#creepy husbands assemble

[ninjiniz]

I knew I'd heard this dialogue somewhere before

[acecasinova]

Finally made a PC who was Just Some Guy and now his soul is co-inhabiting my original PC's body, a living Luxon Beacon

After he just witnessed his friend turn into a fiend RIGHT in front of him bc she wrote a whole second contract for his soul and presented it to Asmodeous

[wordstome]

kingdom come - i

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting, magic exists but it's the creepy kind ordinary people don't fuck with

3.5k words

tw: swearing and König gets a boner. what's new

[NEXT]

GUESS WHO'S BACK ON HER BULLSHIT HAHAAA IT'S MEEE STARTING A NEW SERIES/AU AGAINNNnnnnn. Don't fret, I'm still working on university au! I just started watching The Great (the tv show) and I was like hmm. I should get back to that one idea I had.

p.s. When I mention a "mask" on König, imagine a sort of phantom of the opera, Brahms kinda thing. He isn't always wearing the hood.

Outside, the bells are tolling. Back home, you’ve only ever heard church bells ringing to rally the troops. But here, in these foreign lands, they ring for a royal wedding.

You're wearing a truly massive dress shaped like a pastry. It's a work of art, to be sure, but it leaves you feeling restrained and vulnerable. You should be wearing armor into war—hard boiled leather and curtains of steel rings, not delicate lace and silken ribbons. You're walking into a battle: you would have liked to be able to bend forward further than thirty degrees.

You're at least glad you don't have to wear a veil—it would have been borderline unbearable if you had your vision restricted on top of everything else. It does mean, however, that you can see him standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for you.

A gigantic man with a soldier's physique, wearing a mask that covers more than half his face. Just the sight of him sends a a chill down your spine.

The officiant’s voice booms out over the assembly, but you don’t hear any of it. The sound washes over you, distant and echoing, as if your head is underwater. Your whole being is on alert as you tilt your face upwards to look at the only part of your soon-to-be-husband that you can see properly: his eyes.

They bore into you as if they're looking straight into your soul. As if they're revealing all of your secrets. For a moment, you feel disarmed, even though you can still feel the calming, solid presence of your trusty dagger against your thigh.

As the officiant finishes the wedding vows, he offers his hand to you, his touch shockingly gentle.

You steel your resolve and stare resolutely back at him as you place your hand in his, and the officials begin to bind them together with velvet cords. You remind yourself who you are, where you are, and what you must do.

You remind yourself that you have to kill him as they tie the final knot.

The woods are foreboding, home to a darkness that seems infinite and all-consuming. The heavy old trees that surround the palace grounds shut out most sunlight and all moonlight, and sometimes it feels as if the forest itself is a living, conscious thing brimming with a dangerous unknown. It's proven to be an effective line of defense in the past: citizens don’t dare to trespass on the royal grounds as it is, but an extra deterrent never hurt anybody.

Except perhaps enemy soldiers. But they learn their lesson quickly.

To you, however, the woods are comforting. You’ve spent many lonely nights amongst these trees, training until your body was sore all over. These trunks have withstood many a misplaced blow, these exposed roots have been your downfall many a time, and this mossy undergrowth has cushioned your bruises during many a tumble and fall.

Tonight, however, there is no training. No combat, no groans of pain, no thuds against wood or flesh. You are blanketed in quiet, something sorely needed as you contemplate the days to come.

This is it. The task you’ve trained for all your life is here. Every sore joint and pulled muscle, every tear-soaked pillowcase, every scolding in Father’s office has led to this. Sometimes it seemed as if the day would never come, as if years of reading, shooting, riding and sparring would be for naught. Though your breath rattles the leaves around you, you feel as if you’ve been holding your breath ever since Father broke the news. This is happening.

You leave in a few hours, as soon as the sun comes over the horizon. Your maids have already packed your luggage—you had to enlist their help after it became too difficult to pick what to bring and what not to bring. If all went well, you’d be back in this room in a few weeks. But what could you afford to bring? What did you need for your sanity? What minute details of an object could compromise your position?

Luckily, Calliope, your most trusted lady-in-waiting, was able to step in when she found you sitting on your rug, clutching your set of cloth dolls—the only toys you’d ever owned as a child that weren’t made with murder in mind—and suggest you take a breath of fresh air. You don’t know where you’d be without her, honestly. You may be your father’s pride and joy of a perfectly well-rounded monarch and killing machine, but you would never have gotten here without her by your side.

You sigh and lean your head against the thick limb you’re lying on. If you didn’t already know you’d wake up with a complaining spine that would then have to spend days riding a horse, you’d go to sleep right here, right now. The woods are your home, these trees your solace. You’ll miss it terribly, as the only place you can truly avoid all servants, generals, teachers, and parents.

Well. Parent.

But as with all things—Father’s rare good mood, your training days, peacetime—the sweet, silent embrace of the forest can’t last forever.

Reluctantly, you give the tree one last pat and climb down, making the trudge back to your room so you can at least attempt to catch a few winks of sleep.

It takes quite a few days of travel to get to your destination. You arrive in the empire next door's capital city saddle-sore and on edge. This was the snakes’ nest, the heart of the beast.

And yet…people are happy.

The mood in your hometown is far quieter and more grim—your country has been at war with this one for as long as you can remember, and yet the contrast could not be more vast. Back home, people walk directly from place to place, and don’t make eye contact with each other. Here, children play unsupervised, outdoor markets overflow with people, and windows are thrown wide open as neighbors chat.

You don’t know how to feel. The previous king here was a ruthless conqueror, building an empire by invading neighboring countries and forcing their monarchs to yield—or killing them when they were defiant. Your own land had only escaped being absorbed into the empire by employing rigorous military discipline and strict wartime measures. Yet here, in the heart of the empire, you would never be able to tell it was a nation at war.

And now you’re marrying the king’s son. The current king. The one they call König. So little is known about him that his entire existence is shrouded in rumor: that the hood he wears conceals a monstrous, disfigured face, that he plotted his father’s demise, that his first wife died not of childbirth, but was assassinated in quiet due to being unable to provide an heir.

You don’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out if the rumors are true.

To your surprise, your reception by the people feels more curious than hostile. You’d expected a bit of resistance, or at least a few dirty looks, considering you're the princess of the country they've been at war with for years. But whatever König has told them has been far more charitable than you anticipated.

Your arrival at the palace is greeted by a flurry of activity. Your entourage scatters to put affairs in order, but Calliope and a small contingent of guards follows you into the main hall. Not that you need them—but you need to keep up appearances. No one outside your family’s most tight-knit circle knows you can throw a punch, much less have an assassin’s training.

You don’t feel in the least bit prepared to meet your fiancé—and target—face to face fresh off a days-long journey, but you’re ushered into the main hall anyway. It seems your task has already begun whether you like it or not.

“Ah, princess. Welcome to my humble home.” You hear him before you see him, his voice heavy with an accent. There’s something a bit charming about it, you think—before the sight of him shakes some sense back into you.

He’s huge. He towers over even his own palace guard, broad with muscle, and moves with a deadly raw power even in this nonthreatening setting.

When his father still ruled, before the current peacetime, stories of the empire’s prodigal heir on the frontlines served as frightening bedtime story and a terrifying cautionary tale for the nation’s soldiers. A beast in a hood who fought with the strength of ten men.

You stand your ground as he approaches you. The hood, then, is real—although the stories were so consistent about it that it was never really in question, was it? What the stories had left out were his eyes—striking and green, piercing into your soul as he bends to kiss the back of your hand. It’s an odd sensation that sends shivers racing up your spine.

“The pleasure is mine, your majesty,” you respond, a hint of apprehension in your tone. Of course you had been expecting some form of courtly courtesy, but for some reason you hadn’t expected him to be such a…gentleman. A part of you had been expecting some feral animal, needing to be put down.

"I'm sure you must be exhausted from your journey," he says. "I hope you will find your rooms to your liking." Something about his demeanor is almost...bored? As if greeting his future wife is just another task he's obligated to complete.

He doesn't join you for dinner that night, which is odd. The servants inform you that he's taking care of some urgent business. You hope that your dejection is taken as disappointment that you won't have an opportunity to get to know your fiancé. You are, but not the way people may think.

After all, getting to know your target is half the battle.

You're left to your own devices the next day. König, you're informed, won't be available. That urgent business from last night appears to be an ongoing situation.

Fine by you. You could use some time to prepare.

You spend the day wandering the palace, familiarizing yourself with the grounds and plotting an escape route. You're halted on your brisk survey when you stumble upon a...garden?

Unlike the perfectly manicured hedges outside the palace, or the groomed efficiency of the kitchen gardens, this place is small. Quiet. A little overgrown, but clearly taken care of. The grass is long and soft, dappled in sunshine. Flowers burst forward, crowded around trellises spiraling with vines.

Part of you feels like a trespasser in this private little sanctum, but another part of you is set at ease by the idle tranquility of this place. You pause, feeling a pang of homesickness. It reminds you of the forest: wild in its own way, but gentle and welcoming at the same time.

Something at the corner of your vision catches your eye. A bush bursting forward with round, dark little berries.

Nightshade. Deadly nightshade, in fact. What is this doing in this peaceful little garden? You move forward to examine them closer.

"You shouldn't be here."

You whirl around to find König standing behind you. You had been so absorbed by the garden that you hadn't detected his approach.

Your cheeks burn. You've only been here a day, and already you're letting your guard down. This won't do.

"My apologies, your majesty. I got....lost."

You hold your breath as he draws near. His expression is unreadable—not that you can see most of it, anyway. But when you meet his gaze, you can tell he's sizing you up.

"This is quite a long way to wander."

Shit, is he suspicious? Thinking fast, your brain supplies the best answer you can muster.

"Should a future queen not know the palace she is to live in?"

"Mmm. You make a fair point."

Before you can say or do anything further, he's standing right in front of you. "That's nightshade, you know." You can feel him watching you, assessing your reaction. "Not many can recognize it."

"I..." You can't very well tell him that you know what nightshade looks like because you're an expert in deadly poisons. "I had been wondering what they were."

"I see." He leans forward and plucks a berry off the bush, rolling it between his fingers. "Have you ever tasted one?"

Does he know? Is that a threat? You can't read his expression behind that goddamned mask of his. You stare at him, hoping you look dumbfounded instead of panicked.

"No? They're quite sweet, you know." He holds it out to you. "Care to try one?"

"Your Majesty, I—"

"Don't look so nervous." If you had ever thought he looked frightening before, there's something uncanny about the half-smile that he gives you now. "I didn't expect you to say yes." Before you can say or do anything, he pops the berry in his mouth.

You're too stunned to do anything but watch as he chews for a moment and swallows. One berry won't kill him, but you're more concerned about why he's doing this. Is he trying to intimidate you?

"This was my mother's garden." He gestures to the general surroundings. "I spent a lot of time here as a child. Peaceful, isn't it?"

You let out a tiny sigh of relief now that the conversation appears to be moving on. "Yes. Quite."

"It's always been a place to get away. The first time I ate a nightshade berry was right here, when I was six. I was violently sick for weeks." His tone is a little too light for someone describing being poisoned as a child, and it's unnerving.

"That's when I learned to be careful of things that are too sweet. A good lesson to learn, don't you think?" He walks towards you, and you brace yourself for anything.

He stops next to you, you facing one way and him the other. "Take care then, princess. I will see you tomorrow."

You stare resolutely ahead. "Yes."

And hopefully you won't see him for much longer after that.

Fuck. You forgot about this part.

You had been prepared for this, of course, but you only realize now that you hadn't been mentally prepared. It wasn't until Calliope was helping you undress that you remembered what usually happens between a man and a woman the night of the wedding.

You pace the room, stewing and plotting, getting increasingly antsy before the door swings open and the man himself comes strutting into the bedroom.

"You look like a cornered deer." You hear König shut the door behind him, but you don't turn around.

"I've never done this before." Mentally, you curse yourself for the quaver in your voice.

"Well. Tonight won't be your first."

"What?" You do turn at that, watching him carelessly shed layers all across the room between swigs of his drink.

"I have no interest in bedding you. We do have to sleep in the same room for appearances, though." He plucks a grape from a cluster sitting on a side table and throws it up in the air, catching it with his mouth.

You haven't been in his presence much in the past few days, but each time you have, something about your encounters with him have shaken you up and set you on edge. Somehow, he's kept you on your toes even with a limited presence. Your meeting in the garden was dizzying and confusing, the ceremony set you on high alert. And now, he's thrown you another curveball.

It feels almost too easy. He's just going to go to sleep in the same room as you? No fanfare? "You don't want to...consummate the marriage?"

"You sound upset." He cocks an eyebrow at you. "Were you hoping to?"

"No!" Your face feels hot as he gives you that lopsided half-smile again, more like a smirk this time.

"That's a shame. I prefer fucking willing participants, you see." He drapes himself over the elaborate chaise lounge opposite the bed.

"Are you usually this vulgar?" you retort.

"I see no reason for pretense. We're married, after all." Curiously, he hasn't taken his mask off. Does he sleep in it? Or is he only keeping it on because you're here?

You feel silly now, dressed in a flimsy little silken thing, wrapped up like a present for a brute who won't even touch you. Considerate of him, you suppose. Not that it will matter for very long.

"Sleep well then, hmm? You should be well rested for your first day as queen tomorrow." There's a dangerous gleam in his eye, but it disappears so quickly you wonder if you had imagined it.

"Yes," you say, sitting on the bed while not taking your eyes off of him. "Sleep well."

You give it a few hours, just to be safe. A few hours of laying awake staring at the ceiling. A few hours of watching as moonlight bathes the room in silver light. A few hours of watching him.

The deepening darkness casts sharp shadows across his face, making him seem even more inhuman. What do bloodthirsty emperors dream of? Dominating the weak? Slaughtering the innocent? Conquering women? You shudder. Best not to know.

It's well past midnight when you slowly, quietly get up and pull your dagger from its hidden holster. One downwards thrust, and you're going home. One quick motion, and all of this is over.

It's a little anticlimactic, you think. But this is for the best. For you. For your people. For your family.

Light as a feather, you straddle him, hovering over him just enough so that your weight doesn't wake him. You try not to think about how intimate this position is, and remind yourself that this is the best way to prevent him from getting up or struggling, should your first strike not end him immediately. Which it will, of course.

You take a deep breath as you position the blade right over his heart, calming the fluttering anxiety in your mind. The beginning of a new chapter of your life begins now.

You plunge the dagger downwards.

In an instant, König's eyes fly open. Before you can react at all, his hand has seized your wrist in an iron grip, the tip of your dagger a hair's length from his chest.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He purrs. "A little assassin?"

You grit your teeth and attempt to overpower him: you're so, so close. But his strength is so overwhelming that you can't even get the tip of the dagger to make contact. Panic starts to set in. This isn't good. This is disastrous, actually. He was supposed to be asleep!

You attempt to pull away, to get away, to do anything, but it's no use. "You don't seem surprised," you spit.

"It's not every day your most bitter enemy offers you his daughter's hand in marriage as a truce," he replies, clear amusement in his voice. Is he enjoying this? "Of course I smelled a rat. You must think me a fool."

"No." Yeah, you kind of had.

"Lying ill suits you, princess." You cry out as he jams his fingers into the tendons in your wrist, forcing you to release the dagger. You watch, helplessly, as he picks it up with his other hand and turns it over, studying it in the moonlight.

"What a delicate little knife," he muses. In your hand, it's a sizeable weapon. But held in his fingers it looks small, harmless. To your dismay, he then proceeds to chuck it at the opposite wall, the blade sticking itself solidly in between two panels.

"You knew?" you ask, a tremor in your traitorous voice.

"Oh, I suspected. You had me disappointed for a while—I thought you would have made an attempt well before this." He lets out a deep chuckle that sends terror through you. "For a moment I even thought that you were as you presented: just some poor little lamb, a peace offering given up to the slaughter." His eyes narrow behind the mask. "I am glad to see that you have proven to be much more interesting than that."

"Interesting?" Out of all the reactions you would have expected him to have, this is not one of them. Fear, anger, even immediate violence. Not...interest.

"You have no idea," he says. Your eyes widen as he you feel his hand run up your thigh.

That's not the only thing you feel, though. He shifts a bit underneath you, and it's then that the earlier flush to your cheeks returns in full force. Is he...hard?!

"If you're going to kill me, then get on with it," you ground out through your teeth.

"Little one, if I had wanted you dead immediately, I would have already pinned you down and snapped your neck. No, you've given me a gift: a gift I intend to cherish." You shiver as he slides a hand up your thigh. "A challenge."

"Is this a game to you?" You're not sure if your breath is running ragged from fear or anger, now.

"I could end this at any time, you know." You gasp involuntarily as a hand closes around your throat. "But that would be no fun, now would it?"

"You are a fool, then." You stare at him defiantly, even as his grip constricts your breathing. "Because I will kill you."

His eyes dance with some mad glee. "That's what I like to hear."

Hiiiiiiiii besties. I've been chewing on the idea of a medieval royalty sort of au since before Shrike, and I came up with this premise like. At least a year or two ago, before I was even in the COD fandom. So I'm glad to finally be making some real headway on it! I have no idea how many parts this is going to have. I have a lot of plot planned for it, so we're just gonna have to see where the vibes take us!

I'd like to thank @danibee33 my angel as always. I bounced a lot of royal/medieval/king König ideas off of her, some of which I still may use, but I changed the plot drastically when I had an epiphany a week or two ago. Hope you like this one babe <3 Also, thank you @kneelingshadowsalome and @gremlingottoosilly for their historical/time period aus. Your fics gave me a real kick in the ass to finish this.

Also shoutout to Pedro Pascal fans? I stumbled upon some breathtakingly kinky fanfiction on this beloved hellsite featuring the Mandalorian, and thought: you know what? If people can proudly write and publish the nastiest, most shameless smut I've ever read, then I can push through whatever impostor syndrome, perfectionist embarrassment I have with my work and get it done.

As usual, please let me know your feedback! I'm trying out a bit of a different characterization for König (not that much different, he's still our beloved violent horny maniac), and I want to know what people think.

I'm also going to be using my taglist again. If you were tagged here and don't want to be tagged anymore, please let me know! And if you would like to be added to the taglist, drop a reply <3

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr

[vaxxy-the-raven]

Love that The Cerberus Assembly seem to have a weird obsession with my poor babies Vax & Vex, it's so creepy and weird but also kinda funny that at least 3 of their members are like that.

First Delilah Briarwood... I don't think I need to explain that one in great detail. My poor fucking twins have suffered so much because of Delilah and her husband.

Then there's Trent Ikithon, who... SEEMINGLY JUST FUCKING CASUALLY HAS NAKED STATUES OF THEM IN HIS HOME??? HELLO??? SIR??? EXCUSE ME??? TF???

And of course, Ludinus Da'leth and his bizarre af divinity orbification bullshit.

(The statues were probably just non-serious references to be cute, BUT IT'S SO WEIRD IF YOU THINK ABOUT IT??)

so uh...

CERBERUS ASSEMBLY STAY AWAY FROM VAX & VEX CHALLENGE PLEASE!!!!

edit - upon looking at the art again, Vex's statue seems to be wearing a dress actually?? but Vax's statue still looks fully naked, which only makes this 100x weirder 😭

icky-thong wtf? so gross

[deadnburied13]

This image of two children sitting in cradles is a very sad story to be told. Some it’s told, find it extremely creepy and other find it very touching. I find it to be a beautiful way to lay your children to rest. I’m also sure this is a grave that stops people in their tracks with curiosity.

Its recounted in legend, that the children's mother left toys in their gravestones. People today still leave toys at the gravesites in their honor as well.

The stones memorialize John B. Sarpy Morrison, who was about 6 when he died in 1876, and Julia Olivia Morrison, who was about 2 when she died in 1870. Their father was James L.D. Morrison and their mother was Julia Ann Adele Sarpy Morrison. James Morrison died in 1888 at 72; his much-younger wife died in 1925, at 84.

James Morrison was a lawyer who served in the Mexican-American War, both branches of the Illinois General Assembly and in the U.S. Congress, representing part of Illinois. The two married in 1861 and had four children; two survived.

Whether she actually visited the graves to leave toys isn't certain. Julia Morrison wrote several books after her husband died, and was described in newspaper articles as a social leader. A February 1888 article says she "is one of the most striking examples St. Louis affords of a wealthy, energetic woman, who does not let time hang heavy on her hands, and whose industry ... is indefatigable." She owned (with her sister, Virginia Peugnet) several properties in St. Louis, East St. Louis and Jefferson County, and was a co-owner of the St. Louis Shot Tower.

The Sarpy-Morrison plot includes several family names, including Berthold, Carr, Peugnet, Roche, Morrison and Sarpy, according to archdiocesan burial records.

[mondaymelon]

OKAY SO HERES THE MORE SIMPLE ONE UHH so basically people keep telling me a guy from my class likes me ever since late last year AND AND YK I LIKED HIM LIKE EARLY LAST YEAR SUNCE HE SAT NEXT TO ME AT THE START NIKE DURING ASSEMBLY WE SIT TGT… and he’s like friends w a guy who currently likes me

OKAY AND ABT THE GUY WHO CURRENTLY LIKES NE IS SO FUCKING CREEPY LIKE URGH HW ROLD MY FRIEND SHE LOOKED CUTE WHEN SLEEPING N HES SO DESPERATE ISTG. Bro wanted me to take the same bus as him bru like wtf I’m not taking a 30 min bus w you

if i had a penny for every story ive heard about yucky highschool guys i would be rich enough to drop out of highschool and become a vtuber cause istg i dont know what all these people are mutually on but its something that i personally do not want to touch

ahem anyways the tea has been spilt eee e. e!! lmao wooah astrie pulls (AS YOU SHOULD YOU ARE SO PRETTY FJODISLKG) but for some reason only pond scum are catching on jsaodifljk... waiwaiwai do you still like this guy or was it like a chance missed or...

IN WHAT. IN WHAT SITUATION DID THIS GUY SEE YOUR FRIEND SLEEPIGN CAUSE UHM WHAT THATS.. AN INTERESTING THING TO SAY TO SOMEONE..... like if my beautiful husband who goes by the name of xiao said that to me when i woke up in the morning lying in his arms i wouldnt bat an eye but like... would there be a reason for him seeing her sleeping before ??! and girl my friends would NOT say that to me cause its just awkward

is this guy tryna get both YOU and YOUR FRIEND ?? jaodsllkjl you better not awkward silence is bad but having to talk to that guy is gonna be worse lmao

[thequeenofmyownscreen]

Twelve things I noted about CR2E90 “Bathhouses and Bastions” :

Matt, at the beginning of the first episode of CR in 2020 : "We are back ! We've missed you guys, hope you've had a decent break. We have mostly rejuvenated with what time we had. Hopefully we'll catch up the rest before the end of the world !!" YIKES. PHRASES THAT DID NOT AGE WELL.

Sam reveals yet another Matt t-shirt while Matt sighs, and we learn that Sam has "four drawers of t-shirts : not all Matt, some are me." (Matt : "How does Q feel about that ?" Sam : "Hum... she doesn't need to know about those !")

The planning for TravelerCon3000 is going super great : the volcano may be or not be active, Jester doesn't know how many people will be there or how they will even get there, but at least Caduceus and Yasha will play their instruments to hype the crowd for Jester's speech.

SNEA SNAKE ASKKHFFJSDJNDL

Thanks Critical Role !!! you made me google "perineum sunning", and I don't ever want to hear about it ever again !!

Marisha *fumbles with words and ends up saying nonsense* Travis *mocks her* Laura, looking at her husband pointedly : "Ok, snea snake." Oh my god, it buuuuuuuuuuurns

The Mighty Nein, heroes of the Dynasty and the Empire, teleporting to the Bright Queen palace from a Rexxentrum spa they robbed blind with arms full of robes and towels. I love them SO MUCH, they're all so very chaotic gremlins

Ok so there was the equivalent of Vence in the Dynasty, working for the cult, and he pushed to have the Krin attack as a distraction under the pretense that a beacon was in Rexxentrum. Okay. And he also was the traitor who long ago gave the two beacons away to the Assembly ?? This part feels weird... and not connected to it.

Oh the reveal that the Krin forces are still under Rexxentrum, just waiting orders to maybe continue hits different, after seeing the Nein go shopping, go to an underground fight ring, and go to the spa. 4 days, huh. Nott was right !

The Sprinkle conversation is so funny, but also awful because when Laura Bailey pouts, you are forced to agree with her. I love that Travis' voice for Sprinkle is basically Macaroni Samsonite's voice but even more high-pitched and sped up.

The talk with the Bright Queen, for all tense it was, was way less creepy and authocratic than the one within the King's chambers...

And we end with a very very very bad Mighty Nein concert. How fitting.

[stay-tinystars]

RED

Ship: Mingi x female reader

Established relationship, parent au, fluff

Word count: 262

Warnings: Halloween parties, costumes. Let me know if I need to add anything.

You stared down at the red dripping off your hands. The dark red staining your hands, literally. You looked in the mirror, your eyes seemed to glow red as did your husband's.

"We're never going to get these stains out are we?" Mingi laughed, as he touched his red neck. His hand sticking slightly to the fake blood which was to be expected. The smiles along with the fangs and colored contacts made you both look quite creepy.

"I think we're going to have red stains on our skin for a week," you laughed.

"It's worth it mom!" Doyun said as he touched the two red spots you put as bite marks on his neck.

It was your son's idea to have the whole family be vampires this Halloween. The 8 year old didn't want to be as he said "some lame non scary thing. I want to scare people".

Mingis laughter was a stark contrast to the dark look you had both assembled. Even the 10 month old looked quite frightening with the blood red binky in her mouth. And the fake blood splattered across the small white dress you had found for her.

"Well, are we ready to go to the party?" You asked as you picked up Hajoon, balancing her on your hip.

"I'm ready to scare everyone!" Doyun called as he headed for the door.

"Do you think he will scare people?" Mingi asked, you nodded.

"I do, because I texted Yunho and he assured me the guys will pretend to be scared when we arrive" You smiled.

[pinkmirth]

—𝐌𝗼𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝗼𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 [𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞]

《𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛���𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝗼𝗺𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 + 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝》

Boxes splayed across the bare, sheen hardwood of your newly owned apartment, some contents of them being haphazardly tossed out onto the floor, courtesy of Katsuki. Speaking of, the eager ash blonde had been taking this whole unpacking thing with a ravaging approach, a little more aggression than enthusiasm being displayed. This disregarding husband of yours had already broken two vases since the moving van hauled in your belongings..

You caught wind of his incoherent murmurs throughout the day, which were practically countless by now. You’d been racking your brain since, attempting to discover what had gotten your poor Katsuki so upset. Despite the marriage that bonded you and him, Katsuki’s profession usually got in the way of many personal things. For a while, it’d been a danger just for the pair of you to live together, so you haven’t been. Until now. It had been three days since you and him moved from the comfort of your hometown, Musutafu, to the renowned capital, Tokyo, and you wished you could say it had been smooth sailing. Unfortunately, a certain Bakugou wasn’t having the best time, always sputtering a profanity or a groan left and right. His case of the grumps was probably a trip of his complex emotions, either caused by a sense of neediness, deprivation of some sort, or bottled rage. You were betting, practically hoping on the first two instead. Knowing your husband, it meant well that he’d get his hands on miscellaneous household items to crush, smash and break, as some way of channeling his anger episodes. Three days down the line, and you already needed to replace a handful.. Though, it was currently dinner time, and you were sure that was a good thing. Katsuki’s little funk would wash away come 6pm. Cooking had a way of melting away the male’s heaps of stress, especially when you offered to join in. Throughout that hour of making food and serving you his prideful dishes, he always carried a subtle smile. Dinner wasn’t something to worry about. “Fuckin’ hell!” Scratch that. Telling by the pestering clatter of the cabinets he was yanking open, to the dastardly echo of his stomps, it seemed that you couldn’t rely on the succor of food for any longer. “I oughta’ set this lousy kitchen on fucking fire!” You let out a hefty sigh, picking yourself up from the spacious beanbag, since you were yet to assemble any couches, before strolling over to the kitchen, awaiting to see the reason behind your husband’s exaggerated shrieking. “Katsu-Chan, what's the issue..?” Your husband immediately bombarded you with a growled rant, “I can’t find my shitty apron!” You eyed Katsuki through furrowed brows. Is all this attitude really about one measly apron? Nah, I doubt it, your inner voice chimed. “And there ain’t any more pepper seasoning, so I haven’t got a clue what I’ll cook now..” he spewed through gritted teeth, recklessly tossing away the poor frying pan that he’d been holding onto all the while, impressive dents imprinted onto the handle, curved into the shape of his fingers. In that case, you had one more household item to replace. Noted.. “I can’t find that damned thing,” he spoke with an exasperated huff, his hands flying up to the cupboards, motioning them open and closed with the slightest violent tendency. “Hate to break it to you, sweet cheeks, but we ain’t eating dinner tonight,” you scoffed over Katsuki’s recurring dramatics, “These past few days have been shitty anyway..” He’d said it throughout a lowly mutter, but it was enough to cause a nervous stream to rush through you. Did he not like it here? Perhaps the city was too busy for Dynamight, maybe he wasn’t immune to getting homesickness as he liked to brag about, or it couldve been that he just wasn’t ready to get used to such a foreign occurrence in your relationship— living together. But, of course, considering your nature to bat things off with a joke of some sort, you contorted your worries into a comical stick to jab at your husband with.

“Darling, if you’re on your man-period, you should’ve just said so..” you’d said it with fabricated pity, all the while holding back your chuckles as his brows began to furrow, upper lip curving vexingly.

“You think you’re so damn funny, dontcha’, woman..?”

“Yeah, just a little bit.”

Another rasped groan left the lips of the ever-impatient Bakugou Katsuki, “Oi. Are ya’ just gonna keep giggling on about my little anger episode forever?”

Hm. For once, he actually acknowledged it for what it is, you thought briefly, before making your way around the glossy, marble-design kitchen island, your hands finding solace on his defined, muscular triceps. 

The thick straps of his black, square neck tank top gradually began to slide past his shoulders, shadowing over his collarbone before you inched it back up.

“Do you.. like it here, Katsuki?” By the moment he answered your answer with an aggressive snort, you realized you had nothing to worry about.

 “Why the hell wouldn't I? We didn’t pay for this house just to hate the place,” he scoffed, his large palms skimming over the small of your back before thick fingers of his wrapped around your waist.

“That’s a relief, but you’ve been acting a little grumpy— Like something’s bothering you. Could you just tell me how you’re feeling?” You finally admitted your questioning thoughts with an expectant look, watching Katsuki return your curiosity with a subtle smirk. “You wanna know what’s bothering me..?” 

“Y’know what, never mind. Don’t wanna hear it, Katsu-Chan.”

Your abrupt response had him knitting his brows and emitting confused huffs. “So you’re just gonna change your mind on me like that?!” You jabbed at his chest with your pointer finger to punctuate your reply, “because you made it sound creepy, that’s why!”

Katsuki then tightened his grip around your waist, earning a breathy gasp out of you. Before you could question the blonde, he already had you hauled up into the kitchen island, standing between your dangling legs with the tip of his nose grazing yours. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh at the comforting warmth of his sizey hands, your arms instinctively flinging around the back of his neck.

“Alright, I’ll tell you the truth, hon,” confessed Katsuki, “The move has been great, but horrible. It all went good, I guess. No missing items, moving trucks arriving in record time, everything we wanted. But there’s one more thing that we wanted that you seemed to forget about, you lil’ idiot..”

Despite the use of an insult, his cheeks and ears began the bloom a subtle but pretty pink, his sharp red eyes averting from your own blinking ones.

“Care to inform me on whatever I forgot..?” You skimmed through my your memory frantically in those few seconds that he’d paused, trying to dig up a pleasing answer before he told you himself.

“Privacy, [Y/N].. We’d have so much, too much once we moved to our own place. And we loved the sound of that. Y‘know why, right..?”

Your heart suddenly leapt within your chest at his indication, his left brow rising suggestively as he briefly cocked his head. You definitely knew why.

“So we could have times like this. Without any damned interruptions. I can suck your face off without one of my shitty friends popping up unexpectedly, ain’t that swell?” His voice held the slightest bit of laughter in it, his tone comical and yearning.

“So.. if I said that I wanna feel you close to me..” you murmured, your breath fanning over his proximate lips, “Like, really really close, it wouldn’t be a problem, yes?” A teasing, lingering peck was what you placed across his cheek, earning a genuine grin from Katsuki as a response.

“Who the hell’s gonna stop you? In fact, I’ve got my own idea,” his lowly voice came out booming nonetheless, but of course, the benefit of privacy made sure that his volume wasn’t a problem.

“I wanna watch you. While you watch me.” He didn’t have to be lewdly exact with his words, the lust-blown gaze in your husband’s vermillion eyes was enough to tell what he wanted. It was simple enough as he’d said; Mutual masturbation, just a few minutes before dinner time would commence.

Albeit the serene atmosphere, you couldn’t hold back your snicker over your realization. Bakugou Katsuki, your impatient lover. The poor guy had been in such a distasteful mood, only because of his unnerving libido..

“You wanna watch me take off my panties, huh?” Your teasing statement came out as a suggestive giggle, your hand placed sturdily at the nape of his neck while the unoccupied one got to work on making his fantasies a reality, tugging at the hem of your leggings hastily.

“You’ve gotta watch me too, y’know,” Katsuki reminded you with a gravelly chuckle, shimmying and pulling his bottoms off as though there were no time to spare.

His half naked form had attracted you in an instant, eyes drawing to his thick cock, semi-hard and already being encased into his moving palm.

“Don't just stare. It works both ways, sweet cheeks. I wanna see some fingers moving’ already,” Puffs of breath were taken between his words, ruby red eyes already lidded with an agape mouth that poured out the most arousing groans.

“Nah, I think I’ll just enjoy the show for now,” you decided matter-of-factly, pressing a sloppy kiss along his defined jawline, causing him to emit another grunt, lowly slapping sounds being heard from his vulgar ministrations.

“You think you’re cute, huh..” hissed Bakugou, trudging his clothes back on with a grunt, to your dismay. “Forget it. Instead of putting on a show for a brat like you, I’m gonna go straight to dinner.”

You accepted the fate that your actions resulted in, ready to slide off the island, just before his stern hands stopped you. He gave you this glance, one that made you eye him in suspicion as he kept his hands on each of your thighs, spreading them apart with a lax grin.

“Katsu— Ah!” By now, the blonde had already dropped to his knees, now face level with your clothed heat. “W-what about dinner..?!”

“Whaddya’ mean?” His tone came out rasped and attractive, a growing smirk reaching his lips as his fingers prodded at the band of your bottoms, “This is my dinner, babe..”

[the-huntress]

Little Moth - Chapter 4 - As The Snow Fell

[Thank you so much to everyone that has read, liked and re-blogged the chapters and master list of my fanfic so far, I really appreciate all the support!]

Masterlist

Y/N Protagonist, female. Reader X Karl Heisenberg. [18+]

Summary: You’ve barely even set foot into the village and have already had a taste of the unusual residents and otherworldly beings. Is there anyone that you can trust?

Trigger Warnings: Threat, theft.

Soundscape Ambience Suggestions:

Medieval Ruins Ambience

Quiet Tavern Ambience

[Photos are my own]

You woke with a start, the white canvas of the morning sky blinding you as a crow cawed from above. You cast you gaze about bleary eyed, taking in your surroundings. You were back at your camp, but mightily dishevelled, half your clothes on, half off, and various parts exposed to the elements. The last embers of the fire burned, soft wafts of smoke dying down.

What the hell happened last night? You wondered, casting your thoughts back and rubbing your face, feeling almost as if you had a hangover. Fixing your clothes, you turned your attention to your equipment and the camp. Anything that wasn’t necessary to have on you today you bagged back up into your luggage bag and pushed into the hollow of the tree that you had camped against; mostly some clothing, sleeping bag, tarpaulin… you paused as you got to the bow that the Duke had gifted to you, eyeing it up. As much as you felt safer with it, today you would have to try to be inconspicuous, and this weapon was not going to help with that. You stuffed it hastily as far bag into the hollow as you could, hooking it on a knot on the inside of the tree so that it hung safely, completely out of view, and then threw leaves over the bag.

The distance seemed shorter this time going towards the cliff edge that overlooked the village. You took out your binoculars from a pouch on your hip and got down onto your stomach to scout the area. From where you were you could easily see the castle with its spiky turrets in the distance, slightly shrouded by a fine mist at this hour. If it weren’t for the whole situation that you were in and the very obvious unease that this place was already causing you, you’d have maybe even called this gothic monster ‘beautiful’. Leading up to it were many small houses, each made slightly differently to the next, but somehow all similar. Some with thatched roofs, some tile, some metal. You were only at the brink of this village, but you could sense poverty from here, being used to living in a modern world and never feeling like you’d had to struggle too much for food or material needs. Your eyes were drawn to a route that should give you access easily into the village by way of going behind some of the closer buildings, and with a quick sweep, checking that no one was currently about, you decided to go now.

The village had a spattering of snow, less than a foot for sure, and for the most part it had been trodden down and thinned. Coming up to the first house you crouched down behind a small brick wall, which looked as though it had started to tumble over. Again, you couldn’t see anyone here, but you could definitely hear livestock; a pig and maybe some chickens. Peering over the top of the wall towards the house you noticed a washing line, its contents bouncing slowly in the slight breeze. There were yellowed white briefs, a petty coat, bonnets, a dress made out of material that looked itchier than it looked practical, and also a hooded cloak. You pondered for a moment if taking an entire line of clothes to disguise yourself was a good idea or not and then decided against it; you whipped the cloak down, it being very dull and drab in both colour and fabric, with no distinguishing features, and threw the large hood up over your head. It was big enough even to hide your eyes, the swells of fabric wrapping around your arms and body, providing more warmth as well as what you hoped would deter anyone from making too much notice of you. Your boots and trousers were visible, from the knee down, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Nearing the centre, you started to hear the sounds you’d expect to hear in a small village like this. The day was light enough to see everything clearly; a statue of a lady holding a sword and shield. Something about it sent a shiver down your back. It wasn’t that it looked creepy, it just felt… familiar somehow. This looked as though it was perhaps the centre of the village; a woman sat on a bench knitting, a couple of children played with a stick and hoop. That felt weird too. It was the turn of the millennium, and yet here children were playing with really outdated toys. A little way up you could see a hill rising with some gravestones dotted here and there to the left of it. Already you could feel the eyes of the children staring at you and the quiet clacking of the knitting needles had stopped. Keeping your head down, you carried on walking, your feet choosing to take you up the small hill, past the gravestones. You passed a strange wooden shine on your right, not daring to turn your head to look at the details right now, for you’d hoped that they people here might assume that you were one of them thus letting you become invisible. You’d had undercover jobs before that you’d excelled at, but things felt very different here. Every step you took made the feeling of foreboding grow stronger in you. Up ahead was a door depicting two characters, one looked like a woman, the other, you weren’t too sure, but it looked sturdy and as though it might lead to the great castle, so that didn’t seem like you’d be unnoticed if you tried that door. To the right a long alley way, but it looked to lead away from the village, and to the right again the iron gates into the grounds of a small church, with a bubble of people emerging from its doors now. Yes, you had to lay low and try not to turn heads, but you also needed information, maybe if you passed through this crowd as if you were going somewhere you could eavesdrop some clues.

You made your way over and saw a man dressed like a vicar of sorts standing at the church doors while the villagers left, his hands raised in the air and a grin on his face. His eyes were eerily shadowed with darkness, but this didn’t seem to deter his congregation.

“Thank you for coming to today’s assembly to pay our respects to our beloved saviour, Mother Miranda. Volunteers and the Heretic’s Judgement are to be held tomorrow at Mother’s church.”

Just then you accidentally bumped right into someone emerging from the crowd, the impact making you both exhaled audibly, and the villager dropping their item to the ground.

“I’m so sorry, are you ok?” You asked, seeing her face as she looked up to see whom she had bumped into. You mentally kicked yourself for being automatically nicely mannered when you could have just trundled past. Instead, you stopped to pick up what you saw now to be a small bouquet of flowers, seeing her smiling at you as you handed them to her.

“Oh yes, I’m quite alright.” She said warmly. She looked to be in her forties with grey blue eyes, mousy brown hair and bangs. “Are you?”

You were taken aback for a moment; you didn’t expect anyone to ask how you were. In all honesty you’d been better. “No damage done.” You smiled, making sure to pull the cloak over any item of clothing that might give you away for being from further afield than the next village or so. The church doors had closed, and the rest of the crowd had now disbanded into the rest of the village.

“You look to me like you could do with a hot meal and a warm bath. If you beg my pardon for saying so.” She took a step back and extended her hand. “I’m Luiza by the way.”

“Y/N.” You replied, shaking it. Is this a good idea? You asked yourself, but you couldn’t help but trust the woman.

“I was just about to lay these down in the cemetery, if you’d like to join me Y/N.” Luiza offered, indicating to the small bouquet. There was a look in her eyes, like she was trying to tell you something.

“Yes of course.”

The two of you made your way a little past the church and through some more iron gates, this time into a space that was on a slight slope with a couple of crypts and tombs. Checking around her to make sure that no one else was around, Luiza turned her eyes back to you slowly.

“You’re not from here.” She stated. You swallowed.

“No, I’m from the next town over, I’m passing through to –“

“Please. You’re not from here, your accent, your boots… but your eyes, your eyes are what really gave it away. If you’d ever lived near here, you’d never have the damn nerve to even come.” She waved a hand in the air, and yet looked remorsefully subdued. You didn’t quite know what to say.

You looked down to the ground, shame seeping in as if from the snow at your feet.

“I’m searching for a friend.” You said solemnly. “He’s here somewhere, at least, I think. I think that he came here on a lead; whether he’s here to help someone or it’s to do with something that concerns us… I’m not sure. But he’s been gone a while now, and I’d like to get him back home.” Saying it made it all the more real, and you could feel your throat growing tight. The whole time that you’d been speaking Luiza had listened intently, yet her face remained soft. Something twinkled in her pale eyes, a knowing.

“Do you have a picture, of your friend?” She asked.

“Yes.” You unzipped the RPD bag hanging at your side and carefully pulled the photo from the wallet inside. “His name is Leon, Leon Kennedy.” Luiza took the photo into her own hand carefully, studying it and then handed it back.

“You should come over for some dinner tonight Y/N. See that gate over there?” She pointed back towards the church but the opposite side from which you’d entered. “Through that gate, turn left and all the way up the hill. My husband and I are having goulash tonight, if that might tempt you.”

“With dumplings?”

“I can do them if you’d like.” She smiled, turning away to face a small gravestone. “Come after nightfall but be careful on your way.”

“I will.” You started heading back towards the church and then turned to ask, “Who is it? That you’re visiting I mean.”

“My daughter.” She replied.

You left Luiza at her daughter’s grave and felt your stomach rumble. The last 24 hours had been gruelling on your body, you were cramping with no pain relief, nor for your knee, which was already aching, a reminder of the stress you’d put it through the day before fighting that… beast, and then you remembered; the dream… what had happened? That was the same beast as the one you’d slain. But what, you’d resurrected it? You wondered what it meant, and then you started to recall what had happened after. Your cheeks burned red in an instant, spreading over your neck and ears. Confusion ultimately taking over. Well at least I’m warm now, you sneered at yourself, and then felt another rumble. I need food.

Luiza seemed like she could be a good ally to have here, and something told you that she recognised that picture of Leon; even if she was the only person that would help you out you felt happy that you had at least something potentially to go on. You headed back into the centre of the village, with the intention of heading back to your camp for another preserved snack and then it hit you; the smell of eggs and bacon. It was drifting up from somewhere a little way past the statue to the left and you followed it around without a care.

“The Fat Goose” The sign read above the door. It looked to be a small inn of sorts with a few townsfolk coming in and out, and in seemingly good spirits. You made sure that your hood was pulled back up over your eyes and made your way in. It was like many other humble pubs that you’d frequented here and there, mostly when visiting back home in England. A long bar at the back of the room, a door leading somewhere at the back, and the clientele sat hunched over round tables upon stools, leaning close to the fire, or shouting above one another at the bar itself. It wasn’t the busiest, but it seemed to be where the majority of the village had decided to spend their day if they did not have work to be done. You could see a couple of the villagers did indeed have meals here of all sorts; chicken, bread, cheese, and most importantly eggs and bacon. You could feel yourself salivating.

Keeping your head low you approached the barkeep, the Lei ready in your hand, and slid it across the surface towards him. “Eggs, bacon and ale, thank you.” You pushed your coin over to him. You’d been lucky, upon meeting the Duke he’d brought up local currency and exchanged what you’d made the mistake of purchasing at the airport.

The barkeeper was quietly suspicious, evident in the way that he eyed you up, taking a moment to pause cleaning the tankard in his hands to take the money and gave a nod back.

“We’ll bring it over to yer table.” He said, turning back to what he was doing. You chanced a glance around the room and decided to take a seat at a vacant table by the window. It felt like a safe spot; you could see the door and the bar, but you were also tucked into a corner out of the way, the only light cast by the fire on the other side of the room and a couple of candles over head in brackets.

The ale was with you in no time at all. You’d never actually drank ale before and weren’t expecting it to be the tastiest of drinks, but there wasn’t much choice here. The eggs and bacon shortly followed, filling the room with a smell that made you stomach growl again.

The door flew open and you suddenly noticed the difference between the warmth of the inn with the bite of the outside air. The chill swept into the pub with the figures of two men, both tall and brawny, but one much larger than the other. They seemed to be deep in conversation but trying to keep their voices to a murmur that they could only hear between themselves.

They were dressed similarly; the taller man’s clothes had more of a darker and subdued palette. He had a head of grey hair, and a beard to match, a broad forehead, kind eyes and a nose which looked as though it had been broken at least once. The shorter of the two, but by no means lacking in height had a similar long coat but in more earthy tones. His face was hidden by a dark brown leather hat of sorts, well-worn with a mess of dark hair streaked with grey. The other patrons went quiet as the men entered and then began nodding at them, some even tilting a hat, before going back to their business.

Something began stirring in your stomach and you looked down at your food, maybe the eggs were off? You looked up again, unconscious of being unable to stop watching them, or more specifically, the man with the hat. He definitely felt your gaze right at that moment as he slowly turned his face over his right shoulder to look at you from behind dark, circular shades hiding his eyes from view. Time seemed to stop. He was really looking, and you felt as though you were tumbling backwards down through the biggest chasm carved into the stars.

“Oh boy.” You breathed as the man suddenly turned his head back to reply to something that his towering friend had said, who in turn, then noticed you, glancing over his friend’s head. The feeling in your stomach had grown so intense that it felt as though it had now pummelled its way into your chest too. This felt like danger and sickness all wrapped into one. You had half a mind to leave now, but you knew that not only would that rouse more suspicion, you just also didn’t want to.

“Urias, Karl.” The bartender came over to the two men at the bar, “What can I get you?”

Sometime later a beautiful, red haired girl came to take your plate away. Despite being so hungry when you first came into the establishment, once the men had entered, you’d felt so nauseous that you’d barely been able to manage another bite. You tried to channel your thoughts, calm the storm in your stomach and ease your breathing. You were getting there, managing to ground yourself, but every few minutes your eyes were drawn back to that man, was he Urias or was he Karl? Which name suited him most? Urias sounded strong and noble, well he certainly looked strong. He pulled out a cigar and lit it, suddenly emitting raucous laughter from something that his friend said which shocked you out of your trance; and then he fell silent, starring at the other man so intensely that it scared you.

“You’re fucking kidding me?” He asked. The pub fell silent. You were so focused on the scene, as was everyone else that you neglected to notice the way your tankard had started to slowly drift up into the air along with everyone else’s.

“I’m sorry my friend, I am not. I am going to marry her.”

“God fucking damnit Urias!” He bellowed, slamming a fist down on the bar. Everything fell with a bang, ale sloshing over the tables and with that he stormed out of the pub. Urias rubbed a giant hand over his face, the skin gathering in mounds between each finger. The bartender brought over a new tankard, about three times the size of the regular ones and let it thud down in front of Urias.

“On the house, chief.”

Urias took it in his man-paw and without hesitation turned towards you, walking over.

“Are you going to tell me who you are then, fabled traveller. I can tell you come from very far away.” He sounded like how you imagined a talking bear to sound, deep and rumbly. He had a big, square chin, his jaw jutted out slightly, strong teeth, big lips and kind eyes. He poured a little of the ale from his giant vessel into your own, indicating for you to stay put. No one else in the pub seemed to be paying attention, at least not with their eyes, this man must have some hold or power over them.

“My name is Y/N, and I am looking for my friend.” You told him truthfully, face down, but eyes looking up at him. You were scared, for sure, but you wouldn’t let it show. You were here for a reason, you’d come this far, you weren’t going to leave without Leon, and you meant it. You slid the photo across the table to him and he took it tenderly, bringing it closer to his face, all that way up to take a look. He tilted his head to the side.

“Have you spoken to anyone else?” He asked, eyes flitting between you and the photo.

“One other.” You replied, not mentioning who.

“Y/A my name is Urias, as you might have heard my friend eloquently let the world know earlier. I am the chief of this village. My brother and I-“ He paused and looked down at his hands. “My brother and I came from a mountain clan, our blood line has been chief there for generations, but we wanted to see more of the world and make our mark, learn trades and earn our keep. We came to this village when we were both merely men grown, that was a long time ago now.” He had a faraway look in his eyes, turning now to look out of the window, it was already beginning to grow dark and a drift of snow had begun to descend once more. “We climbed the ranks here, doing what we could to help protect the village and its population…” He paused again in thought. “To help, however we could. It’s just me now, but I still want that, I still want to do what’s right for my people”

He took a deep drink from the tankard, which now that you were looking at it closely, looked more like a small barrel with a makeshift handle.

“Y/N I will help you however I can, but please understand this; this is no normal village, there are things at work here even I can’t quite explain. Tensions are very high, and an outsider coming in looking for a missing friend,” He tilted his head and gave a small chuckle, “Well, that’s not going to go down so well with some of the villagers, and especially not with the higher ups.”

“You mean Mother Miranda?” You asked bluntly. He swung his head to look you dead in the eyes.

“How do you know her name?”

“I did my research before I came; I don’t know much about her Urias, but I have a bad feeling about her.” Your cheeks burned from being so forward.

He laughed again, “You’re not the only one.” He muttered, casting you a careful sideways glance, taking you in some more. He looked like he was pondering or considering something. “There are a seldom few here that you can trust, so be careful. You can find me at my house, some of the folk they call it ‘the chief’s hut’, or else I’ll likely be here, at least for now.” His mind seemed to trail off somewhere else.

Noticing that night had indeed now fallen you bid your farewell and shook the giant’s paw and made your way outside into the chill of night, thankful for the stolen cloak wrapped around your frame.

You started around the side of the pub, back towards the route that would take you directly to Luiza’s house when something wrapped around your throat and shoved you against the wall. The breath was choked out of you upon impact and your hood fell, your hair falling down in-front of your eyes as you blinked them open, trying to see what had happened. Pain started spreading in your body; the cuts on your torso, your knee blazed and the cramps starting up again like knives. The thing around your throat was a hand, larger than your own but not huge, nails digging into your flesh.

You tried to say something, a warning a threat, but whoever it was, was closing your throat.

“Don’t pretend I didn’t see you making eyes at me in there darling,” A man’s voice drooled. “We don’t see tourists all too often around here, but I’m sure an outsider like you will be carrying something of value.”

You didn’t recognise the face in front of you at all. A man in his twenties, maybe, fairly non-descript with short mousey brown hair and some stubble. He absolutely reeked of alcohol. Your right hand shot instinctively towards your knife and he twisted your wrist anti-clockwise immediately disarming you, shoving you back against the wall with the force of his body and then reaching for any other weapons. Of course, he found the pistols, kicking one aside and holding the other to your temple.

“These will bring me a pretty Lei or two, I’m sure the Duke would be happy to pay me handsomely. What other souvenirs have you got under that cloak of yours?”

You scrabbled against his hands, trying to execute the self-defence you’d been taught for situations such as these. You tried to get to his weak points; wrist, elbow, knee, balls, but he had you at his mercy. The number of tight spots and situations you’d come up against in your time and you couldn’t do a damn thing if someone had you pinned when their strength was greater than your own. Your hands gripped against his arm, legs kicking.

“Hand it over and I won’t hurt you. Much.” He pressed the cold of your pistol harshly into the skin under your chin.

“No!” You rasped, suddenly being thrown down for a second but caught by something before you hit the ground. Strong, hot arms held you up from falling.

You dared to open your eyes, looking over the arm at the man’s fate. He was sprawled on the ground, blood gushing from his nose and mouth.

“Get the fuck out of here.” A voice rumbled from above you. You looked up. It was Karl. You winced again and the younger man tore off into the darkness without looking back. Your body trembled from pain, cold and something else.

You looked up again. Although you still couldn’t see his eyes you could see some sort of unearthly glow behind the glasses. His skin looked fairly tanned, smooth but worn, tired maybe, and small scars scattered here and there. You were still in his arms, entranced, and so warm.

“Thank you.” You breathed. He swallowed hard and blinked, turning his face away from you, he let his arms drop now that you were on your feet, but you were still close against his body, which now felt so tense. Was he shaking?

“Go.” He exhaled. You faltered, putting a hand to his arm, he flinched, his breathing deepened. “Please.” He shut his eyes. What was this man fighting?

You gulped, stepping back, not understanding, pulling your cloak around you, and stooping to retrieve your weapons.

“Karl, Y/N what’s going on?” Urias lurched out of the pub doors, “What was that commotion?”

A couple of moments passed where you were staring at Urias, holding your cloak to you and expecting Karl to answer, but nothing happened. You turned around to look at Karl, but he wasn’t there.

Urias offered to escort you himself to Luiza’s from there. You told him what happened and although he was furious at what had happened, swearing he’d try to find the culprit and have them punished; he did not seem surprised by Karl’s sudden disappearance. To say you were shaken up was an understatement, but you at least felt safer being with this humungous man of the mountains as you made your way through the snowy night.

Song Suggestion: ‘Stumble and Pain’ by Joseph Arthur

[thebadgerclan]

The Dragon and The Fox: Chapter Two

Chapter Summary: The Dragon Queen’s wedding…

@autumnbabylon

A/N: I’m sorry if the formatting is weird on this chapter, my internet went down while I was writing this, so I’m posting from my phone

Nikolai’s breath caught in his throat as the oak doors to the ballroom opened. There she was: his Dragon Queen, his love, his girl, in all her stunning beauty. Her gown shimmered with every step she took, dragon scales rippling in the fabric. Her veil looked like a fine mist, no, like metal floating on air. Sapphires sparkled in Zoya’s hair, which was braided intricately. Nikolai had to resist the urge to run up the aisle to her and embrace her. Genya was beaming with pride, a tear rolling from her eye.

The bouquet Zoya carried was a hodgepodge of different flowers, but Nikolai knew the significance behind them: blue irises for Alina, orange blossoms for Liliyana, heartleaf for Marie, yew for Sergei, red sentinels for Fedor, dahlias for Nina. There were more, many that Nikolai didn’t know for whom they were, but he knew they came from Zoya’s garden. She glided up the aisle to him, smiling, her blue eyes shining. Finally, she was beside him, handing her flowers to Genya, who pressed a kiss to her cheek

“Zoya,” Nikolai whispered, already feeling tears forming. “Saints, you look beautiful. My Zoya, look at you.” Zoya smiled wider, taking her prince’s hands. “Thank you. You clean up rather nicely as well.” Nikolai laughed, wanting to say a million more things: wax poetry of his bride’s beauty, tell her how deeply and unconditionally he loved her, sink to his knees before her and pledge his undying loyalty to the Dragon Queen. But there would be time for that later, and Zoya’s Apparat raised his hands, beginning the ceremony.

“We gather today to bring together two souls,” he said, gesturing to Nikolai and Zoya in turn. “Her Royal Highness, Queen Zoya Nazyalensky, and Nikolai Lanstov. If there are any who object to this union, speak now.” Nikolai waited with baited breath, fearing someone would shout out, but the room remained silent. “Please exchange your vows to one another.” Zoya straightened up. “Nikolai,” she said, voice clear and confident, but also sweet and full of love. “We are soldiers. I will march with you in times of war. I will rest with you in times of peace. I will forever be the weapon in your hand, the fighter at your side, the friend who awaits your return.

“I have seen your face in the making at the heart of the world, sobachka, and there is no one more beloved, brave, and unbreakable.” She squeezed Nikolai’s hand, blinking back tears. He was not a Grisha, but their vows were most fitting for a soldier, a man who had fought alongside his men while still wearing the crown. “Zoya, my love, we are soldiers. I will march with you in times of war. I will rest with you in times of peace. I will forever be the weapon in your hand, the fighter at your side, the friend who awaits your return. I have seen your face in the making at the heart of the world, and there is no one more beloved, brave, and unbreakable.”

Tolya came to his side, and Genya came to Zoya’s, both with a thorn wood crown in their hands. Zoya stooped so Genya could place the crown on her head, but Tolya was tall enough to place Nikolai’s on his head without him bending. The Apparat held his hands out, one over the queen’s head, the other over Nikolai’s. “In the presence of Saints and men, these two have declared their love and trust for one another. May the Saints grant them nothing but joy, love, and prosperity in their lives together. I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Nikolai hardly heard the assembled guests cheering, all of his attention was on Zoya, on his wife. He stepped forward, closing the gap between them, pulling her into his arms. Nikolai dipped her as he kissed her deeply, her thorn wood crown falling to the floor. Zoya clung to her husband as if her life depended on it, returning the kiss with equal amounts of passion and love. When he righted her, Nikolai kept Zoya in his arms, resting his forehead against hers. “I love you,” he said, voice soft. “I love you so much, Zoya. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, sobachka,” she replied, grinning wider than Nikolai had ever seen. “So much.” After a moment, Nikolai released Zoya and offered her his arm. “I believe there are people who wish to congratulate their queen,” he said, and Zoya took his arm. “And their prince consort?” “I suppose.” They walked from the altar, waving and smiling to their guests. A refreshment table had been set up in the back of the ballroom for the guests while the reception was being readied, and several people were already there.

The first ones to offer their congratulations were the Fjerdan prince and his wife. The new princess had nearly flown into Zoya’s arms before remembering herself, dropping into a deep curtsey. “Your Majesty,” she said, voice demure, but face mischievous. “Oh come off it, Nina,” Zoya said, holding her arms out to her friend. Nina embraced Zoya, arms like a vice around her midsection. “Congratulations,” she said, taking Zoya’s hands. “You look stunning.” “She truly does,” said Nikolai, putting an arm around his wife’s shoulder. Zoya blushed, leaning into Nikolai’s side.

The Fjerdan prince came to his wife’s side, kissing her temple. “Your Majesty,” he said in greeting. “My congratulations. May Djel watch over you.” Zoya smirked, taking his offered hand. “Thank you, Your Highness. Are you taking care of our Nina?” His demeanor changed, becoming more relaxed. “I’d do nothing else,” he said, and Nina smiled. “We’ll have to do lunch once I’m queen. Is that something queens do?” Zoya laughed. “If I say they do, then yes.”

The queen spoke to the Fjerdans for a few moments more before moving on, greeting ambassadors and nobility of several nations. “Mister Brekker,” she said as she approached the Crows. “A pleasure.” She nodded to Jesper and Wylan as well, who smiled back at her. “We’re grateful for the invitation. And should the Ravkan crown ever require our services, we would be more than happy to assist.” Zoya smiled. “Thank you. I shall certainly keep that in mind.” Their conversation was short, and when Zoya caught a flash of white in the corner, she led her husband to the apparent peasants.

“Miss Starkov,” she said, catching the girl’s attention. “We’re so happy you both could be here today.” Alina smiled, embracing Zoya, then Nikolai. “It’s Mrs. Oretsev, and we’re happy to be here.” “Ahh, of course.” The banter came easy between the two women, their bond strengthened by their shared experiences. “So what should we call you now? Mrs. Lanstov?” Zoya smirked. “Your Majesty, My Queen, Queen Zoya, Most Exalted One will do just fine.” Alina laughed, leaning on Mal’s shoulder. “Of course, Most Exalted One.” She gave a dramatic bow, and Zoya laughed, as did Nikolai and Mal.

“How’s Sainthood?” Alina rolled her eyes, though she was still smiling. “Have you ever been strolling through town and saw your finger bones for sale?” Zoya shuddered at the thought. “I can’t say I have.” “It’s creepy, let’s just say that.” They chatted for a few minutes, and for a while, Zoya forgot that she was Queen of Ravka, that she had a country to run. For a while, she was just Zoya, and the girl before her was the Sun Summoner.

“You know you’re welcome here any time,” Nikolai said, and Zoya nodded. “If you ever want to come stay or need to get away from the kids, our doors are always open.” Mal nodded his thanks, and Alina smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “Truly, thank you.” “Of course. It’s the least we could do after you, you know, saved the world.” Alina smiled, and Nikolai pressed a kiss to Zoya’s cheek. “Ready to head into the reception?” he asked, and Zoya nodded. “A party that’s all about me? Of course I am.” “Hey,” Nikolai said, feigning offense. “It’s my party too!” Zoya pulled her husband down into a kiss, cupping his cheeks in both hands. “It is, darling, it is.”F

[caranfindel]

Recap/review 15.20: “Carry On”

I’ll warn you right now - I did not hate it.

THEN: Chuck loses. Jack is God. The Winchesters are finally free.

NOW: Friends, get ready for a whole lot of fan service in the next few minutes. It's like TPTB have been reading everything we say and giving us what we want.

As a song about "ordinary life" plays, Dean's retro alarm clock goes off at 8:00. He shuts it off and sits up so we can see he's wearing a henley shirt (fan service points: 1). As he stretches, he's greeted by Miracle the dog (fan service points: 2)! Who is apparently his dog and definitely not Sam's!

But it's okay because LOOK AT THEM.

Meanwhile, Sam is running (fan service points: 3) and enjoying the beautiful day. When he gets home, he cooks (fan service points: 4) the same dry scrambled eggs that Stevie made for Charlie. Dean wanders in, wearing the dead guy robe, just as two slices of toast pop out of the toaster. I am not giving the robe any points because I don't think it's anything we all publicly long for and get excited about when it comes up, but I am willing to consider any opposing arguments. Sam, wearing just a t-shirt (5 points), tells Dean "it's hot" and I say mmm, yes it is. Dean adorably burns his hands on the hot toast and then brushes his teeth. You know what, I think the robe deserves a point after all. We're up to 6.

And we're not even two minutes into the episode.

And then they JUST KEEP COMING because Sam walks in, exposing his tattoo (7) because he's SHIRTLESS (8), scrubbing at his WET HAIR (9) with a towel, and I curse The Husband for deciding to watch with me because it means it would be kind of awkward to rewind and watch this a few more times. There's not even any dialog I can pretend I didn't catch.

I was NOT PREPARED FOR THIS.

He pulls on the grey v-neck t-shirt of sex (10) and proceeds to carefully make his bed. Dean, meanwhile, kind of sloppily throws his bed together and calls it done. Domestic Winchesters for 11 fan service points, please. Part of me feels like Dean's messy room is OOC, considering how proud he was to have his own room in the first place. But then I have to consider the trunk of the Impala, especially when compared to the hyper-organized neatness of her trunk when Sam's all alone in Mystery Spot, and it feels right. (Why am I thinking about Sam being all alone in Mystery Spot? NO REASON, NO REASON AT ALL.)

Sam's hair in his face while he makes his bed? Yes, please (12 points).

Dean washes the breakfast dishes (13), sneaking some leftover (because they were nasty) eggs to Miracle and looking around to make sure Sam doesn't see, because obviously Sam's going to be the one who doesn't want the dog to get table scraps. Sam put on a plaid shirt earlier, but we see him in the laundry room back down to one v-neck t-shirt (thank you Jack). He's reading as his laundry tumbles in the dryer, and he has to kick the dryer once to stop it from making noise, which I guess is why he's in there babysitting it. I keep reading on Tumblr that people want "at least one laundry scene," as if that didn't exist in The Monster at the End of This Book, but here's your laundry scene, friends. You were right to want it; it is marvelous (14).

Just look at that collection of plaid shirts and tell me it doesn't make you happy.

Dean times himself assembling a gun, complete with plenty of hand closeups (15) and then sits in the library with Miracle, scratching his ears (Miracle's, not his own) and apparently looking for a case. Sam comes in and joins them. He hasn't found anything, but Dean gets a serious look on his face and says "I got something."

Spoiler alert: It is my heart.

Title card!

The Impala pulls to a stop and the guys get out, still with serious looks on their faces. Oddly, the episode title flashes on screen really quickly. Or maybe it's just me. "Sure you're ready for this?" says Sam. "Oh, I don't have a choice," answers Dean. "This is my destiny." And that is exactly how I felt about watching this episode, friends. Not ready, but no choice. The camera pans to show that the boys are at the 43rd Annual Akron Pie Fest. In Akron, Iowa? Just north of Sioux City? Five hour drive? Say hi to Jody and the girls while you're there? Probably not. Probably in Akron, Ohio, almost 16 hours away.

(NO ONE CARES. STOP IT.)

Give me a break. This might be the last time I ever get to calculate driving time.

Anyway. Just pies! Nothing serious! Whew, I was concerned for a second. Dean is emotional.

This is just so beautiful.

Are you crying?

What? No. You're crying, I'm not.

No one is crying. There is no reason for ANYONE to cry.

Sam sits on a bench and watches happy pie eating families (sob). Dean returns with a giant box with six slices of pie (16 points). He sits next to Sam, and they have this conversation:

What's wrong?

Nothing. I'm fine.

Nah, come on, I know that face. That's Sad!Sam face.

I'm not Sad!Sam. I just. I'm thinking about Cas, you know? Jack. If they could be here.

Yeah, I know, I think about them too. You know what, that pain's not gonna go away, right? But if we don't keep living, then all that sacrifice is going to be for nothing.

Dean's right, Sam. Do not be sad. We will have no Sad!Sam tonight. Live your life, or else those sacrifices are wasted. (ahem.) Sam responds by pushing a slice of pumpkin pie into Dean's face. "I've wanted to do that for a very long time," he laughs. "You're right, I do feel better!" Dean scraping the pie off his face and eating it is pretty adorable.

I'd pay good money to lick that off his face. And not just because I love pumpkin pie.

Not quite 6 minutes in and we're up to at least 16 guaranteed bits of pure fan service. Just sweet, domestic Winchester brothers living their lives. How long has this been going on? I've decided it's been at least a year since the last episode. Maybe longer. A good long time. Lots of time for them to enjoy their newfound freedom. But right now things are getting dark. Because it's nighttime, and because I think somebody's about to die.

A mom sends two young brothers upstairs for bathtime. They pause when the doorbell rings. No one seems to be there, but then the dad is stabbed by people wearing creepy masks. The boys run into their room and hide. From their room, we hear the mom scream, and then a thump. One of the masked guys comes into the room and, after a fake-out when we think they might be safe, drags the boys out from under the bed.

So, domestic life in the bunker and then a hunt? Wow. We're getting it all. What a great episode, full of the things we love.

Is this Becky Rosen's living room?

Daytime. Agents Kripke and Singer (ugh, really? Kripke is good, but how about honoring someone other than the current regime?) show up at the scene. They learn that the dad's blood was drained, the mom is alive but her tongue was ripped out (wow), and the kids were taken. The mom drew a picture of the masks they wore, which the brothers recognize.

In a lovely, picturesque spot, the guys flip through John's journal. And I didn't realize we hadn't seen the journal in a while, but Tumblr informs me many of us were exicted to see it again, so boom. 17 points.

You know what this is? Mimes. Evil mimes.

Yeah. Or vampires.

VampMIMES. Son of a bitch!

Dean comes up with a silly portmanteau name for a monster? That will be 18 points. Sam determines the vamps will be heading for Canton if they follow their pattern, and the victims are families who live on the outskirts of town with children between the ages of five and ten. Well, that couldn't be too difficult to narrow down in a city with a population of over 70,000.

I'll handwave it. The lip biting. You’re welcome.

Night. Canton, I presume. Two masked vamps get out of a van. One of them gets decapitated by Dean. The other is shot in the leg, and then the head, by Sam. Well, he's a vampire, so of course it didn't kill him, but the bullet was soaked in dead man's blood. {Sidebar: "Soaked?" Dipped, maybe, but do you soak metal? Discuss.} They ask where the missing kids are, and the vamp is all, you're gonna let me go if I tell you? "No," Dean explains, adorably disappointed that the vamp isn't a mime after all. "This isn't a you walk out of here kind of situation. But see, if you tell us quick, you get this." He displays his bloody machete. "But if you take your time, you get, you get that." And "that" is a switchblade which Sam casually pops open right on cue.

Yeah, I'll take that. I'll take that itty bitty one.

It's a bad choice.

You see, this, this is quick. It's clean, you know? No muss, no fuss. You blink and you're dead.

But a blade this small, I'm gonna have to keep sawing and sawing to get your head off. And you'll feel it. Every muscle, tendon. Every inch. Could take hours.

Oh, and if those kids are dead? He's gonna use a spoon.

GUYS. I said it before and I’ll say it again. I absolutely love when they remind us that Sam Winchester, that sweet boy with the huge heart and the endless supply of empathy and the puppy dog eyes, I love it when they remind us that he is a fucking psycho when he needs to be. I'm not going to give it a point, because I don't think it's anything we've asked for, but again I'm willing to hear all arguments. Especially if they come with detailed examples of Sam going psycho. Just for evidence, you know.

Just casually talkin' bout torturing you to death. No big.

The vampire wisely decides to reveal the location of the nest where the kids are being held. Next we see the Impala pulling up in front of some kind of barn. The guys open the trunk to get their gear out, and Dean pulls out a throwing star. "Come on. One time." Sam says no. There will be plenty of other times for Dean to use his throwing stars, I'm sure.

The guys enter the barn and find it apparently empty, although we see masked vamps peeking at them from outside. They find the kids locked in a closet, but four vampires appear before they can escape. They shoo the boys outside and shoot the vampires with their dead man's blood bullets from a safe distance. No, they don't. Why? I got no goddamn idea.

{Sidebar: At some point during this fight, I realized they hadn't played "Carry On Wayward Son" at the beginning. And that we got a regular montage, not a season finale extended montage.}

Sam gets knocked unconscious, and Dean loses his machete and then gets pinned by a couple of vamps. But they don't kill him; they just hold him down while an unmasked vampire strolls in. Dean recognizes her from season 1, and pretends not to notice Sam's now-conscious hand surreptitiously creeping toward his machete. Suddenly the vampire loses her head, because Sam is behind her, and the fight starts up again. Dean gets thrown into a wall right next to a big metal spike, which we focus on oddly. And then he gets thrown onto the spike. Oops. Sam kills the last of the vamps and doesn't notice Dean's predicament. He's all, cool, fight's over, let's go get those kids out of here. "Sam," Dean says, "I don't think I'm going anywhere."

Dean tells Sam there's something stuck in his back and it "feels like it's right through me." He keeps touching his chest as if he expects to feel it poking through. Sam reaches around to touch his back and his hand comes back bloody, and if that gives you All Hell Breaks Loose feels, there's a good reason. Sam tries to pull Dean off the spike, but Dean stops him. "It feels like this thing's holding me together right now." Sam's starting to panic and so am I. He wants to go get the first aid kid and call for help, but Dean stops him. And y'all, I'm just gonna have to type the whole thing out.

Sam, Sam. Stay with me. Please, stay with me, please.

Okay. Yeah.

Okay. Okay. Uh. Right. All right, listen to me. Um. You get those boys and you get them someplace safe, all right?

Dean? WE are gonna get them somewhere safe.

No. You knew it was always gonna end like this for me. It was supposed to end like this, right? I mean, look at us. Saving people, hunting things, it's what we do.

Stop, Dean, just stop

It's okay. It's okay. it's good. It's good. We had one hell of a ride, man.

I will find away, okay? I will find another way.

No. No. No, no no no no. No bringing me back, okay? You know that always ends bad.

Dean, please.

I'm fading pretty quick, so, there's a few things I need you to hear. Come here. Let me look at you. There he is. I am so proud of you, Sam. You know that? I've always looked up to you. Remember when we were kids, you were so damn smart. You never took any of Dad's crap. I never knew how you did that. And you're stronger than me. You always have been. Hey, did I ever tell you, that night that I came for you when you were in school? You know, when dad hadn't come back from his hunting trip?

Uh, the woman in white.

The woman in white, that's right. I must have stood outside your door for hours, cause I didn't know what you would say. I thought you'd tell me to get lost, or get dead. And I didn't know what I would have done if I didn't have you. Cause I was so scared. I was scared. Cause when it all came down to it, it was always you and me. It's always been you and me.

Then don't leave me. Don't leave me. I can't do this alone.

Yes you can.

Well, I don't want to.

Hey. I'm not leaving you. I'm gonna be with you. Right here. Every day. Every day you're out there, and you're living, and you're fighting, cause you, you always keep fighting. You hear me? I'll be there, every step. I love you so much. My baby brother. Well, I did not think this would be the day. But it is, it is, and that's okay. I need you, I need you to promise me. I need you to tell me that it's okay. I need you to tell me it's okay. Look at me. I need. I need. I need you to tell me it's okay. Tell me it's okay.

Dean. It's okay. You can go now.

Bye, Sam.

NO, IT IS NOT OKAY. THIS IS THE OPPOSITE OF OKAY.

And of course I haven't described Sam's face as he understands what's happening, Dean's occasional spasms of pain, the handholding, the fucking FOREHEAD TOUCH, the tears, the way Dean's hand drops away, the way Sam's hands shake as he clutches his dead brother (hello, AHBL again).

Maybe we just need to watch it.

Gifs borrowed from @jaredandjensen​.

And there's also the Always Keep Fighting shoutout, the "I love you," Dean calling Sam his "baby brother," the "I can't do this alone/Yes you can/Well I don't want to" parallel with 1.01. Infinite points, friends. I can't count that high.

(Things not to think about: Sam putting Dean's body in the back seat, and then putting the two young brothers in the front and driving them to safety. Sam driving 15 hours back to Lebanon with his brother's body. Do not think about these things.)

Aftermath. Sam and Miracle, and no one else, are giving Dean a hunter's funeral. And I know Covid means Sam couldn't have any friends there, but also? This is kind of perfect. Sam facing it alone. The song we hear as Sam lights his brother's pyre is "Brothers in Arms" by Dire Straits, in case you're not emotionally wrecked yet.

Yeah, I'm already there, thanks anyway.

Next we see Sam's slightly more modern alarm going off at 8:00. Note that Sam gets up later now, because at the beginning of the episode, he had already gone for a run and was cooking breakfast when Dean woke at 8:00. But now there's no one to cook for so he doesn't need to get back early and I AM NOT OKAY.

ANYWAY.

Sam gets up and faces his lonely day. He cooks eggs. One piece of toast pops up. He sits in the library with Miracle and looks at the names carved into the table. He wanders the halls with his dog at his side. (SAM HAVING A DOG WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE HIM HAPPY. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE US HAPPY. HOW DARE YOU.)

{Sidebar: Has Sam ever had a dog when he wasn't at a low point in his already-low life? Discuss.}

Eventually he finds himself at the door to Dean's room. The room is just as Dean left it, kind of messy, kind of very full of Dean. He sits on Dean's bed and pets the dog and cries and it should come as a surprise to absolutely no one that I am ROLLING AROUND IN ALL OF THIS BEAUTIFUL PAIN.

No one at all.

@annianvi thinks he’s wearing Dean’s hoodie when he cooks his sad lonely breakfast? Could it be?

Sam hears a phone buzzing in Dean's desk. He digs out the one labeled "Dean's other other phone" and answers. The caller asks for "Agent Bon Jovi" and says he's had some bodies turn up without hearts in Austin. "A friend of mine, Donna Hanscum, said you were the one to call." Oooh, are we sending him to Austin? Is Walker, Texas Ranger just going to be another fake name and fake badge? Now that's how you do a spinoff!

{Sidebar: Does Donna know about Dean? Did Sam tell anyone yet? Is the trying to get him out of the bunker and keep him busy? If so, wouldn't she have given the guy Sam's number, not Dean's other other phone? But maybe it's someone she talked to weeks ago. Discuss.}

Sam tells the caller he is on his way, and we see him with a packed bag, heading out of the bunker with Miracle. He turns to look one last time and then turns off all the lights. We haven't seen the bunker this dark since the day they found it. I don't think he's ever coming back. Goodbye, bunker. I know some people hated you, but I was not one of them. {Sidebar: Did he give the bunker key to anyone? Surely he wouldn't want all those resources to go to waste!}

So, I guess the episode title refers to Sam having (choosing?) to carry on after he loses his brother. THIS IS FINE.

Now we're back at Dean's pyre, and this time we drift up with the smoke. We catch up with Dean, outdoors, in a lovely setting with trees and birds. "Well, at least I made it to Heaven," he says. "Yep," someone answers. It's Bobby! Real Bobby, not AU Bobby! Dean's actually standing next to a building - a cabin, maybe - and Bobby is sitting on the porch.

What memory is this?

It ain't, ya idjit.

Yeah it is. Cause the last I heard, you, you were in in Heaven's lockup.

Was. Now I'm not. That kid of yours, before he went wherever, made some changes here. Busted my ass out. And then he, well, set some things right. Tore down all the walls. Heaven ain't just reliving your golden oldies any more. It's what it always should have been. Everyone happy, everyone together. Rufus lives about five miles that way. With Aretha. Thought she'd have better taste. And your mom and dad, they got a place over yonder. It ain't just Heaven, Dean. It's the Heaven you deserve. And we been waiting for you.

So Jack did all that.

Well, Cas helped. It's a big new world out there. You'll see.

So, I guess Cas made it out of the Empty? Dean smiles at that, but doesn't suggest finding him or anything. I approve. Bobby pulls out a couple of beers (the green cooler made it into Heaven!!!) and they share some bad beer. Dean comments that Heaven is "almost perfect," and Bobby knows EXACTLY what's missing, because of course he does. "He'll be along. Time up here, it's different. You got everything you could ever want, or need, or dream. So I guess the question is, what are you gonna do now, Dean?" Well, Dean doesn't have everything he could ever want or need, but he does see one thing - Baby. With her Kansas plates! Friends, that's two things I requested before the end that I didn't think I would ever see: a forehead touch, and Baby wearing her original plates. Thank you, Jack.

Dean's face lights up. "I think I'll go for a drive." As he walks to his car, we see the cabin is actually Harvelle's Roadhouse, albeit smaller, I think. Dean settles into his car and says "Hey, Baby" and when he turns her on, "Carry On Wayward Son" begins to play.

I know he looks good in Purgatory, but DAMN if he don't look fine in Heaven, too.

We cut to the name Dean, which is embroidered on - a little boy's overalls. Sam's little boy. Oh, wow. I was not prepared for this. Sam has a son named Dean, and we switch back and forth between Dean driving through Heaven and scenes of Sam's life with his son and his mysterious, barely-seen wife. She has long dark hair, and I'd like to point out that she could easily be either Eileen or Dr. Cara Roberts. Just saying. Sam's house is full of family photos, including the one of him and Dean from his memory box and a new one from the episode Lebanon. I never thought about the fact that they might have actually taken a photo, and if they did, would it still be around after Sam smashed the pearl? Well, obviously, yes. We see Sam throwing a ball with his son, helping him with his homework (Sam in glasses? Check!) and just obviously really loving this kid and giving him the childhood he never had. We also see a really, really unfortunate grey wig that I refuse to screencap. You're welcome. As aging Sam sits in the hundred-year-old car in his garage, his dead brother drives happily along dirt roads in Heaven, and I'd prefer my Heaven have paved roads, thanks.

We end in Sam's house, now complete with hospital bed. Sam could be in his 80s or even 90s, which means he could have lived another 50 years, more or less, after Dean died. His son doesn't look any older than his 20s or 30s (and also looks vaguely South Asian to me), and I wonder how old Sam was when he finally let himself have a family. Remember when Dean said his happy ending was for Sam to have kids and get old? Well, he got it, finally. Did Sam get a regular job? Did he keep hunting? We don't know. What we do know is that his son has a anti-possession tattoo. Some people have taken this to mean young Dean is a hunter, but I don't think we can jump to that conclusion. It could just be 1) Dean wanted a tattoo like his father's, or b) Sam knows there are still demons out there and that his son would naturally be a target, hunter or not.

All right, I had to screencap teary-eyed Sam grasping the steering wheel and reliving his years with his brother in this car, so we can just pretend we don't see The Wig, okay?

Sam's evidently in hospice care. Or maybe we'll all have hospital beds in our houses in 50 years. Who knows. His son sits on the bed and takes his hand. Sam smiles at him, and Dean says "Dad, it's okay. You can go now." PARALLELLS! As some woman sings "Carry On Wayward Son" for whatever reason (why didn't they use the lovely a cappella version they already had from Fan Fiction?), Sam places his hand on Dean's and takes his last breath.

{Sidebar: Where is Sam's wife in all of this? Divorced? Already dead? She doesn't seem to be in the family pictures, so I'm going with divorced. Discuss.}

Heaven. Oh, guys. I've done this rewatch without tearing up at all but I'm about to tip over. The Impala pulls onto a bridge. Dean gets out. (Now your life's no longer empty, surely Heaven waits for you.) He stands at the bridge railing, enjoying Heaven, smiling. And then he feels something and he smiles even more because he knows it's Sam. Oh god, Jensen did such a good job here. Just this fucking smile killed me dead. "Hey, Sammy," he says. He turns and there is Sam, wearing the same outfit he wore in 1.01 (they both are, but Sam's is a bigger departure from his later years). Why? I don't know. But I know it means Sam Winchester is spending eternity in something that isn't a plaid shirt. How do we feel about that?

"Dean," Sam says. They face each other and smile, and it's the smile of we just survived a hunt I didn't think we'd survive or our son just overpowered God or something along those lines. Then they embrace, and I love the way Sam hesitates just a little before clapping a hand on Dean's back. Like he's afraid it isn't really happening, and he doesn't want to break the illusion. I also love that Dean, as always, takes the top (oh, get your minds out of the gutter) and hugs as if he were taller than Sam. Then Dean puts his hand on the back of Sam's neck and turns him to admire the view and he has this joyous smile like now, this is FINALLY Heaven. And he gazes at Sam like look, Sammy, look what we did. Look what we get. The lack of dialog in this scene is just ~chef's kiss~. The camera goes wide and we see the three main characters, Sam and Dean and Baby, enjoying the Heaven they deserve.

I would like to know where they filmed this, because it's gorgeous even without the Winchesters.

Did Sam's entire life go by in the span of Dean's drive? Or did Dean just decide he'd drive until his brother arrived, no matter how long it took? And how much do I love the fact that he could have gone and visited his parents but instead he said "nah, I'll drive around and wait for Sam?" SO MUCH, PEOPLE. SO MUCH.

Also, can we talk about the fact that Sam didn't know what to expect in Heaven? I mean, Ash said they were soulmates and would share a Heaven, but why would he believe that? And he might have even still believed he'd have a hard time getting into Heaven. What a relief it must have been to show up on Dean's bridge.

And then Jared and Jensen thank us. You're welcome, boys. Thank you.

So. Thursday night I was mildly positive about the episode. But on rewatch, I'm extremely positive. Sure, I would have loved the Six Feet Under ending where we see everyone's fate. And maybe that would have happened if not for Covid. But I'm just relieved we didn't get the Game of Thrones or How I Met Your Mother endings. I'm not sure this current cohort could have done better, honestly. Sam wanted a normal family life. Dean wanted Sam to have a normal family life. But Sam was never going to stop hunting as long as Dean was hunting. And Dean wasn't going to stop hunting as long as he was alive. Dean got the end he wanted/expected and the Heaven he earned (and Sam caring for Jack was directly responsible for Heaven's improvements). Sam got to live a normal life and have a family. As I said earlier, I suspect his marriage didn't last. (Or maybe he and Eileen or Cara got married for insurance purposes, and happily co-parented little Dean, but knew they weren't each other's one true love.) But I actually prefer that. Dean loved Sam more than he loved anyone. Sam loved Dean the same way. I'm glad Sam got to have a child (who he loves as much as his brother, but in a different way), but I don't want Sam and Dean to share their Heaven with Sam's wife.

Now, would I have done Dean's death differently? Yes. I did appreciate that they had him upright, so the brothers were face to face, just like AHBL. But being impaled on a spike was just less dramatic that I would have liked. I would have preferred that Sam immediately see his brother was dying, instead of Dean having to explain it to him. Dean could have had his jugular torn, slowly bleeding out, and still been on his knees (held up by Sam, hell yes) making his deathbed speech. And then I wouldn't have thought "would an ambulance be here by now if you'd called them?" halfway through it.

{Sidebar: What if Sam had fed Dean some blood from one of the dead vamps. Wouldn't that have kept him undead long enough to get fixed up, and then they could have done the vampire cure? Discuss.}

I know some people are very unhappy about the finale. Honestly, from what I can tell, most of those people are hard-core Destiel shippers. And I guess they wanted, as they always do, for the Dean and Castiel relationship to be more important than the Dean and Sam relationship. Sorry, guys, that was never gonna happen. In the end, it came down to the epic love story of Sam and Dean, just as it should have.

So, I'm sad and I'm happy. I'm bereft and I'm full. I miss my boys, but my boys will always be with me. I hope you guys will be with me for a long time, too.

[storydays]

Season 1, ep 4, p1

This is sooo boring.' you thought clearly annoyed, tilting against the wall, hands behind your head. You had to accompany your uncle to this council meeting, and quite honestly it was unnecessary for you to be there, in your opinion at least. "There is a madman running around our beloved city, threatening to tear it apart. We need to create a task force whose sole mission is to find Amon and bring him to justice." Councilman Tarrlok said. "Absolutely not. A move that aggressive would only further divide benders and non benders." Tenzin defended. 

This caught your attention, and made you zone back into the conversation. "Tarrlok, I'm inclined to agree with your proposal. But who would even head up such a task force?" wondered a Fire Nation representative.  "It would be my honor and privilege to accept such a duty. " He bowed, as Tenzin stiffened. "This is just another one of your ploys to gain more power, isn't it?" the airbending master accused. "All I'm trying to do is help." shrugged the Northern Water Tribesman. "Think back, 42 years ago: Republic City was threatened by another dangerous    man--Yakone." 

Looking at his rival, he stated with a smirk, "Your father wasn't afraid to deal with him head on." "This is a completely different situation. And how dare you compare yourself to Avatar Aang!" Tenzin said through gritted teeth. "Amon is not going to stop with the bending triads. Eventually, he is going to come for all of us benders. Our friends, our families." He turned to the other council members. "Vote for this task force and I will stop Amon before it's too late. All in favor?" The other three council members raised their hands, and then all eyes turned to you, as the knew Tenzin's position. 

"Young (Y/N), what say you?" asked the Fire Nation representative. You eyed Tarrlok and your Uncle before sighing heavily. "On this task force of yours, non benders need to be included." Everyone looked at you in shock. Tarrlok sputtered. "What? That is preposterous!" You put your chair down and crossed your arms and legs.

"You both have the right idea of things. And my job here is to play mediator, making a compromise for everyone. Uncle, Tarrlok has a point that we need to show Amon that we will not bow down." The Northern Tribesman smirked at Tenzin in pride, thinking he won.  "However, Tarrlok," he looked back at you to see your (e/c) eyes glowing slightly in the light. "My Uncle does have a point that the divide between non benders and benders could stretch wider. If we were to include an equal amount of non benders into your little task force, it would show everyone that we do care about equality, and the welfare of non benders. I can assure you, if there were no non-benders on this task force, more non benders would join Amon's side and we would begin to have riots, and chaos on our hands."

The other members murmured in agreement. "Yes, he has a point, Tarrlock." said the Earth Kingdom representative.  "Very well, the task force shall include non benders." Tarrlok finalized with a bang of his gavel, before grinning at Tenzin with a sadistic grin. Everyone began to leave, and you followed your Uncle to Oogi. "Don't worry, Uncle. Things will work out just fine." You assured. 

*That Night* 

You were reading a book in the courtyard while Korra was practicing air movements, listening to the jazz music play when suddenly static interrupted  the peace. "Good evening, my fellow Equalists." Your  book dropped and Korra froze before looking at the radio. "This is your leader Amon, as you have heard the Republic Council has voted to make me public enemy number one proving once again that the bending oppressors of this city will stop at nothing to quash our revolution. But we cannot be stopped. Our numbers grow stronger by the day." 

Korra swallowed nervously, you gripped your arms close to your stomach. 'He's not here, (Y/N), you're safe. You are home.'  "You no longer have to live in fear. The time has come for benders to experience fear." The rest of his message was cut off by Nevermore casually using her tail to knock it down, causing the radio to turn off, and to snap you both out of your trance. "That was creepy." You said, picking your book and walking over to Korra. Nevermore crawling onto your shoulders. 

"Yeah, it was. Thanks Nevermore." the Avatar gave the small dragon a pat on the head, and you narrowed your eyes. "Korra, are you...okay?" You ask softly, watching her reactions. Instinctively she stiffened, sweat drops appeared on her face, and her blue eyes darted back and forth avoiding yours. "Pfft, what brought that up? I'm the Avatar! Of-" "You are also only human, Korra. Being the Avatar doesn't mean you're some type of deity or something." You put a hand on her shoulder only for her to back away abruptly. 

"People expect me to be! I expect me to be more than human.Ugh!" Korra pulled her hair in frustration. "Korra-" You started to say but she turned away from you. "Look, (Y/N), I'm need to be alone right now. See ya." With that, the Avatar was gone. You sighed running a hand through your hair, making it more wild. "Stubbornness runs hot in waterbenders, don't you think Nevermore?" The (F/c) dragon grumbled in agreement. 

*The next day*

You were walking around the town square, with a grocery list in your hand. Aunt Pema was due soon and you really didn't want her walking around with the Equalists and she wasn't in a condition to protect herself at the moment. "Well, that seems to be everything, plus a few of my favorites." You grin happily thinking of what your aunt was going to say about the junk food, before looking up to hear tires screeching and Mako taking the brunt of it and being tossed across the street. You ran over to the firebender and asked if he was okay, same time as the girl on the motor bike did. 

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you!" She cried running over. Mako rubbed his head, clearly annoyed. "How could you not see me? I mean I was j-juuuhh--" The ever stoic male blushed a nice shade of pink as he starred at the cute girl with the pretty green eyes looking at him with concern in her eyes. "I was...I-I--wow." He coughed into his fist. "That was--" he cleared his throat before glaring at you for snickering. "Hey Asami, long time no see." She smiled at you with a slight blush on her cheeks. 

You were well aware of her crush on you, but you weren't sure if you wanted to ruin your friendship with her. She bent down to help Mako up, while berating herself. "Did I hurt you? I'm such an idiot!" He blushed softly before getting his act together. "Don't worry, I'm fine. My brother hits me harder than that everyday in practice." Mako brushed himself off as Asami narrowed her eyes before brightening up. "Wait, I recognize you! You're Mako right? You play for the Fire Ferrets!" Mako placed his hands on his hips, trying to act cool suddenly. "Yeah that's me." 

Asami face palmed, before looking at you two with big green eyes. "I'm so embarrassed. My name is Asami." She held a hand out to the firebender, who shook it. "Let me make this up to you somehow. Uh, how about I treat you to dinner? Tomorrow night, 8:00, Kwong's Cuisine." She began to walk back to her motorbike, when Mako came back to his senses. "Uh, Kwong's? I don't have any nice enough--" You covered his mouth with your free hand, before shooting Asami a smile. "He'll be there." "So...it's a date?" Asami asked shyly.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so. I'll see you tomorrow night." the ravenette shot you guys a smile over her shoulder before speeding off. Mako turned to a smirking you, with a love sick feeling on his face. "Nice, Mako." You gave a thumbs up, feeling a slight hint of jealousy, but you weren't sure why. 

*That night*

You were tapping your finger against your leg, vaguely listening to your uncle pray. "For compassion, and--" "I'm not interrupting, am I?" Everyone looked to see Tarrlok standing in the entrance with a smirk on his face. "T-This is my home, Tarrlok. We're about to eat dinner." Tenzin was subtly telling the older waterbender to leave. "Good, because I am absolutely famished." Noting the airbender's glare, his smirk widen. "Airbenders never turn away a hungry guest, am I right?" 

Tenzin sighed, clearly annoyed. "I suppose not." Pema glared at her husband who shrugged. Tarrlok walked to you and Korra. "Oh, you must be the famous Avatar Korra. It is truly an honor. I am Councilman Tarrlok, representative from the Northern Water Tribe." Korra stood up and bowed. "Nice to meet you." You  rolled your eyes at Tarrlok's behavior and grinned mischievously when Ikki slide over to the man. "Why do you have three ponytails?" She sniffed him. 

"And how come you smell like a lady? You're weird." You spit your drink out, laughing at the innocent bluntness of your cousin. "Well, aren't you....precocious?" Tarrlok's eyebrow twitched, before turning to Korra. "So, I've been reading all about your adventures in the papers. Infiltrating Amon's rally--now that took some real initiative." Korra was uncomfortable, and you were feeling even more mischievous than before. 

"Oh....thanks. I think you're the first authority figure in the city whose happy that I'm here." "Uh, do I not count?" You snap, with hurt on your face. "You know what I meant, hehe." Korra smiled sheepishly. You felt a small scaly body brush against your leg and smile. 'Nevermore.'  You ran a gloved hand over her scales gently.

"Republic City is much better off now that you've arrived." "Enough with the flattery, Tarrlok. What do you want from Korra?" demanded Tenzin. "Patience, Tenzin. I'm getting to that. As you may have heard, I am assembling a task force. I will strike at the heart of the revolution, and I want you to join me." "Really?" "What?" "Huh?" You raised an eyebrow, chewing more rice. "I need someone who will help me attack Amon directly, someone who is fearless in the face of danger, and that someone is you." 

"Join your task force?" Korra looked at you before looking down at her hands. "I can't." Tenzin and Tarrlok both looked at the Avatar shocked. Said girl coolly sipped her tea. You smirked, as Nevermore hopped on your shoulder and seemed to be smirking at Tarrlok. 

"I must admit, I'm rather surprised. I-I  thought you'd jump at the chance to help me lead the charge against Amon." "Me, too." mumbled Tenzin from across the table. "I came to Republic City to finish my Avatar training with Tenzin. Right now I just need to focus on that." "Which is why this opportunity is perfect. You would get on-the-job experience while performing your Avatar duties for the city." 

"No means no, Tarrlok." You snapped, handing Nevermore a piece of carrot. "That's right. Korra gave you her answer. It's time for you to go." Tenzin said, leaving no room for argument. Tarrlok held a hand up. "Very well, but I'm not giving up on you just yet. You'll be hearing from me very soon. It has been a pleasure of , Avatar Korra." He walked away but not before Ikki said, "Bye bye, ponytail man!" 

Tarrlok scoffed before yelping when a water line tripped him up a little. He turned to glare at you but backed up when Nevermore was suddenly in his face, growling protectively. He cleared his throat nervously before taking his leave. You chuckled, before cleaning up your spot. "Well, family. Dinner tonight was delicious and full of drama. But I need to get going; a friend of mine needs some help. Nevermore, come." Said dragon curled onto your shoulders. "Oooh are you going with your girlfriend, As--" You cut Ikki  off by tickling her, making her squeal in laughter.

*20 minutes later*

"Hey there, buddy boy. Let's get you ready for date with Asami." You pulled Mako with you into a dressing room. He was shocked when he was suddenly wearing a white long sleeve pullover, black slacks, freshly shinned shoes, and a gray overcoat. You then made him sit down and began doing his hair with gel and water. When you finished with his hair, you gently draped his scarf around his neck, and stepping back. 

"Excellent. Enjoy your dinner with Asami, Mako." You held the door open for the firebender, watching him walk away. Nevermore whined, rubbing her head against your head. "I'm okay girl. What do you say we go hang with Bolin for a little while?" Nevermore perked up; she liked the happy Earthbender but she liked playing with Pabu more. 

"Let's go, love."

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hello! Can I request a headcanon where the queen of hearts (1951), Maleficent, Cruella, Shang yu and Yzma (separated) take care of a lost (orphaned) little girl (like 5-6) and adopted her as their own. Thank!

These were sooooo fun to think of, omg XD I feel all warm inside, thanks for the request! I hope you like it as much as I do ^^

~~~

Cruella DeVille (You can imagine either animated, OUAT or live action Cruella, but I liked this gif ^^):

·         Cruella, is more of a… fun, rich aunt. You know, when you can post the child back to its parents any time you like with a sugar high and new Xbox?

·         But, as the capable entrepreneur and businesswoman that she is, she rises to the challenge of ‘parenting’, when the stinky orphaned girl living on the streets (You, obviously) show potential in the fashion industry.

·         She takes you right to the adoption agency, picks you up and plops you on the counter like a pair of shoes and asks how much you cost. You just smile sweetly, like the most adorable munchkin ever despite the off way your new caregiver handles you, and the agent has some reservations, of course, but Cruella’s able to speed up the adoption process with her connections and her money.

·         Your relationship at first is similar to Oswald Cobblepot and Martin’s. And if you haven’t watched Gotham, I’ll explain; Sort of distant, but the adult is trying at least. They’re just not used to having a pre-teen around. And, somehow, they’re making the child feel more understood and taken care of then anyone else ever has, despite both parties’ reservations.

·         Slowly you bond (Over fashion, obviously) and Cruella turns into, honestly, a pretty good mum (For a villain who wants to kidnap puppies from her friend and make a coat for herself out of them, anyway). She learns to not gag when your shows are on the telly, she takes more time off work to take care of you and turn up to your school things (Like parent-teacher interviews, concerts, art exhibitions, and assemblies if you’re going to get an award- she even makes artful collages out of your work on the fridge), and you two even learn how to cook some easy dinners together.

·         (Cruella can cook, I think, but I can imagine they’re more fancy stuff that a kid really isn’t interested in)

·         You’re a two-person team kind of family.

·         She doesn’t like you to be around Jasper and Horace because their stupidity and lack of fashion sense could be contagious.

·         For the longest time, you just call her Cruella… until one day she says she loves you (Which is visibly difficult for her. Not because the words aren’t true, but because she’s not sentimental) and you finally call her ‘Mum’.

Maleficent:

·         You start following her around, lost and having decide the scary green lady with a cute bird pet is the one to go to for help. She tries to scare you off, but of course you’re already scared anyway! But not of her- of being left alone.

·         So you keep following her through the forest, until you reach her castle and Diablo has become attached to you and is sitting on your shoulder instead of hers, nuzzling your little face.

·         She leaves out some food for you for dinner and lays a clean blanket down on an abandoned bed in a random room down a dark hallway. It’s a spooky night, in that creepy castle… but the blanket smells like grass and you find that if you close your eyes and smoosh your face into it, you don’t think about the things that could be hidden in the dark. Also, Diablo comes in and keeps you company.

·         Mal is sure that you’ll be gone the next day. That’s why she was so kind. She was sure you were just a determined straggler and if she offered you a home for a night, then you would be the fickle little child that you are leave without so much as a thank you the next day.

·         But you don’t leave.

·         And you do say thank you, and even make her a mud pie outside the castle.

·         She gives you a bit of a smile (Not soft, because Mal is still an evil fairy, but it’s a refreshing look on a face that had been pinched the whole time), resigning to you. You’re all alone like her. Maybe it won’t hurt so much to let you stay.

·         Okay, as a parent, Mal isn’t so bad. She settles into the pace easier than Cruella or Yzma, at least, and her lifestyle allows for a far stabler childhood for you then Shan Yu’s. Plus, she’s outwardly very calm, which is a huge improvement from if you were living under the Red Queens roof.

·         Distracts you with magic when she’s busy or just when she wants to watch the awe in your face as you watch sparkles dance around the room like real life stars.

·         Keeps you away from all her villainy- you don’t need to be messed up in all that. Basically no one except her crow knows you exist and she’d like to keep it that way.

Shan Yu:

·         Shan Yu finds you after he pillages your village (And you’re the only survivor) and you followed along behind his men for a while until they noticed you. Which didn’t take long, of course, they’re a group of highly skilled Huns in the ways of hunting and warfare.

·         He uses his noggin (A very good noggin. Much cleverness) and identifies the favourable factors to having a little girl with them. You’re unassuming, for one, and can be trained (And moulded) to be used as a diversion for them in the kind of situations in which brute force do not apply and wouldn’t be helpful.

·         He also acknowledges the need to train the next generation into their image to continue the Huns control over China even after he passes away. So, off on the quest to take over China you go, with them.

·         He is so big, that you can perch on his wide shoulder and he’ll be fine still marching along.

·         He gets a bit soft when interacting with you. At least, he certainly doesn’t treat you like an adult because you of course aren’t one. He encourages your childish wonder and your playing around. He’ll even play eye spy with you as you travel, or play a little tug of war if you get a piece of fabric or rope (Yes, like a puppy) and he’s just sitting down chilling somewhere on a rest break or at camp, pretending that the game is actually a contest until he smirks and tugs just a tiny bit harder and you fall forward onto your face XD (He only uses one hand the entire time)

·         He’s a really chill dad, really, despite the whole… killing everyone in your village… First impressions, amiright? XD

·         The rest of his men either hate you with every fibre of their huge beings or love you even more, and that’s the tea. One of them once rolled you up in a blanket and strapped you to a horse so you would stop annoying them by running around in front of the mules. You decide whether this was one who hated you or loved you. (Another came along and put a roll of bread in your mouth so you could eat, but didn’t release you)

·         You’ve also been tied (Safely and comfortably, yes but still tied with your feet off the ground) to a tree as a time out and dropped in lakes (Once they knew you could swim) to calm your shit when you got hyper.

·         You sleep in Shan Yu’s tent until you’re like 14 and declares that you’re able to defend yourself and can kill a man, so he can keep you safe.

Queen of Hearts:

·         Goodness, who let this woman adopt? (Well, I mean, no-one could stop her) Even Hades would be better, and he tried to have a baby assassinated.

·         This woman would be unintentionally manipulative towards this child (Like Norma and Norman Bates. Jesus christ). Whenever the kid doesn’t do anything that she wants them to, she’ll get p i s s e d, and that might legitimately mess with the kids psyche. She won’t behead the lil girl, of course, which I guess is bit of a saving grace (she isn’t that cruel) here? But it’s definitely a good thing the gentle King of Hearts is around, to settle the flames and calm down his wife and new daughter when games go awry.

·         (And ya’ll play lots of games. Some of the time, living with her and her husband as your parental figures is a dream for a little girl like you)

·         She does try her very hardest to be kind and not to lose her temper, and it is made so much easier by the fact that you’re an innocent little girl (Younger than Alice was), and she’s very fond of you. So, in a way, adopting you is helping her with her issues, and by extension, helping the rest of Wonderland.

·         You get a big fancy throne-like highchair at the royal dinner table.

·         Your little family is a bit or very messy, but you are never not loved. You always know that you’re loved.

Yzma:

·         When Yzma takes you in, its because Kronk discovered your little form sleeping in an alleyway and ran with you in his hands back to her, and BEGGED her. This sweetheart (Kronk, not Yzma) could not handle the knowledge that a little baby girl was abandoned and all alone on the streets. And Yzma’s the most well-off, influential person he knows! Of course he’s going to go to her for help.

·         When she finally gives in, its because you called her pretty. She’s just like… pause… “Seems like an intelligent enough… eugh… child... Kronk come! We have to disinfect it.”

·         Kronk rushes after Yzma, still holding you and clarifies for you: “She means a bath.”

·         So, now, you have your protective, psycho, affection-challenged mother and your sweet, dumb, beloved… uncle. Yeah, uncle. We’ll go with uncle.

·         Yzma takes a while to get used to you, and she’s very defiant against getting called ‘Mum’ or ‘Mother’ (Mama or Mummy have a more youthful feel, according to Yzma.), but she’s pretty immature due to her psychosis so she tends to blend well with your child personality.

·         You laugh so much, with her. Most of the things she says are hilarious, especially when she’s exasperated and mutters about Kronk.

·         She doesn’t want you to grow up without a brain like him (Or to mix with other children- she will not be dealing with chicken pox or nits. If you did get either of those things, she would be living in a full-on hazmat suit and spray everything you touch, and you. Kronk would end up getting the sickness because he gives you lots of hugs and takes care of you while you’re sick or you have the nits) so she gets you a home school teacher.

·         On your birthday (They do the day Kronk found you if you don’t know it), Kronk wakes Yzma up at the buttcrack of dawn drags her along to set up the day for you. Including a treasure hunt, where its clear that Yzma wrote the clues because its very translucent through the sentences she wrote that she didn’t have coffee before writing them. Very bitter.

·         She does want to make you happy though and buys you literally the best present for a child of that time. I don’t know what it is, but it’s the equivalent for them of a little car or coloured TV (Like the Barbie or Hot Wheel ones) for us. She’s so smug about it, too, like ‘Shove that up your 4 layer cake with different flavours, Kronk.’.

[khaleesiofalicante]

Do you have any theories or headcanons for twp? Or what’s something you really want to see?

Not theories. I try not to figure out the plot because I want to be genuinely surprised when shit happens 😅😅

Headcanons and wishes??? Yeah I’m a dumb bitch with a lot of hope for this book.

We are going to see glimpses of all our favorite characters!!! I mean you bet your ass there is going to be a major battle scene where all of them do the avengers assemble moment and imma scream so loud 😭😭

I’m sooooo excited to see Consul Alec. Give me more of that!

Also King Kieran!! And all the power babes just being amazing!!! Especially my husband Inquisitor Rosales 🙈🙈

Very specifically interested in Scholomance and the creepy infinity pool they have over there.

The little bebes - Tavvy, Max, Rafe and Mina 🥺🥺🥺

KIT HERONDALE AND TY BLACKTHORN

Dru killing it in the academy 😎

Ash getting the love and support he deserves

Thule

And of course. More than anything. I can’t wait to see Magnus 😍😍😍

[janeykath318]

Prison Proposal 14

Darcy woke to find herself tied up in a dingy windowless room, woozy, half-blind due to her glasses being gone, and very, very annoyed. This was unfortunately not a new experience for her, as she’d gone through multiple kidnappings already in her time working with the Avengers. But this was the first time she’d get to be rescued by her husband (if she had to be rescued, which was looking unfortunately increasingly likely given the circumstances). She imagined Steve and Tony would tear the place apart looking for her. Twisting her neck, she felt the bump of her tiny earring against her shoulder and relaxed, very relieved they hadn’t taken her tracking devices.

Tony had told her in no uncertain terms that she could wear those, or have non-stop protection surrounding her until the threat was past. He’d managed to make them pretty enough that she almost enjoyed wearing them and complimented him on the design.

“Kidnapping civilians now, Ross?” she sighed to herself, trying to scoot into a more comfortable position.

“You’re not just any civilian, Dr. Lewis,” a voice responded from the ceiling. Ugh. He’d probably been watching her the whole time, the creepy jerk.

Darcy stuck out both middle fingers behind her back and heard a bark of amusement from the speaker.

“Now, now, what would your husband, the good captain America, say?” Ross rebuked.

“He’d give me a fake frown and then high-five me,” she responded. “You don’t know him nearly as well as you think you do, Mr. Secretary. Speaking of which, isn’t this unlawful imprisonment? I”m not part of your stupid Accords.”

“You’ve been messing with things too much, Doctor.” He replied smugly. “I had Rogers right where he couldn’t interfere anymore and there you go, marrying the man and letting him walk!! How much did he pay you?”

“Screw you!” Darcy snarled. “You shouldn’t have left that loophole.”

“Believe me, it wasn’t my choice,” Ross declared grimly. “If I had my way, he’d have never been unthawed in the first place. Nothing but a troublemaker, that one.”

“You know, that sounds like something Hydra would say,” Darcy remarked coolly, growing suspicions filling her with dread as she remembered the goons that had fought with her.

“Very astute, my dear.”

“So are you gonna kill me?” She sighed.

“Not yet,” he answered. “I’m going to wait until your husband can have a front row seat for the show.”

“You sick, sick bastard,” she muttered. “Have fun dying right afterwards.”

He only laughed, leaving Darcy to fume and curse his name under her breath.

“At least I can die knowing I’m not a traitor.” She thought, hoping Steve would avenge her gloriously.

Nastasha was shamelessly speeding as she drove the black suv in pursuit of the signal coming from Darcy’s earrings. They knew that Ross was funding Hydra now and Bucky was following every movement like a hawk, while also getting updates from Steve.

“Sam and Sharon got Wanda out of the raft, they’re joining the pursuit as well,” he reported. “Team Iron Man is also assembling. The Avengers are getting the gang back together.”

“It’s about time,” Natasha sighed. “I swear if he hurts one hair of Darcy’s head I will end him myself.”

“Will you let me get a stab or two in?” Bucky asked. “She’s practically my sister now. I was always a very protective brother.”

Natasha smiled at the mental image of a young Bucky threatening Rebecca’s suitors.

“Steve’s crazy in love with her,” Bucky commented as they continued on their journey. “If we can’t get to her in time…..”

“James. We will.” Natasha said gently but firmly. “We are gaining on them.”

A red blur buzzed above them as Iron Man raced past in his suit, clearly in a tearing hurry.

“They’ve pissed off the wrong people,” Bucky said with grim satisfaction, itching to deal Hydra another crushing defeat.

Meanwhile, a very silent Steve was sitting beside Sam in the back of a heavily armored vehicle provided by the CIA. Ross’s treachery had been leaked to certain important agencies as well as the president.

“Last time I was in one of these things I was in cuffs,” Sam remarked. “And met a guy in a literal catsuit. I wonder what T’Challa’s up to anyway?”

“Probably busy running a country,” Steve remarked, managing a smile at his friend’s reminiscing. Sam and T’Challa had an odd dynamic that was very entertaining to watch the few times they’d interacted, consisting of a mutual respect and a very mutual ability to annoy each other.

Sharon was sitting up front, communicating with her bosses and Wanda was sitting between Sam and Steve, looking pale, but determined.

“You alright, Steve?” Sam asked, looking at him with concern.

“Not until I get her back safe and sound,” he sighed, looking down at his left hand, which was currently clenched into a fist. He wanted to be wearing her ring for decades more. No way was Hydra going to wreck his life yet again.

Wanda rested a comforting hand on his arm.

“You are projecting your worry and affection very loudly,” she informed him. “Darcy has many people fighting for her. They have made a grave mistake in taking her.”

Steve groaned and leaned his up to stare at the roof.

“I was afraid something like this would happen. Marrying me put a target on her back. She’d be safer if I’d just stayed in prison.”

“She knew the risks, Steve,” Sharon reminded him. “Put your brain to use planning rather than beating yourself up, Cap. Darcy’s a fighter. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already halfway escaped by now.”

Sharon’s words, though delivered bluntly, were exactly what Steve needed to hear right then, reminding him of words he’d heard Peggy say long ago when he’d lost Bucky.

Stiffening his resolve, Steve took a deep breath and put his thoughts to the mission.

“Give me a rundown of the layout of their base,” he ordered.