#i’m writing dark mirror and getting obliterated with feelings again

[flowers-of-io]

but of course savathun the “caring for literally anything is cringe” queen would have the very thing that killed her preserved under heavy guard in the care of her most trusted witch

[thefanficmonster]

Infatuation

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤

“Um, what are you doing?“

I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?

I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.

“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“

“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”

He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”

Alright, this man-child needs some serious help

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“

“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.

Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”

                                                              *  *  *

“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.

I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.

“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.

We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.

I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.

“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“

I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”

He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”

I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”

It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”

His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.

“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment. 

Just kidding....unless...

“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“

I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.

“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.

“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.

“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.

“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“

Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible. 

Tsk, so much for gratitude

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[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙀𝙉𝘿. ҂ 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢

request:

Hi!! Idk if you’re taking requests rn lol but I was wondering if you can write a clay imagine? It can be smut or anything lol

pairing: dream x fm!reader

warnings: nsfw (18+ minors dni), smut, calling dream clay, cliche apocalypse au, blood, kinda sad ngl

word count: ~3000

links: ao3

a/n: Hi everyone. I have no idea what this is, but if you like it let me know! I was struggling with coming up with something for dream but here we are on a crackpot tangent. N E WAY, thank you for all your support and requests! Have a great week and happy reading ♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

Soapy bubbles clung to your arms as you pressed your hands into the hot water, sighing as you reached the bottom of the sink. You didn’t care about the murky discoloration of the water from the stack of dishes you had just polished off. You attempted to let the stress of your day roll off your shoulders to mix into that same water. Call it a baptism, but the solace you got standing before the sink, pouring your emotions into the dark, louring water was comparable to nothing. The radio buzzed with slight static as the station attempted to break through the heavy interference.

That was until three long pulses echoed over the station, making your skin crawl as if an unseen force were intruding on your alone time. You stood up straighter, water dripping down your arms and splashing on the linoleum floor beneath you as you listened to the grizzled news broadcaster read from an obviously unedited announcement. The world outside of your apartment seemed to still, silence echoing through the streets where shrilling sirens lived only moments before.

“Breaking news… NASA has just verified that the mystery asteroid is, in fact, in danger of crashing into the Earth… As of this moment-” His voice cut out, your radio buzzing into static. In a panicked effort, you vaulted across your kitchen, slipping on the dishwater in the process as you tumbled to the ground. Before the pain could set in, you climbed to your feet, smacking your hand atop of the radio. It finally crackled back to life as you twisted at the dials feverishly. “... three days. To repeat, there is a countdown on the NASA website… take shelter when the time nears.”

Your ears rang alongside the three pulses to indicate the message was over. You were in denial, figuring there was no way this asteroid was actually going to obliterate the Earth. Surely, it was a joke. Everyone had been making memes of the space rock since it was picked up on NASA’s radar a month prior. Surely, this was just a test.

You waited for the city to come back to life, but everything remained still. After everything you’d all been through in the last year, an asteroid was going to be the end.

A sharp and urgent knock hammered against your door, making you jump a few feet in the air. Before you could move to see who it was, the person was already through the threshold. You peered around the corner of the kitchen and down the hall, your gaze meeting a pair of dark green irises. Clay’s towering figure stalked toward you, his eyes brimming with tears and panic. He pulled you into his embrace rather hurriedly, as if he’d been itching to wrap around you before he broke down.

The hint of cologne clouding the air around the two of you suggested that he was on his way out. As your hands followed their muscle memory to grip onto his clothes, he dug his face into the crook of your neck. It was becoming clear that even if you weren’t responding to your best friend’s need, he was going to take it from you.

He pulled away from you slightly. Your mind had gone completely silent as he looked at you, his attention struggling to focus on one part of your face. Your body felt numb and your tongue had gone dry. His gaze traveled towards the ground and he stepped back slightly, worry spreading across his features as he clamped his hand around your forearm.

“Why are you bleeding? What happened?” His voice cracked slightly as he dug into the drawer beside you to find a towel. You furrowed your brows before finally catching sight of the blood seeping from your arm and between his fingers. His hand was large enough that it nearly served as its own bandage.

He tugged you behind him towards your bathroom. “I fell…” You mumbled, your mind now racing with questions. Why couldn’t you feel the cut? Or his hands? He pushed you upwards to sit on the bathroom counter, his crimson hands shaking slightly as he rinsed them off. Your fingers tightened around the towel holding your wound together. As he focused on the task before him, he seemed to calm down ever so slightly. He rolled his head on his shoulders and took a deep breath to steady himself as fished through your First Aid kit.

“I was on my way to Nick’s and I heard the news. I’m…” He brought his arm up slightly to brush away a few tears against his shoulder. He pulled open a package with his teeth. You watched him carefully as he worked to clean you up. His blond locks hung over his eyes, curling around his ears and twisting about as he focused and you could almost hear his mother’s voice telling him he needed a haircut.

Your chest ached. “Clay, I think I’m having some kind of a breakdown,” you mumbled, your own eyes prickling with tears as he looked up at you quickly. Usually, you were the one that kept it together. It had been like that since the two of you were teenagers. Despite the fact that Clay’s tall, muscular stature gave off the appearance of an intimidating being. In actuality he always let his emotions get the best of him, leaving you in charge of being the rational one.

But as he patched up your arm and struggled not to fall apart, the reality was settling in to weigh heavily on your shoulders.

He began to talk softly to you---much like you usually did for him---making sure his touches were delicate and slow. While his hands were coarse from years of football and building decks with his dad in the summers when the two of you were younger, they were so tender when dealing with you. He cradled you as if you would break at the slightest flex of his finger.

“Why didn’t you just go to Nick’s?” You asked him once he’d finished bandaging your arm and had begun rewashing his hands. The scarlet water in the sink looked almost surreal after you’d been staring so long at the caliginous dishwater. He rested his hands on the edge of the sink, his eyes flashing up to look at himself in the mirror before chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Your hand traveled up his arm, his skin warm beneath your touch as you tugged on his bicep to bring him closer to you. He moved to wrap you in his embrace once again, his breath melding into your hair as his fingers closed around the fabric of your shirt. “I’d rather spend the end of the world with you,” he barely whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder softly.

You pulled away from him gently, his forehead moving to rest against your own. One of his hands moved to brush into your hair, his fingers finding purchase against your neck. The familiar smell of smoky vanilla and sage seeped into your mind at his closeness. You thought about your first kiss shared in “the name of science,” after you turned fourteen. Clay had been so awkward in his body at that time; his hair shaggy, stretch marks along his knees from his growth spurt, and a growing realization that you were in fact, a member of the opposite sex.

The Clay before you, even in his state of anguish and anxiety, stood with a cockiness that that Clay couldn’t have even dreamt of. His thumb glossed over your jaw, his eyes cast down as if his mind was wreaking havoc on his movements. Cautiously, you leaned towards him, sealing the space between the two of you as your lips pressed against his. The air of catastrophe seemed to dissipate around you as he pulled you tighter against him. The taste of mint and a faint whisper of fruit from the gum he always chewed blended against your tongue. Your arms moved to wrap around his waist, wanting him pressed to you as close as he could be.

He wrapped his hands around your thighs, pulling you up and into his arms as he made his way to your bedroom. As your back hit the mattress, Clay’s lips were back on yours, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt to tug the fabric over his head. You sighed as he hesitated before nipping at the skin of your collarbones, his tongue ghosting against any mark that formed on your skin from his teeth. You drove your hands into his hair, your fingers locking around the slight curls forming. He pushed your shirt off and you wiggled out of your sweatpants.

His hips dug into yours, the friction bringing a lazy smile to your face as you bit your lip. You tugged on his hair, making him moan into your ear to mix with his motions. “I want you, Clay,” you stated, your voice falling from your lips in a slightly deeper tone, your breathing uneven with passion. He moved to look into your eyes, pausing for a moment before his hand slid between your waistband and your hip to remove your underpants. It was clear that even as the timer clicked away the minutes the two of you had together, you wanted to savor him. If the world ended now as the two of you were in each other’s embrace, you would be fulfilled.

He smirked slightly at your words, his lips finding your neck once again. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear that,” he moaned, pressing a kiss behind your ear. He slunk down to press his lips against your stomach, moving slowly up your body to bury his face in your hair, grinding his hips against yours. You fought not to roll your eyes as you hooked your fingers through his belt loops, pulling his pants off. He pressed his lips against yours, humming into the kiss as you wrapped your leg around one of his. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, grinding against him.

As Clay pushed himself into you, your whole body relaxed as if he were made for you. He dug his face into the crook of your neck, letting you adjust to him. You hummed slightly, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as he began to move. He gripped the edge of the mattress beside your head as he leaned his weight on his forearm, the angle bringing your thigh to rest against his side. You wrapped your arm around his shoulder, bringing your hips up to move with his. “You’re so beautiful…” he mumbled, his lips brushing against your collarbones again as his thrusts into you became deeper.

You began to feel every inch of him in you as his hips ground against yours. Clay’s lips left yours to press against your jaw and your ear, one of his hands interlocking with yours, binding the two of you further together in the act. It was his carefulness of your forearm that sent a shock wave through your body as you were bitterly reminded that instead of a lifetime of cherishing moments like this, the two of you were cursed into his disaster arc.

His hand pressed into the mattress, fingers curling around the sheets as you pulled him down to you again, his lips melding to yours. You groaned, finding your sweet spot as he did so, making him pick up his pace. His other hand pressed against the side of your neck, bringing your skin closer to his lips as he pressed open mouth kisses to the landscape of your neck, thrusting into you and making the tension in your body tighten with pleasure. Your arms moved to wrap around Clay’s torso, pressing your lips against his shoulder as he moved. Your toes curled as you finally reached your orgasm, calling out his name and feeling him release as well, riding out your pleasure.

As you laid beside him, he played with your fingers, the quietness between the two of you nearly comforting. There was almost the question of “what now” hanging in the air.

A knock came at your door once again, your heart dropping slightly at who the person could be. You shot a look to Clay before pulling on one of the discarded shirts and your shorts from earlier. Your apartment was cold after being in bed with Clay, the air nipping at your skin and sending a shiver down your skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the billboard beside your window had the countdown displayed in heavy red numbers. You swallowed your uneasiness and opened your door.

Nick stood before you, his eyebrows slightly perked at---what you could only assume---your unkempt appearance. He wet his lips briefly. “Dream’s here right?” He asked, peering over your head a bit. You silently opened your door completely, letting him inside. Clay came out of your bedroom, tugging a hoodie over his head that he had previously shoved in one of your drawers. As Nick eyed him, it seemed like he’d forgotten whatever serious matter he needed Clay for. Instead of the skittish expression, Nick’s face twisted into a knowingly smug quip.

Clay ran his fingers through his hair, moving down the hallway and into your kitchen. “What’s up?” He queried Nick. You followed the two of them as Nick began to ramble about the end of the world.

Your chest tightened at his words as you took a seat at your kitchen counter. Clay uncapped a beer, leaning on the marble across from you. “There’s a bunker nearby. It belongs to some random old guy but I know some people who can get us a spot,” Nick muttered almost as if he were worried your neighbors would hear and sabotage his plans. He looked between the two of you quickly. “I think it’s worth a shot.”

You watched Clay closely as he thought, his expression nearly blank due to his somberness. You could practically hear the clock ticking away outside as the red light began to seep into your apartment. Clay chewed the inside of his cheek. “What do you think?” He asked, suddenly breaking the deafening silence and turning to you. “I wanna go where you go.” He looked almost like a child as he said this, but you were grateful he wanted to be with you in the end.

You tore your eyes from him, focusing on the ring forming in your sink from the dishwater that you hadn’t had the opportunity to drain. Your mind raced with the possibility that Nick was offering. “What’s the worst that can happen? We’re dying anyway, right?” You responded wearily.

And that’s how you found yourself packed into an underground shelter, Clay’s body pressed against yours as nameless people crowded the dense area. Nick huddled against the two of you, the asteroid’s timer serving as a foreboding heartbeat as it reminded you all that these were the last moments of your life. Clay’s arm tightened around your shoulders as you buried your face in the softness of his sweatshirt. Your legs were going numb from sitting on the ground with your knees folded to your chest, but you didn’t dare move from his grasp. Nick’s side dug into your own as he attempted to shrug away from the hysterical woman beside him whispering to herself.

Only the mumbling of prayers and lamenting sobs broke up the lulling music playing over a small Ham radio resting on a bookshelf in the corner. The tune reminded you of an eerie scene in a movie from the ‘60s. As the song faded, a newscaster began to discuss the timer, wishing that everyone was with loved ones and had spent the last of their money.

And then the final ten seconds came. Your fingers threaded with Clay’s as he pressed a lasting kiss to your forehead.

“... Nine. Eight…”

Nick leaned into you. The two of you had never really been close, but on your journey to the bunker, he'd become a companion to you just as much as he was Clay's.

“... Seven. Six…”

You let your mind travel to your past, prom in particular. When Clay shut the skirt of your dress in his passenger door by accident. You were so mad at him for finding humor in the situation.

“... Five. Four…”

You thought about the week prior when you were considering skipping a lecture because you were tired. What you wouldn’t give to go back to the simplicity of problems like that.

“... Three. Two…”

You hugged Clay tighter to you, hoping that if you both got blasted into whatever kind of eternity was waiting, you’d land at the same time.

“... One.”

Everyone seemed to hold their breath, even the newscaster. The silence was painful as you all waited.

Clay and Nick moved quickly, looking around the room. You furrowed your brows at them, your grip tightening around the front of Clay’s sweater. “Do you hear that?” Clay stated, his voice coming out rushed. Nick nodded, watching as the rest of the men in the bunker began to talk amongst themselves. You couldn’t hear anything, worry settling.

“What?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

Clay pushed himself to sit up away from the wall, dragging you up with him. “How can you not hear that?” He urged mildly. Fear began to pick at your nerves as you noticed the same reactions filling the shelter. Nick stood up, following some of the other guys who heard whatever they were talking about. Clay slipped from your grasp. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered and you grabbed his hand. His eyes flashed a different color as he looked at you.

A few of the women followed the group, attempting to get their companion’s attention before one of them opened the shelter door.

[oftenderweapons]

Dry and Tumble - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x Vixen

Wordcount: 1k

Genre: fluff, romance, established relationship, idol!AU

Rating: 18+ (these two are very explicit in their flirting)

Hello everyone! I've been through a rough bit of time and decided to return to my comfort couple for a little. This scenario was inspired by @ironicarmy's Dirty Laundry (you can find the teaser over here). Thank you Lau for introducing such a great concept in my life. I will forever owe you my most delightful drabble. Writing this really brought me extreme joy while I was in a really dark place and I like to believe it was some sort of a gift you sent me haha ✨🥰

Big thanks go to @thejooncrew for beta reading. Bucca, your love for these two has very few rivals 🥰💕

Plot: not much. Just watch Namjoon have an mental breakdown as he finds Vixen bent over the dryer while she's trying to get the laudry out.

Warnings: these two flirt *heavy* (Vixen is wearing just an oversized shirt and Namjoon loves groping her), DDLG dynamics, tolxsmol galore, allusions to voyeurism and recording a uhmmm... mature video (?), biting. Very domestic flirting

Here is my masterlist! Enjoy 💜✨

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Namjoon stood from his chair, finding it extremely strange that by now you hadn’t yet sneaked into his home studio, curling up on his sofa and mewling obnoxiously until he paid attention to you.

He secretly loved when you acted dramatic and needy, especially because all he needed to do was pat his thighs to have you quiet and cozying up in his arms.

Furtively, he opened the door, suspicious and almost scared of what he would find. It was almost midnight and by now you should already be pestering him for sleepy time and booty rubs.

He started organising the potential scenarios in his head, grading them for increasing level of danger.

Asleep in the bathtub.

Baking biscuits.

His stomach rumbled, his mouth watering. Biscuits and hot chocolate before bed.

He scratched the idea. Too much sugar and you’d be up all night, dashing around the house like a fennec.

Maybe you’d hit the gym?

His eyes rolled close at the thought, a knowing smirk appearing on his face.

Maybe curled up on the sofa, half asleep as you pretended to watch tv. Maybe reading?

The lights in your small studio were off. He walked down the corridor, ready to reach the living room when he spotted a familiar scene in the laundry room.

With an oversized shirt on, you were cutely bent over the dryer, long, naked legs stretched as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to get the last few bits of laundry from the bottom of the machine.

Namjoon grinned and leaned against the door jamb, crossing his arms — already trying to feature the look that always made you go wobbly legged, blushing and babbling. He smiled even brighter when he noticed your tiptoes leaving the floor, your calves tossing a little as you tried to finally reach the piece before trying to regain your balance.

He watched you struggle a little, his feet padding softly across the floor before he licked his lips and purred, “Need any help, little fox?”

You tried to regain your composure as his hands appeared around your waist, your head hitting the lid of the dryer with a hard thud, causing you to whine in pain.

Namjoon chuckled, completely endeared, empathy overwhelming him. “Poor baby,” he cooed, helping you up and wrapping his forearm around your waist while his other hand rubbed your head. “Are you okay, Vixen?”

You were more than okay. You felt only slightly sorry for your clumsiness. What you felt the most was his hard chest against your back and his crotch against your ass. You clamped your lips shut, nodding wordlessly as Namjoon held you closer.

“You should be asleep, babylove,” he kissed the crown of your head, where you knew the bump would be appearing soon. “Why don’t you let me do these things, mh?”

“Because you always forget about them,” you replied, trying to twist in his arms before noticing he was now pinning you harder.

“Leave me a post-it on the door. I promise I’ll take care of it,” Namjoon kissed the sweet spot under your ear. “I don’t want to see my little one upside down into the dryer.”

“Such a sorry view...” you said through a pout.

“Too sorry to make me get ideas,” he teased, pressing his hips against you in a way that let you know he had spoken anything but the truth. “Poor little, helpless fox, upside down, tiny, struggling, stuck in the dryer.”

“Maybe you should put a camera to make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you suggested with fake innocence.

He hummed in appreciation, gripping you harder as an excuse to feel you up. “Sure. A camera. Maybe next time I’ll feel the obliterating need to watch your cute ass appear from there. Accidentally naked...”

“Your back would look so good caught on camera while you’re fucking me,” you purred, letting your thoughts wander.

“Should we get a mirror installed on the bedroom ceiling?” he asked, letting a hand snake under your shirt, palming your thigh heavily until he reached your waist. “I see you’re already half ready.” The arm around your waist grabbed your shirt and tugged it up, until his free hand could comfortably cup your naked mound.

“In my defence, I was digging for my favourite panties,” you said, pouting at him over your shoulder before batting your lashes, swatting at his wrist before dashing for the door. “Shirt off, sir.”

He arched an eyebrow and licked his lip before shaking his head. “Come here.”

“Shirt. Off,” you said before showing him your teeth.

He cackled at the empty threat you were. Feisty but adorably little. He crossed his arms in front of his waist, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and tugging it up, taking off the garment and throwing it at you.

“Here, Vixen.”

At the sight of his chest, you trotted over happily. “Catch!” You called before stopping in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving a small skip as you threw your legs around his waist.

“Good girl,” he murmured fondly as he secured your grip, fixing the room quickly as you nibbled his warm skin. “I’m not a snack, Vixen.”

“You’re a whole damn meal. A large one,” you cooed back, still leaving small, harmless bites.

“All yours, babe.”

He carried you straight to the bedroom, making sure you brushed your teeth before getting anywhere close to the bed. He knew the moment you’d get under the covers would be the moment you crashed. Once clean and calm, he allowed you to tuck yourself under the comforter, laying at your side for a minute. “I need to go switch off my equipment, babylove.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Once he came back, he turned off the lights, taking off his glasses and finding his spot at your side, your limbs adjusting naturally.

“Love you, baby fox.”

“Love you, big bear.”

He smiled and cuddled in closer.

[yandere-wishes]

A Rose By Any Other Name Would Still Be As Sweet //Twisted Wonderland Malleus Draconia//

Since the vote ended up differing by one, with at least four people voting for both I have no choice but to write both stories. But for today, it's Malleus' turn

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No matter how long you stayed in the Ramshackle dorm, there was always an aline feeling that bubbled in your gut. There was just something about your new home that made you feel out of place and very, very alone. Even with the understanding that Grim sleeping at the foot of your bed and Ace or Deuce being just a quick phone call away, you couldn't shake how foreign you felt. 

It seemed like every moment you laid in your bed listing to Grim's soft murmurs about the new Unidragon he had fallen for, made the feeling grow stronger. It's cold long limbs descended from your brain, wrapping around your throat and prohibiting air to pass through. You laid there for a moment longer begging the feeling to depart. In the end, you gave up, gradually pushing over the covers and making your way outside. Maybe some fresh air was all you really needed to make the tendrils of isolation and dread leave you alone for the remainder of the night. 

The inside of the "abandoned" dormitory was always a mess, no matter how much you cleaned or how much the ghost (and occasionally) Grim tried to keep things in order, the dorm just tended to fall apart again. This being said the outside was no better. The garden's where empty, the poltergeist insisted they remain that way so they would have enough room to play magical shift. The front yard was nothing more than a graveyard with a stone pathway leading off towards the school. It didn't help put your mind at ease, instead, the whole morbid scene of the tombstones simply made you cry. Tear flew like a stream from your glossy eyes. Quiet sobs pushing past your lips no matter how much you tried to remain silent.  

"Are you the child of man?" 

The sudden voice made you jump setting your nerves on high alert. Your wet eyes traveled upwards being met with a shadow figure looming around by the tombstones. "W-What..?" you choked, your gorge was still hoarse from the crying and mini breakdown. Your heart had sped up, something was very wrong here. For a moment you debated running back into the house but your feet just wouldn't move. 

The figure stalked closer, dead leaves screaming under his heavy step. As he approached, little (y/n) took note of two large curved horns sprouting from atop his mess of raven lock. The darlings orbs locked on the odd features. They weren't mortifying or bizarre, lord knew she'd seen much worst during her stay. If anything they piked her curiosity. The tall man came to a stop in front of her, his blazing eyes seem to be the made up entirely of glowing poisons you'd seen in your potion classes. In the moonlight, you could tell that his skin was as white as the freshly fallen snow. He was mesmerizing, exquisite and...he was smiling at you?

 His lips were pulled back into a glowing grin. You seemed to have piked his curiosity too. "Are you the new inhabitant of the dorm?" his voice was breathy and seemed to float on the air around you. "I um y-yeah" you'd forgotten just how broken your voice was, unlike his elegant tone yours was brittle and crumbling. You took a deep breath, welcoming the much-needed air your lips slowly parted tongue peaking out and licking along with them. You tried again hoping your voice actually worked this time, "W-who are you?"

The stranger lifted an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly to the side. "You don't know who I am?" confusion evident on his tone. "Should I?" you asked, he could be some sort of celebrity or another school perfect, either way, you were too new and inexperienced to truly know who anyone in this world was. "I guess not, no, I'm just a third at the school. Pray, tell what year are you? Can you even do magic?"

He sure was inquisitive, you give him that. From the little, you did know, third-year seniors in Night Raven were usually more comprised, collected and mature than the two younger years. Surely it would bring you no harm to entertain him with a few simple answers about yourself.

"I'm a first-year class 1-A." The horned man scrunched his brows a slight wrinkle forming on the bridge of his nose. "Isn't that the class of troublemakers?" it was like he was recalling something distant as if he was looking through you into a past life he had left behind some time ago. 

"I-I wouldn't know" your graze fell to the broken asphalt. Did the headmaster really consider you a troublemaker? Even, after all, you'd done for him from the dammed moment you'd fallen through that godforsaken mirror. He just shrugged seeming to have returned from his little stroll down memory lane. "It may have changed, it been quite some time since I was a freshman" His voice was fading again eyes losing their shine once more. You figure it best to continue talking before he's too far gone "no I-I um can't perform magic".

"Then why even bother staying in school and going to classes?"

You sign and began to recount how you fell through a magic mirror and the misadventures that followed. At the end of your tale, the shine seemed to have been reignited in his eyes if anything it was brighter then before. "You from another world?!" He asks kneeling down to look at you face to face. "My that's all so fascinating! Lilia use to tell me old tales about foreign universes I never thought they were actually real! Yet here you are!" It was the first time you'd heard him raise his voice. Did your story really entertain him so much? The stranger may have been tall and talked as though he was born centuries ago but there loomed a childish nature around him. "Hey, who's Lilia?" it was your turn to ask the questions. 

"Oh, he's my...father...no...nanny? I'm not...sure? His voice kept diving into uncertainty and resurfacing only to down once more. "You don't know the difference between a nanny and your own father?" not only was he childish he downright didn't seem to comprehend what a family even was. "Difficult childhood" he brushed it off as if it were merely a pesky fly bussing by his head "now miss...I apologies where are my manners I never asked for your name?" Oh right! It just dawned on you that you had nither given your own name nor asked for his, the lack of sleep and constant looming anxiety plus the constant run-ins with delinquent students who much prefer to fight than to exchange compellations, had left you forgetting your own manners. 

"(y/n)...(y/n) (l/n) so-called dorm leader of the Ramshackle dorm" 

He let out out a chortling laugh before turning on his heels and stalking back into the shadows "Well (y/n) of Ramshackle it was a pleasure meeting you I do hope we meet again" No sooner had the words departed from his lips that the darkness seemed to gobble him up. "Wait!" you leaped to your feet and ran over to where the man had just disappeared. "I-I didn't get your name!" you called into the nothingness that surrounded you. Your shoulder slumped as you let out a defeated breath, it was no use the moonlit stranger was no more. For a second you debated if he'd even been real or if your fatigued mind had started to play tricks on you. Regardless it was no use waiting out here, you had classes tomorrow and from what you could tell you'd only be getting a few short hours of rest. Overactive mind permitting that is. 

Little did you know that the man had in fact been real. That like clockwork every night since the encounter you dreamed of the stranger again. His lips where always on your a burst of sour blackberries invading your mouth, overrunning your senses. 

one night the dream seemed more lucid than ever before, the night where he was on top of you, your bodies entwined on the cold ground of the cemetery front yard. As time progressed the dreams got more vivid more detailed, the tastes and touches and bruises seemed to follow you into the land of the awoken. 

You were slowly spiraling down a maniacal hole. The line between reality and dreams was so blurred it was practically invisible. You waited impatiently each morning to drift back into sleep and meet your lover once more. To feel his smooth fingers run up and down your spin. To feel his sharp teeth graze your delicate flesh. 

you knew him, you walked with upon your dreams

Oh but darling, he is more than a dream, Malleus Draconia is indeed real. And he is in love, in love with you. He's visited you every single night since your first meeting all so many nights ago. He's well aware that you aren't quite aware that he exists and that he is more than a figment of your imagination. It's a benefit of having someone's name when under the control of the fae they can't quite tell what is real and what isn't. For now, this is alright, for now, he's content with your nightly rendezvous. 

But one day he shall awaken you from your honey-sweet dreams and steal you into a blurry reality where the border of dream and reality has been obliterated. It may seem like a curse but it's merely a gesture of love. 

In the end, it's your fault, you sealed your fate the day you gave the dark Fae your name. 

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Now I'm seriously considering writing a story based on this quote from Sleeping Beauty.

"from this slumber, you shall wake when true love kisses, the spell shall break"

[bauslut]

as you are | i.

word count: 2.235k

warnings: mentions of sex trafficking, sexual assault, cursing, mentions of child sex trafficking, rapists, arsonists, and serial killers

a/n: hiiiii everyone! so this is a fic that’s been on my mind for the past week or so now, and i felt really inspired to write it! the title comes from the song “as you are” by the weeknd, which will later tie into later chapters. i have watched numerous episodes of criminal minds in the past, and just recently started the whole series over again. so, my apologies if any terminology is incorrect! i hope you all enjoy :))

p.s. - huge shout-out to my best friend @sapphicstars​​​ for always listening to my rambles & the advice along the way. thank you <3

“did you know that today is a very significant day in history?” a young man nudged his coworker, his blonde-toned brunette locks a disheveled mess, “jj, it’s august twentieth.”

a slim blonde let out an exasperated sigh, “what is so important about today?”

“in 1866, president andrew johnson declared that the united states civil war was officially over,” his voice was smooth, brimmed with confidence, “it was a new beginning for america, as the slaves were abolished, but as we all know, there was still much discourse present within the country--”

“spencer,” the blonde sucked in a breath, “there is someone else in the elevator with us. i am sure she doesn’t care about the civil war, nor the fact that it’s august twentieth. after all, it’s been over for centuries.”

“i don’t mind,” a brunette cleared her throat, fidgeting in her boots, “good morning, to you both. i’m rowan rivers.”

“rowan rivers,” the blonde’s eyes narrowed into icy slits, “i don’t know why, but that name seems oddly familiar.”

“it’s because she’s the newest member of our team,” the man cut in, his hazel eyes alight with excitement, nearly toppling the blonde over, “rowan. adaline. rivers. wow. i’ve read so much about you.”

“what did you hear about me? i��m quite curious.” a smirk painted the brunette’s lips.

“you were exceptional in your work with columbus p.d.,” he gushed, “y-you were able to infiltrate the sex trafficking rings and apprehend numerous suspects. and god, your methods are just so pristine and concise. you were able to almost completely obliterate child sex-trafficking in the city. i gotta say, i’m kind of star-struck right now.”

“reid,” the blonde’s tone was firm, “let’s not bombard her. it’s her first day.”

“i don’t mind,” rowan’s eyes shone, alight with amusement, “thank you, dr. reid. maybe we can sit down for a coffee sometime and i can share everything that i can about those cases. it wasn’t easy, but it opened new doors for me in my career. your words are too kind, though. i’m no celebrity.”

“you’re welcome,” his lips curled into a shy grin, “maybe i’ll be the one to give you a tour of our office.”

the elevator doors slid open, the sterile light cascading into the tiny space. rowan tucked a strand of hair behind her ear,  nodding to jj and reid, “after you, please.”

“she’s so polite,” jj’s words were barely audible as she mumbled to reid, “and cute.”

“she’s not cute,” reid countered, “she’s beautiful. a very beautiful, very intelligent woman.”

“well good morning,” a man strolled up to jj and reid, his bright white teeth flashing, “we got a lot of work ahead of us today.”

“shit,” reid muttered, “when’s hotch calling the meeting?”

“oh there’s no meeting,” the man shrugged, his gaze falling on rowan, “i was referring to our newbie.”

“good morning,” rowan offered him a little wave, “i’m--”

the man stepped forward, “oh, i know. you’re miss rowan rivers.”

this newcomer was handsome, an african-american man with warm, bright, mocha eyes. wrinkles etched the skin around his eyes, rowan’s interest piquing as she gazed at him. he must laugh a lot, or even smile often. therefore, he had a more playful personality. perhaps he was the jokester of the team, constantly playing pranks on other members or upholding a constant banter. his hair was cleanly shaven, the light reflecting off of his shiny scalp.

even if his arms were folded across his chest, biceps taut, constrained to the fabric of his plain t-shirt, his aura was kind, only teasing rowan in order to possibly intimidate her.

and boy, was she eager to fire back.

“does everyone know about me?” rowan huffed, her lip quivering into a pout, “i thought that i was going to be able to introduce myself but maybe i won’t have to. i’ll just be this mysterious presence for the rest of the way, lingering about. this phantom that you all seem to know already, but truly know nothing about.”

“shit,” a laugh erupted from the man’s lips, “you got me there. hiya sweetheart, i’m morgan.”

“i would have hoped to at least give everyone five fun facts about myself first,” rowan chuckled, shaking morgan’s hand firmly, “but it appears there’s been quite the buzz in the air.”

“we’re just excited to have you on board,” morgan placed a hand on her shoulder, his tone gentle, “i feel like we’ve all spent so much time around one another lately. it’s nice to have a fresh face.”

“i see that our newbie has arrived,” a new voice cut in, more distinguished, edged with a rasp.

rowan shifted, her throat tightening as an older man made his way towards the group, a smug smile plastered on his face, “h-hi.”

“well hello to you too,” the man let out a chuckle, sticking out his hand, “good morning, ms. rivers. i’m supervisory special agent rossi.”

this face was familiar. one rowan knew all too well. the infamous retired bau agent, a prolific writer and behaviorist, david rossi. even if he was older, and far wiser, he was by far the least intimidating individual rowan had met thus far. his hair was dark, strands of silvery grey prominent. he bore a quaint, kind, smile, his introduction light-hearted.

almost like a father greeting his daughter.

“good morning, agent rossi,” she returned the gesture, “i-i’ve read your book.”

“it seems as if everyone has,” rossi shot her a wink, “so, are you guys going to give her a tour or are you going to make the old guy do it? i mean, i wouldn’t mind, but i have to let hotch know she’s here.”

“hotch?” rowan’s lips parted, “there are more members of the team?”

“you haven’t even met garcia, prentiss, or hotch yet,” morgan remarked.

“and i haven’t formally introduced myself,” the blonde from the elevator piped up, “i’m agent jareau, but you can call me jj.”

rossi murmured a few words to reid before parting from the group, wandering off. rowan’s mind buzzed, anxiety coursing through her veins as jj spoke to her, the sound white noise drowning in her ears. her heart thudding against her rib-cage, palms beginning to clam up.

“i’m so sorry,” rowan placed a hand on her temple, “where’s the bathroom? i just need a second.”

jj blinked, brow furrowing, “a-are you all right rowan?”

“i just need a minute,” the words could barely make it out, the panic setting in.

“i’ll show her,” reid’s voice was hushed as he offered rowan his elbow, “it’s this way.”

roman’s lip trembled, her vision beginning to blur, “o-okay.”

step by step, reid escorted her to the bathroom, the agent even offering to come in with her. rowan accepted, allowing him to follow her into the enclosed space, locking the door behind her.

“you know,” reid cleared his throat, “it’s okay to be nervous, rowan.”

rowan shook her head, tears brimming her lids, “this… this is all so different from columbus.”

“i know,” he murmured, “but we were all nervous on our first day here at the bau. i promise that morgan isn’t that rude and that rossi isn’t a narcissistic asshat. they both come off that way, but they mean well. hell, you haven’t even met hotch yet. he can be cold, but that’s just how he is. you’ll like garcia, i have a feeling the two of you will get along.”

“reid,” rowan exhaled, his name shaky as it tumbled from her mouth, “thank you.”

“please don’t cry,” he pleaded, “profiling is in our nature. i don’t want them to overwhelm you with questions or why you may be upset. things will only get worse and i don’t want them to taint your first day.”

“i’m actually having a wonderful first day,” a giggle bubbled up, echoing off the walls, “you guys all are so welcoming. far better than how i was introduced to columbus police department. they really threw me to the wolves there. the second i set foot in that building, i was thrust into the case. i don’t mind taking things slow.”

“i’m glad,” reid beamed, offering her a wad of toilet paper, “here, blow your nose. also, pat some damp paper towels underneath your eyes. it helps with the puffiness, especially if the water is cold.”

“thank you, again,” facing herself in the mirror, rowan sucked in a deep breath, in an attempt to clear her mind, to soothe the anxiety.

“you look great, by the way. i like the docs.”

“oh,” her gaze fell to the thick black boots, the white laces and seams brighter than ever in the dim light, “i forgot i was wearing them, honestly.”

“a lot more comfortable than heels, right?”

“definitely,” rowan nodded, “my little sister let me borrow them and is never getting them back.”

“they suit you.”

“i feel as if it’s the only way i can really express myself,” rowan shrugged, “i mean, here i am, clad in my cropped dress pants and blazer, white button up freshly ironed, yet happily donning a pair of doc martens on my feet.”

“you know what they say,” reid’s eyes were warm with sympathy, “conformity is boring.”

“quite. i’m ready to meet the rest of the team.”

“good!” reid sprang to his feet, hazel eyes glimmering,  “come on, i’ll show you around.”

slipping from the bathroom, rowan clung onto reid as he strolled about, chirping greetings to numerous individuals as they passed by. the ringing of phones, the flurry of papers, and indistinguishable voices bounced off the walls, filling the space around them. the office was bustling with people, all working together for one cause.

working together to profile, pursue, and apprehend the bad guys. anyone from serial killers, to rapists, to arsonists.

some did the paperwork, while others answered the phone. some were the liaisons for the media. some were the agents. some were specialized in the technology department, but here, everyone was unified under that same singular cause.

“so here is where our desks are located,” reid’s voice flooded rowan’s ears once more, his arm sweeping out to gesture to the array of desks,  “i think we have a desk set up for you, name tag and everything.”

“we have name tags?”

“on second thought,” reid’s brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as they scanned the cluster, “maybe not. i’m not sure. if you don’t have a desk by tomorrow, you can always just share mine. i barely use it anyways. i’m a bit mobile during the day: floating around, listening to tapes, watching footage, bothering hotch.”

“you guys keep mentioning this hotch guy,” rowan pursed her lips, “i’m aware that he’s the leader of the team, as well as a supervisory special agent, but where is he? is he so overloaded that he can’t even bother to say a quick ‘hello’ or ‘welcome to our team’?”

“oh rowan,” reid chuckled, shaking his head, “you have a lot to learn.”

“now what is that supposed to mean?”

“by the way,” rowan snorted as reid avoided the subject, his gaze flickering over her head, “if you’re so eager to meet hotch, he’s over there.”

rowan arched a brow, swiveling on her heel. following reid’s line of sight, her breath hitched on her throat as her eyes fell on the sight of him.

he was standing near morgan and jj, a hand grasping his chin, brows scrunched together, as if he was deep in thought. his dark hair, almost an inky black, was recently trimmed, yet there was a hint of stubble that ghosted his skin. his complexion was fair, jawline framing an utterly handsome face. in the light, rowan couldn’t quite distinguish the color of his eyes. were they a deep coffee brown? a flint grey?

a jet-black suit spanned across his broad shoulders, a red patterned tie around his neck. underneath the jacket was a clean, freshly pressed white shirt, not a wrinkle in sight. his shoes were polished, clicking against the floor as he made his way over to rowan.

aaron hotchner towered over her, no trace of a smile or grin apparent. his aura exuded nothing but authority, his badge clipped to the front of his suit, file in his grasp. yet, his voice was deep, flowing so smoothly from his mouth.

“you must be agent rivers.”

rowan swallowed thickly, “yes, i am.”

his dark eyes locked with hers, his head cocked ever so slightly. her heart lurched as she distinguished the hardened chestnut hue of his irises. the emotion gleaming in their depths was unforgiving, cold and cruel.

“i don’t care if you’re fresh to the unit and this is your first day. wear a different pair of shoes tomorrow.”

“but--” rowan began, desperate to formulate some sort of response.

“hotch,” reid interjected, his tone firm, “you can’t be serious. it’s her first da--”

“and i don’t care,” rowan flinched at the venomous barb laced in the words, “agent rivers, wear a different pair of shoes tomorrow. i just received word from jj about a new case.”

“oh,” reid’s tough exterior crumbled, “well, what are we going to do about it?”

“start with a meeting,” he responded coolly, “as we always do.”

“yipee,” the reply was barely audible under rowan’s breath, hotch’s attention returning to her once more.

“you’re welcome to join us. and you better not trip on those on your way there.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

tagged: @sapphicstars​​ @colorlessfl0wers​​

[hjbender]

talk to us about thor's trauma(s)! how does he feel about his injured eye? what are the habits he developed/abandoned after iw? what words/sights/situations trigger his ptsd? (sorry if i'm annoying, you don't have to answer these if it's too much. i just love reading your headcanons😊)

Thank you, Anon! Thor’s trauma is a big point of interest for me and I’m always happy (ironically) to talk about it.

Thor has had a lot piled on him in an extremely short amount of time, hasn’t he? The past seven years of his one-and-a-half millennia life have been extremely action-packed, but the events that take place in just a matter of days end up having the profoundest effect on him. 

His father dies (or is murdered, pick your favorite version). He loses his hammer. Hela kills his friends, the Warriors Three. He is overpowered and enslaved on Sakaar, where he loses his locks and gets whaled on pretty thoroughly by the Hulk. Then Hela bends him backward over a balustrade and blasts out his eye, Ragnarok is triggered, Asgard is destroyed, presumably along with a great number of its people, and the survivors are all homeless. 

And this is before Thanos steps into the picture. Thor is literally having the worst week of his life.

I headcanon that Thor was already suffering from feelings of inadequacy when he finally became king. (Remember how awkward he seemed, taking the pilot’s chair throne? Big change from his cocky 2011 self.) It would be understandable; he’s now alone without his father’s guidance, he’s been disfigured, he’s still missing his hammer despite the revelation that his powers aren’t connected to it, and all of Asgard is looking to him to save their lives, find them a home, and make things right again. That’s a lot for a guy who freed himself from a very humbling enslavement just a few hours ago.

If Thor feels self-conscious about his eye, it’s a secret he keeps to himself. That’s what I like to think anyway. As if having his hair chopped off wasn’t enough of a cosmetic change, now he’s got a charred socket where his right eye used to be. He’s probably not feeling very handsome or confident now (even though he still is, of course he is, he’s Thor), and he probably struggles to recognize the face staring back at him in the mirror.

And then, just when it seems like things are looking up and they’re over the worst of it, Thanos drops in and utterly rips the rest of Thor’s life apart.

I strongly believe Thor was more concerned about evacuating his people than facing off with Thanos. He could have, and maybe he did, but he was obligated to act as a king this time, not a warrior, and getting his people to safety was more important. But he can’t save all of his people, and he certainly can’t save himself—or even those he loves.

The God of Thunder gets his ass handed to him. He takes a beating so hard that he can barely even raise his arm. He’s spewing blood, his eyes are rolling. When he speaks he sounds like he’s barely clinging to consciousness. All he can do is slap weakly at Thanos as he’s being lined up for slaughter.

For the first time in his long life, he tastes defeat at the hands of a stronger foe. Heimdall is killed in front of him. He is made to watch his brother die in a gruesome, horrifying way before being tossed aside like a sack of garbage. And when Thanos leaves, all Thor can do is crawl to Loki’s side, grasp his collar, and lie down to die beside him. 

This is his lowest point. (So far.) He’s given up, accepted defeat and death. He’s ready for it to end. There is nothing more he can do. So he chooses to die with Loki. With Heimdall. With his people. Isn’t that what a king and captain should do? Go down with his kingdom, his ship?

I think if the Guardians hadn’t literally bumped into him, Thor would have eventually died in the cold darkness of outer space and none of the Avengers would have known what became of him. That would have been the end of his story.

But he didn’t die. He lived. And now he wants to get even. 

Why he must get a new weapon after it was established in Ragnarok that he didn’t need a weapon doesn’t make sense. Bad writing, perhaps. Or maybe it’s just that Thor has been going to war with a weapon in his hand for so long that it’s now a habit he can’t shake. Mjölnir’s weight in his hand might have been a source of security and confidence to him. Maybe he’s not used to facing an enemy empty-handed. His powers weren’t very effective against Hela, were they? So maybe that shook his confidence a little (though it wasn’t his fault; Hela just needed to be defeated a different way). 

And since he’s going to challenge Thanos again, the being who has already bested him once before, Thor needs that confidence. Maybe he’ll feel better with a big motherhonking axe in his hand rather than nothing at all. Maybe it will help him concentrate his energy better, give him a way to channel it.

But even with all this, his new axe and his vengeance-fueled mission, he fails to stop Thanos. And half of all life in the universe is obliterated.

He, Thor, who of all the Avengers had the best chance of taking him out, did not get there in time.

This must seem like a horrible deja vu to him. Another failure. Another massacre. He could have prevented it. He had Thanos right where he wanted him, but he wasn’t quick enough, wasn’t smart enough, wasn’t good enough, and so on goes the self-flagellation in his mind. How could he have ever been worthy of anything in his life? If there is one thing I should have gotten right, it should have been this, he thinks.

In the aftermath, Thor goes through each stage of grief with excruciating helplessness. A crushing sense of guilt, failure, and impotence follows him like a shadow, never letting him forget. He probably goes through each day with you should have gone for the head playing over and over in his mind. Like Rocket says, he’s pissed. He doesn’t just think he’s failed. He knows he’s failed.

And when he finally gets a chance to face Thanos a third and final time, when at last he hacks the Titan’s head clean off his shoulders, it makes no difference. The damage that has been done cannot be undone. He is simply fulfilling his promise.

It’s understandable how after this, with nothing really solved, he would try to drown his negative feelings in alcohol and replace the good feelings he normally gets from helping people with comfort food, distracting hobbies, and friends who enable his downward spiral. If he can avoid thinking about the Bad Things, maybe he’ll forget in time. Only he doesn’t. He still remembers. Still carries the weight of his past. He is incapable of moving on. His life has come to a screeching halt, and now he is no good to anyone. Unworthy.

The name of Thanos, as we can see canonically, is a huge trigger. So powerful that everyone in New Asgard knows “we don’t say that name around here”. That’s probably not the only thing; Thor probably has an anxiety attack anytime someone snaps their fingers, although I don’t imagine that anyone would ever snap their fingers in jest after this. That once-innocent action now carries a grave context. Just the image of a hand with snapping fingers might become as abhorrent and reviled as the Nazi swastika. It’s a symbol that represents death.

...I suddenly forgot where I was going with this. Either that or my Think Good Brain Juice just ran out. But did I answer all of your questions, Anon? Did I headcanon hard enough? I hope so. I think this post ended up a big pile of Thor whump and nothing really new to add, but I hope you enjoyed it. And if you didn’t, at least you got to look at some nice angsty Thor gifs for a while, right?

[thechrisramos]

Taylor Swift’s Evermore Review

This evening as I was stuck in traffic, driving back from holiday shopping all day for myself because let me tell you something if I don’t give myself something for Christmas, no one will. Anyway, there was not a lot going on at that moment, so I opened Facebook and was hit with great news: Taylor Swift was releasing YET ANOTHER ALBUM, a sister album to folklore named evermore.

Several hours later, at 11:11pm on December 10th, 2020 – after wrapping up my workout for the day and taking a shower – I’m tucked in bed, with a glass of cold water in hand, AirPods in (the pro ones obvi), about to listen to her newest album. So, let’s review it.

willow

Ok, so the instruments are a little more pronounced right away, I suspected this already because the album artwork was in color instead of black and white.

I really liked this song, I don’t know what it is about alternative music that just hits me where it needs to (unlike any other genre), and Taylor is such a great songwriter that I can always feel the meaning in her words even if I don’t relate.

However, I can relate to this one. My favorite lyric:

The more you say The less I know Wherever you stray I follow

I’ve said this to a guy before lol, he ghosted me after three weeks. But those three weeks were everything. Heaven and hell. If you wanna learn more about him read my past posts, you’ll find them right away.

Anyway, I don’t have a man right now, and I don’t want one, but like I said, I can feel the words.

champagne problems

Sadness.

You know what I’ve realized, and maybe everyone already knew this, but when going through a breakup a lot of the pain comes from the other person doing all the things we did together, but with someone else. Even if you were the one to break up the relationship, it still hurts. And this song is just that.

I cannot relate to this song personally because I’ve never done this to a person, but I do like to think that the shitty guy who obliterated my heart last January (yeah, the one I mentioned above) felt this way. Probs not.

Favorite lyrics:

She’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing

I really enjoyed the piano on this one.

gold rush

Ok, a poppy beat. I like it.

While folklore was mostly not about her life, so far evermore seems very personal, yet very relatable. Gold rush obviously refers to the California gold rush, and thousands (millions? I don’t know, I was educated in Texas) of people relocating to California so they could dig up some gold. Perceptibly, the gold in this case refers to her man, and how everyone wants him (at least in her head).

Favorite lyrics:

I don’t like slow motion double vision in rose blush

I just like how she can make any words fit. Like, how does she do it?

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

Something that we all wonder about hot people. This song is about the insecurity that comes with being in a relationship, which is why I don’t like being in relationships.

‘tis the damn season

I like this one because it considers what a lot of us consider as well. The what if?

I don’t know if she wrote this one thinking about herself because as far as we know she is really happy with her man, and I really hope it stays that way. But when she says:

And the road not taken looks Real good now

Was she maybe wondering what life would’ve been like with her hometown lover? I don’t know. But I mean we all definitely consider things like this at some point in our lives, not necessarily about hometown lovers, but about past ones.

Favorite lyrics:

You could call me “babe” for the weekend ‘Tis the damn season Write this down

I assume she means the holiday season because don’t we all wish we had someone during it, but like just for the “weekend”? I know I do, but no.

tolerate it

This song is about that looming feeling that takes over a lot of us after the “honey moon” period at the beginning of a relationship is over. The moments where you start to consider whether something is a red flag or whether you are imagining it. I think it happens to everyone, but I don’t want to generalize.

Favorite lyrics:

If it’s all in my head tell me now Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow

_

While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

_

Now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life

For me, all of these lyrics show the insecurities that are typical in a relationship. It’s actually a little painful when you go through it, and it’s almost like you want your partner to wear a bodycam so that you can see and hear every conversation they have, to listen to the way they say things, their tone of voice, compliments they give and to who, just every detail of their life.

It sucks to feel that way.  

no body, no crime (feat. HAIM)

Pop country?

This one is just really, like a lot to take in. Obviously, it’s not about Taylor, but it’s told by a person whose friend Este was “murdered” (cheated on I assume); however, I think Este is singing the song. I don’t know, there are many ways you could interpret this story.

I was really impressed though by how it goes from:

But I ain’t letting up until the day I die

to:

I wasn’t letting up until the day he Died

My assumption is that it’s about cheating and seeing all the clues, but not having the evidence to prove it, but still avenging yourself in the end. I liked this song.

happiness

The song is a question, “how does something great end?”

“We were so happy, when did it change?”

You know, these are questions that you will ask yourself at some point in your life.

I’m just now realizing that evermore is about why being in a relationship sucks, maybe we’ll get why being in a relationship is great with the rest of the songs, but so far Taylor is doing a great job at reminding me why I don’t want to be in a relationship, and perfect timing because ‘tis the damn season.

This song is the epitome of “easier said than felt”:

There’ll be happiness after you But there was happiness because of you

No matter how many times you tell yourself this, when you’re going through a break up, this won’t help because you want them to be your happiness.

There’ll be happiness after me But there was happiness because of me

This one will hurt when your ex finds someone else because not only do they know that there is happiness after you, but they found the happiness after you.

Leave it all behind And there is happiness

Like I said, easier said than felt.

dorothea

The words we all wish our high school crush would say to us.

Do you ever stop and think about me?

Yes.

coney island (feat. The National)

I think we are entering the “pondering” songs, the ones where you don’t necessarily feel anything for the person, but you’re just thinking about them, and in the case of this song, all the ways you wronged them.

I have never done this to a person because nobody wants me lol. My favorite lyrics:

Will you forgive my soul When you’re to wise to trust me and too old to care?

I don’t know, there’s something honest about the question.

ivy

Are the songs getting more philosophical by now, or am I just dumb?

So far, this has been the song that I just cannot understand. Reading over the lyrics once again, I think this is a song about two separately married people having an affair, but not being able of letting go of each other even though they are “promised” to other people.

I don’t know, somebody enlighten me!

Favorite lyrics:

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand Taking mine, but it’s been promised to another

cowboy like me

Now I’m really doubting my mental capacity. What is a cowboy supposed to be like?

I think, and this might be completely wrong, this song is about being in the entertainment industry. About selling yourself within the industry as the “cream of the crop”, but knowing deep down you are not that, and then recognizing someone in the industry doing the same thing as you. You know, just two people going through life selling themselves as the best of the best, and finding comfort in having someone they can be their true selves with. 

Favorite lyrics:

You’re a cowboy like me Perched in the dark Telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear

long story short

Long story short, this is a song about falling and getting back up again. 

While I really like the lyrics in the end, when she says she survived the fall from the precipice, these resonated with me a little more:

I always felt I must look Better in the rear view

I take this to mean something along the lines of “the idea of who I am looks better than who I actually am.” I really identify with this thought because if you met me you would probably think that I’m just so chill and funny (not to toot my own horn lol), but if you got to know me you’d pretty quickly realize I am anxiety-ridden and dislike people very much.

marjorie

For some reason I feel like this song is about a trans person, is that just me? Like, you were born again as Marjorie, and you have a dead name now, but the essence of who you are is not dead to me. 

Maybe not. I don’t know.

This could also be about losing the person you love, and wishing you had appreciated and enjoyed the times you spent with them a little more. This seems more like it.

I love that Taylor’s writings can be interpreted in many ways, and you know it’s all deliberate. Like she planned it like that. Ugh, her mind!

Favorite lyrics:

Never be so kind You forget to be clever Never be so clever You forget to be kind

For me this is a message on how you should keep a good balance in who you are. A reminder to not lose track of yourself.

closure

Well, this song is about closure. The whole first part of the song resonated so much with me because, going back to the guy that broke my heart back in January, well:

It’s been a long time And seeing the shape of your name Still spells out pain It wasn’t right The way it all went down

While I have gotten over him, the lyrics above mirror how I felt for a really long time even though our “relationship” only lasted three weeks (I’m not exaggerating). By the way, this guy and I were never official or anything.

Favorite lyrics:

It cut deep to know ya Right to the bone

This is still true. But yeah, I don’t need his closure (not that he would ever reach out), but I got my own closure, and that’s all that matters.

evermore (feat. Bon Iver)

And I couldn’t be sure I had a feeling so peculiar This pain wouldn’t be for Evermore

Coming back to closure and getting over a break up, there’s nothing more painful than the feeling you get when you get broken up with. Every day that you are not with this person, you think of new things you miss about them, and that’s what makes it painful. You keep telling yourself that you’ll get over them, but as the days go by you start doubting whether that is true (btw it’s true), and that’s why those lyrics are so significant.

Thoughts:

Well, I really liked this album just like I did folklore. I think Taylor is entering a new phase in her life. NOT a new era that goes with an album and ends when a new one comes out, but a new phase. That phase when you let go of the immature kid inside of you, and start focusing on yourself instead of others. These past couple of albums have shown that. I’m not saying that Taylor was immature btw, or that she is no longer youthful, but she definitely has a more adult-like air about her.

She also makes it clear why she is the Apple Music’s Songwriter of the Year. Her lyrics are just magnificent, she is able to say so much in a few verses, and she, like, cuts so deep with paper-thin words. It’s impressive, and I definitely see her as poet (since forever).

Anyway, I hope y’all like the album as well, and I hope Taylor keeps making music because I definitely LOVE IT!

Make sure to stream and/or buy her latest album here:

Apple Music

Spotify

YouTube

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

Give Me Something

Summary: Bucky’s worried you’re a bit burnt out. When you give him the silent treatment, it sends him into a full blown panic.  Pairing: Established Relationship of Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Warning(s): Swearing. Angst. Mentions of cheating. Mental health issues. Word Count: 2,258 Notes: This is my entry to @bvcks 4.2K writing challenge. My prompt was “I need to know you’re alright, even if you’re not. Give me something.” Thank you so much for hosting this and letting me enter, Chelsea! This is one of my first attempts at something angsty. Thank you to my darling, @supersoldiersruined-me, for giving this a look over to make sure it wasn’t complete trash. I’ve tagged the same people who get tagged in She’s So High. If you have no interest just let me know. :) Gif credit to @a-nakins

Bucky had woken before you, just like always. Before throwing the covers off, he steals a quick kiss to your temple. You shuffle and smoosh your pillow a bit after he leaves but remain sound asleep. His morning shower passes uneventfully. He finds himself grinning when he sees the pinkness of the skin on his chest in the steamed bathroom mirror. You always teased him that he liked his showers just shy from scalding.

Slipping on his training gear, he attempts to open and close the dresser drawers as softly as possible. He steals a final kiss to the top of your head before pouring his coffee and heading out for the day. It wasn’t uncommon for your day to start later than his; but he was surprised that you weren’t at least stirring when the brewing coffee smell permeated your shared apartment.

He knew you’d been working hard with your training. You’d had a couple really difficult missions recently. The past week each time he saw you spacing out and asked if you were okay, he was met with the response. “I’m just tired”.

Bucky makes a mental note to order takeout before coming back for the evening. Maybe it would be a nice stress relief for you. Upon second thought, he also schedules a massage at your favorite parlor for your next day off. Clearly, you were pushing yourself too hard.

**************************************************************************************************

Bucky’s morning run with Steve was pleasant enough. He had a couple hours of paperwork and mission debriefing before a session of hand-to-hand with Sam. Feeling like he’d had a productive morning, he realizes how hungry he is. He rounds the corner to the communal kitchen for lunch but collides with Clint.

“Cool it there, hot stuff.” Clint huffs, mock annoyed.

Natasha can’t help a chuckle at the two of them. They make small talk as they walk through the buffet.

“Where’s Y/N? She wasn’t in our morning survival class.” Nat asks as they settle in to their usual spots at the tables.

“I assumed she just slept in. She’s been really tired lately.” He shrugs and digs into his lunch with gusto.

“Yeah she missed some weapons demos too.” Clint adds.

Bucky pauses the rapid shoveling of food into his mouth; slowly lowering his fork down.

“She had a full morning schedule?” Nat and Clint nod. “What else was on her schedule this morning?”

“Steve had mentioned something about meeting up with her for some leftover paperwork from that mission in Chile.”

Something prickles at the back of his neck. He knows missing a couple training sessions and paperwork isn’t the end of the world.

He pulls out his phone and texts you first. “Hey babe. How's your day going? You feeling okay? Nat and Clint said you missed training.” Following his intuition, he fires off a similar text to Steve asking about your whereabouts.

Everyone goes back to eating. Clint and Natasha exchange hesitant glances, sensing Bucky’s unease with the situation. By the time lunch is finished Bucky is compulsively checking his phone every thirty seconds.

“Why aren’t they responding, guys?” Bucky pleads.

“I’m sure it’s fine, dude. Just give them a call.” Clint suggests.

Before the sentence is completely out of Clint’s mouth, Bucky is already punching the call button from his contact favorites. Your phone rings endlessly before going to voicemail. Steve is next. No response from him. Bucky swears the ring is cut short and deliberately sent to voicemail. He tries you once more, but it yields the same result. The second call to Steve rings twice before it clicks over.

“Steve, where is Y/N? She’s missed training all day and I’m kinda worried.”

“Uhhh hey Buck.” He sounds distracted and muffled.

“Where is she?” he says cutting straight to the point. Normally he’d find the runaround from Steve amusing. He doesn’t often participate in pranks, but you manage to rope him into many tricks at Bucky’s detriment.

This time it doesn’t feel like a prank. Steve is avoiding him. Something had changed in the tone. Bucky had a sick feeling in the pit of his gut. Something was very wrong. After a long pause Steve responds again.

“She’s-”

Silence.

“Steve, I swear to god if you don’t fucking tell me where my girl is, I will beat the ever-living shit out of you.”

“She’s safe.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” His mind races. You didn’t have any missions planned for today. If you hadn’t attended training, then there was no way for you to have gotten injured. Safe from what?

“Tell him.” He hears your voice feebly in the background.

“Tell me what? Y/N?! Why aren’t you answering me?”

“Bucky she’s okay. Come on up to your guy’s apartment.”

**************************************************************************************************

On the elevator up, his mind is racing. An affair? No certainly not with his best friend. Then again, isn’t everyone blindsided by an unfaithful partner. You were pregnant? No. You two were religiously careful, on top of your birth control. You want to break up? Dead family member? Friend in crisis? What could it possibly be and why were you confiding in Steve and not him?

Bucky feels like he’s on autopilot walking up to the door. His feet have carried him, but he has almost no recollection of the steps. He knocks on the door, feeling overly formal considering you both live in the apartment. He hopes that his desperation doesn’t make them sound more like pounding.

No one answers for a minute, so he tries again.

“Y/N/N? Steve?”

His palms are clammy and numb. He reaches for the knob only to find it locked. His heart kicks into overdrive. He’s ready to knock down the door when he has an epiphany. Friday!

“Friday! Status for Miss Y/N?”

“Miss Y/N is currently located in your shared personal living quarters along with Captain Rogers. She is showing normal vital signs. Captain Rogers is the only person to have entered the apartment since your departure this morning. Shall I alert them to your presence?”

Before he can demand Friday to unlock the door, he hears a subtle click. Steve opens the door and slips out into the hallway.

Bucky doesn’t think just moves. In milliseconds, he has Steve pinned against the wall; his metal forearm pressed close to his windpipe.

“Tell me what’s going on. NOW!” He says surprised at the lack of composure and malice in his own voice. This is his best friend and he’s ready to rip him limb from limb.

“She’s okay Bucky!”

“Steve!” he growls pressing further and raising his fist, ready to strike.

Sensing his best friends’ desperation. “I’m trying to respect her privacy, Buck!” Steve says, finally pushing Bucky off him.

Bucky comes to his senses after hearing the tone in Steve’s voice. Steve isn’t a threat but the desire to punch his best friend is still nearly overwhelming.

“What the fuck is going on, Steve!?”

“Buck, I’m sorry. She’s gonna have to tell you herself. I can’t and won’t come between you two. All I’ll say is that she called me earlier this morning for help. I helped. I’m gonna go now.”

The rage Bucky felt for Steve was new and unfamiliar. He knew he was trying to help but it didn’t quell his desire to obliterate something. Watching his best friend leave with no more answers allowed the panic to rise once more.

He pounds on the door without abandon. “Y/N! Please, doll. You’re killing me out here. I need to know you’re alright, even if you’re not. Give me something!”

Though you were the one shut away, he felt like a caged animal. Pacing and standing watch in hopes the door would creak open. Bucky had resolved himself not to leave this door until you come out.

**************************************************************************************************

In the hour that had passed he had gone through the gamut of emotions. He’d gotten into arguments with Friday as she refused to unlock the door; your orders. He’d put three holes in the wall which he was sure Stark would chastise him for. Finally, he had crumbled to the floor in tears. He would sit in front of this door until he knew you were okay.

He’s drafting another text to Stark, asking for a way to work around Friday’s lockout, when a small piece of paper slips from under the door. I don’t want you to see me like this.

Frantically he fishes into one of his numerous pockets searching for a pen. He quickly scribbles back. Y/N, darling. I’m so scared. Please let me help.

He pushes the note back in the sliver of space under the door and once again resumes pacing. Your response doesn’t take long but he feels the waiting is taking years off his life.

Promise you’ll still love me?

The letters on the page swim. Abandoning the paper, he knocks on the door, lighter this time.

“Doll, there isn’t a single thing in this world that could make me stop loving you. Please, I’m begging.”

He hears the door click and then a small sliver of your shared apartment is available to him. He pushes the door open slowly in hopes you don’t change your mind and shut him out once more. Before he was ready to storm the door, but now he feels frozen by fear; unsure of what will greet him.

The apartment is dark. It looks just the same as he left it this morning. No coffee had been drunk since his cup. The remote for the tv still in the same spot he left it after watching the news. Your shoes hadn’t moved from the mat. No signs of struggle, break in, or anything of the sort; not that Friday wouldn’t have alerted him already. He checked the surroundings with meticulous precision as he cautiously approaches your bedroom.

Standing in the doorway, he sees you laying on his side of your shared king bed buried in the duvet. Your eyes are red and puffy, with dark circles below them, staring at the wall blankly.

“Can I come in, Doll?” Though it pains him to be separated from you, he knows he must ask your permission.

Your eyes move from the invisible spot of interest to finally meet his as you give him the smallest nod before he comes to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.” You begin to sob as you reach for him. He lays down on the bed beside you. You bury your face in his chest. He can feel his shirt getting saturated from your tears.

“Darling, please. Tell me so I can fix it.” He whispers while stroking small circles into your back. It takes you awhile before the tears subside enough to speak.

“You can’t fix it, Buck. No one can.”

“I will do whatever I need-”

“I’m depressed…” You gauge his face for a response. “I have been for a while but this past week I’m having a really bad episode.”  You’re not sure what to expect. He kisses your forehead gently before stroking your hair behind your ear.

“Why didn’t you tell me, darling. You had me worried sick.” He’s nearly shaking with relief.

“I didn’t want to worry you. You have all your own stuff. You don’t need mine as well.”

His expression hardens. You’re expecting the hammer to fall. He certainly doesn’t deserve to deal with your mental health issues when he is finally starting to feel like his own recovery is successful.

“Sweetheart. You can’t hold all that in. We’re a partnership. What hurts you hurts me.”

“That’s why I didn’t want to-”

“No. Lemme stop you before you even go there. You’ve helped me through all my stuff. Let me support you through yours.”

“You’d do that?”

“Y/N, I’m in this for the long haul. I’m not one to bail when things get tough. I was ready for much much worse. I almost decked Steve.”

“I’m sorry.” You chuckle lightly at the image of the two best friends. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know, baby.”

“I’m sorry I called Steve before you.” He waits for your explanation. “I knew he went with you to some of your therapy appointments. I thought maybe he could help me figure out how to tell you.”

Bucky’s heart sores at the compassion his best friend has shown towards his girlfriend.

“I think I owe him an apology.” You giggle softly again, but he can tell your heart isn’t fully in it. “So… what feels wrong today?” he asks.

“Everything… and nothing.” He looks at you with more understanding than you expected.

“I get that, darling. Want me to set an appointment with the team therapist?”

“Yes, but not for today. Can we just watch a movie and cuddle right now? I’m sure I’ll come out of it in a day or so.”

“Of course we can.” He kisses your forehead again. “Have you eaten today?”

“No” you admit, disappointment clouding your features.

“Hey. I don’t mean that accusatory. Let me put in a frozen pizza. If it looks good you can nibble on it. But you do need to at least drink some water. Can you manage that, darling?”

You nod your head. You know Bucky can’t fix the depression. You know self-care isn’t always going to be this cute and cuddly; but right now, that’s okay. Right now, it’s what you need.

[ashes-and-ashes]

Could you do a Wolfstar fic when Sirius runs from home and goes to the Potters' and James calls Remus to calm him down. (P.S Love you and your writing. Hope your wrist heals soon 💖)

Hey! Got a bunch of requests for a Sirius Running Away From Home thing, so I wrote it!! I worked pretty hard on this, so hopefully you like it! Just a note: this story is split into 3 parts (this is part 1.) Part 1 is from Sirius’ POV, Part 2 from James’ and Part 3 from Remus’. I’m going to put Part 1 on Tumblr and Part 2 and 3 on my Ao3 once it gets set up. Hope you like this!!

And yep! This is the fanfic that I worked on AND GOT DELETED BECAUSE TUMBLR IS AN ASSHOLE!

@blackpinkdolan @withrewings @iluvharrypotter172 @blitheringmcgonagall @of-stars-and-moon

tw for abuse, homophobia and violence.

That Fateful Night

~

He’s curled up in the corner, the wall cool against his back. Half-awake, almost unconscious, pressing himself into the cold stone.

Dimly, he can feel blood pooling around him.

Sirius doesn’t know how long he’s been there. The house is quiet, the silence heavy and suffocating, his ragged breaths echoing against the walls. A tomb, compared to the shouting and the screaming and the roaring that had filled the room earlier.

He wasn’t sure what had happened. He was in his room, writing a letter to Remus, when he heard the shouting.

“You! Get your worthless ass down here!”

He rushed down the stairs, to find Regulus pressed into the corner, his father lounging on one of the armchairs, his mother at the kitchen table.

She was furious, her rage filling the room, and instinctively, Sirius stepped forward, in front of Regulus, blocking him with his body.

He clenches his teeth against the memory, taking a shuddering breath. Something cracks, deep inside of him, and he winces, pressing a hand to his ribs. It wasn’t the first time Walburga had broken something, and he recognizes the sharp, burning pain that fills his lungs as he struggles to take another breath.

He was used to pain, had been subjected to it ever since he was born. He knew how to handle it, how to clench his teeth and bite his lip and how not to give in. He does this now, one hand braced against the floor, the other against his ribs. Tears burn in his eyes and he blinks them away, furiously, clenching his jaw as he pushes himself up.

He bites down hard, to muffle the scream that almost comes out of his throat. Not now, not now, he thinks, please not now, please don’t let me wake mother up. With a muffled groan, he sits up on his knees, one hand against the wall.

He laughs, a silent, sardonic sound. He thought he knew pain, thought he could take it, but nothing was as painful as seeing those letters.

He closes his eyes, bile burning his throat. He had stepped in front of Regulus, his mother scoffing at him.

“Pathetic,” she said. “Soft, weak-minded lout.”

Fuck off, Sirius had thought, making sure he covered his little brother’s body with his own. He didn’t say this, though, just bared his teeth and hissed, “What is it now, mother?” The last word was spat out, like a curse, years of hatred and anger and neglect filling his voice, bitter and mocking and defiant.

Walburga had said nothing, just pulled a stack of papers from her pocket, dropping them on the table, the sound echoing in the dark room.

And he’d never known fear before, not like this, the panic and the dread and the nausea that settled into his bones. He was frozen, the feeling rising up inside of him, something burning in his throat as he read the oh-so familiar handwriting on the side: To Sirius.

He glanced up, tried so hard not to let his mother see that raw emotion that he felt, threw up that wall between them. He shifted, adjusting his body, another barrier between her and Reg. “What the hell is this, mother?”

There was a sharp cracking sound, Sirius’ head hitting the wall behind him. His lip had been split open, blood trickling down his chin, but all he did was roll his head back and stared at Walburga, her wand still smoking from the spell she had casted. “Going through my mail now?”

There was another crack, hitting him from behind. He turned, his father’s wand pointed directly at him, his side burning. “Do shut up, Sirius.”

He just laughed, met his mother’s stare. “Anything you want to say?”

Walburga clenches her jaw. “Who. The hell. Is Remus?”

His heart pounded, but Sirius just gave her a small smirk. “Like I’d tell you. What more can you do to me? I’m used to it now.”

He saw the spark in Walburga’s eyes, the way it fell on Regulus, and Sirius shook his head. “You’re not touching him.”

He felt Regulus shaking his head, his movements frantic, and Sirius pressed him harder into the wall. “Don’t you dare touch him.”

Orion was on his feet now, wand pointed at Sirius as he said, “Step away.”

“Like fuck I will - “

BANG.

He heard Regulus’ screams, felt the blood run down his leg, and Sirius swore. He turned around, noticing the long gash on Regulus’ side, leaking blood on the ground, panic filling his gut. “What the fuck did you do to him?”

Walburga just laughed. Pain started to fill his side, and Sirius dropped his hand down. With a jolt, he realized what she had done.

She had shot Regulus right through Sirius’ body.

There’s another bang, and Sirius was thrown aside. Walburga held his gaze, her wand pointed at Regulus. “Who is Remus Lupin, and why are you writing him.”

Sirius was breathless, dizzy with pain. “Go to hell.”

There’s a smile on Walburga’s face as she lifted her wand. “Incendio.”

And Regulus was screaming, flames licking over his skin, screaming and screaming and screaming.

The sound Sirius made ripped his throat apart. He lunged forward, wanting to tear Walburga apart, when a sharp yank sent him sprawling. His father stood there, glass of wine in his hand, laughed over Sirius’ roars and Regulus’ screams. Walburga had just shrugged. “Who is Remus Lupin, and why is he writing to you?”

He barely had time to catch Regulus’ head shake before he was screaming again, edged with sobs that made Sirius want to rip his head open -

“He’s a friend from school.” The words bursted out of him, anything to stop the screams. “He’s in my grade, Gryffindor like me. One of my closest friends. Now let him go.”

Walburga had shaken her head. “Why is he writing to you?”

“We’re just friends - “

The wand fell, Walburga turning back to Regulus as Orion frowned. Sirius clenched his jaw, threw up mental shields because he knew what was coming.

The pain felt like his head was split open, Orion digging through his consciousness with sadistic pleasure. He gritted his teeth, tried to counter-attack, tried to throw him out, tried to block out Regulus’ screams -

“I’m dating him.” He spat the words out, clenched his fists. “I’m dating him.”

The room was silent, filled with lethal wrath as Walburga turned towards him. “What did you say?”

He swallowed. “I’m dating Remus.”

“Dating...?” The word broke off, by Walburga’ soft laugh. “Why does that surprise me? I should have known, you being a selfish little fucker.” She bares her teeth. “Should have known you’d be a fag as well.”

Then the wand fell, pain exploded over his body, and Sirius started screaming.

He clenches his teeth now, the agony still holding over his body. He’s shaking, his nerves overloaded by Crucio, sores on his mouth where he’s bitten through flesh. He doesn’t know how bad it is, can feel nothing but waves of pain move up and down his torso.

Sirius reaches forwards, wrapping his fingers around the iron rail of the staircase. He needs to get to his room, get to his wand, heal his ravaged body and figure out what to do. He grits his teeth, glancing up the enormous staircase. This was going to hurt.

With a small grimace, Sirius pulls the handrail, pushing with his other hand, managing to get his knee on the stair. He’s trembling, waves of nausea filling his body, muffling his scream against his shoulder as he pulls the rest of his body onto the stair, curling up into a small ball.

He pants, smiling bitterly. 27 left to go, he thinks, reaching forward for the next rail.

When he finally reaches the top, he’s shaking, sweat dripping down his face. There are score marks across his palm, from where he’s pulled the flesh against the metal, his entire body aching. He bites his lip, carving bloody furrows into the gum, clenching his fists.

It’s almost too much, dragging himself down the hallway, muffling his whimpers against his arm. He wants to sob when he gets to his bedroom, thanking God that he left his door open.

He crawls into his room, kicks the door shut, and for a moment all he can do is gasp, letting the agony wash over him. He collapses on the floor, trying to steady his breathing, the pain obliterating all rational thought and where is my wand -

“Fuck.” It hurts to speak, but Sirius does it anyways. He sees his wand, on his desk, right in the middle. His heart stops, panic filling his gut because it was so high up and God, how can he reach that -

He bites down, hard, not giving himself time to think before he stands up, quickly, skin tearing, pain ripping through him. Blood explodes in his mouth, his ragged breathing filling the room, and he stumbles back, against the bed, letting the pain wash over him. He catches a glimpse of himself in his mirror, all bleeding wounds and broken skin and shattered eyes.

And he’s sobbing, like he’s never done before, sobbing through tightly gritted teeth, legs stretched in front of him. He’s 16 years old, 16, and he’s been tortured and beaten and hurt so badly, and he’s trying so hard to keep it together.

“I can’t do this.” He gasps the words, hyperventilating. “I can’t do this, I can’t...”

With a stifled sob, he places the tip of his wand against his ribs, wincing at the pain. “Episkey.”

Sirius moans, his ribs grating together, and he grips the bed so hard it creaks. “Dark...magic...goddamn it. I can’t heal it, I can’t heal it - “

He grits his teeth, harder, panic flooding him because he’s going to die, in agony, right on his bedroom floor and maybe death wouldn’t be so bad, if only to spare him from the pain. It hurt, so bad, because at least they didn’t know before, never could hurt him in that way, but now his secret was out and he had to get out, he had to get out -

I have to get out.

The words jolt him, startling him. I need to get out.

With a grimace, he places his wand against his chest. “Sine Sensu.”

He gasps, taking a breath, the pain fading slightly, just enough to function. His trunk is in the corner, full of his school supplies, and he hurriedly stuffs some clothes, the remainder of Remus’ letters and a bag of coins into it. He slings his cloak over his head, levitating the trunk with his wand and exits, locking the door behind him.

The stairs are hard, Sirius gripping onto the banister tightly as he gingerly limps down each step, occasionally vanishing drops of his blood from his drag upstairs.

He finally gets to the bottom, turning his back on the dark kitchen beside him, lugging his trunk into the main foyer. In the daytime, it was beautiful, sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He stops dead, Regulus blocking his way to the door. The moon rose behind him, framing him in silver, the burns prominent on his thin face. “I knew you’d be leaving.”

Sirius exhales. “Reg. Reg, please, please, you have to let me go.”

Regulus is expressionless, his voice monotone. “Running away? What happened to my older brother, Sirius? The one who would ‘always protect me’ from mother?” The tone is mocking, bitter.

Sirius’ voice is low, shaking. “I can’t live like this, Reg, I can’t - “

“You lived with it for 16 years.”

Sirius shakes his head. “It’s not just that.” He scoffs, tears in his eyes, self-loathing in his gut. “They never used to know. About me, I mean. That I’m...that I’m...”

“Gay?” The word is cold, empty, and Sirius swallows. “Yeah. It was the one part of me they couldn’t touch, you know? Everything they did...everything they said...it never hurt as bad, because they didn’t know.” He looks up. “And now they do. So you have to let me go, Reg. You have to.”

Regulus’ face is unmoving, motionless. Sirius is pleading now, a desperate, broken plea. “Please, Reg. I covered you. For 16 years I was tortured and abused and beaten and I endured it because of you. Because I love you. And I would do all of it again to save you.” He’s trembling, fingers pressed together. “But I can’t take this anymore. I can’t.”

Regulus is emotionless, his voice quiet. “You love him? The boy, I mean. Remus?”

Sirius nods, his voice a whisper. “I....” He swallows. “Yes.”

There’s a silence, stretching between them. Memories of a lifetime, two boys building forts together, one reading to another, lying in the same bed. Because no matter what, no matter the horrors and the pain, they were still brothers, still family.

When Regulus speaks, his face is open, unguarded. “Go. Get out of here.” A tiny smile lights his face. “Take my broom. Mother and father locked yours up, and mine is faster, anyways. Go. And don’t come back.”

Sirius nods. “Thank you.” He’s about to turn away, bitterness welling inside him, when he whips around, wrapping his brother in a hug. “Come with me. Please. Screw then, we can be safe. We can be free.”

Regulus’ eyes are closed, his fingers clutching Sirius’ so hard, they go white. “You know I can’t.”

There are so many things he wants to say, so many secrets. I’m sorry, for everything, for being so difficult. For screwing up your life.

But the words can never be spoken, never uttered, so Sirius releases Regulus. “Stay alive. Please.”

Regulus nods. “You too.”

He knows it’s a goodbye, a final statement, that the next time they meet, they will be enemies, and Sirius wants to scream. He pushes his brother’s hair out of his face, presses a kiss to his forehead. “If you need me...I’ll always be there.”

Regulus just nods.

So Sirius turns, lifting his trunk.

And he steps out of the Black Family Manor for the very last time.

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP.7 (Cont.)

“i have not now, nor ever, liked this creepy ass church elevator.”

“kanade please get out of my head, just because im hungry doesnt mean you have to tell me every time i am”

Hibiki finishes getting a full body X-ray. She’s fine.

“that anime protagonist immunity is really kicking in well!”

“by the way, your wife is here! and she’s looking mighty miffed., as opposed to me, mighty milfed.”

“you dont strike me as a mother figure but ill play along for now”

“i just hope miku’s okay...”

“oh, she’ll be fine! see, i’ve seen these kinds of plots before. big secret revealed, another lover is shown, the victim watches as they’re thoroughly cheated on, and they get to lik-”

“please stop breathing”

Genjuro’s wasting away again in Margaritaville. Looking for some daughter to adopt. SOME PEOPLE SAY THAT THERE’S A, WOOOOMAAAAAN TO BLAAAAAAAAAAME, BUT HE KNOWS

XYLOPHONE RIFF

THAT’S IT’S ALL HIS FAULT

XYLOPHONE RIFF

“i hate it when he gets like this. jimmy buffets not a good look for him.”

“for once you and i agree. seeing the commander sulk like this like a middle aged perma-tourist is genuinely miserable”

“hey homies! im back and i brought some bitches! oh, jesus, why does this place smell like mistakes in miami?”

“its me. im sorry. every time i feel like i failed as a dad, my anti-dad energies manifest. imagine every midlife crisis rolled up into a single ball, smacked into the face for eternity. thats the depth of my pain for failing this girl.”

In a moment of positivity, the friendship between Tsubasa and Hibiki is cemented.

> Tsubasa has joined the party.

“FRIENDSHIP!”

“fweindship.”

“uuuuhhhhh... dadship? yeah thats close enough.”

“WE’RE ALL GOOD FRIENDS!”

“ya tiddies are ringing again, better go get it”

Ryoko also points out that Hibiki’s relic is fusing with herself at an alarming rate. This is important to keep in mind.

Meanwhile, at night.

Miku is posing in the motherly “you done fucked up, where have you been young lady” position. A cold scolding is coming.

“.........................hey miku......”

“you can come in. are you worried im gonna bite? you suplexed a car. that shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

“miku, i.... i wanted to tell you.... but.... the plot wouldn’t let me, miku....”

“should’ve told the plot to fuck off anyway. now you’re gonna live with that. you’re sleeping... on the bottom bunk.”

“b.... b..... b...... b.... b...... bottom bunk...?”

They slept separately that night. God, this is so stupid. All of this is so goddamned stupid. “I’m so mad at you even though you saved my life.” This is just so. AUGH. THIS IS DUMB. KANEKO WRITE BETTER ANGST THAT MAKES SENSE THAT ISN’T THIS.

Meanwhile, far away from this garbage...

Chris, having been evicted from Fine’s McMansion, wanders the streets of mumblemumble aimlessly. Don’t be fooled by her new fancy dress. Basically, she’s a combat-competent hobo.

“no food. no home. no victories. this sucks. whyd you do it, fine? we coulda been great together. but no. ya fired me. now i look like im prancing the red light district with a highly advanced superweapon around my neck.”

“no... hibiki’s to blame. ever since that genderbent little mac showed up to fight me, it’s been all downhill. fine thought me a laughstock because i couldnt take out her oversized boxing gloves, and now she beat me while i had nehushtan. god... i wish i never met that damn hamster faced chubby cheeked nerd.”

“wait, whats that crying”

Chris spies two kids talking to each other, one of them crying. Chris immediately makes an assumption, believing the big bro is bullying his sis.

“hey! stop nicking her lunch money, twerp”

Chris currently is a firm believer of corporeal punishment.

But the sister deflects the blow. Chris can’t even defeat children right now. Truly, this is a record low for her. You know you blew it when even kids are schooling you on basic morality. She then tells the little girl to stop crying, ironically mirroring her brother.

The infamous double T-Pose maneuver. Chris, you might as well get a shovel and start digging your own grave.

“i keep doing bad things badly, and now im doing good things badly... when fine said i was bad... did she just mean im not talented?”

Chris, finally, does a good thing and helps these kids find their parents.

“yeah. hibiki saved a kid when she got her gear. guess what? bam! im saving two! that’s fifty percent more kid per kid saved. take that, weirdo.”

The kids call her out on Chris singing unconsciously, and Chris gets flustered over it. Dawwwwww.

Chris manages to get them to safety to their Dad...

...while brutally lying about it, making Chris look like a predator. There’s a very crushing irony at play here, given who Chris used to serve.

“ugggggggggggggggghhhhhh hes not even gonna payyyyy meeeeeee why the fuck did i dooooo thiiiiiiissssss”

“hey, you know. you kids have a really nice relationship with one another. care to give me tips on how to be an empathetic human being capable of making friends?”

“maybe we’re born with it”

“maybe its maybeline”

“maybeline...”

Meanwhile...

A cold wind blows through Lydian Apartment 69-L. (I don’t actually know if that’s their room number, I just made it up.)

“jesus take the wheel, because i’m jumping out the passenger seat to save this current wreck of a relationship”

“miku please i saved your life, doesnt that count for anything”

“you already killed me the moment you lied. also im taking the bottom bunk so i dont have to see your face coming down the ladder.”

“miku you cant hide in this depression den forever. i know i hurt you and im sorry for it, but please understand i literally couldnt do it. you saw there were punches and violence and stuff... i didnt want you tied to that...”

“what was that? i cant hear your apologies over my incredibly loud snoring. SNOOOOOOORE. SNOOOOOOOORE. SNOOO- fuck, i just swallowed my spit, fuck”

“i hope this cocoon of displeasure you’ve made for yourself lets you erupt into a butterfly of acceptance so i can fly with you again.”

“......thats not fair. you cant say those beautiful metaphors and get away with it. let me be mad... sniff... let me be mad...”

Sadness wafts in the den of lies Hibiki has been forced into.

No music plays. There is only heartbreak, and woe.

In the midst of this pain...

Ryoko loredumps about how the Symphogears work and are immune to the noise on her blog, ‘hornyonmainforscience.org’, her hybrid science journal slash kink zone. It’s mostly a recap with some pretty good soft techno beats in it.

“i made a custom brew of red bull, five hour energy drink, coffee, and cream. i call it gamer girl piss.”

“damn. that’s some good piss.”

She muses about how Hibiki has managed to break the limitations of her Symphogear, making her a totally unique specimen. Wait, where have we heard this before...?

Hey... Ryoko... let’s just... cool it a bit with the Hibiki pictures... come on...

Ryoko touches upon the Custodians and the Curse of Babel. We ain’t touching that shit until later, because that’s another shitfuck box of crazy just ready to jump us in a dark alleyway to rob us of our wits.

Back to Lydian:

“miku whats the answer to the first three multiple choice questions”

“B. A. D.”

“oh, thanks. huh, BAD.”

“yeah. you are.”

“mmm. taste likes dissapointment. just like my life.”

“hey table for two haha get it cause there’s two chairs and miku for the love of god, please, forgive me”

“ive surgically removed my eyes and drew eyelashes over them with sharpie so i dont have to see your bird bangs.”

“thats very rude to both me and my hair. also, wig.”

Even Hibiki’s meal is judging her. Mainly for not eating it. Fucking look at this. God, that looks amazing. Fuck, why did I write this while I was hungry.

“miku you cant do this forever. i might die and youll end up crying on my tombstone going ‘oh god, why, oh god’, and really, i cant live with myself if that happens. mainly because id already be dead by then”

The Anime Janai crew show up to break some icebergs with a goddamn sledgehammer. As the self-aware Gods of this realm, they got very tired of this poor display of angst, and have decided to directly intervene.

Nevermind. They came for her kneecaps, and they most certainly got them.

PLEASE. I’M BEGGING YOU. END THIS GARBAGE PLOT THREAD.

“look. imma lay down the facts. yall are gay. yall are in love. yall are angry for the wrong reasons. its nobody’s fault here but the writer. so please kiss and make up. pretty please.”

“kaneko... you fool... we all know what the original sin is. its your hack writing making this stupidity in the first place. let the pencil go, asshole!”

They bring up the fact that Hibiki isn’t doing her work and wonder if she has a job on the side, which isn’t allowed by the school. Miku gets annoyed and bails, with Hibiki running after her. Unfortunately, Miku runs faster...

“oh god miku not the rooftop whatever you’re thinking just dont do it! please!”

“no. i came here to angst, since this is the Maximum Angst Zone.”

“i..... okay! okay, that’s fair! rooftops are the perfect place to look sad while getting proper air ventilation, thats fine”

It really would have been better played if it was played off that she felt hurt not because of the lie, but because she felt like she could have helped her better having known the truth, and it being a self-loathing sort of scenario for not being there better for her and not fully understanding the risk at play.

But no, instead, we get this.

Absolutely obliterated. A heart ripped, shredded, and sent to the Shadow Realm.

The episode ends on that note, but has a post credit scene.

Naked. On an old timey telephone. On a computer. Wearing stockings and long gloves.

The main antagonist of the series, everybody.

She’s talking the best English possible to some random-ass American when suddenly bursting through the scene is none other than:

“I WANT WORKERS COMPENSATION YOU BITCH, BEFORE I UNIONIZE YOUR NAKED ASS”

“AND I WANT A GOOD REFERNECE FOR MY FUTURE EMPLOYER, AND ALSO A SEVERANCE PACKAGE SINCE I’M FUCKING HOMELESS”

“i paint my eyelashes with mascara made from the tar of freshly carbonated corpses manufactured through noise, what on gods green earth compels you to think id give a rats ass about you?”

“so you never cared, huh! you’re just a nasty naked hedonist trying to- trying to- what the fuck are you even trying to do?!”

“i want to live the dream every spicy little fossil like me yearns for.”

“I WANNA FUCK GOD!”

“how- what? what? how do you even- what? are you- do you want to be the pope? is that it? does the pope get to fuck god? are you- is this a larping thing? you’ve really been into larping lately! i don’t like this!”

“youve never read the old testament, have you. ass out, pussy bare, hips up and barefoot. that’s how god’s always liked it.”

“now get lost, punk. you tipped off my hand to genjuro and now you being here is going to ruin everything. if you still feel any semblance of devotion, eat one of your own bullets and call it a day.”

“it’s 2012 bitch, if the mayans dont get you, I WILL”

“what god gives, He takes away, and so do i. i built you from the ground up. your relic, which was good for jack shit on you. the nehushtan, which you failed to do anything with except zap a couple hundred people. stop wars? you’re a walking war, waged by me, for me. and your cartridge has just run out of bullets.”

“uh oh! hand’s acting up again! better bail before i send you back to smacktown where all the bitter little shittalkers like you strut around spending their lives being useless as hell.”

“ah fuck, im not dealing with no manos: the hands of fate bullshit again”

“and guess what else i got on motherfucker”

“i see the union efforts have officially been busted. understandable, have a nice day ma’am”

“LEAVE.”

“I’M GOING, I’M GOING”

[aurora-the-kunoichi]

Here is the second installment of a story I’m writing for my friend @blossom-skies with her OC Jen. I hope she and you enjoy.

Meeting Ms. Jones

Part 2

“What did that madman do to you?” Casey whispered uncomfortably letting his fingers timidly run over the skin of her forearms.  He shuttered at the new texture, his sister once soft skin felt bumpy and uneven under his finger tips.

“I don’t know Casey, I haven’t looked in a mirror yet so I don’t know the extent of it all besides the very obvious changes. All I know is Baxter Stockman did it and it hurt like hell taking several days to complete.”

Jen could see the uncertainty in his gentle eyes, but this was her brother Casey and she knew no matter what he’d love her. Keeping her arms outstretched she allowed her brother to touch her skin examining her mutation. Finding her focus being pulled from her brother as he lifted his signature hockey mask from his face to get a better look, Jen’s improved eye sight trained in on the two gawking turtles. The story behind these two must be a wild one.

“Um Cas…… an introduction would be nice.” Jen coughed gently pulling her arms from his grasp.

Casey blinked up at his sister’s new complexion and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Um yeah sorry Jen, um.. these are my friends Leonardo in the blue and Raphael in the Red. Leo and Raph this is my little sister Jennifer.”

“Jen.” She swiftly remarked. “Please call me Jen.”

“Yes, she prefers to be called Jen, ……anyways…There are two more just outside the door watching our backs and Donnie might be able to help you, which reminds me we need to get out of here now. I have no doubt they’ll be sending reinforcements here shortly.”

Jen watched the two turtles’ wave when being introduced never taking their eyes from her body. They looked just as apprehensive as her brother but seemed a bit more intrigued with her tail and skin, almost spellbound by it.

Soon Casey’s arm was around her waist urging her forward towards the obliterated door and to her must needed freedom. Jen’s feet moved for a few steps and but her leg muscles seized under the sudden movement making her tumble forward.  Before she hit the floor two large green arms shot out catching her frame hoisting her up bridal style. Unconsciously her arms shot up around the thick neck now supporting her bodyweight and caught the blue pools of Leonardo’s gaze. All of a sudden she became hyper aware of her new tail that hung haphazardly at his feet. She didn’t want him to trip as they started to run towards the exit so she wrapped the end of her tail around his muscled thigh keeping it away from his feet. If she wasn’t mistaken she could have sworn the large turtle shivered at the sensation of her tail curling around his thick leg.

“I’m sorry Jen but this might get a bit bumpy so just hold on ok?” It was Jen’s turn to shiver at the sound of his deep voice. Being so close to his chest the sound vibrated the plates of his plastron making her skin feel funny, suddenly warm. With a burst of sterile white light, they entered into the main lab and a fight was already in progress. As her eyes adjusted to the sudden surge of light Jen could see two more turtles fighting guards. One was taller and leaner then all four of them with a purple mask and the smallest but just as bulky at Raphael wore orange. Four fucking turtles, these mutants were what Karari and Stockman was talk about. Casey had some explaining to do when and if they got out of here.

Without warning an explosion rang just behind them sending Leonardo, Raphael and Jen sprawling forward slamming into several pieces of expensive equipment. Rolling onto her back Jen groaned at the new ache that were now added to the others, she let her head turn and felt her body tense in distress.

Several of the guards were now on top of Leonardo and Raphael pinning them to the floor using some sort of taser bar. Each tip of the weapon crackled with some sort of electricity and it was being forced through their bodied. She had only known them for a few minutes but the overwhelming urge to protect them burst in her chest.Anger Jen had never felt before roared within her making her see red as the two turtles who had helped her from her cage writhed and arched screaming in pain.

Her once weak limbs surged to life bringing her to her feet and charged screaming at the top of her lungs. With inhuman strength Jen launched herself into the fray slamming three guards free of Leonardo. Reaching down she grabbed a dropped taser and pressed the tip to each of the last three making them tense screaming in agony before falling motionless at the large turtle’s feet.

Leo shook his head bringing himself back from the brink of unconsciousness looking up at Casey’s sister who was now attacking the guards that had Raphael pinned down sending an electric current through him. His eyes widened getting to his feet watching her fight with such ferocity he could have sworn the frail form he was just carrying now had inhuman strength. Not only was she tossing the guards around like rag dolls, her tail moved on its own accord punching and curling around them and tossing them across the room. It was like she was going berserk.It was actually quite amazing seeing her adapt so quickly to her new mutation, whatever it might be. But now was not the time to ponder such things. Rushing forward Leo helped Jen pull the last of the guards from his younger brother and pulled him to his feet.

“Don, Mike! Let’s go now!” Leo called out his orders over the roaring sound of the battle.

The unchecked rage that coursed through Jen’s body made everything a semi coherent blur, she couldn’t focus on anything besides helping the two turtles. Nothing else mattered and from what she could comprehend she was a force to be reckoned with. Her strength was unmatched as she lifted the guards from the shells of the turtles tossing them as if they were bags of cotton candy. Where was this strength coming from?

Leonardo came up beside her placing his large hand on the small of her back helping up Raphael who was now staring up at her with excited wonderment. Leo’s warm touch seemed to bring her back out of her self induced rage startling her back to reality.

“That was….wow… I mean…uh thanks.” Raphael stammered giving her an awkward fist bump to her shoulder before running after his two other brothers and Casey.

Casey held his hand out for his sister and felt a little relieved at the display he had just witnessed. The explosion set him in the opposite direction as her, Leo and Raph. He watched her sail from Leo’s arm crashing into some equipment.There was a moment of terror that seized him when a swarm of guards overcame the two mutant turtles and he thought for sure she would be taken again. But when she shot up like a rocket and attacked those guards like they were nothing, a swarm of pride hit him right in the chest. His little sister was on a war path and he sort of felt sorry for the idiots as they flew through the air in comical slow motion. The dumbfounded looks on Raph and Leo mad him chuckle a little seeing the guys in awe of someone who could very well be stronger then them. He must have been wearing a goofy grin because when Jen’s three fingered hand found his five she gave him a bright smile that only Jen could produce. He thought she might have enjoyed that a little bit.

Dodging several more guards and a hail of gun fire Jen followed the four mutant turtles and her brother from the lab and quickly piled into a large garbage truck. The tall purple one got behind the wheel and turned over the loud engine and sent the large vehicle barreling forward away from her prison.

Now out of danger Leo took a few deep breaths and settled his pulsing heartbeat. They almost didn’t make it out of there and if wasn’t for Jen’s new mutation Raph and himself could have been taken as well.The lingering question still remained though, why did they take her?  From what Casey told them when he came to the lair hysterical for their help she had been missing for 2 days.

He had gone to visit her after a long shift and found her door smashed in and her apartment ransacked. With the cooperation of Chief Vincent and the New York City police department and Donnie’s smarts they were able to deduce Karai and Baxter Stockman were behind her abduction. Unfortunately, it had taken them nearly 2 weeks to find were Jennifer was being held against her will. After circumventing the security and entering through the back door they had managed to find her cell when Donnie hacked into their system.  Thankfully everyone made it out alive and relatively unharmed, well mostly.

Looking back at Casey and Jen from the passenger seat. Casey had her in his arms hugging his sister as if she would disappear right from within his arms. From the looks of it she was nearly naked with only a black pair of underwear that dipped under her new flexible tail that now protruded from just below her lower back and a matching black bra to cover her breasts. Her skin was the best part in his eyes. It was vibrant blue and purples with flecks of green and from what her could tell looked to be almost chameleon. Running from just above the base of her tail looked like scutes that formed a straight line to the tip of her curled tail. Her feet were bare exposing her feet and her human toes were long gone replaced by two large toes and her five fingers reduced to three. Almost identical to theirs. Her long dark brown hair still remained on her head and her eyes still looked human, but he could see a flash of silver behind the pupils. When Casey had shown them a picture of her Leo had immediately thought she was attractive for a human but this change she underwent was amazing in his eyes, it’s only enhanced her features. She was beautiful.

Jen finally pulled from Casey’s tight grasp and stepped back and felt her throat constrict. No longer fighting to stay alive she was able to concentrate on her new appearance. Her eyes moved to her skin, now able to see it in the light. Her pink human flesh was now replaced by bumpy purple and blue and green flecked reptile skin. Looking up at her brother, terrified she let out a sob. She remembered her tail and it appeared in front of her uncurling to its full length, the tip resting in her new three fingered hands.

“Casey?”

Her brothers’ hands moved under her chin cupping her cheeks making her look at him, “It’s ok Jen, we’ll figure something out. Donnie will figure something out.”

At the mention of his name Donatello turned from the road and gave her a quick scan with his warm brown eyes. “I’ll do my best Casey, I promise. The first thing I need to find out is what Stockman mutated you with and from what I can tell your body mutated from more than one animal. Chameleon is one from my guess.”

A light bulb went off in Leo head remembering the cell she was being held in and they were unable to see her. “Yeah when we got into her cell we couldn’t see her, but then out of nowhere she just materialized. I have a feeling she can make her skin change color to blend in with her surroundings just like a chameleon.” Leo stood from his seat and made his way back to Jen who was watching him intently.  

Jen took a moment to regain her composer as Leonardo stood from his seat making his way back to them. His long muscled legs shifted his hips with each powerful stride making him look like a dangerous animal stalking its prey. His blue eyes bore down on her as he approached. Jen had to remind herself to breath and gulped in a breath of air when he stopped just before her his immense chest within grasp.

“Can you do that again?” he asked calmly never taking his eyes form hers.

“D-do what again?”

“Change the pigment of your skin to blend in?”

Jen looked around at her brother and the other two turtles as they hovered closer waiting to see if she was actually able to change her skin color at will.

“Yeah that would be awesome.” The orange banded turtle turned smiled up at his older brother Raphael.

“I-I don’t know if I can?” Jen tried to remember how she did it. She could recollect her skin acting funny when she was scared. She had stepped back into the shadows of her cell and found they couldn’t see her when they entered.

“Here.” She heard Leo rumble softly taking her hand pressing it to the top plates of his plastron. They felt like very soft leather, the texture pleasing to her fingertips. Unconsciously she curled her fingers lightly scratching her nails on his chest.

“See if you can match the color of my chest.”

Swallowing dryly her eyes darted up to his intense blues eyes catching a quick glimpse before resettling on his chest. Closing her eyes she concentrated pressing her palm all the way down against him, stepping just a little closer. She took a long deep breath catching the faint scent of mint tea and some sort of oil. The pleasant smell made her chest warm a bit before rushing to her cheeks.

She found it a little difficult to concentrate with everyone staring at her and the poor suspension of the giant vehicle didn’t help things either.

“Come one Jen.” The familiar voice of her brother broke through her jumbled mind. She focused on his voice and it helped her slow her racing pulse. Slowly her skin started to vaguely tingle and then she heard everyone gasp and felt Leonardo’s chest bounce with his quickened breathing. Opening her eyes, she followed suit seeing her once purple and blue hand match the browns of his plastron.

Part One

[astorsa]

wip prep tag

tagged by: @montevena ilu

rules: answer the questions and then tag as many writers as there are questions answered (or as many as you can) to spread the positivity! even if these questions are not explicitly brought up in the novel, they are still good to keep in mind when writing.

ok so this will be for ungodly hours!

FIRST LOOK

1. describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch).

a criminal, the prime minister’s daughter, and a demi-god race against time (wink wink) to piece together the scattered soul of a powerful magician

2. How long do you plan for your novel to be? (Is it a novella, single book, book series, etc.)

unlike my other wips it’s planned to be a standalone (unless i miss the characters and think of a new adventure for them to go on).

3. What is your novel’s aesthetic?

vibrant colors, different art movements (esp impressionism, abstract, and social realism) old clockwork, empty alleys, glass houses

4. What other stories inspire your novel

the first one that comes to mind is the kdrama tomorrow with you which made me a lil interested in time travel again and about the consequences of it. also the shades of magic series with the idea of different worlds, however ungodly hours is more of timelines that began at a singular point and diverged at different periods of time to create the world that it is 

5. Share 3+ images that give a feel for your novel.

im going to just plug in the ungodly hours pinterest board

MAIN CHARACTER

6. Who is your protagonist?

bishop aka our criminal

7. Who is their closest ally?

it was ivan his childhood friend (who he also had to betray early on in the novel sad face), but jane soon fills that void and become almost like extensions of each other

8. Who is their enemy?

the main enemy would be stoker, the head of the pseudo orphanage/crime organization that forced bishop into being her hound and living this lifestyle that goes against everything he believes him. even when he visits the other timelines, he can still feel the hold she has on him.

9. What do they want more than anything?

he really just wants freedom to live the way he wants, to get away from stoker and from the town that fears him. during the time where bishop florence was his guardian, he was really encouraged to pursue his gift for painting so he created this idea of living away from the big city, taking each day one at a time, and painting as much as his heart desires, but as the years goes on that dream seems further out of reach

10. Why can’t they have it?

stoker pretty much owns him and his life. he tries to work off his debt to her but it’s just never enough and if he were to run away he would be hunted down and killed

11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?

he views himself as the villain of his story and that he’s undeserving of good things. but even though he forced to do these awful things he cares so deeply about everyone and everything

12. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)

he’s v v tall, black hair, v dark brown eyes. he has a long scar on his cheek from a run in with one of the magistrate’s goons. he wears this realllly old worn coat with sewn in patches and a cross necklace both given to him by bishop florence before he died. 

PLOT POINTS

13. What is the internal conflict?

there’s actually three stages of the novel that correspond with the three characters of the novels. the first is jane and her need to belong, the second is werner fulfilling expectations, and the third goes back to how bishop sees himself as the villain and treating himself as one, and consequently the lack of self worth that comes with it. 

14. What is the external conflict?

stoker, the magistrate aka our powerful magician, and werner’s dad aka father time all chasing after them lmao

15. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?  

that he’d be condemned to continue to live as stoker’s hound or to be the cause of his friends’ (esp jane) death/accidental obliteration from the three timelines

16. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?

there’s two actually. 1. they see very very familiar faces in these timelines, and 2. the magistrate had more power originally than he let on

17. Do you know how it ends?

yes and it’s v bittersweet

BITS AND BOBS

18. What is the theme?  

um acceptance is huge. also despite the time travelling, time isn’t going to stop and wait for you. and with that is the concept of personal destinies and the paths that you have to take ???

19. What is a recurring symbol?  

not to be like obvious, but clocks.

20. Where is the story set? (Share a description!)

the first is drona, the capital city and the home of stoker’s crime syndicate and the prime minister. it’s a pretty grey town, lots of brick and the empty lot that was formerly the beautiful cathedral that burned down. the other 3 are wyn (one of the timelines that embodies like abstract paintings with the colors and the avant garde fashion), yune (a timeline in black and white where a cult is in power), and su (the land of the gods, and werner’s home)

21. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?

there’s two that come to mind, 1 is jane’s run in with the cult and her accidentally taking part of one of their rituals and another is this mirror maze in a fortune teller’s tent

22. What excited you about this story? 

originally the protagonist was werner and he was created after reading all these like stories of gods that were super powerful and i just wanted to make one that was v clumsy and dorky and just not what you would expect of him. also thinking about these worlds and how different they are, idk it’s really cool to me

23. Tell us about your usual writing method?

um lots of outlining and character/world profiles that are longer than the actual draft itself. opening the doc and staring at it for a long time and only writing a sentence lmao. but for u know actually writing, it’s writing a v shitty rough draft written at like 4am where i’m too tired to criticize it and then looking over it again when i wake up to make changes.

TAGGING: @hajaara @stegladent @furybloods @girlnovels @wartificial @briannaswriter @the-ichor-of-ruination @melissaswriting @dandagostino @sarmarble

[hueynomure]

Summoning Disaster - Part Four: Battle Cry

In which two of my OCs end up in @fatal-blow 's Golden Verse. Set in an unspecified point before Defenders of Earth's prologue; You can find out more about the story on his wip page.

First part

Second part

Third part

Elise has dirty thoughts, and I manage to write an awful sentence with three characters whose name starts with the same letter. Yes, these are the only events in this part, really. (this part is more Sharaka-centric and as such it's rather bloody)

* * * * *

“Grey one, it’s Elphimas.”

“Roger Windfall,” Amp replied as he crushed the throat of the last living guard in Lab 1’s entrance. “Mist protocol lifted. Status.”

“Cornered, guards seem to be taking a breather,” Adamantine replied. “It won’t last.”

“Too many hostiles, retreating to Lab 3. Magic’s not working right.” So much for the distraction.

“We still need time to rig the building, they’d disrupt us. Their comms are still sealed.”

“Someone opened the front door, but the courtyard’s under control. Elphimas has been a godsend so far.” Windfall commented.

“My new acquaintance is lovely too,” Static chuckled. “Dents armor like it’s tinfoil. We’re free birds, moving toward Ad and co.”

“Adamantine, do you have space for Link?”

“Negative, too risky.”

“Static?”

“The whole experimental wing is desert.”

Amp took a deep breath. Quantum could keep a rigged building alone, and if Sharaka continued to be an asset the diversion team could easily hold a room for Link to portal to… The bigger picture was a problem on its own: this facility seemed to be somewhat detached from the Magics’ hierarchy, but they could take their intrusion as a declaration of war anyway. He frowned, refocusing on the here and now. “Static, get to Adamantine before guards can prepare another offensive, then secure an area for Link. I will cover Reaper and Ethereous, then we’ll portal to you or to the experimental wing.”

As it often happened, Amp wanted to be everywhere at once, but he forced himself to march back to the unhinged door. His nerves were taut as bowstrings: there was an air of danger he hadn’t felt in a while. No one had been wounded yet, but-

Amp noticed the killing intent too late. He jumped backwards, but the bullet caught him in the abdomen. He fell, skyrocketing his own anger to boost the adrenaline rush. He couldn’t pass out. Not now.

“Sniper in the northern sentry tower!” He snarled as he crawled back in the Lab. “Link, to me now!” Fergus broadcasted his location and got himself another anger burst to get on his shaking knees. His guts were a constant explosion of agony, but his legs worked. He started to bury the pain and the rage – hoping they hadn’t hindered the others - as he waited for Link.

The small, sudden void of the sniper’s mind as Windfall got them was a meager satisfaction.

* * * * *

Static’s fingers twitched when he heard Amp call for help. Well, growl for help. “I suddenly feel like jogging a bit.”

Sharaka sniffed toward a metal windowless door. “That was sharp rage, he’ll be fine.”

“As reassuring as you may have meant it to be, I’m still feeling the fitness kick.” Static started running, straining to feel hostiles on his way. It was of some relief to hear heavy stomps following him.

A minute later, Static felt people-like current behind a corner. He slowed down, gathering charge, and noticed he couldn’t hear Sharaka anymore. Which was why he almost fried her when she dashed past him at full speed. He stuck his head and a hand beyond the corner, ready to cover her.

Sharaka turned into a blur, tackling the armored guard into the wall at impossible speed with the sound of bent metal and crushed bones. An arc of fire caught the other two mooks in the face before they could lift their weapons. She clawed open the throat of the first, and her tail shot like a scorpion’s to crack the skull of the second. She started running again without a glance to the crumpling bodies or to Static.

He picked up a gun from a dead guard, then it was his turn to sprint to catch up.

* * * * *

Faizah gestured for her three teammates to take their positions, and cringed feeling the armor’s gloves hindering the simple movement. Not that she wasn’t grateful for the protection – it had allowed her to walk right through the bright pink barriers and even to shrug off a hit from motherfucking Static – but it was experimental equipment, so not exactly tailored for comfort.

The door seemed intact. Faizah crouched and nodded in Noah’s direction, who unlocked the door with his pass card. Faizah cursed the genius that had decided to make unlocking doors beep, and the magic blowhard with no field experience that didn’t want to cover her squad’s noise with fire. Nevertheless, they were two walls away from the Defenders, odds were they didn’t hear it: there were two doors to the archives, and all three Defenders had been seen at the other one. They checked the room with practiced motions and moved onwards.

When they approached the room next to the Defenders’ she heard low feminine voices. One fast and nervous, the other dry and confident. Ideally Faizah would have wanted to check the side rooms, but they had to pass right in front of the open door to do that so no such luck. She gestured for her team to be extra cautious and they slowly took positions to attack the Defenders.

“Shield!” Third voice side room fuck!

Faizah moved to shoot but a pink barrier blocked the bullets. A flashbang obliterated her sight and hearing. A shotgun got her square in the chest, and Faizah took her last moments to appreciate the tungsten balls it took to throw a flashbang at the last possible moment.

* * * * *

“Shield!” Someone shouted from the archive’s back rooms, followed by a deafening boom and gunshots. Good, Faizah’s team had fulfilled their scope.

Lei Fan’s magic coursed the inscribed staff in his hands, which in turn infused enough magic to the knife lodged in its end to turn the metal kill them dark red. He tapped the knife’s point to the wall and it just… exploded outwards, as if yes destroy hit by a wrecking ball, and the magic’s buzzing subsided a bit. He stepped away, allowing security to exploit the new path of attack, and shook his head to clear it from the magic’s unusually definite intrusive thoughts.

He gestured to a waiting squad to follow: “We’re going up, collapsing their escape routes,” and left the other firing squads behind. He had no delusion to overwhelm the Defenders’ strongest defensive powers yet, and as useful as his armor was it wasn’t designed to block heavy gunfire. It also was pretty heavy; he promised himself to start working out as he sweated just by climbing the stairs.

He was tracking down the Defenders’ position by following the sound of gunfire when something large slammed against a wall behind him. Lei Fan turned to see the squad decimated: the leader was crumpled against a wall, chest caved in, another was clawing at the horrible burns on his face and... his lizard?! ...was ripping something bloody from the back of a third. How? Why?

Lei Fan charged a Wizard’s Fire to throw at the lizard, but destroy the attack slipped from his hand before he could aim it properly. The lizard dodged easily and drove its claws knuckle-deep in the throat of the fourth member of the squad, using him as a shield. Its tail lashed out and hit the man with face burns, who fell with a whimper.

They started kill circling each other, Lei Fan with his weapon high to discourage a direct attack – the lizard hissed when it recognized the knife – and the lizard keeping the dying man at arm’s length. Lei Fan remembered the helmet’s visor was mirrored, and started the Black Maze’s incantation under his breath, his head ringing inexplicably as the spell took hold.

* * * * *

Sharaka was suddenly holding a shapeless mass of darkness in a dim-lit, flickering hedge maze. It all smelled strongly of illusion, plus the sharp stench of this plane’s mana; no contest with the finesse of vedalken magic. She could almost feel his illusion as a slimy coat over reality. She closed her eyes, focused on the burning anger and fanned it, fueled it until she started to shake with rage, fury overtaking all her functions, and felt the illusion flicker when her last sliver of control evaporated.

She flung the dead weight aside and roared, the world vibrating with her rage. She smelled her sweating prey, holding her weapon in front of it - as if it mattered, as if it wasn't already dead. She dashed, entering its guard before it could notice, and shattered its visor with her fist. The prey was sent flying, slow as a snail. She grabbed the weapon from its hands and slammed her tail on its chest so hard the ground shook when the prey hit it.

The following hit with her weapon turned the prey into an explosion of gore and scrap metal.

* * * * *

A terrified silence followed the roar, as everyone’s hindbrain screamed there was A Predator around and failure to locate it would mean certain death. Fortunately for the Defenders, hanging around Fergus had them somewhat tempered against sudden bursts of emotion; Siphon and Adamantine took down five hostiles before they could snap out of it. Fortunately for the Magics, five people weren’t going to matter in the long run: Siphon still had afterimages and ringing from the flashbang, and judging by Astral’s and Adamantine’s concentrated frowns the prolonged use of their powers was starting to take its toll. Reaper and Ethereous were retreating without cover. They hadn’t heard from Amp since he had been hit.

The whole building shook. Siphon looked up, cold sweat running down her cheek. No part of the ceiling seemed to be about to fall on their head. Good. She took aim and cracked a visor, stunning her target for the time Adamantine needed to finish reloading and turning their face into mashed beets.

Hearing electricity crackle made her dizzy with relief. Lightning took down every hostile in sight in less than a second, and Siphon wished she could ride Static there and then. She settled for savoring the familiar smell of ozone, and moved forward to make sure there weren’t armored hostiles left.

Four kills later, Static casually strolled in. “I hope it still falls under the ‘fashionably late’ category.” The magnificent bastard grinned his shit-eating grin, and Siphon felt the urge to shut his mouth with her-

“What was that roar?” Adamantine asked, interrupting Siphon’s train of thought.

“A friend, believe it or not,” Static replied, “I’d have gone for the ‘she followed me home’ line if she had actually come with me. Now unless you want to take a few more souvenirs, we have a Link to catch.” Static led the way to the experimental wing. All guards in the building were probably either dead or hiding in a broom closet, but the four Defenders swept the rooms properly because no one wished for more surprises, not even Static.

“Sharaka! Fancy meeting you here!” Static blurted as he checked a T-shaped junction, then slowly backed away. “…Sharaka?”

Siphon moved to see who Static was talking to and stopped dead in her tracks when two reptilian eyes met hers with an utterly inhuman stare. ‘Sharaka’ was half-crouching, as if poised to attack, her blood-soaked arm wielding some sort of spear with a bad case of magic buzzing and her tail arched like a scorpion’s. Siphon had no problems associating this… creature… with the blood-curling roar from earlier; she had to be even more dangerous than she looked, because despite the dozen paces between them Static’s fingers were flexing nervously.

“Nice to meet you! Are you Static’s new friend? Disclaimer: we taste terrible.”

Sharaka followed Astral’s voice and something sparked in her eyes. She blinked twice, as if trying to remember something.

“Amp said to get out of her way. I say we go.”

“And leave her like that? She was snarky ten minutes ago! The ‘can I keep her’ was supposed to be a joke. Sharaka, it’s me, ‘thank you for saving my sorry ass’!” Siphon’s brain failed to understand whatever Static was saying, but Sharaka’s mouth was moving, almost mimicking his speech. “Did you used up all your brain power for today?”

“Fuck you,” Sharaka replied with a raspy voice. She straightened her back, blinked a few more times and suddenly looked like a person. A very reptilian person, but still. “Next time you go after the mind mage and I take out the fodder.”

“Will do!” Static was beaming. “Care to come with us?”

“Sure, before Frigid Girl there has a stroke,” Sharaka replied.

Static marched onwards and kept staring straight ahead, probably to avoid Adamantine’s gaze.

[cameronomicon]

Becoming Robin

I’m standing at the top of a carpeted staircase in the house where I spent my earliest years. The long sunlight of a Texas morning pours in through a window high above me, and I have shit my diaper. I’ve done something bad, and I know it. I’m in tears and I’m ashamed. This is my first memory, and it’s the moment that I become Robin.  

“I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone this,” I said to my brother, “and I don’t think I could tell many people without getting a negative reaction. But I’ve thought many times that it would be better if she were dead.”

I was talking about my mother, from whom both my brother and I are estranged. The ebb and flow of rapid deterioration and chronic decay that lasted the better part of two decades has forced us to remove our alcoholic mother from our lives. It’s an act of self-preservation she has often labeled as cruel. 

Everyone, it should be noted, is guilty of this cruelty. My mother, the great victim that she is, has cast the rest of the players in her life’s story as irredeemable villains who took advantage of her, set her up for failure, or outright betrayed her. This is after the countless half-hearted attempts at sobriety, the multiple treatment centers, the interventions, the third, fourth, and fifth chances. Those who have loved my mother have given her much. And it should always be noted in the same breath that she has also given much to those she has loved. But through the insane cataract of her disease, she now sees only villains. She has become twisted by resentment and fear, anger and self-pity. I think this must be a survival mechanism of her own, to reframe the narrative as “Robin vs the world” or else she might not be able to find the strength to wake up every morning in a reality where everyone she loved is gone. We are all of us, as it happens, just waiting this thing out now.

Robin stalks the perimeter of our lives like a predator just beyond the throw of the campfire’s light. We know she’s there, we’ve seen evidence, but she moves unseen the in darkness and shadows. She is a hungry ghost, as Gabor Maté would say. She haunts our lives, the ghost of who and what she once was, her unknowable but undeniable existence emanating from the howling void at her core. 

It would be better if she were dead. Then at least we would know where she was and what she was doing instead of dreading the infrequent but crushing calls from strangers, nurses, EMTs. And it would be over. That would be better. 

*

It’s impossible for me to separate myself from Robin, because I am her. Like my mother I have a passion and talent for the arts, and I share in her very dark but brilliant sense of humor. I am quite intelligent but fragile, and proud to a fault. I am aloof to the point of seeming arrogant, and insecure to the point of self-destruction. I hold others at arms length for far longer than necessary, but those I allow into my heart I hold there incredible fierceness, just like her. 

Most obviously, we share in disease: I am an alcoholic just like her. I’m also a drug addict, having been addicted to nicotine, prescription amphetamines, and cannabis. Some of these things I used together, and towards what I hope is the end of my own history of alcoholism, I was regularly mixing alcohol, benzos, and weed. I drank in the morning to silence the shakes. I could hardly eat. I felt like I was dying. In fact, I spent most of 2018 thinking about my own death, and wishing I had the courage to bring it about. A few times, in my booze-fueled despair, I held a knife to my wrists. I thought about buying a gun. I believed I was doomed, and there was no point in delaying the inevitable. 

This had all happened before, in the early 2000s, when I went to rehab for the first time, and then lived in a halfway house, and sank to unprecedented depths before finally resurfacing to join the world again. And since then I had been coasting in relationship and lifestyle which permitted and encouraged daily alcohol use, until that itself met its inevitable and cataclysmic end. And then I climbed into a time machine back to 2005 and began to self-destruct once more.

And it is impossible for me to not compare the sorry state of my decline with that which I have found my mother in many times. Her passed out on the floor of her apartment was me passed out in a doorway outside. Her vomiting in public and the deterioration of her physical appearance were my own. Her leaving friends and loved ones baffled, heartbroken, and confused was the look of bewildered pain on the face of my friend Stephanie when she came to my apartment to help me get to rehab this past summer. The anger and white hot resentment churning at the core of her engine spun its revolutions within me as well. I have seen her claw her way back from the edge of total defeat in brilliant and heartbreaking flashes of sobriety, only to let the people of this world fail her and give her the excuse she was desperate for to try her hand at drinking again. I have been there, too. 

I think that, ultimately, I am lucky that I came to learn my truth at a young age. Even when still active in my addiction, I knew. My ex-wife knew. There’s no way to arrive at a conclusion other than “I am an alcoholic” after going through everything I’ve been through and to still have been a daily drinker. This is where my mom and I begin to differ. 

Along with lacking her tireless ambition, her work ethic, raw talent and the many, many successes she achieved by my age, one other major thing sets us apart: my mother has always denied that she is just like me. She has never admitted she is an alcoholic. 

*

“No human being is empty or deficient at the core,” Dr. Maté writes, “but many live as if they were and experience themselves primarily that way. Attempting to obliterate the sense of deficiency and emptiness that is the core state of any addict is like laboring to fill in a canyon with shovelfuls of dust.”

Something that my therapist told me, that I had never realized before, is that human beings aren’t born with shame. That’s why little kids are so free and charmingly weird, untethered by the conventions adults place on them. Kids learn shame. They are taught to feel it. Shame isn’t the same thing as feeling guilt, shame is something much more insidious, something that can eat away at a person’s sense of self. Shame is not feeling bad about what you’ve done, but about who you are, is I think how my therapist distilled it. Shame is my first memory. That’s how my story begins.

And I can point back to feelings of shame, and trying to erase or cope with shame or any other strong emotion, as a core motivation for my drinking and substance abuse. That is my original damage, the flaw in my life’s marble.

The writers of the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous say “bottles were just a symbol” when describing their malady. And I agree. If I hadn’t found alcohol first, and if it hadn’t done for me what I desperately craved—the silencing of my inner dialogue, the obliteration of my self-hatred and insecurities, the soothing of pain and freeing of emotion and desire, that utter freedom to feel and to destroy feeling—then I would have found something else to do the job. Hell, Adderall did that, too.

When I say that my first memory at the top of the stairs is when I became Robin, it’s because I believe that there’s also something missing in my mom, some perceived void as Dr. Maté said, that is at the core of everything she is and has become. I believe there was a fundamental ruination, perhaps similar or entirely different from my own, that snapped off a part of her brain that she’s been scrambling to find, fix, or obliterate the memory of ever since. I believe that she stood at the top of her own staircase and sustained her own mortal wound. She has been laboring to fill in her own canyon with dust, yet cannot see the futility of the effort.

I don’t remember much of what my mom told me about her childhood, other than my Nana made sloppy Joes and her older sister was a bully about two things: The Rolling Stones (mom was a Beatles fan) and Star Trek (mom liked Star Wars). Knowing what I do now about my mom—and myself—I would not be surprised if she chose these diametrically opposed favorites just to needle her sister. But my takeaway now from this lack of knowledge, and the fact that we were never particularly close with either her family or my father’s, is that the damage she experienced lies somewhere therein. Something happened to her in childhood that formed her: some great pressure exerted upon her formed the diamond of her unbreakable will, and ultimately, the poison in her heart. 

She had some moment in which she became Cameron, which she never could have recognized at the time. She may not remember it, and she would certainly deny that anything like this could have had such an effect on her. But I believe strongly in my heart it was there. 

Of course, I may be wrong about all of this. I’m not an expert on addiction, I’m just a drunk like Robin. But I’ve gotten honest and looked deeply at myself and that itself has tremendous value; I’ve held up the mirror, and in it I’ve seen my mother there looking back at me: a little girl in Arlington, Texas, crying. Afraid. Ashamed, even. I would hug her if I could, and tell her everything will be ok. That no matter what happens, she is loved, and she is enough. 

[oqpromptparty]

Hi everyone! If you’d like to take part in this year’s Prompt Party Week, just select any of the prompts from the list below and write a fic, make a video or create some art based on it. Please note that more than one person may choose the same prompt.

You may submit new stories or include the prompts in any of your existing verses (though all your entries must be posted for the first time during Prompt Party Week). 

Artists & Video makers may use any of the prompts, but there are some Art/Video specific ones at the bottom of the post.

I have condensed some of the prompts that were a little too long… and feel free to take some liberties with some of the more specific prompts!

If you have any questions, please tweet @OQPromptParty

OQ Prompt Party week will run from 19th - 25th March. Please don’t post anything until then.

Prizes:

Everyone who posts a prompt for all seven days of the OQ Prompt Party week will be sent a limited edition, one of a kind Outlaw Queen button/badge. These will never be available again, so don’t miss out!

Each day there will also be the opportunity to win another prize. You will be entered into a prize draw and the more prompts you write, the more times your name will be entered into the draw. I will announce which prizes will be available on each day soon.

There will also be a separate prize for most prompts included in a single one-shot/chapter (crack!fic encouraged).

And now! Without further ado, here are your prompts:

Regina and Robin are friends who accidentally sleep with one another, except not so accidentally

Roland is grown up and thinks he’s finally discovered how to bring back Robin Hood - but he needs Regina’s help

Regina eventually moved on, but then Robin comes back into her life.

Dark!OQ first kiss.

During the French Revolution, Robin is a  prosecutor who acts like a spy at court for Robespierre.

Robin owes the Queen a debt so she has made him her servant til it is repaid.  

Robin makes three wishes.

Co-Stars falling in love.

Robin and Regina used to date/were married. They’re no longer together but still love one another.

First Curse AU: Robin is in Storybrooke during the first curse and dated Mayor Mills while still cursed.  Then the curse breaks.

Robin catches Regina watching "Bridezilla" & "Say Yes to the Dress" and starts planning a secret wedding based on her commentary.

Regina meeting DarkOQ's baby (with them alive)

Robin or Regina get turned into an animal unbekownst to the other who ends up caring for them for a bit before the curse is broken and then it's all like awkward....you liked me as a fox.

OQ/Belle friendship.

Roland and Robyn meet for the first time.

No one dies and everything ends happy

Robin is there when Regina finds out she’s going to be a  grandmother.

Robin or Regina have a bad habit the other tries to help them break.

Regina is pregnant and she and Robin watch a birthing video together.

Learning how to snapchat.

Robin’s soul didn’t get obliterated when Hades stabbed him and his soul got trapped in Regina’s mirror

Page 23 showing up out of nowhere.

Regina feels burdened by the guilt of all the people she has murdered.  Robin supports her with this.

Cora tries to separate Robin and Regina.

Based on this story https://www.thevintagenews.com/2018/02/20/king-pedro/

Regina and Robin meet at a hospital as they both have to sit in a waiting room waiting for hours on news about some members of their family.

Dark OQ meet Maleficent.

Regina self harming and Robin noticing

During the missing year, Regina sees herself in her mirror with Robin's tattoo tattooed on her.

Regina finds out that she’s actually Zeus or Hera’s daughter and demands that Robin be brought back.

Robin's backstory for any story or as a stand alone for the one we were promised.

Underworld. Regina telling Robin about her father’s death? Some of Robin’s demons.

In season 2, Regina went to the EF through Jefferson’s hat, and meets people who escaped the first curse; her mother, and her soulmate.

Bladerunner AU. As a bladerunner, Robin is sent on a mission to retire a rogue replicant, Regina.

Facilier's magic enables Regina to speak to Robin one last time. (Feel free to include him being semi or fully corporeal if you wish.)

Robin or Regina have to pick up a drunk Henry or Roland.

Henry comes out as ace/bi/etc to Regina and Robin.

Robin gets jealous when Regina and Mal work together a lot on something in secret. (DOQ or OQ)

Vampire AU.

Regina and Robin have a big fight. Robin goes to Mal for help in understanding Regina's reactions and ways to make it up to her. (DOQ or OQ)

Regina has mad PMS (just cause I think Robin figuring this out would be hilarious).

Robin and Regina discover their respective significant others are cheating with each other. They support each other through the fallout and their sons decide to make them realize they should be together.

OQ Body switch.

Robin is thrown through the time portal and meets young teenage Regina.

Robin and Regina in an orgy.

They are rival vigilantes both trying to fight the villain of the town.

Magic spell gone wrong, Robin accidentally turns himself into a fox while fiddling around with one of the vials in Regina's vault.

After Regina experiences sexual harassment, Robin reaches out to comfort her.

Robin refuses to go to the doctor.

Screenwriter/Director falling in love.

Person A keeps having strange dreams that turn out to be OQ in a past/alternate lives and they’re determined to find person B again (for extra angst; person B is already dead in this life).

American Horror Story Murder House AU

Season 3 AU where Robin/Roland/Both find themselves in Neverland and join an unlikely group brought together by their need to find a young boy.

Dark!OQ finding & taking in an abandoned baby.

An AU where there is a terror attack.

One is a killer/Criminal the other one is trying to catch him/her.

OQ friendship as one of the original married couples from Grace and Frankie.

Regina has another adoptive child when Henry brings Emma to Storybrooke.

Why did Robins tattoo match the lion emblems in Camelot? Former knight? Rightful king?

Missing Year and it's Roland's birthday.

The Good Place AU

“I went to the museum to get some inspiration for my art and then I saw you staring at one of the paintings in awe but now you just noticed me drawing you and this is awkward AU”

Regina hires Robin as her stylist. Because of a misunderstanding she thinks he’s gay.

Drunk Regina accidentally admits something really embarrassing.

Robin and Regina in a witness protection programme.

Frozen AU

Regina dies and Robin can see her ghost, together and try to find a solution to bring her back.

Prince Robin has to choose a bride via competition for his heart and Regina is one of the girls competing (or vice versa).

Robin finds Regina after searching for her.

Regina being with young Robyn.

Soldier/Nurse AU.

Their first time together after Robin has been brought back to life.

Robin or Regina are royalty and the other one works for them.

Regina goes to visit Robin’s grave for the first time.

Rival detectives trying to solve a case.

"We have to be quick"

“Would you like to share the blanket?”

Strip Poker

Alzheimer’s - one of them gets it and the other takes care of them.

Regina realises that Wish!Robin was her Robin after all and wants him back. The Evil Queen isn’t happy at all with that notion.

Robin comes back without any memories, Regina has to make him fall in love with her again.

Regina doesn’t get to go to heaven so Robin decides to stay wherever she is.

OQ meet over the death of their children.

Robin proposes to Regina on a bridge.

Regina teaching (or attempting to teach) Robin how to bake something.

Robin is secretly shrunk and kept in Roni’s jeans pocket. She doesn’t tell anyone to protect him.

Robin accidentally ingests viagra

They are both criminals trying to escape.

You’re getting chased by the police and you just jumped in my car and yelled drive, wtf man

OQ go on a double date with D!OQ

Robin comes to bring lunch to Regina but he finds her very sexually frustrated having been interrupted by the children the night before.

Regina thinks Robin is cheating on her but he is actually planning to propose.

OQ Doctor Who AU with Regina as the last of the time lords, The Queen, and Robin as the professor/archaeologist/criminal/time-traveling husband she never meets in the right order.

"This can never happen again"

Robin and Regina realise that Robin’s daughter has magic, they try to teach her how to use it.

After last call at a bar, Robin and Regina find they don’t want to say goodbye

I Dream of Jeannie AU.

You’re the bastard who keeps parking in front of my house and you just caught me drawing a dick on your window… ugh, oops.

Rivals doctors trying to win a famous prize

“Your dog likes me a thousand times better than they like your partner and sorry not sorry I love this dog”

OQ at a strip club

Bedsharing

OQ in a Star Trek or Stargate setting

“Maybe we were the mistake"

10th Kingdom AU with Regina as Virginia and Robin as Wolf (but Fox!). Bonus points for bringing Henry and Roland along for the adventure.

Regina covers Robin in tiramisu.

Fantastic 4 AU.

"I'm really angry at you but also really horny so can we press pause on this fight and fuck first?"

Before she leaves for New York, Regina knows that Roland is going to leave so she decides to take him to his father’s grave to say goodbye to both of them.

Robin or Regina almost freeze to death and the other one finds them.

Regina takes Robin Hood on an airplane for the first time.

Regina visits Marian's grave to thank her.

The first time they sleep together after Zelena.

Partners, working on a firm together and lovers/couple off-work.

Robin likes to kiss the exposed parts of skin the EQ reveals (cleavage, back etc)

Robin and Regina's daughter breaking their first curse. Regina doesn't believe her and it tears her down a bit.

“We are trapped in a bank during a robbery, please don’t get yourself killed I’m actually starting to like you” AU.

OQ steal a baby (intentionally, unintentionally, whatever.)

D!OQ/OQ's wedding day.

You’re a sex line operator and I called you because I was curious and wow you have an incredible voice AU.

Regina dealing with menopause (could be brought on early due to magic).

Regina & Robin chaperone Henry's senior prom.

They have the house to themselves but they bet they can keep quiet. They end up losing.

Robin helps Regina see light in the darkness

One of them is caught masturbating.

Regina is overwhelmed and is drowning in her demons. Robin helps her.

OQ at Henry and Cinderella’s wedding.

Canon Robin and Regina talking about Regina and Graham’s past and Robin being jealous.

OQ in Disneyland.

Robin and Henry bond.

I’m a single parent and you’re my son’s coach and holy shit I want to take you out on a date and exercise in an adult way.

Regina planning a full weekend of roughing it in the woods with Robin and the barest of essentials.

Date night.

You seem to have slept with everyone on my block except me, care to explain yourself? (When’s it my turn because I find you very attractive).

Regina gets sun poisoning and Robin has to take care of her.

Barefoot in the rain - all of their “firsts” are in the rain.

Henry worries about his mother and confides in Robin.

Hook thinks something is amiss but accidentally walks in on Regina and Robin having sex he breaks his leg fleeing the scene.

Hades’ dagger splits Robin into 2. His dark and light sides.

Regina and Robin meet speed-dating.

Regina trying to cope with pregnancy hormones.

Regina goes to NYC and sees Robin with Marian(not Zelena) and she's jealous.

Summer camp either as counsellors or as attendees.

Teacher student preferably with Robin as the student

Roland falls ill.

Can't buy me love AU.

Chocolate

“I said i loved you one more time in case it would change your mind"

Two foreign strangers meet under the cherry blossoms in Japan (bonus points if Regina is dressed in a kimono)

Regina finding out she's pregnant and she gets scared of Robin's reaction. But he's very sweet about it and gets super happy.

Jealous Regina and/or Robin.

Roland and/or Henry getting into trouble for fighting and defending Peanut's honor when some kids start badmouthing her.

Regina as a russian spy, Robin the CIA agent who’s trying to capture her.

OQ in a dystopian AU (can be based on Black Mirror episodes).

Regina finds out through her jealousy that she actually likes Robin more than just a friend.

Roland and Regina go shopping.

Regina is a goddess of love. She is responsible to bring people together and help everyone find their true love. However, her fate is to be alone forever. Then she meets Robin and while he’s destined to be with Marian he goes against powers older than life on earth itself in order to be with her.

OQ as IT geeks who work in the same company and they’re so awkward when they flirt with each other.

Peanut's first period & Robin's the only one home.

Bandit!Regina injures Robin, then nurses him back to health

An English man’s heart is stolen by a Flamenco dancer on a visit to Spain.

One of them surprises the other in the shower, it's a really good surprise

Robin finds Regina's sex-toys, and he doesn't know what they are.

Regina attends Dark OQ’s wedding.

Secrets & Lies

Robin tries to put on a sexy costume but Regina laughs at him.

Movie night with the kids.

The queen orders Robin Hood to steal something from Rumple’s castle and gives him a reward.

Regina is the dark one and Robin has the dagger.

Emma ruins everything.

Fireworks

“And for the first time in a long time, I could imagine a future where I was happy"

Regina and Robin see a musical on Broadway together.

Drinking Game with 20 Questions

Robin and Regina have a big fight.

Regina turns home to a very drunk Roland. Turns out Robin thought the ‘Strawberry Woo-Woo’ cans in the refrigerator were a children’s drink. “What kind of alcoholic drink has a picture of _____ on it?!”

Zorro AU

Regina cares for a sick Robin during the missing year.

Regina/Roni has been in a relationship with Facilier when Robin comes back.

Childhood Robin and Regina meeting in the Enchanted Forest.

They almost get caught in any type of sexual situation by any character.

Regina is an artist, Robin is life model who poses nude for each of her life drawing classes.

The Love Punch AU

Season 5 AU: Robin doesn't die and now has two parts of Regina to deal with: Queenie and Regina.

“You can’t just take my child!” “I’m taking what’s rightfully mine.”

Robin gives Regina a ring.

Regina or Robin have physical therapy twice a week but instead of working on the injury they do much more fulfilling exercises.

Regina is an AI Robot owned by a lonely widower Robin.

OQ have sex in a library

Roland climbs up a tree, Regina helps him to get down.

OQ + rimming

Roni and Robin find one another in Hyperion Heights in their cursed identities.  Then one day, the curse is broken and they wake up

Queeny and Locksley bring Robin back for Regina

A visit to the museum.

Roman Holiday AU.

Regina and Robin "just friends" play a drinking game

Robin and Regina skype while he is on an out of town business trip

USA around civil war time. Regina, wife of a confederate slave owner, is on her way further down into the South when the train gets stopped by Yankees (Robin).

Robin tells Regina that she deserves better than her current boyfriend

Robin and Regina get caught getting handsy in public

Regina tells Robin that she saw his girlfriend cheating on him

Regina and Robin attend a ball.

WWI or WWII AU: Regina falls for British solider Robin.

Non-Magical AU - Regina and Robin are on a date when they bump into Regina’s ex: Emma Swan

Regina being selfish in bed.

Roland follows an injured puppy and gets lost, Robin/Regina find them huddled together for warmth.

“You are my future.” “But I’m not sure you’re mine.”

Anastasia AU

“How did my parents meet? Well, my dad was in jail, and called the wrong number accidentally, who happened to be my mom, and he didn’t wanna waste his call so he told her not to hang up. Boom. They’re 24 years married.”

Regina is an assassin hired to kill Robin, but when she realizes he is a good man and has a son, she decides to protect him instead.

A Showmaster falls in love with his new trapeze artist who joined the show with her young son in order to provide a living.

Robin leaves Roland with Regina while out of town and she has to call John when something goes wrong.

Friends with benefits

Regina and Robin get set up on a blind date by their friends but neither of them showed up. Years later they get together and find out about their missed opportunity.

Robin accidentally clones himself whilst playing around with a few things in Regina’s vault. Regina has to try and put things back to normal, though not without having a little fun first.

The Notebook AU

Mulan AU: because her father is too old and weak, she joins the army as her father’s son, trying to save her country from the looming threat of (e.g. ogres)

Castle AU: She’s a detective and he’s a writer.

They meet at a gala, she’s an actress with a wonderful red dress and he’s a musician. They start talking and they fall in love looking at each other’s eyes.

Robin is the royal heir to a fortune but is disillusioned with the customs and pomp of regality so he gets into thievery ... and Cora is out on the look for a new husband for Regina after the first fell through ..... (perhaps bandit Regina and Robin)

Regina makes Robin her famous lasagne.

Roland goes to college.

Roland gets lost in a supermarket and Regina finds him and helps him find his Papa.

Marrying your best-friend eliminates the risk of divorce by 75%

Medical AU.

High School AU - Robin is a new student of one year. Marian schemes to get Robin for herself by dissuading both Regina and Robin who clearly have feelings for each other.

Robin and Regina are not dating. Then Robin accidentally walks in on Regina when she's with a woman.

Regina wearing Robin’s sweater bc she’s cold and that’s all she can find.

Regina being a headmistress and Robin being a billionaire whose son, Roland, goes to the school where Regina is the boss. Usually the nanny drops Roland off at school but one day when Regina is in charge of the arriving children so happens that Robin takes him to school.

Robin and Regina make a pact that if both of them aren’t married by 40 they marry each other. They fall out of contact for a few years but Regina gets a phone call on her 40th birthday from a familiar voice...

A reincarnation AU where one of them is forced to remember the past lives with the other person but the other person doesn’t remember their last life.

Teen OQ's first time in the backseat of a car.

Robin and Regina are both celebrities (doesn't matter in what form)  and they've been secretly dating for a while when they are asked to perform in an episode of Lip Sync Battle and Robin proposes with Bruno Mars' Marry You.

“I only date for the Netflix passwords.”

Robin and Regina bond over their puppies Roland and Henry.

Regina sneaking birth control to her teenage daughter and Robin catching her.

Robin being Regina's personal trainer, because Regina wants to work out before her wedding but we all know that wedding won't happen now that they met.

Upper east side widow: While en route to her husband’s funeral (whom she murdered) Regina gets arrested by Detective Locksley.

In the EF Regina’s hair gets too heavy for liking and she wants to cut it with scissors but Robin has a different idea (cutting it with an axe)

Jealous Regina (when they aren't even together) and she gets all possessive, angry then takes matters into her own hands so they have a get together sex.

Regina takes up archery as a new hobby and Robin is her instructor.

Roland saves a litter of kittens. Regina wants to get rid of them bc she doesn’t want pets. They win her heart over in no time and while outside she acts all indifferent, Robin catches her being all sweet with the kitties when she thinks everyone is sleeping.

Art Prompts

Regina and Robin as Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir. Famous ice dancers in love.

Anything silhouetted

Drawing/painting of all of their kisses

The Vault

Regina & Robin's twentieth wedding anniversary.

Regina's box of mementos from Robin (Can be before or after his death)

Dawn's first light on the sleeping lovers

A midnight swim beneath a waterfall

WW2 manip (Robin using the pics of Sean from Timeless)

Nightswimming

Arguing in public

OQ at the beach

masquerade ball

Royal Wedding

OQ in Game of Thrones

Art a favourite fic

Song Prompts 

(for music videos but can also be used for fic & art)

Faded - Alan Walker

Rewrite the stars - The Greatest Showman

The night we met - Lord Huron

Sorry - Halsey

So cold - Ben Cocks

Every time we touch - Cascada

Sad song - We the Kings

Because of you - Kelly Clarkson

All I ask - Adele

Hello - Adele

Little do you know - Alex & Sierra

In my veins - Andrew Belle

Just a little bit of your heart - Ariana Grande (Alesia Cara cover)

You are the reason - Calum Scott

The scientist - Coldplay

I will survive - Aretha Franklin (Leopold or Daniel as “you”, Regina as “I”, and Robin as “someone who’s lovin’ me”)

Dangerously - Charlie Puth

I need you love - Calvin Harris (Madlyn Bailey cover)

Paradise - George Ezra

Say you won't let go - James Arthur

Naked - James Arthur

The one that got away - Katy Perry

My life would suck without you - Kelly Clarkson

Angel down - Lady Gaga

Secret love song - Little Mix

You always make me smile - Kyle Andrews

Like i'm gonna lose you - Meghan Trainor

Close your eyes - Michael Buble

Dynasty - MIIA

Classic - MKTO

Latch - Sam Smith (Natalie Taylor cover)

Rich love - One Republic

Just give me a reason - P!nk

What about us - P!nk

Better place - Rachel Platten

War of hearts - Ruelle

The heart wants what it wants - Selena Gomez

To be human - Sia

Dusk till dawn - Zayn

Just a dream - Nelly

Don’t Treat Me Bad - Firehouse

Demons - Imagine Dragons

Outlaws - Alessia Cara

Somebody else - The 1975

Hurts like hell - Ruelle

Too good at goodbyes - Sam Smith

Video games by Lana Del Rey

Goodbye kiss - Kasabian

Stay with me - Sam Smith

Tetris - Madlyn Bailey

Tell me you love me - Demi Lovato

Nobody - Selena Gomez

I want crazy - Hunter Hayes

In the name of love - Martin Garriz & Bebe Rexha

Gives you Hell - The All-American Rejects

Hopeless Romantic - Billy Vera & The Beaters

My Valentine - Paul McCartney

Are You Ready - Mike & The Mechanics

Dark Horse - Katy Perry

I Won’t Give Up - Glee version

Perfect - Ed Sheeran

Into You - Ariana Grande

Gorgeous - Taylor Swift

Theme prompts for Videos:

Fanfic Trailers.

Movie trailers.

AU videos.

S7 AU Trailer.

Missing Year

OQ Family