”

Now alone together, Edelgard and Hubert have a brief dialogue outlining their villainous plans for the school year. This establishes Hubert’s hypercompetency but also how detached and professional Edelgard is around him. Then comes the song, now “My Lady and I,” which serves as Hubert’s character introduction. In tones more sinister than Elphaba ever reaches - you know he’d have fun with “When people see me they will scream” - he outlines his history with his lady, that he delights in serving her because she validates his work ethic and gives him an outlet for his ruthlessness and cruelty. Where Elphaba fantasizes about the Wizard removing her green skin, Hubert instead goes full Nice Guy, believing that once he’s given Edelgard her continental empire and crushed all her enemies she’ll be so grateful that of course she’ll put out for him.

“What Is This Feeling?”

You could rip the tone of this one directly from the Ferdibert C support and change nothing - homoerotic subtext included. I like the thought of Hubert replacing Elphaba’s deadpan one-word summation of Galinda with a mocking imitation of Ferdinand's most memetic line: "He is Ferdinand von Aegir!". The chorus can be made up of any number of other students excluding Edelgard, who’d happily agree that Hubert is ugly, creepy, and downright unpleasant.

“Something Bad”

The content of this song and surrounding scenes would have to be completely altered, but they work as a necessary reminder that the plot of Part 1 is still going on in the background of all the school drama. Seteth runs through the major events up to Chapter 9 of the game, including the bandit threat, Flayn’s kidnapping, and the experiments on the Remire villagers. The audience/accompaniment for this exposition dump ought to be Dimitri and Claude with Byleth as a silent observer (more on them later), with Edelgard brushing off the news and eventually being the one to shut down the song as Morrible does. There could be some small side character moments in here as well particularly involving the Lions and Deer since they get so little focus in this story.

“Dancing Through Life”

Speaking of which, this was an awkward sequence to place. It matches up chronologically with the ball in Chapter 9 and the main part, Fiyero’s, is a dead ringer for Sylvain and his flirty, hedonistic nihilism (“Nothing matters / but knowing nothing matters!”), but it’s hard to tie into what’s going on with the Eagles trio particularly with the Ferdibert timeframe preserved, i.e. unlike Elphaba and Galinda they don’t become closer until after the timeskip.

As such I see this song as an opportunity for little vignettes with the other students: Dimitri angry over how Dedue’s talked about and hoping they can share a dance (fitting contrast with the coldness of Edelbert), Felix prickly between Dimitri’s recent outbursts and Sylvain’s showboating, Claude hinting toward the bigger picture with Hilda flitting between her excitement over the dance and knowing more than she's letting on, Dorothea casually taking note of Edelgard’s fascination with Byleth (see just below), Bernadetta as a wallflower who doesn’t want to be disturbed (a setup for Act II), etc. Thanks to one of the Forging Bonds events in Heroes I had the thought that the "You/we deserve each other" through line that later gets attached to Nessarose can become one for Dimitri's relationships, with Felix initially throwing it out at him and Dedue and the two of them then turning "We deserve each other" into a romantic line...and then an ironic one and finally a triumphant one come Act II, by that point with Felix et al included as well.

I’m not sure that the following scene of Galinda and Elphaba bonding on the dance floor really needs an equivalent, although it could be altered to something Edeleth-related. In any case Ferdinand ought to get a dance scene of some nature, so he can try to show up Edelgard as he brags about in canon.

“Popular”

It would be a travesty to have a musical starring FE16’s cast and not give Dorothea and/or Manuela a solo. This song works quite well for the former, and it doesn’t intrude on the Ferdibert development with the aforementioned timeframe and how the lightly sapphic vibe doesn’t translate well to two guys. Dorothea has taken note of her good friend Edie’s crush on their mysteriously wooden professor, and she senses the opportunity for a makeover. Not as exaggerated as Dorothea trying to make over Hubert, naturally, but I still think this works out well. Also, Galinda’s observation on leaders, “Did they have brains or knowledge? / Don’t make me laugh! They were popular!”, is darkly comedic when said to Edelgard.

“I’m Not That Girl”

This song comes with preceding dialogue scenes for setup, so those first. Edelgard emerges fresh from her makeover (given her general hot for teacher fixation, I’m thinking she’d lean pretty hard on the naughty schoolgirl look) to Byleth silently grieving Jeralt’s death - bad timing there. She’s as callous about it as she is in canon, only now with more clumsy flirting, and while it’s impossible as always to tell if Byleth notices or cares Hubert most certainly does. The scene segues into the Eagles trio together, with Edelgard alluding to the upcoming events in the Sealed Forest and indicating that Hubert should meet up with her later for some more villainous scheming after he’s ditched Ferdinand. Ferdinand, indignant about being left out of the loop as he is in canon, grumpily points out that he was a much more splendid dancer at the ball than Edelgard, makeover or not. To his utter surprise, Hubert acknowledges that this is true before leaving. This leads into the actual song, altered from homoerotic via triangulation of desire to an outright sexual awakening for Ferdinand. He realizes that part of his jealousy toward Edelgard is that he wishes Hubert were devoted to him instead, and tells himself not to get his hopes up because he’s, well, not that girl or even a girl. We shall of course leave aside how anyone could be attracted to someone as repulsive as Hubert; that’s part of the inherent comedy of this pairing.

“One Short Day”

This was the hardest song to place in this whole project. The touristy trip to the Emerald City just doesn’t have an analogue in the story of Three Houses, especially not late in Part 1 when tension is mounting toward the upcoming reveal and war. It took me a while to realize that it works wonderfully as an Edeleth piece: Edelgard invites Byleth to Enbarr for her coronation, but that scene is left offscreen in favor of a light romp through the city that further highlights Edelgard’s crush as well as her emotional immaturity in spite of everything she’s about to do. She just wants to have a fun day out and take in the sights and eat sweets with her beloved teacher, and it’s all very “Edge of Dawn”-esque where Edelgard knows she’s about to do terrible things that will change everything forever and hopes to prolong the time until she has to take that step. Adjustments to the lyrics could even work in reference to that song to make the similarities more apparent. An awkward/funny issue here is that I envision Byleth to be totally silent throughout this musical with no sung or spoken parts, which would naturally make them having a duet impossible and make Edelgard’s fascination with them even weirder. Even their gender should be left ambiguous throughout, somehow never confirmed if it’s m!Byleth or f!Byleth. It would take a lot of reworking, but I can see the value in it.

“A Sentimental Man”

The core of the Wizard’s character is not all that different from Rhea’s. Both were thrust unexpectedly into positions of authority that required them to enact a large-scale deception to maintain their power/safety, and both are driven somewhat by parental feelings. The tone of the Wizard’s songs doesn’t align well with Rhea, but once you cut out the vaudeville and do some rewording I could see this one working as Rhea addressing her child (among other things) Byleth at the Holy Tomb just before the Flame Emperor reveal. Of course the dramatic irony hits differently; Rhea knows who and what Byleth is whereas the Wizard doesn’t learn about Elphaba until the end of the show. Nonetheless this would still establish Rhea’s character and motivations as well as set the stage for the impending betrayal.

“Defying Gravity”

Said betrayal being Byleth’s, who decides to stand by Rhea and condemn Edelgard as the Flame Emperor when she arrives with her army. This is another song in parts that would need to be broken up. Edelgard gets the bulk of it, but the middle sections between Elphaba and Glinda could work as a kind of separated duet with Edelgard and Hubert attempting to convince Byleth and Ferdinand respectively to join them. Because of Byleth’s silence only Ferdinand can reply in song; only he and Edelgard add the “my friend” bit to the end of this segment, to illustrate the unevenness of Edeleth and Ferdibert at this point in the story. Then things turn to full bombast, albeit darker than in Wicked proper. Edelgard does the belting, Hubert’s sinister laughter reverberates below her (would it be too tasteless for him to be leering up her skirt the whole time?), Ferdinand has Glinda’s mournful “I hope you’re happy!” toward Hubert, and through this and the reprise of “No One Mourns the Wicked” the major events of the timeskip are enacted in pantomime or silhouette. Byleth tumbles off a cliff, Rhea is taken captive as is Dimitri but Dedue rushes after him, and Claude makes a tactical retreat. Side note: “And if I’m flying solo, / at least I’m flying free” is classic Edelgard fixating on Byleth and forgetting that Hubert exists.

Act II

“Thank Goodness”

A surprisingly tough one here. The core of the song, pivoting around the double meaning of “I couldn’t be happier,” suits early Part 2 Ferdinand perfectly, second-guessing his choice and, outside of CF, melancholy about fighting his homeland. In terms of plot it’s an easy translation too, with the crowd announcing the terrible things the Empire has been doing to win its war - persecuting believers, abducting civilians and turning them into Demonic beasts, consorting with inhuman shadowy figures who can disguise themselves as ordinary people - and the assembly working as a way to bring together the leads of the three routes: Byleth, Dimitri (who had Dedue always at his side and thus never had a full psychotic break), Claude, and Seteth, with Ferdinand representing the Adrestian resistance. It’s only the wedding announcement that’s hard to pin down, and I toyed with a number of ideas including Dimidue making yet another public declaration of devotion to one another or Ferdinand planning to follow through with his arranged marriage to Bernadetta they have in their supports (which makes more sense in light of the following sequence). In the end though I don’t think the marriage element is strictly necessary, leaving the song as a means of catching up with the cast five years later and seeing them united against Edelgard - with Ferdinand’s private regrets the only sour note.

“Wicked Witch of the East”

More a dialogue than a song, but still important. Bernadetta is arguably the Eagle other than Hubert most comfortable supporting Edelgard, because all Edelgard has to do is put Count Varley under house arrest for Bernadetta to sing the emperor’s praises. I can also see her as the same sort of self-centered, negligent ruler that Nessarose becomes in Wicked, not because of an unrequited attraction but because of her reclusive desire to be left alone. I see this scene playing out as Hubert surprising Bernadetta at her estate, angry about rumors that she may be helping the rebels and/or engaged to Ferdinand if going with that plot point after Edelgard has done her the favor of locking up her father. He’s fully prepared to, ahem, “persuade” Bernadetta, but before he can break out the torture implements Ferdinand arrives asking for her to support the rebels’ cause.

Farcical, sure, but it gets the two of them together again after five years and underscores how strong their UST has become in their time apart, with Hubert too flabbergasted to attack a known enemy and Ferdinand expressing how happy he is to see Hubert again despite everything. Each learns that the other isn’t as happy about his chosen path as he’d hoped, in Hubert’s case because his lady has grown ever more distant from him as the war has dragged on. Bernadetta cuts through the tension by bringing things back to the song (sort of) and blurting out that she knows both sides are marshalling their forces near Gronder Field. Ferdinand is too caught up in the fraught romance angle to do more than leave with this new information, but Hubert recovers enough to condemn Bernadetta for her flagrant misrule (venting by inference his frustrations toward Edelgard in the process) and resolve to set her on fire for her treachery.

“I’m Not That Girl (Reprise)”

The Gronder rematch happened offscreen - and Bernadetta was indeed set on fire - and on the Imperial side Edelgard is left increasingly frustrated over her losses and hurt that Byleth still refuses to listen to her and continues to fight her regime. You may notice that I’ve shuffled around the middle of Act II, necessary at this point in order to better line up with FE16’s story and Hubert and Edelgard’s separate narrative climaxes while also ensuring that those climaxes don’t overlap too much. This song is only a brief reprise, but it’s a significant one; Hubert finally realizes that Edelgard will never love him. It’s also kept gender-neutral, because Byleth.

“As Long as You’re Mine”

That segues naturally into this moment. Ferdinand sneaks into Enbarr using his unexpected stealth powers (I usually talk about Dedue having them, but Ferdinand shows he’s no slouch in his Mercedes supports) and encounters Hubert. Their UST boils over in a furor of awkward, impassioned sex and also this song. I like the idea of rewording some of Fiyero's lines to incorporate Hubert's acidic snark: “Maybe you’re brainless, / maybe you’re wise.” It’s all very desperate and sensual, ending with Ferdinand taking Elphaba’s line about feeling wicked for the first time - which will have a dark reverberation two songs from now.

“Wonderful”

Again, axe the vaudeville and it’s a solid Rhea song. There’s just the small problem of Rhea being captured at this point in the plot; I thought about moving this number toward the very end at first before reconsidering. While Hubert and Ferdinand are rolling in the sheets, a distraught Edelgard confronts Rhea in prison. Rhea responds to Edelgard’s frustrations with Byleth with her backstory in song, much more somber than the Wizard but, like him, still willing to rehabilitate her estranged listener. The bits of this song about the nature of history are especially relevant to what Edelgard falsely believes about the church and what she views as her own legacy, so I could see this as an interesting character study on what Edelgard actually wanted with her war apart from dragon genocide. There’s a lot that could be done here in the dialogue surrounding those revelations.

“No Good Deed”

However the interrogation of Rhea turns out, Edelgard takes a leaf out of SS Dimitri’s book and visits Byleth alone at the monastery, only to be as harshly rebuffed as is possible to be without the rebuffer speaking. Then comes this song, which was incidentally the one where I realized that Edelgard would need a major role in FE16-does-Wicked even with the Ferdibert focus. Hubert fully embraced his evil wickedness long ago and wouldn’t think twice about being wicked or being perceived as such, but Edelgard is a different matter. Here she breaks down, admitting that her good intentions were largely selfish and that she regrets that her war has cost her any relationship she could have had with Byleth (continuing the joke at his expense, Hubert goes unmentioned when Edelgard names the people she’s lost/failed). It ends with a foreshadowing of her Hegemon form, the sign that she’s abandoned all pretense of goodness and become truly wicked.

“March of the Witch Hunters”

Another ensemble/vignette piece, checking in with the various members of Byleth’s army as they prepare to storm Enbarr. Dimitri hopes for the chance to forgive his stepsister, Claude has big plans for the continent and wants to remove the threat Edelgard poses, Seteth is desperate to find Rhea, and Byleth…is there. As in many of the songs, the self-righteousness of the crowd here rings more sincere and less hypocritical than in Wicked given Three Houses has actual villains, but it still works.

“For Good”

The song that inspired this whole thing, now with many paragraphs of context to set it up instead of only some fluff based on the Ferdibert A+ support. Ferdinand sneaks into Enbarr (again) ahead of the battle, and their second love ballad is more somber as they resign themselves to their fates. As in the VA cover, Hubert refuses to ask forgiveness for anything and Ferdinand is fine with that.

“Finale”

Wicked reduces the final battle from The Wizard of Oz to silhouettes backed by sections of “No One Mourns the Wicked,” and that’s what comes here: Ferdinand and Hubert facing each other in battle, Edelgard becoming the Hegemon before being defeated and then dying as in AM’s final cutscene, and Dimitri taking the throne with Dedue at his side and proclaiming his intention to do all he can to restore both the Kingdom and Duscur - and that his first act as king is to announce that he and Dedue have decided to open their marriage up. This is met with much manly cheering and stripping and someone (Ashe?) saying incredulously that he didn’t even know they were married. End silhouettes.

The final scene with the Wizard and Morrible becomes Claude, Seteth, and Byleth rescuing Rhea. Rhea names Byleth her successor as leader of the church and says that she will go into quiet seclusion and do what she can to correct her mistakes. This all suits Claude just fine, who tells everyone that he’s off to take care of some other business and that Byleth will make a great archbishop - and also they can have the Alliance, no big deal. As with the King of Faerghus’s gay orgies, the King of Almyra’s grand ambitions are too large for this story to do more than allude to.

Next, Ferdibert does a version of the Elphaba/Fiyero scene, with Ferdinand revealing that he had Hubert spared on the condition that he help root out any remaining Agarthans and that he remain under house arrest at the Aegir estate. Ferdinand was also required to assume governance of the Empire, because Dimitri wasn’t getting that dumped on him as well. They can be together, but the general population can’t know that Hubert survived lest Ferdinand’s reputation and basic ethics be compromised…which in a darkly funny hypocritical twist then segues to Ferdinand pontificating before the crowd at the beginning of the show, reprising “For Good” with Hubert until they’re drowned out by “No One Mourns the Wicked.” Thus the story concludes on one of my favorite things about Ferdibert: perhaps even in this non-CF continuity Ferdinand wasn’t changed for the better by falling in love with the Most Wicked Man in Fódlan, but they’ve both been changed….