#drunk shadow weaver

[mrsova]

Haven't been here in a while. Had a really bad time in life recently and I focused on continuing my Fanfiction.

Here I found a midnight, beer-fuelled sketch training drawing hair. If the Shadow Weaver's mask would be her face :)

[carto0ncritter]

I'm sorry but I genuinely can't understand how people can look at Stolitz and Catradora and think these ships are healthy in any way, shape or form.

Stolas r*ped Blitzø. No, consent given in a life-or-death situation doesn't count

Stolas is racist towards imps, and this didn't change even when he "fell in love" with Blitzø

Stolas doesn't appreciate or respect Moxxie and Millie in the slightest (and was disappointed that his "Prince Charming" wasn't the one to rescue him)

He looks down on Blitzø and calls him things like "impish little plaything" and "his big dicked Blitzy" and doesn't stop treating him like shit even when Blitzø says loud and clear that he hates being talked down on like this (DUH)

The only thing Stolas knows about Blitzø is that he hates books and the only thing Blitzø knows about Stolas is that he's a boring bookworm. Keep in mind, the two figured this out about each other while they were kids, 25 YEARS AGO, after Blitzø was bought so that he could be Stolas' "friend" for ONE DAY

Stolas doesn't love Blitzø for Blitzø. Stolas loves the *idea* of Blitzø. The bird man wants to live a romance that is just like the romances in his cheesy novels. He wants to ride into the sunset with his one true love. He wants grand romantic gestures. He wants his "Prince Charming". Except, Blitzø isn't the type of guy for such sappy displays of affection, he never was. Especially combined with his trauma. And as soon as that other imp guy asked him to dance, Stolas not only accepted the offer, but Blitzø was no longer on his mind. And no, I don't think being drunk is proof that Stolas didn't mean what he had told Blitzø. Drunk people find it easier to say what's really on their mind after all

Blitzø fell in love with his abuser. This makes sense, actually. The guy always pushed everyone away and never got to experience true love, and now that he has the chance to be "wanted," even if the "relationship" is toxic, he finds it hard to let it go

As for Catradora, the things I wanna say about this ship have already been said throughout the years, but it all boils down to these things:

Catra mentally, emotionally and physically abused Adora

Catra had no problem ending the whole entire universe if it meant she'd finally be better than Adora

Catra was a war criminal and a fascist

Catra was responsible for what happened to Glimmer's mom and never apologized, let alone faced consequences

Their relationship was toxic even when they were kids

They were both raised by Shadow Weaver and were the only ones in the Horde who saw her as a mother figure, thus making the ship straight up incest, with even the official source material calling them sisters (adoptive siblings ARE REAL SIBLINGS!!!)

Catra got exactly what she wanted in the end (the girl she's always been obsessed with and dependent on) and, once again, faced 0 consequences for her actions

The show (and C//A stans) fetishizes abuse. As a SA survivor, I felt physically sick during the final episode, where the abuser ends up with her victim/sister and they kiss

In short, these ships are disgusting and the lgbt community deserves better representation

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Devils' Triangle Part 10

A Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick (& now John Constantine too) Imagine by:

@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch (@tammykelly on hiatus) (with honorary dream weavers / shit stirrers @lilspookymeh & @kurai-hono-blog 😘) --> ALL CHAPTERS

Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, succubus magic, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘 *divider by firefly-graphics

That's the thing about Midnite's. There is no shortage of cloistered nooks and crannies in which to stage a debauchery. John Wick already seems to have scoped this, as he carries you like you weigh nothing to the nearest shadowed booth, settling in with you on his lap like you never parted ways and it's just another Tuesday in the club. Even now, he will not give his back to the room. You try to turn but he holds you fast with one of those big hands around your throat, and the other already sliding up your thigh, under your skirt.

"John, I need–”

"Hush," he tells you, quiet but firm. "We've done things your way. Now, we're doing it mine."

As his long fingers dip past your pantyline you whimper and writhe back against him, that delicious hard bulge already pressing into your bottom. You've  never been so determined to be a good good girl for this very bad man.

"Please…" It's all you can manage, with his thick fingers exploring your wet slit, and this clawing, excruciating magic singing through your veins, wanting sex with every fibre of your being, undoubtedly made worse by your forbidden longing.

"What are you on, honey? Don't lie to me." His breath against your ear is just gasoline on the fire.

You laugh, and it comes out as a sob. "Succubus shit." It's all you can really think to call it.

You feel him pause behind you, a rare moment in which the legendary assassin isn't really sure what to do. Maybe he's seemed to take the eldritch aspects of your new world in stride, but it's still all pretty fucking weird to him.

"Ok, baby. We'll deal with it. I've got you."

“Call…Constantine,” you beg him, even as your hips are bucking against his hand. You should feel guilty. You should stop, because Constantine deserves better than you grinding on your ex in the den of your boyfriend’s enemies…but you can’t. You just can’t, and you are sure that bitch demoness planned it that way, but right now you are a slave to the magick she infected you with.

John, however, just snorts behind you. “I don’t think I will,” he replies, before snaking a hand into your hair, pulling your neck at an almost painful angle for a kiss. He devours you, and somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if the magic has infected him too. His strong fingers between your legs are as merciless as his mouth, remembering maybe not how you like to be touched, but how to make you cum in spite of yourself. 

That howling need rises inside you, fierce as a hurricane, pleasure so intense it borders on pain. Thank God & gods for John, for the inexorable strength in his arms–a lesser man couldn’t handle you, in this state. As it is, he struggles to hold on as you writhe against him, utterly, hopelessly desperate for relief. Surely that will break the spell? Sate whatever arcane magick the succubus filled you with?

In the end it is hard to say who is claiming whom, as you manage to turn in John’s lap so that you can straddle those tree trunks for thighs, and press your aching center to the hard bulge in his trousers without a care for who or what might be watching. 

And at Midnite’s, there is always someone watching.

You’ve never really got off on exhibitionism before, but now you are too power-drunk to care, having managed to loosen John’s tie and undo some of his shirt buttons in your ravenous craving for bare skin. “I need you.”

He slides down in the booth, giving you access to his belt while his paws for hands continue to roam under your skirt, his thumb never leaving your clit. He makes you work for it, smirking up at you, maybe taking some revenge for having to watch you in the arms of another man these past weeks. But when you free his impressive member into your hand, giving that thick velvety-smooth flesh an appreciative squeeze, you see it in his eyes. How badly he’s missed you–and he needs you too.

With zero patience left to your name you push your panties to the side and impale yourself upon him, taking him nearly to the hilt in your drenching wet cunt. This wins you a groan that feels like a victory, and you ride him at the pace you need. He can come along if he wants–but he’ll have to catch up.

“Fuck, baby…” He loops one arm around your waist, holding you against him, angling deeper.

“Make me cum, John,” you half beg, half taunt him. “I feel like I’ll die if I don’t cum.” The magick is riding you, filling you like searing hot lava beneath a volcano–if you don’t find a way to release it, it’s going to burn you alive.

“I’ve got you, y/n. My pretty girl, my perfect little one, still so tight for me.” He finds your nipple through the bodice of your dress, pinching and rubbing as he thrusts his hips for you. It’s all so good, and you know you’re done for a moment before it takes you, mind-numbing pleasure curling through your loins and up your spine with such force you feel like a tree split in two by lightning. The violence of it brings him with you, filling you with the hot rush of his seed. That is when you feel it��his very life essence, so proud and strong, and some of it passes into you, absorbed as your rightful due. 

This man has the heart of a wolf, and somehow you know, somewhere in the hindbrain where the seed of this ancient magick dwells, that he could feed you for days.

As though somehow he senses something of your new predatory nature, maybe even that you took something more from him besides his blown load, he meets your eyes, so defiant even while he sits beneath you with his hair still tangled in your fingers. “Alright, princessa. You want to play? We’ll play.”

Dark laughter spills from your lips that does not sound like you at all. Something is changing in you, and you don’t know how to stop it. You need Constantine. The thought surfaces and sinks again like a tiny toy boat whipped amongst stormy waves, scuttled to the depths by the weight of this ravenous magick coursing through you.

You’ve barely managed to right yourselves again, before he is bundling you out of the club through a side entrance, half carrying you with a firm arm about your waist. A vintage mustang awaits down the street, a sleek black ‘69 that purrs like a jungle cat when he turns the key.

If you were in your right mind, you would have noticed that John took off in the absolute opposite direction of the humble house your share with John Constantine. He goes north, up, up through the winding roads of the Hills, until it feels as though you are on top of the world.

If you were in your right mind, you would have been worried about the fact that you are in John Wick’s power again, and the formidable assassin seemingly has zero interest in returning you to your home or your chosen partner in life. He pulls up to a modern style mansion perched precariously on the peak of a mountain.

“What’s this?” you ask, lounging back in your seat, unconcerned as a cat.

“Rental,” he answers. “Got tired of that shack you're calling home.”

You find this amusing, reaching across the seats to run your hand up his thigh. “Does it make you mad, that I like my little house, John, with my wizard boy?”

The mention of John Constantine should absolutely fill you with guilt, but the grip of the succubus magic still doesn’t allow for it.

“You deserve better.”

“I deserve what makes me happy,” you answer cheekily. “It’s nice, not being totally poor,” you admit. “I do thank you for that. But the greed in this town is nothing but a rat race.”

“Money is power, malushka. I learned that a long time ago. So did you.”

“Maybe. But maybe it’s just a means to an end.” You climb into his lap, and he doesn’t stop you, kissing you with those long fingers twined in your hair. “Does all your money keep you warm at night?”

“Cruel. You know you’re the only woman I’ve wanted.”

“Do I?” you ask, tugging on his hair. “Then why’d you let me go?”

“No fucking idea anymore.”

Then he is guiding you out of the car, leading you by the hand through the front door, eager as a child on Christmas. The space is big. Luxurious. Modern. Huge banks of windows that look over the glittering city below. You only vaguely take it all in, because John’s mouth is on yours, and he is sweeping you off your feet in a bridal carry, porting you up the stairs like you are nothing but a feather. The magick has awoken in you again, no longer sated, ready for a second course. Something very far in the back of your brain is alarmed by this, afraid of what you will do to John, if this goes on without intervention.

For maybe the first time ever, you have this feeling that John Wick is not, in fact, in charge here, no matter the outward appearances.

He carries you to a bedroom, sets you onto a mattress that is soft as a cloud. Immediately he is on you, his hands and his mouth, pulling your sundress over your head and dragging your panties down your thighs. “I missed you. So. Fucking. Much.” Every word is punctuated with a wet kiss upon your skin, traveling higher and higher until he is so close to your center. His dark gaze rakes up your body, and something gives him pause.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your eyes are glowing.”

You smirk, even when you should be alarmed. 

“Rethinking calling the calvary?” you challenge, this time knowing Wick will never admit he can’t handle you himself.

“No,” he answers, his voice low and rough with desire. “I don’t feel like sharing you tonight.” He touches his tongue to your clit, licking lightly, tickling you the way he knows you can’t stand. You try to squirm away, but he holds you down with one big hand upon your belly, licking you harder, making you melt. He smirks up at you again, a dark glint in those polished jet irises that raises the hairs all across your skin, the magick surging to an unbearable prickling, an army of angry fire ants doing their worst to your tender flesh unless he touches you. “Tonight,” he tells you, “you belong to me.”

It may be true, but it’s a double edged sword, and he has no idea how sharp this supernatural blade can be.

***

You are killing him. 

You can feel it, every time you bring him to yet another luscious climax, some of his life force passes into you. This man, so indomitable in his strength, has finally met his match in this strange succubus magick that infects you.

You are sure it does not help, the fact that he is in love with you, has longed for you while watching you in the arms of another man. He cannot keep his hands off you, even past the point where even he would be dead asleep usually. It’s ironic, that his legendary stamina may prove to be the death of him. 

In the twilight just before dawn, the sated beast that dwells inside you grants you a moment of your own lucidity, a rare chance to regroup before you need his cock ramming inside you again. “John…” you urge him, kissing his chest because you cannot help yourself. “You have got to call them. Please.”

He strokes your hair with that careful tenderness that always filled your heart, made it so difficult to hate him when you had every fucking right to.

“Tired of me already, baby?” he teases sleepily. You can tell he is bone tired–utterly exhausted, almost haggard in a way you’ve never seen him. Spent and drained, in a way that is concerning to his health. There are dark circles under his eyes, a hollowness to his cheeks.

“You know something weird is going on. Please? I’m scared. That succubus did something to me.”

“Why were you there, anyway?” he asks lazily, slowly turning to rifle through his discarded clothing on the floor for his phone. Relief floods you as he produces the device.

“I had to talk to Midnite.”

“About?”

“It’s personal.”

He snorts at that. “How many times have I been inside you tonight?”

Touché.

“Ok fine. I think I’m cursed.”

“How so?”

“It’s like…I’m some kind of magnet.”

“For?”

Bad men. 

Looking at him like this, rumpled from your lovemaking, those soulful dark eyes fixed on you–something shifts in your heart, and you can’t bring yourself to say it. This swell of emotion in you begins to call up other things, and you recognize the first signs of the demononic sex magic kindling inside you once more, lust stirring in your loins. You bow your head, your fingers clenching in the high-threadcount sheets.

“John. Call them. Now.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, tapping his screen with his thumb. It only rings once before you hear Tex’s voice on the other side of the line. “Where the hell are you?”

“Been a wild night,” John answers with a smirk. 

“The fuck does that mean?”

There’s a tussle, Constantine in the background trying to get the phone. You hear him demand, “Did he find her?”

“I’ve got her,” says Wick, sounding unbelievably smug. “Come to this address. Bring Wizard Boy.”

He gives the address and hangs up before they can ask for more details, or in Constantine’s case, sling more threats.

Hearing Constantine’s voice should absolutely inspire direst guilt within you, but at the moment all you feel is excitement. Tex and John are on their way, and you can’t wait to see them.

“We’ve got just enough time,” he muses, rolling on top of you with that half smile that always short circuited your brain.

“John…” you protest, even as you are twining your legs with his, rolling your hips against his growing hardness. Your clit pulses and purrs with approval, as his thick tip kisses your wet entrance.

“You worried about me, sweetheart?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry, y/n. I’d die a happy man in your arms.”

As his mouth claims yours you let the wave of scintillating magick wash over the both of you, losing yourself yet again to this insatiable lust, and your last real thought is that Constantine better hurry.

Sweetwolfcupcake: 

"Slow down wizard boy, I don't think we've got extra lives stacked up in your fridge."

"What is he even doing there with her? When did he even buy that house?" Constantine is fuming, yes. But more than that, he is concerned.

Tex's words do little to deter Constantine as he pushes on the accelerator firmer.

If a man like John Wick is asking for HIS help, he knows that something is awfully wrong. There is this feeling in his stomach...

"He's John Wick. What did ya expect? He'll wait and watch you parading your relationship with our girl."

"She isn't your woman anymore." He snaps, glancing at Tex briefly before focusing on the road again.

Constantine pushes on the accelerator harder, speeding through the isolated roads towards the given address. The fact that it is by the woods makes him anxious. Those woods have some tales he would rather not think of. You see, darkness lurks at every corner.

"We'll see about that when we reach their Wizard Boy."  Constantine knows that Tex knows John better, and his confidence in John unsettles him.

"How are you so chill about it all?"

"What's the matter Wizard boy, afraid to lose?"

This man...

"I wasn't the one who abandoned her, you know, I found her, she found me. We rebuilt each other."

"Careful there."

He won't admit it, but the way Tex's voice drops, it makes a man like Constantine straighten up a bit. Tex is a seasoned assassin after all. He and John, both are bad news to you, in Constantine's eyes, but it is ultimately up to you to decide. Hailing from a world people like him would rather not deal with.

You and Constantine were doing fine, were happy even. In his mind, he could trick himself into believing that happily ever after, or at least something akin to that existed. His happily ever after, if, he can dare to dream, was and is with you. But then, the night your past came knowing at his door. And everything changed.

Looking at Tex right now, there is something selfish in Constantine that likes to imagine what if the two of them---Tex and John never came back. It would have been just you and him.

But whom is he kidding? He sees it in your eyes, he feels it. Your love for them runs deeper than it is apparent. But there is something else at play. He hasn't been able to focus or put a pin on it but...He can feel it. it's like a faint smell at some corner that he hasn't been able to figure out.

The rest of the ride passes in tense silence before his car reaches the place. The closer Constantine gets, the faster his heart beats.

He presses on the doorbell desperately, and his hold on his took box tightens in anticipation. Oh, he is familiar with this energy. He knows this energy. Something demonic.

John answers the door with dishevelled hair and tired eyes.

"Where's she?"

Even before John can answer, Constantine pushes past him, letting his intuition take the lead. He opens the bedroom door to see you sprawled on the bed. You are every bit of a seductive painting from a classic and the room is vibrating with the energy, the spell that pulses in your veins at the moment.

"Oh boy..."

The box drops from his hold as soon as your gleaming, blown-out eyes meet his.

"What's wrong with her?" Tex comes up behind him, his voice lacks the usual playful tinge as he eyes you.

"It's killing her. Consuming her, getting hold of her. Her body, mind, now her soul."

Constantine whispers out, pushing Tex behind him. He is the most vulnerable out of the three at the moment.

"I found her at the club. Some succubus spell I guess." John runs his fingers through his wild mane, telling Constantine what he knows and can decipher.

"Gear up,"

Constantine warns before reaching for his box on the floor. Perhaps, this is his true test.

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

“Watcha doin Johnny?” You ask, stretching like a lazy cat, eyes dulled pink and wide, the length of your body novel and vintage all in the same. His cock is already much, much harder than it should be.

“Fuck.” Tex leans on the doorway. “Look at you.” 

John’s T-shirt rides up your thighs as you scooch to the end of the bed, smiling and glowing, imbued with wicked sex magic that even Constantine is having trouble thinking past. 

“Tex,” Constantine warns, “I wouldn’t. This type of magic puts a whole new meaning to the phrase, “fuck the life out of you.””

“Doesn’t sound so bad,” Tex murmurs, stepping a little further into the room. 

The part of you that cares whether or not you drain the life from each of them through their cocks is dwindling terrifyingly fast. You’ve never felt so powerful, or horny. Salivating for Tex’s broad frame and big, veiny hands that you know the capabilities of. 

“It’s not bad at all,” Wick agrees, kneeling down next to Constantine. “A great way to die.”

Constantine glares at both of them. “How about back the fuck up?” He thinks for a minute, putting his sweaty head in his hands, trying to shake some of this raw, possessive feeling clouding his mind. It’s hard to do, especially when you’re fucking his. His girl. His. They lost their chance a long time ago. 

“Too late for that,” John says, watching him rummage through the confines of his suitcase for something useful. It’s a bit like trying to focus on reading while at a Metallica concert. 

“John,” you say, before he can wrap his hand around Wick’s throat, “I’m sorry, please don’t be mad. I just needed—“

“Angel,” he interrupts, eyes soft milk chocolate for you, Adam’s apple bobbing in that way it does when you have him tied to bed, slowly nipping and sucking your way down his tummy to his leaking cock. “It’s alright, it’s not your fault. I’m gonna fix this.” 

“I know I just…I missed you so much. Can you hold me?” It’s the most convincing argument he’s ever heard, especially when you stretch out your arms to him with those big candy pink eyes. 

“Christ,” he grits. 

“Fuckface,” Tex is saying to Wick. They are toe to toe. “How long were you planning on keeping her all to yourself, huh?” 

Wick smiles, pretending to think about it. “It wasn’t my idea to call you.” 

You put yourself between them, fast and agile, like little Catwoman sliding into a 1v1 with Batman and Superman. “Stop it,” you tell Tex, leaning up on tiptoes to thread your arms around his neck. 

John’s hands wrap around your hips, and you lean back against him while Tex eyes the kiss bruised skin of your throat. It doesn’t take long for his teeth to sink in. 

“Stop,” Constantine commands, trying to get you out from between them. John grabs him by the collar while Tex licks and kisses down your sternum, into the valley of your breasts, saliva coating John’s shirt. 

“Gonna fuck you stupid,” Tex says against the pert flesh of your nipple. 

“Let me go, you fucking idiot,” Constantine hisses, as Wick backs him up against the wall, nearly removing his feet from the ground with the force of his body. Even drained of his eight lives and clinging weakly to the ninth, John’s strength is un-fucking-matched. It makes you throb. 

No, you’re already past throbbing. Convulsing, as Tex sucks on your nipples and kneads your ass. 

“John,” you call, and the low whiny pant of your voice stops this testosterone quarrel dead in its tracks. “Please don’t fight.”

“Angel…” Constantine says, while Wick just grins at you. 

“Just…C’mere.” 

As far as these men are concerned, you might as well be a famous lawyer with the way you win that fight before it can even start.

You’re not sure whose hands or mouth is whose. Only that they are all over you, and you are ending and beginning all at once. A fire in you, blazing so fully it consumes and destroys everything you are or want to be. Just a fucktoy, a cocksleeve, a desperate fucking whore who gets on her knees and licks and sucks and swallows. 

John’s lucky he has a big enough bed to fit all of you. Lucky he can devour your tits while Tex lets a big glob of saliva fall from his tongue onto your pulsing pussy, then dives in. You’re not sure where Constantine is, until you feel his mouth on yours, kissing you like you mean something to him. Like you’re the only thing in this fucking world that matters. 

He pulls away, hand on your chin, pushing your sweaty hair back from your face, and you know that he loves you. That they all do. But it’s not enough. You need more. Need something that transcends love and devotion. 

Wick is right, money is power, and so is sex. You look up at Constantine, hand threaded through Tex’s hair, chest red and swollen from John’s tongue, panting and heaving and drooling after losing yourself and finding God so many times already. “John,” you call, “come to me.” 

“We’re fucked,” he says, before descending back into your mouth.

tbc...

[etherian-affairs]

AU where Shadow Weaver was actually good mom because she was drunk as fuck at all times.

I wont call her a good mom here but she isn't an abusive one at least.

Catra returns to the Fright Zone equal parts angry and terrified. Adora just… abandoned her? For some Princesses? They were going to rule the Horde Together and she just left? Now what? Catra has to explain to everyone that Adora is a deserter? Her best friend? That Adora met some new people and jumped ship?

Catra flops back against the lockers, sliding to the floor and groaning.

"Catra." The voice permeates the room causing the feline to tense. Her eyes travel upwards and she focuses on the source. Shadow Weaver emerges from the darkness. A glass of wine in hand.

"Shadow Weaver" Catra mutters as she stands.

"Where is Adora?" The old witch asks. Narrowed eyes glancing around suspicously. As if she imagines Adora is laying in wait to jump out at her.

"She…" She could lie, put this off. Maybe she could still get her back? Shadow Weaver will inevitably find out though and telling her is probably going to be better. "she's gone…"

There is a tense silence. Then Shadow Weaver lets out an annoyed "Ugh. Really now? She just abandoned us? For what? Did she make some new pretty friends or something?"

"Yes!" Catra shouts. "Exactly! She just met some new Princess types and suddenly we're evil and she's too good for us."

"Typical. Just typical. I should have known she would pull something like this." The wine drunk woman shakes her head. Then sighs. "I am sorry you had to deal with that alone Catra." she approaches the cat, lifting her mask up a little to sip her glass. Then she wraps an arm around Catra and pulls her into a hug "I am sure Adora will get over her bullshit. In the meantime I guess you get her promotion"

Catra lets herself be hugged by her pseudo mother, then blinks. "Wait really?"

"Mhhmm. Clearly despite all my efforts to groom Adora into greatness you've turned out more reliable." she sounds annoyed. "I can imagine her now, learning all about the rebels pathetic plight and deciding she has to save them."

"Yeah." Catra huffs. "Fuck…"

Shadow Weaver's hand pats Catra's head. "I still expect you to report for dinner tonight. I am making a brisket. A magical brisket."

"…. yeah. Sure."

[deceit-and-knowledge]

How are black sapphire and Candy Apple cookie doing with all the freaky ahh things going on. Someone should check up on them

c: why is master shadow milk cookie in nothing but a towel......again..

b: WHAT DO YOU MEAN AGAIN??

c: remember that time he got SUUUUPEER drunk because of that STALE WAFER and he ran around the spire in nothing but a towel head rumour weaver put him in and socks in some drunken form of hide and seek with us...

b: ohh when we were trying to get him to go to bed yes I remember now..

I doubt he remembers that..

But we're alright I suppose..

[thestargayzingetherian]

Tipsy And Tears

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra) Characters: Adora (She-Ra), Catra (She-Ra), Glimmer (She-Ra) Additional Tags: Fluff, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Drunk Adora (She-Ra), Drunk Catra (She-Ra), Post-Canon, Post-She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018) Season 5, Wine, Mentioned Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra), Shadow Weaver's A+ Parenting (She-Ra), Sleepy Cuddles, Dorks in Love Series: Part 85 of Catradora: After The End Summary: Catra and Adora find Shadow Weaver’s old wine stash. (Catradora, Canon, Fluff/Mild Angst)

[baggebythesea]

She-Ra cast as drinking buddies

Adora - She's great. Friendly and eager and up for anything. Hope you like to talk about horses, though. Try to keep her away from arm wrestling or that's what you're doing the rest of the evening.

Glimmer - She's an angry drunk. Or a happy drunk. Or a crying drunk. Or she challenges everyone in the bar on dart. Whatever she does, she'll do it with a hundred percent intensity. If someone picks a fight with you, you'll have to hold her back before she smashes a bottle and cuts a bitch.

Bow - He's everyones bestest buddie. He will pay for the drinks, listen to your rants, hold up your head over the toilet and help rain in Glimmer.

Catra - She's really guarded at first, but when the inhibitions drops either the claws or the tears come out. Step very carefully around her. Also, if she wants to have your jacket, it's her jacket now.

Scorpia - She's a delight. Friendly and considerate and a good listener. Although there is this feeling that she has some stuff of her own she's just dying to talk to someone about… if you open the floodgates, be prepared for a lot of tears and to listen for the next few hours.

Entrapta - Let's be honest - she won't listen to a word you say and she'll most likely have dismantled the beer pump and invented a new kind of drink before the evening is over, but you won't be bored.

Mermista - Surprisingly good company, once you get past the attitude. Keeps the drinks coming and have some good stories between all the 'Uuuuuughs'.

Sea Hawk - Life of the party. Shanties and drinks and arm wrestling. It's fun to have fun with frieeeeeends. Will probably have set something on fire and got you kicked out (unrelated incidents) before the evening is over, and never shuts up about Mermiiiiiiiista.

Swift Wind (did someone say Swift Wind?) - Pair him with Adora or Sea Hawk and no net amount of brain cells will have been added to the party. Up for anything and a good sport, though. Expect singing.

Perfuma - Friendly and considerate and works really hard to be a good listener, but if you just want a drink and some chit-chats rather than a group therapy session she's a bit too much. Try to appeal to her inner theatre kid to channel her energies into something more entertaining.

Netossa - PUT THE JÄGERMEISTER AWAY! EVERYTHING DOESN'T NEED TO BE A COMPETITION!

Spinnerella - The team mom makes sure everyone has a good time and stays hydrated.

Frosta - Thinks it's super unfair that she isn't allowed to drink. Still, if you get her to settle down in the juice bar she can be tons of fun.

Castaspella - Fruit drinks and party hats for everyone! Better step up your game, because everyone's friendly wine aunt won't let anyone be bored.

Shadow Weaver - The drinks are bad and the atmosphere is worse and you are beneath her notice. If you can get through her barrage of insults and appeal to her pride, she has the best stories though. Don't expect to come out of it unscarred.

Hordak - He will sit stiff, uncomfortable and completely silent for three drinks, and then he will speak in monotone voice with increasing amount of rage about the injustices he has suffered. Someone might die before the night is over, but it will sure be memorable

Horde Prime - Wonderful company - if your idea of a good time is hearing a narcisist yap on about himself and demand your constant attention. Otherwise, prepare to have a lousy time. Don't leave your drinks alone with him at any time.

Wrong Hordak - LOOK BROTHER, I'M PARTAKING! chugs beer LOOK, BROTHER! DO YOU SEE ME PARTAKE?

Imp - WHO LET THAT LITTLE SHIT INTO THE BAR? Good luck catching him when he zooms around the ceiling.

Emily - I'll be honest, I didn't know robots could drink. Neither did I know they can DISCO, but Emily proves me wrong on both counts.

Angella - Good luck getting her to settle down and relax. No, Angella, the fact that you heard a siren doesn't mean Glimmer has set something on fire (we hope, at least). Has no idea how the social codes are supposed to work, but likes to feel included.

Micah - At home in any company and a great listener. If you're lucky you'll get some stories out of him that will start with "Oh, it's nothing special. We all have that evil teacher that tricked you into helping her kill the entire senior faculty, right?" and spirals from there.

Juliet - The royal guard is never off duty. She might haul you off to cool down if you get too rowdy, but that's it.

Rogelio - Great listener, but not that good a conversationalist.

Kyle - Goddamit, Kyle!

Lonnie - Yes, Lonnie, you can drink more than me. Yes, Lonnie, you can arm wrestle me. No, Lonnie, I wasn't trying to start any shit with Kyle. Sorry, Lonnie, I'll stay out of your way.

Double Trouble - "Hey, you know what would be REALLY funny. If you distract the bartender, I'll… do a thing. No, don't worry about it. Just a thing. It will be funny."

Huntara - Two rules in the Crimson Waste, where one is not to disturb her as she drinks. If you're on her in-list, prepare to have a good time. If you're not, step carefully around her.

Tung Lashor - Sometimes all you want is someone to chug beer and shout the refrains to some stupid songs with. Just keep him away from cats.

Octavia - You know what, better keep her away from cats as well.

[loganofthenorth]

Thinking of writing a Shera Swap AU where Catra is the one that leaves the Horde and Adora is the one that stays behind.

Glimmer and Bo are switched with Scorpia. Glimmer is Hordac’s daughter and Bo is her best friend who was one of the orphans that lived in the Horde Base

Shadow Weaver is still at the Horde because that’s important for Catra and Adora’s characters

Glimmer’s parents were both trapped on that island and Hordac attempted to use Glimmer’s mother DNA to help make a more stable and more powerful clone of himself which is what resulted in Glimmer

Also just realized Catra would be Shera and have her own Shera form

Entrapta is recruited by the Horde first but during an invasion of Bright Moon gets captured by Catra and Scorpia. Due to being overworked and disrespected in the Horde she switches sides and joins Bright Moon’s forces

The Princess Alliance is still standing strong because rather than surrender to the Horde Scorpia’s Grandfather stayed loyal to the Alliance and Micah’s sister took over Brightmoon so Angelica wasn’t there to call off the Alliance. I’m thinking that some of the characters in the alliance are switched around but only Entrapta starts out on the Horde’s side.

Might switch Sea Hawk and Mermista’s roles and make him the ocean kingdom’s Prince and Mermista’s this angsty sailor that’s like: Fiiiine. I guess I can take you to meet the Prince that simps for me for some reason.

Perfuma’s kingdom probably takes a similar stance to the frost Kingdom where they claim neutrality. Since they don’t like the violent form of the current Princess Alliance but don’t like the Horde either they want nothing to do with the war. This makes things complicated when Scorpia starts crushing hard on Perfuma during Princess Prom, since Princess Prom is hosted here instead.

Frosta’s Kingdom is part of the Alliance but Frosta and Scorpia don’t get along because she doesn’t respect Scorpia.

Essentially Season 1 is, rather than trying to get back the alliance, Catra goes around trying to make everyone respect Scorpia.

Adora is this hard core rule follower that is angry with Catra for betraying their cause. She also believes there’s a lot of good in the Horde and she can bring it out. In this world the Princess Alliance and the Horde are both equally morally questionable, so it’s more a political war than anything. Adora is trying to make it so that the Horde is morally superior since the people she loves most (Catra, Shadow Weaver, and Glimmer) have a more negative view on the world as a whole including themselves and she wants to fix that.

Hordac is a menacing war criminal but secretly a dork and a really good Dad. Glimmer is a menace to society.

Kyle and the other two, Rogelio and Ladie I think, still are at the Horde. Bo has an awkward friendship with the three of them because he’s too nice to go away. Ladie and Glimmer constantly bud heads and Glimmer picks on Kyle so Rogelio gets angry with her a lot. Bo and Adora tend to play peacekeeper a lot.

Shadow Weaver is a very tired drunk Mom that sees Adora and Bo as her saving grace. Still a manipulative bitch though but since this is a swap AU she tends to manipulate things so they work out for the greater good rather than her own selfish purposes. She also tries to make people think she’s worse than she actually is rather than better than she actually is.

Also I think the Horde in cannon is based in Scorpia’s Kingdom, so in this one it will be based in Mustacoger because Shadow Weaver became Mustacoger’s Queen.

Glimmer doesn’t know she’s a Princess by technicality and will sense her connection with the gem during the invasion on Bright Moon.

Cannon ships still apply. Might also ship Castapella and Shadow Weaver but not sure yet.

Though now that I think about it Entrapdac might not work in this AU… Unless Hordac wasn’t aware that Entrapta was being mistreated. Then again he’s also her former friend’s dad in this AU which would be weird…

I’ll figure out where Entrapta stands later. She deserves to be loved and accepted.

Though I could just have Castapella adopt her and then she gets healthy parental love. She doesn’t necessarily need romantic love to be loved and accepted.

OH AND DOUBLE TROUBLE

Double Trouble probably gets hired by Adora to spy on Catra and the others but likes Catra better so switches sides. Then keeps switching sides to help push along Catra and Adora’s character development like in cannon.

Maybe I could have Entrapta and Double Trouble be together…

I dunno. We’ll see what happens.

I’ll probably go really in depth into all the characters because I love doing that.

Yeah the more I think about this the more I want to do it. Stay tuned cause I might post hero forges for the character designs later. (I can’t draw very well so hero forge is easier.)

[swearyshera]

I got a fuckton of asks Meow, a fuckton of asks, meow And I'm really pumped, it's now six thirty I just got home in my sad walk-up apartment Filled with my own fuckton of asks

@negative-speedforce-blog It says a lot that her immediate reaction to Adora telling her to fuck off was to turn to alcohol. Sucks to be Shadow Weaver.

@freedfromthegalactichivemind Nope, that glass was there in canon! I seem to recall the intention was for her to be drunk, and Lorraine Toussaint gave some excellent drunk Shadow Weaver lines (release them, you cowards!) but the powers that be wouldn't let her be drunk. According to the crew (I think Nate, specifically), the line that made it into the show was "30% drunk".

@adamprince-of-idea I did actually note in the discord today, that Sweary canon is that the entire Crystal Castle, Light Hope and all of it runs on a pirate copy of Windows XP that Adora and Swift Wind installed in Season 2

@moonwatcher13 It's good pain, I'm fine! Although this week I've made fewer posts than usual because after two, I'm normally in tears. (For reference, I'm currently working on the 'Adora, what will happen to you' scene in the Heart). It's going to be so good!

[nny11writes]

WiP Wednesday - The Research Hall

“I- I am sorry.” The patient on the bed speaks, their voice higher, more feminine than the last she passed. “I’m, you see, better now. I won’t do it again, I promise. I promise!”

Catra stood frozen over their bed, sword shaking in her hand as she stared down at their emaciated, mangled body.

“And I could send you there, you know.” Shadow Weaver was drunk but at least tonight she was a happy drunk, for what little that was worth. “You think you have a difficult life now? Ha! You’d be strapped down tight to your bed up there, stewing in your own filth as they take and take or give and give. And- and! Eventually you’d end up like the rest too.”

Catra clenched her jaw as she pulled uselessly at the thick leather straps keeping her on Weaver’s table out of nervousness. It wasn’t difficult for her to imagine the life of a patient. No. Not anymore.

Shadow Weaver pitched her voice into a pathetic, mewling imitation that Catra flushed with shame to hear. Her own cadence and voice thrown back in her face. “Oh Lady Weaver, OH Lady Weaver! Please, help me, Lady Weaver! Ha! HA! Wouldn’t that be a sight, hmm? I might even go back to watch you squirm, child.”

She dissolved into giggles as if it was the silliest, funniest joke she could conceive.

Catra’s fingers felt numb with cold at the thought.

She had assumed it was exaggerated in some way. Minister Weaver always told a version of the truth, but rarely was she honest. What else had she promised that Catra would find to ring true?

“I am so very sorry,” the patient gasped and writhed, kicking their feet just enough to squish through the remains of their own excrement. “I’m guilty, I know it, but I- I’m better now! You can see it for yourself, I’m much better now. I won’t do it again, I p-promise, L-lady Wea-”

Catra gasped for air, choking on the ammonia and rot and decay as she stared at the pulsing head below her. Her sword sunk to the hilt into the patient’s throat cut off their words, but their skin still pulsated. A soft sloshing sound back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

[inquisimer]

lift with your knees, atlas

an alternate prompt for @febuwhump day 11 - human weapon. Over Sebastian's objections, Siobhan stays awake.

read it on ao3 here

Female Hawke/Sebastian Vael | rated G | 1501 words | CW: emotional manipulation, sleep deprivation, guilt, emotional hurt

-

“When was the last time you slept?”

Siobhan didn’t look up. She did not need to see the soft concern in Sebastian’s piercing eyes. She was not in the mood to play the part of his budding beau tonight.

Sections of parchment covered every inch of her desk. Inky lines connected rumors and secrets and weaknesses, a veritable road map to pulling the strings in Kirkwall. The elimination of the Crimson Weavers had refreshed most of the nobility’s affection for their Champion, but casualties included the Selbrech’s sponsored page. A scandal for them if revealed, of course, but they could easily invent a false motivation for opposing her and Siobhan had no actual proof other than her word. Better if she balanced that offense with a favor.

Of course, it was worth considering that the Selbrechs were less than subtle about their distaste for the Knight-Commander’s rule. Perhaps that favor for Meredith first, to preemptively offset that issue.

“Hawke.” Sebastian laid his hand on top of hers as she started to shuffle papers, looking for the most recent letter from the Gallows. With an annoyed huff, she looked up.

As she’d predicted, his concern was palpable and it deepened when he saw her face. Ragged, with circles stamped under her eyes and a furrow in her brow that was permanent these days. She’d pulled her hair from its tie several hours back and it hung in greasy strands, frizzed and mussed from tangling her fingers through it. A half-drunk mug of coffee had gone cold on the corner of her desk and as she blinked, she realized the candle had burned out. How long had she been working by moonlight alone? A while, judging by the cooled wax.

“You need rest,” Sebastian said. “Running yourself into such a state will do nothing for this city.”

“Won’t it? Everyone else disagrees with you.”

“You do not owe them your well-being.”

“Don’t I?” Siobhan plucked at the Champion’s mantle around her neck. “Isn’t that what this means?”

Sebastian circled the desk and clasped her by the shoulders, turning her bodily away from her work. Without the puzzles and problems occupying her mind, it sagged. The dark shadows of her idle thoughts threw Mother’s sutured corpse against her lids and put the stench of burning Qunari in her nose. She pressed her fingers to her temple and willed the thoughts away.

“I can’t sleep,” she lied. “If I’m going to be awake and worrying, I might as well get some work done.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that.”

His hands slid up her neck and cupped her face. “Don’t lie to me, Siobhan. I know you too well now for that.”

She tilted her head back. He didn’t, really, know her as well as he thought he did. That he could tell she was fibbing now was a function of her mounting exhaustion, nothing else. He knew the pieces of her that she allowed him to see, the ones that appealed to his morals and his heart. The ones that would keep him by her side until she’d secured the power she sought here. That meant letting him think he knew her.

But he did not.

“I cannot rest,” she finally sighed. “Not with the state of things. They named me Champion and tied me to the city as surely as my own heartbeat. As long as she is teetering on this precipice, I will find no rest.”

She covered his hands with her own and pulled them away with a squeeze. “Are you not restless every moment Starkhaven’s fate remains uncertain?”

His hesitated, a confirmation in and of itself. “I am, yes,” he conceded. “But I also know that I cannot retake my rightful place unless I am ready—physically, mentally, spiritually—to do right by them. In trying to aid, I could harm.”

“I would never forgive myself if Starkhaven fell because of my recklessness,” he murmured. “And I know you would die before you allowed your hand to slip in matters for Kirkwall. But if you keep on as this, such a slip will be inevitable.”

Hackles rising, Siobhan drew away. He should understand and yet completely missed the point. Perhaps because as much he loved Starkhaven, his standing persisted without it. Her own claim relied wholly on Kirkwall. She’d signed over her soul in the lifeblood of Bethany and Carver. Her security, all of her carefully crafted plans, alliances forged and buttons pushed—it all teetered on just one thing.

Kirkwall. Ideally with Siobhan in the Viscount’s office, but lacking that opportunity the city still had to exist for her to have any traction at all. Every moment, every breath was a battle between Siobhan’s willpower and the relentless forces determined to tear the City of Chains apart. She could not relent, not even for a moment, or she would lose it all.

She didn’t realize she’d been shaking until Sebastian’s hands found her arms again. Not good—her awareness was faltering as her mind frayed at the edges, but she had to press on. She had to keep going.

Like a new blade, imbued with all the expectations of the smith. Champion, named as she was pulled from the hottest part of the forge. And expected, immediately, to go to work for those who would wield her.

Unless she wielded herself first.

Sebastian’s knuckles brushed down her neck, a tender caress that burned bitter in its own right. His fingers caught the ring he’d given her where it hung in the divot of her throat.

“It is not just Kirkwall you’ve made promises to,” he said slowly. Almost reluctant, as though he would have preferred to hold this card. “I would see you save your city and still survive to help me rescue mine.”

“Kirkwall comes first. It always has. You knew that when you gave me this.”

“I know, but—Maker, Siobhan,” he said, exasperated. “If there’s one thing that’s clear from my time here, it’s that everyone in this city will take and use you like—like an object! A tool! They will load you into their cannons and shoot you at their problems and not care that it shatters you into a thousand pieces!”

“You have to care,” he insisted, catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “And I’m not entirely convinced that you do.”

Siobhan held his gaze steadily. As steadily as she could, anyway—a staggering level of emotion rolled off of him. Usually she would grasp that, bend it to her liking and point it in a useful direction. Tonight, though, with her neck cricked from bending over the desk and her vision sliding in and out of blurriness, it simply made her head ache.

“I don’t,” she said bluntly. He inhaled, sharp—he hadn’t expected her to be so forthright. Siobhan jerked her chin down and put a few paces between them.

“What is one life, in exchange for a whole city? For peace? There’s no comparison.” She brought her gaze back to him. “If blood could save this city, I would sharpen myself on a blade. But it is people and words and effort that will keep Kirkwall whole. And those things take more of me than a well-placed fireball. But it is worth it.”

“Is it?” Sebastian asked quietly. She glared at him for even voicing the thought.

“To me. Yes.”

Sebastian shook her head. “Maybe. But it’s not healthy, Hawke.”

I never said it was. It didn’t have to be healthy. It just had to work.

“Was there something you needed?” she finally asked. “I have to sort out a plan for the Selbrechs.”

“What I need is for you to come to bed,” Sebastian said with a sigh. “As in all things, I sleep better with you at my side. But barring that—“

He crossed to her and cupped her face, bringing their lips together. He likely meant it to be soft, gentle, cajoling. But as soon as their lips met, the earnest frustration and trepidation flared. His hand at the back of her head pulled her closer so their teeth clacked together and Siobhan tasted blood where he caught her tongue between them.

All of his urgency begged her to care about herself. All of her devotion answered that she cared about Kirkwall more.

When they broke apart, breathless, Sebastian leaned his forehead against hers.

“Come to bed,” he beseeched. She shook her head and he sighed. With a final, soft brush across her lips, he drew away.

“You are more than their weapon, Siobhan.”

If only that were true. She bent over the desk and pinched the bridge of her nose, willing her blurry eyes to focus on the Selbrech’s family tree. Over the years, the facets of her had shifted and honed. She had passed from hand to hand as time and distance and circumstances changed.

She had always been a weapon and, until the pieces of her rusted into nothing, a weapon she would stay.

[mindcrowned]

@shadowembraced

ryan didn't like to be the center of attention - he never did & yet he was always forced into it by one person or another. the kids in the group home, the caretakers, his older sisters, teachers. he'd always been the target of attention he didn't want. sure, work as a teacher pushed that a little, but it was a different kind of attention & it was the kind he chose. this entire … situation here, the showcase .. was far from what he was comfortable with. he'd ..watched & he'd listened, quite determined not to give his trick away yet - partially because he didn't want to deal with questions, but also because he just didn't want to… show… off anything.

but the offer made was … it called to him. he'd been determined to get drunk, which he'd been denied, so… yeah, the offer actually sounded good. sure, he didn't want to touch the actor, not at all - not even just a minute, but he didn't know anybody else & iceman… messed up his plans by fucking up. as did charlie, ryan didn't really want to deal with those powers. shadows …it was. he thought he did .. okay. misha seemed to think so, too, because he was still willing to hold up his end of the bargain.

even though he shut off his timer, he still had shadow weaver in his system. he just made a point not to go past his limit, which .. changed with practice. he could go longer, but .. it tended to affect him in ways he didn't want to experience. when he felt the pressure of a hand against his back, he wanted to step aside, but before he could, shadows wrapped around them & then he was elsewhere. "neat trick you got there."

[weavewithin]

New year celebration with @nameaprice & @fcrgiven. Continued.

The new year revel always felt like the night sky had descended to the earth, blending with the world for just one celebration. Lanterns had been hung up in all manner of colors and constellations, great fires raised. The shadows they cast mingled, like threads in a weave.

Taliyah had smiled and laughed so much that her cheeks ached. She hadn't touched a single spirited drink, much unlike many among the gathered crowd, and that didn't help her problem of having too much to smile and laugh about; everywhere around her, drunken or not, joyful moments unfurled.

However, there were two people she desired to watch more than the others, and she'd lost sight of them as a conversation took her. This new year was merrier than in many years, as it had seen her reunited with people very dear to her; her friend who carves her own path, and the Teacher she thought she had lost. Her gaze and mind were free to roam again, and she searched the crowd-- finding the two in the most unimaginable scenario. Kissing, embracing, dancing. No doubt a little in the cups, but the joy they shared seemed genuine, if perhaps fleeting.

Maybe the Great Weaver foresaw a path for them in the coming year. Fate, like the sands of the desert, was ever-shifting.

The stoneweaver extended a finger and swirled it. With the motion, a spherical slab of earth beneath the dancing pair rotated, spinning them closer together, like thread on a spindle. She caught her teacher's gaze-- always alert, finding her swiftly, even when drunk-- and she smiled. Then, she laughed, heart brimming with love.

There was someone she desired to dance with, too. Someone she would, if she were brave enough, kiss as well. That person was far from her, somewhere in the caverns in the earth, where horrors slithered and lurked. Blocking out the party for a moment, Taliyah extended her senses to the earth, listening to its songs and echoes. Hoping to catch the swift steps and impacts of plasma barrages she knew so well.

[halewynslady]

Weave: Story Structure, simple version:

Part one: SW arrives in Bright Moon and falls in love with Angella _ check

Shadow Weaver saves Angella with kiss _check

-This is where we are.-

SPOILERS below cut

Part two: Angella sleeps with Shadow Weaver for several nights. This goes unmentioned during the days. Except that one day when SW does eat Angella out in the sofa. Night-Angella is sweet and rather quiet in nature. SW is feeling very affectionate and loyal to Angella but soon knows it is best to be careful and not mention that. She even doubts if the Angella's are the same person.

This strange illusive arrangement is making SW have dreams about the nights not being real, about her shadow self being killed (this is where HC Andersen's the travelling companion references are made), about Angella trying to get to the 'good version' of her who in the dreams still gets rejected by the queen, about Micah and we even venture into Light Spinner/Angella illusions. The dream stuff continues in the future parts too.

Part three: NightAngella sees Shadow Weaver's face for the first time and is reeeally happy about this, but of course tells Casta who just returned by waking her in the middle of the night and rant the story to her and does not clue Shadow Weaver in on her reaction so our sorceress thinks not only that her face reveal ruined things but that Angella was doing all of this to 'score a victory' on her.

The nights stop.

Angella tells Casta some of her 'research', because of course she's been documenting. Casta fears the worst. (mutual feelings, while Angella is unaware of feelings from either side)

Part 4: Angella thinks she scared Shadow Weaver out of their agreement by removing her mask and feels bad about abusing her trust like that, so after leaving her alone....

Angella gets drunk at a BrightMoon party. She goes to Shadow Weaver's room to ask for kisses.

Shadow Weaver gives her that and more.

Angella tells her that it saddens her that they stopped the nights, that she thought they were friends. Helping each other, sleeping together. She has a weird concept of friendship. It is something she often masks (:p) behind and SW never buys into.

First naked Angella.

Angella leaves possibly embarrassed in the morning.

SW smugly thinks she scored a victory now.

It is from this night out that Angella will often vocalize that they are not lovers. This leaves Shadow Weaver perplexed and hurt every time.

Part 5: Angella makes dayvisits for kisses, a lot, surprise attacks really, very fast and many kisses, she has not much to say and there is cuddling in the sofa during those sessions, but no more. Angella no longer comes over for nights.

Sw is very unclear about their status for most of the story.

Every day mask removal with someone present is A LOT for SW.

She is getting used and is close to breaking point since Angella doesn't say anything about her wishes.

Part 6: They are sleeping together again (second row of nights, now sneakier? Angella tends to not have any qualms about her outings to the prisoner.) and they spend a lot of time in each other's company during the day.

Shadows is slipping up on the 'I love you' front more frequently which never goes well with Angella, who blatently calls her out for trying to manipulate her. Girl tries a lot of gaslighting and denial on both of them to keep them out of love.

She slowly replies to SW as if she suspects her of being honest about her feelings, by, of course, telling her they will pass and things will be okay after that. (does it not make your blood boil in anger? Her advice this far in is the same as what SW has tried since the very start and here SW thought she was getting somewhere with all their cute intimate moments.) She even talks of SW in time moving onto someone else once she is free.

Angella decides to secretly use magic to give SW a better time (read orgasms) when she is fucking her (because queenie does not care about her, sure :p) .

This leads to SW regaining her powers and as such her shadows expressing themselves again (as they did very briefly in the magic kiss scene in part 1 when Angella says 'your hair').

((It's the opposite of what happens in Roommates the finale, where the shadows momentarily flee SW's grasp after sex. Here she gets her hold back because of it.))

Angella considers this (the shadows and powers returning) a very bad thing.

Part 7: Angella frees Shadow Weaver from the confinement spell that is breaking around her anyway. To then do the logical midsex thing, of kidnapping her from this room, taking her out the window and dropping her in her own room.

Angella keeps her there for several days IN A BED (finally!) without a spell for one purpose: cute sex scenes! Okay, and Shadow Weaver incidentally catching up on sleep!

First naked Shadow Weaver.

And girl is feeling good about this situation, especially about the having a bed part.

Sw gets to have walks with Angella in Bright Moon, garden walks and kisses, Angella takes her to meetings, where she has her sit next to her in gay panic to 'shield the kids from the evil influence' and then Angella has her on the table there once the meeting is over. They make out all the time, there is not much hiding it, Angella is getting the most out of this because... she is not okay with the growing parasitic shadow powers (who actually love her).

She tries to think of a way to cut off SW's access to power/Angella herself to slow down the process and to get to keep her longer because she is on the edge of what the Rebellion can cope with. The danger SW can push the Rebellion into remains Angella's top concern.

Besides, Angella is still opposed to declaring them anything close to 'lovers'.

And so SW returns to her own room, no longer a prisoner under small-surface-spell arrest. Just a spoiled prisoner who Angella has implicitly given her garden to. Since the garden is downstairs and Angella pines in her room most days and watches Shadow Weaver from her balcony.

This goes on for so long that SW leaves. She bids goodbye to Adora first and Glimmer who knows what is up. (She and Casta had a freak-out session ages ago about Angella/SW.)

Angella tries to stop her, is too late.

Before SW left...she found Angella's diaries. These reveal that Angella's past includes an initial crush on Light Spinner that definitely never left her. She began addressing her diaries rather romantically to (the idea of) her, once she learned her name she called her Light Spinner and later on it shifts to Shadow Weaver and at times it reads more as loveletters.

''I love you'' is mentioned frequently, as a dream relationship and once Shadow Weaver is there her 'love you's started up somewhere in part 1, probably the scene with the accidental scarred hand touching. She has known it herself and keeps denying for everyone's safety.

I am making Shadows right about Norwyn pushing her back, keeping Princess Angella's visit to Mystacor from her and thus blocking her from sharing magic/war plans with a higher council and possibly joining that group of fighters. Angella did not have her wings yet then, SW did not notice her. But Angella saw her teaching kiddies in the courtyard and followed her (because girls) to the library where she overheard Light Spinner with a lover.

Because of this she thinks she knows how SW talks when in love -loftly and talkative- and she is not like that with her -as if people don't change. :p she is much more silent and restrained with her since SW goes in shock at even being near her-, and Angella thinks for most of the time that SW is not interested in her (despite sleeping together, hey, ladies!).

She knows she should be SW's type, because she interviewed her exes 'for the good of Etheria', which makes the feeling much worse. (guys, this is all shades of bad from all sides, but it is fiction, so let's disregard that)

+irony, every time SW is as much as on the verge of sweettalking her Angella shuts that down.

Back to the past, Angella tried to get in touch with Light Spinner. Which means having a crush for the longest time and not daring to write to her for a decade. So when she does contact Mystacor to ask about this sorceress she's been gone for ages. This is how Angella got in touch with Micah. Big love, all the cutes. He was understandably very bitter about one topic and didn't say much about Light Spinner. She still got lots of info from him actually.

Part 8:

Shadow Weaver makes shadow-self appearances at night for sex in Angella's room, through the broken mask that Angella once hated but now keeps on her nightstand.

Angella does not know where SW is. She does not truly get to touch and kiss her now. Angella is now the one who does not know when her not-lover-I-swear will be there and who most regrets this thing between them 'only' being sex. (the cuteness shared up to this point should be overwhelming)

Part 9: SW returns, though Angella is not coming through with calling her her 'lover' yet. She goes to Brightmoon with a plant/flowery gift on Casta's request, who was sheltering her at Mystacor. I know, terrible idea, with all the ancient magic there, luckily SW couldn't mess up too much there because she was putting all her energy to shadowvisiting Angella at night. Casta saw there that these two are killing themselves over each other.

The reunion with Angella goes badly, at first. This includes SW crying in the greenhouse and Glimmer helping her and that goes into corridor chase scenes, with Angella finally embracing her and (those adorable wild magic forces) the shadows.

THE END (I hope) This story was way too long even back when I started it.

Real life notes:

If someone treats you as Angella does SW in this fic: RUN

If someone treats you as SW treats anyone in the show: RUN

Love does not make someone good.

Love at first sight is not to be trusted so readily.

Keeping pet sorceresses locked up in a spare room is an excellent idea! Be sure to water her enough, get her all the cushions and go heavy on the banter.

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 15th June

I have to say, just looking at the line-up this week, I'm quite excited. It feels like we haven't had a female artist - or a Brill Building songwriter - in a little while, and Lonnie's usually fun, too, when he's not trying to do comedy. So yeah, tentatively looking forward to seeing what this week brings us!

I Wanna Go Home - Lonnie Donegan (peaked at Number 5)

Oh, okay. I know this one! It's the Sloop John B, recognisable right away from the intro, which has a sort of calypso feel, complete with lots of Latin percussion, and lyrics about a trip around Nassau, the capital of the Bahamas. A tropical hit, right in time for summer, then!

That said, the trip the song depicts is anything but a holiday - Lonnie and his grandfather are sailors on the Sloop John B. But we learn that we were drinking all day / And fighting all night, and that I feel so break-up I wanna go home. At which point you'd think Lonnie would quit the drinking, but apparently he's been driven to drenk by the captain, who's a wicked man / He gets drunk any time he can / And he don't give a damn for gradpappy and me. I think this is the strongest language we've heard so far? So yeah, Lonnie's having a properly miserable time at sea, despite the fun tropical sound.

None of this is typical pop fare - because this isn't a pop song. It's a Bahamian folk tune that dates back to at least 1916, probably earlier. There are some suspicions that it was a "manufactured" folk song, created for a chain of hotels owned by one Henry Flagler. But either way, it uses real events - there really was a sloop called the John B named for its owner, John Bethel, who sailed it around for a while until it was wrecked. No record, apparently, of whether the drinking and fighting's accurate, but it definitely was wrecked. The song spun out of that, and would have stayed in Nassau had it not been for folk enthusiast Alan Lomax, who travelled to the Bahamas in search of "purer", more African-sounding black folk music, which he suspected the islanders there would know. Lomax's recordings brought the song to the attention of the up and coming folk artists of the 1940s and especially 1950s, with the Weavers and later the Kingston Trio doing popular versions that you have to suspect inspired Lonnie - though he added the tango rhythms and castanets, it turns out. Not a bad addition, honestly, though Lonnie's take on the song then got eclipsed by the Beach Boys' much better-known 1966 version. Which is the main version I know, so there's that.

Mamma - Connie Francis (double A-side, 2)

Ooh, and after our (admittedly disastrous) trip to the Bahamas, we're on our travels again, this time to Italy, with a massive, dramatic intro, all deafening strings and harps. It's what experts would call "a bit much", but thankfully the song quickly puts and end to it, cutting to just Connie and a piano, and only gradually bringing the strings back in. The overall effect, once you hit this bit, is fine, if a little syrupy. I think a lot of the reason it just about works is Connie's voice, which as ever is excellent, just dripping in emotion. She almost sounds like she's starting to cry, a little, as she sings about how, when the evening shadows fall / And the lovely day is through, / Then with longing I recall / The years I spent with you. It's hard to sound vulnerable or to act while singing, but Connie manages it here, her voice catching, with these little breathy moments and sighs - skillful stuff. About as subtle as a hammer, but hey, if anyone has the right to show off, it's Connie.

And then we abruptly shift from English into Italian. And quite melodramatic Italian, too, addressing Connie's mother: Mama, just for you my song flies / Mama, you will be with me / You will no longer be alone. It's almost romantic-sounding, and combined with the teary opening, I was briefly confused - but then we shift back into English, with some lyrics that give a little context, as Connie sings about feeling safe in the glow of your love / Sent from the heavens above, promising her mother that I'll live in these memories / Until the day that we're together once more. Her mother is dead, it seems - hence the emotional delivery of the while song. It's sentimental stuff, and I'm not sure I really like it, to be truthful - it all just feels a bit emotionally manipulative and fake. And who's the target audience? Who's actually going out and choosing to listen to this, specifically? It all feels a bit morbid and mopey, at least for my tastes.

That said, the song was apparently a bit hit, at this point, and a familiar one, having been written all the way back in 1940 by Italian composer Cesare Andrea Bixio, and translated into English six years later. Tonnes of European singers then seem to have taken a stab at it throughout the 1940s and 1950s especially, including a version by David Whitfield in 1955 that only seems to have reached Number 12, and thus did not come up in this project - and thank goodness for that, beacuse I can only imagine how awful David's version of this particular song would be!

Either way, at the same time, over in the US, Connie Francis was trying to pull a Bobby Darin and get out of the whole "rock and roll" rut. As part of this transition to a more "adult" sound, her father apparently suggested she ought to make an album of Italian songs, with a mix of traditional folk songs and popular hits, all sung in a mix of Italian / Neapolitan and English for the sake of an audience not necessarily fluent in Italian. And thus was Connie Francis Sings Italian Favorites born, despite the fact that Connie didn't speak either Italian or Neapolitan at this point. It included Mama and other well-known songs such as Santa Lucia and O Sole Mio, as well as some Domenico Modugno numbers, capitalising on Italian Eurovision success. And actually, now I think about it, the whole production on Mama is very "early Eurovision", heavy on the sentiment, and more of an easy listening vibe than anything you could traditionally consider pop. It's funny, nowadays, to think of that as something that an artist would progress to, after a rock and roll career - it really feels like a step back into the past, a return to a type of music you tend to assume was put to bed, immediately outdated, the minute Bill Haley came screaming into the charts. Which it obviously didn't, hence why folks like Connie and Bobby can still make money off records like this.

Robot Man - Connie Francis (double A-side, 2)

Okay, interesting as Mama was, this is what you buy a Connie Francis record for. It's a sparky little number, with plenty of quirkiness as Connie sings some properly silly lyrics. Seriously, this song is on par with I Go Ape - it's a similarly ambiguous "sort-of serious sort-of novelty" number, only with robots as the shtick, not monkeys, as Connie tells us all about how I want a robot man to hold me tight / One that I can count on every single night. Her robot boyfriend, she suggests, would be much more reliable than a real man. He wouldn't run around like other guys / I wouldn't have to listen to his alibis. Even better, I'd never have to worry that he wouldn't phone, plus he'd never dance with anyone but me. And as an added bonus, we would never fight / Cause it would be impossible for him to speak. An ideal solution, truly, and also, incidentally, a really nice bit of dated 1950s futurism - I love that Connie can imagine a robot boyfriend, but not a talking robot boyfriend. That would be too much.

Connie, in all of this, is back to being her usual bubbly self, no dead mothers or European pretensions in sight. Instead, we've got a song where she's just having a bit of fun. There's theoretically been a bit of heartache - hence lines about how she don't want a real-life boy, they give me grief / Always make me cry into a handkerchief - but Connie's not letting it get her down. Indeed, quite the opposite - if anything, her flaky real-life boyfriend's got her all fired up and savage. Which, as I've definitely said before, is absolutely Connie's best mode. It's not that she can't sell heartbreak or romance or any of those mushier emotions. But she's just really good at this sort of fiery sass, it's a good fit for her. She manages to sound playful but also imperious and kind of dismissive - it's great!

Throughout, there are some really nice "futuristic" touches, just to give the song that sci-fi vibe. The most obvious is the weird, whirring backing singers and whatever's making that clicking noise in the intro - the combination of which sounds like something experimental from an early Doctor Who episode, so job well done. And there are a few other boop-boop-boop-boop bits from the backing singers, too, which I like. And I appreciate that appart from that, this is basically just a standard-issue rock and roll-inflected pop song, complete with twangy guitar, hand-claps and backing yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah interjections. A perfectly charming mix of things to be.

Stairway to Heaven - Neil Sedaka (8)

Wait, Stairway to Heaven? I never realised that was a cov... oh. Right. It's not. It's just got the same title as the Led Zeppelin song. Disappointing. Not that the song's bad, but I really do enjoy the Zeppelin song. Plus I know a fair bit of their stuff's covers of earlier blues numbers, so I thought this could be Neil trying his hand at the blues. Which would have been out of character, I should have known it was too good to be true. Sigh.

Disappointment aside, I do think this is a decent song. It's a romantic, if slightly predictable, rock and roll-tinged pop number, much like Robot Man, all about how I'll build a stairway to heaven / I'll club to the highest star / I'll build a stairway to heaven / Cause heaven is where you are. Neil's love's an angel, you see? You get that? An angel! Needless to say, subtle this song ain't. Which is fine, not every song needs to have poetic, elegant lyrics. Sometimes we just need to be building stairways to heaven and climbing up over the rainbow to profess our love in slightly over-dramatic fashion. Add in a killer sax solo and what sounds like a tambourine and a glockenspiel, and you've got yourself a hit.

Actually, the instrumentation's notably good, here. That's a bit of a thing with these Brill Building hits, there's a real attention paid to how it's all been put together, and getting an interesting mix of instruments in there. They're not front and centre, they're more there for texture than anything, but I still appreciate things like including a glockenspiel, or the hit on what sounds like a timpani, which is then detuned to make a sort of pitch-bending effect at the end of each verse. They're not remarked on, but they're just there, making the song that bit more interesting and memorable - a step beyond your more standard "guitar, bass, drum and maybe sax" combo. And of course, it's all filled out with some deliciously daft-sounding wa-wap noises from the backing singers. Because what is a pop song without slightly silly noises from the backing singers, at this point?

I didn't mind any of this week's songs, and honestly, I thought they were quite interesting, as a sort of snapshot of things in the summer of 1960. We've got exotic foreign travel, calypso influences, British skiffle takes on an American folk tune, a rock and roll artist trying to branch back into something more traditional and adult, Italian sentimental balladeering, and not one but two Brill Building pop numbers, influenced by rock and roll but with more of a pop sensibility, both of them replete with overenthusiastic backing singers, jangly guitar and charmingly goofy lyrics. Good stuff, all round.

Favourite song of the bunch: Robot Man

[askthethiccheros]

In my mind Adora is a lightweight but catra tends to take out the shadow Weaver and only one regard of her binges drinking. Assembly something like whiskey or bourbon

Catra doesn't drink often but when she does she gets drunk. Adora likes to know in advance so she can be the sober one of the two. Or at least make sure they have a friend around that can manage them both. Gotta drink responsibly!