#petition to save frost

[royhasissues]

Spoilers for episode 60 of Once Upon a Witchlight

I appreciate Gricko trying to make something happen between him and Morganthel (?) Mikey's like, "We need another Bloody Toes."

It's canon to me that Gid and Kevin Bacon had history. Kremy was too upset about him still talking to Kevin for any other explanation. Also, that Kevin kept hanging around the Strong Man booth. Now why would he do that...? (I'm gonna write Kevin Bacon/Gid fanfic /j)

I love the little pout Andy does when Torbek is upset. Frost was mean to him and he fucking sulks. I love you Torbek. (Frost giving Torbek one of the gems as an apology for being mean to him 👀)

So, this is the second time Gideon has made Frost cum...?

I love the sense of panic from Frost every time Frost comes down from a fey curse. He was worried he hurt Gideon :( His panic is always quickly passed by, as though his party doesn't seem to notice that he's upset. But, as we know, Frost is incredibly worried that they're going to dump him and hurting Gid would be a good way to do it...

I actually really like the thought that Kremy knows a lot about Frost. Kremy and Frost is a dynamic that isn't often explored and they tend to butt heads a lot. It's a cute thought of Frost and Kremy sitting down and just... talking. Kremy opens up a bit and Frost does too. Maybe they talk about their childhoods. To show that they are friends (at least as much as two emotionally repressed weirdos can be) and not just boss and employee.

Frost blink twice if you need someone to rescue you from this shitty friend group. Oh, I guess you don't have eyes

[ravenverna]

Summary: You have been trying to save the marriage between you and Lizzie, but you have had enough and decided to put an end to it.

Word count: 1447

Note: I just need to get this one out of my system, hehe. Please be good to me; I am just someone who wants to write anything that comes across my mind. Also, English is not my first language. Please bear with meeee!!!

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We have tried to fix everything—return to our old selves and forget everything—but we know it won't happen. We made numerous attempts, but none were successful. We even considered couples therapy and a second honeymoon, but her betrayal is so painful that every time I look at her, I am reminded of the way she kissed her.

"Ms. Y/N, Ms. Olsen is here for you. Do you want me to send her in?" My assistant asked at the intercom connected from her desk to mine.

I looked at the frosted window in front of me, where I saw her silhouette; it's her, the woman I have been avoiding for a couple of months now. I can feel that she's agitated because of how she taps her heels on the carpeted floors.

"You don't understand; we are just practicing for a scene. Please believe me, bubba, I would never hurt you, not even in my wildest dreams."

"Ms. Y/N? Should I let her in?" My assistant's question brought me back to reality.

"Yes," I simply responded before clicking the mute button on the intercom.

I looked at the door in front of me; it opened, and there she was, the woman I loved, cared for, and worshiped, and the woman who hurt me.

"Can we talk Y/N? We need to fix this. You have been avoiding me for 3 months now, and I can't bear it anymore. Please, Y/N, let's talk." She started as soon as my assistant closed the door to leave us both alone.

"I'm busy, Lizzie," I said, looking back at the monitor where a slideshow of our wedding is playing. I hurried to close the player and pretend that I was doing something, hoping that she would leave me be.

"Please, let's fix this," she said, standing in front of the table, looking down at me while I still pretended to be busy.

"Can we talk about it when I get home? We already talked about it, Liz; this is a place of business, and I can't let my personal life interfere with business," I said.

"No! We will talk about it now!" she said at the top of her lungs, which made me look at her, shocked at what just happened. This is the first time in our three-year marriage that she shouted.

"Did I get your attention now?" She said it with a shaking voice. She tossed a folder across the table toward me. I glanced at it and saw my attorney's name at the center of the folder.

"Why, why are you giving up on us?" She looked directly at me, her eyes leaving me breathless with the same intensity that had made me fall in love with her over and over again.

"I am giving you space—space where you can do whatever you want in your life, Liz; date whoever you want; be with someone you want." I spoke softly as I moved the folder closer to her.

"So please, just sign the damn divorce papers." I said, looking at the folder, I can't look at her. I was afraid that when I looked at her, I might go numb and just withdraw the petition for divorce. She is my weakness.

"No, you're going to divorce me because of what happened with Aubrey? This is so unfair, Y/N. That's just one time! It's not as if I've cheated on you; we're just practicing." She expressed her frustration by placing one hand on her forehead.

"How many times should I tell you that?" she whispered, looking at me.

"Please, Liz, just sign the papers," I asked her, looking at the folder in front of me.

"No," she turned around and grabbed the doorknob to leave.

"Academy LA"

"Bardot"

"Station1640"

I began scattering the pictures of Liz and Aubrey that my people had taken at various bars and gatherings. Lizzie slowly turned around and looked at me and the pictures of her and Aubrey on top of the folder. She hurriedly closed the door behind her.

"I wasn't going to tell you this, but you leave me no choice." I said, now looking at her. I have summoned enough courage to look at her. This is the first time I saw her up close; I can see that she hasn't been having a peaceful sleep because of the dark circles under her eyes.

"Divorce is the only solution I can think of to deal with this mess, Liz. You have been going behind my back for the past two years." I said before looking at the photos in front of us "Someone took this photo in Bardot the night before our wedding anniversary last year. It's you and Aubrey sharing a kiss. Now tell me, are you also practicing a scene then?" I asked, trying my best to hold the tears that are building in my eyes.

"Remember the night I was in Paris? I promised to catch the earliest flight and wouldn't mind renting another jet just to get home, to you. I was exhausted that day and had a long week, and all I wanted was to sleep beside you. You're my strength, Liz, and you know that," I said, looking down at the picture and pointing at one of the photos at my desk.

"Academy LA, night of the Emmys, remember this? This is when I called you that night to tell you my plan, you said you wouldn't be home for a week due to the awards and after party. You need to go because you're "branching out your name," remember?" I asked, looking at her.

Liz's face was shocked at the pictures in front of us—shocked that I knew everything she was doing since we got married. I know this is some creepy shit, but can you blame me? I'm her wife.

"Academy LA, both of you arrived together, already tipsy, and started kissing on the dance floor. Is that why you don't want me home? Because you are going to bring your mistress back to our bed and fuck her on the sheet I bought? on the sheet where we sleep?" I pointed to the next photo, where Lizzie's mouth is wide open and Aubrey's head is nestled between her legs.

"Please stop, Y/N, please," Lizzie said, trying to get the photos from the table and starting to rip them out in front of me, crying.

"Those are your copies; I have mine saved in the cloud." I sat back in the swivel chair and gazed at her.

"Please, Liz, sign the papers. Please, I am begging you; sign it," I said, looking at the folder.

"I felt sorry for myself, letting you into my life, letting you see my vulnerabilities, my weakness. I trusted you to protect everything, but all you managed to do was break me apart. You were all I had, and now I feel as though I have no one left." I wiped away the tears from my cheeks as I spoke.

"I promise not to leak any photos of you and Aubrey to the press. I love you so much, and I don't want everyone to know how you cheated on me with your colleague, or even ruin the career you have." I said before opening the folder and signing the papers where my name is indicated. After finishing, I glanced at Liz and handed her my pen, the one she had given me.

Liz looked at me, bawling her eyes out, saying sorry repeatedly. I wanted to rush to her side and hug her. The last thing I want is to see her crying. But I need to be strong; I need to protect myself, now I need to choose myself first before anyone else.

Liz slowly reached for the pen in my hands and signed the papers—the divorce papers that will end our marriage, the marriage I tried to protect, but I can't protect the marriage of two people if one of us is already in love with someone else. Liz is still in love with Aubrey, and I can't deny that; now I'll let them be.

Liz closed the folder and gave me the pen back. "I never thought that the pen I gave you was also the pen we'll use to sign our divorce papers," she said under her breath, wiping the tears from her eyes. "We aren't meant to be, Liz; we just need to accept it. I understand that it will cause pain for both of us, but our love story is not meant to last." I stood up and walked towards her.

"Take care of yourself, okay? Always remember, I will always be your number one fan, Bubba," I said before leaning in to leave one last kiss on her soft lips before I opened the door and left her alone in the room.

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hmmm? Thoughts? hihi

[loveinhawkins]

Up until recent events, Eddie hasn’t really put much thought into flashlights—save for that time he had to take out the batteries in the T.V remote to get his to work, back when the power went wonky last summer.

But now? Oh, as soon as he’s through with this whole nightmare, Eddie’s gonna find out whichever saint invented the damn things and start a petition to get them a federal holiday. That’s gonna be his whole… raisin something, something—he thinks it’s French, Buckley will know.

Fucking wondrous creations.

… Okay, he might still be a little jittery.

So sue him. It’s either run with his increasingly stupid train of thought or have a thoroughly justified panic about—well, there’s just so much to choose from: the ash in the air, the apparently sentient vines on the ground, how it’s so fucking cold and dark—

Jesus H. Christ, calm down.

It’s not all that dark anyway—or at least, it’s not as dark as it could be. Steve’s lighting the way, flashlight in hand. Honestly, Eddie thinks he should get it preserved, like in one of those glass cabinets in museums, complete with a plaque: This bulb somehow survived a journey from the depths of a lake into an alternate dimension, and all for the low, low price of…

Well, Eddie doesn’t know how much it cost. He’ll workshop the whole plaque thing.

In his reverie, he stumbles carelessly, nearly pitching over right into Hive Mind territory.

“Ah, shit,” he whispers.

Steve’s hand must move because the light drifts over—ends up illuminating much more of Eddie’s path than Steve’s.

“Thanks,” Eddie says—glances sideways to find Steve already looking at him.

“Think I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Steve replies.

His hand flexes, as if he’d gone to twirl the flashlight before catching himself; Eddie has a very faint memory of Steve doing the same with pencils in class and fights a private smile.

“You gave me it,” Steve continues. “I would’ve just… gone right in without thinking.”

It’s said self-deprecatingly, but Eddie would argue that Steve’s impulsivity (his courage) is an admirable character trait, even if it sets his heart pounding.

His own problem is that he thinks too damn much, until the window of opportunity has almost been and gone.

He was the only one to hesitate before diving into the lake: he knows all too well how that could’ve made its way onto the increasingly long list of moments that haunt him.

He could’ve been too late, could’ve not found the Gate at all—and then, would only have been able to pathetically swim back to the kids and tell them that their heroes were gone.

The light skips onwards just a little, encourages Eddie to look up from his feet. He blinks a few times to try and adjust to the darkness looming ahead. There, the indistinct outline of trees, and he’s drawn back to a classroom again, to the soporific noise of chalk on a blackboard, to…

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

“The hell is that from?” Eddie wonders, and he doesn’t realise he’s also said the quote aloud until Steve speaks.

“S’a poem. Robert Frost.”

Eddie clicks his fingers. “See, that’s why you actually passed English.”

Steve rocks his hand back and forth, so-so.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Don’t play coy now, Harrington.”

“I’m not, I passed by the skin of my teeth, dude.” Steve looks into the distance as he walks, like he’s being drawn back to some place, too. “I was meant to, um, submit a portfolio thing, and I just… didn’t.”

“Like stories and shit?”

Steve smiles. “Mm-hmm, and shit. Poems, too.”

“So why didn’t you…?”

Steve just shrugs in reply so Eddie changes tack—rolls his eyes expansively, but only at himself.

“Fucking Frost. Ugh, why can I remember that shit now, but when a paper’s in front of me, it’s just…” Eddie mimes an explosion in the back of his head, gone.

“Well,” Steve says, chuckling, “if the, uh, lovely atmosphere of this place jogs your memory, we’ll make some time, get you to write an essay.” He grins at Eddie, teasing and charming in equal measure. “We’re nothing if not productive.”

“Sure, that’s one word for it.”

Joking aside, Eddie finds that the mention of school calms his heart somewhat: to think of the foreboding sights around him as part of a story. Maybe it’s a control thing, like his campaigns. Dress shit up, put a film on top, then you don’t have to look at it directly.

He suggests as such to Steve in a longwinded ramble, and gets a thoughtful look in response.

“Like the Shire? And Mordor?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Yeah, exactly.”

Steve nods slightly. The movement dislodges some particles in his hair—and yes, it helps, Eddie thinks, to believe it’s just freshly fallen snow.

“Yeah, that sorta never really worked for me?” Steve’s voice goes up at the end, almost apologetically, although for the life of him, Eddie can’t work out what he’s apologising for. “Like, when the kids ran with all the D&D stuff, the uh… analogy? Metaphor?”

Eddie gestures at himself with one hand, I failed English.

Steve laughs. “Yeah, whatever. Dustin and Lucas keep hashing that one out. Anyway, it didn’t exactly… help. Help me, I mean. Just made everything more…”

He sighs heavily.

Eddie thinks he understands. All his bullshit is just a veneer, after all: it doesn’t truly mask the fear.

“Hey, maybe you could give it a shot,” Steve adds. The light dances for a second, like he’s just barely resisted twirling the flashlight again.

“What?”

Steve smirks—juvenile, light-hearted, almost like he’s about to challenge Eddie at the school gym, like, bet you can’t make that shot from center court, Munson.

“You could write a poem. Make sense of…” Steve gestures around them.

“Harrington, as I keep reminding you, I failed English.”

“Yeah, so? I’ve heard Henderson go on about your campaigns, dude, s’not like they come from nothing.” Steve looks Eddie up and down in exaggerated scrutiny. “You look like the kinda guy who loves a theme.”

“Oh, really,” Eddie says flatly. He can’t hide his smile even if he tried.

“That’s what I thought, every time you’d come into class late: oh, here he is. The symbolism.”

“Jesus Christ, Harrington, shut up.” Eddie steps into Steve’s space just to shove him away (just to touch). He thinks that if he were to try his hand at poetry, it’d be horrendously self-indulgent—something about how he might not be the one holding a flashlight right now, but he’s certainly carrying a torch.

“I don’t work for free, Steve. You’ve gotta do one, too.”

“A poem for a poem, huh?” Steve says. “Sure. It’s a deal.”

And yeah, they might just be saying anything to pass the time. But Eddie chooses to believe otherwise; there’s still a pensive flicker in Steve’s eyes that makes him think he might just get lucky, that Steve might even dig up some old stuff from his abandoned portfolio.

It’s a nice thought—something to look forward to, at the end of all this.

He considers Steve, and even though he knows it’s not snow, he can’t help but turn the particles into flakes in his mind again, into something prettier, safe—almost as if Steve’s presence has softened the danger.

He wants to stop here, suddenly. Linger. It doesn’t make sense. But it feels like time is…

A gentle nudge—a warm elbow to his side.

“C’mon, daydreamer,” Steve says. “You can write down whatever you’re thinking later.”

Eddie snaps out of it with a breath of a chuckle, follows Steve’s light again. Keeps moving forward—past the ash, and the vines, and the trees.

The woods won’t be forever.

After all, he’s got promises to keep.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: The Siege of Frostmanse

A hero takes up arms against a powerful frost giant mage, threatening to destabilize the realm and forcing the party, their allies, and the powers that be to start choosing sides.

For generations Ylnriig the Argent has provided council and arcane insight to kings, jarls, and champions alike, seeking to maintain some measure of calm across the rugged land and icy seas that neighbour her home. Songs are sung about the great wonders she has performed, but also the great prices she has exacted in the name of keeping the peace: Plagues halted by burying villages in ice, destined dooms averted by the noble sacrifice of innocents.

Songs are also sung about Rothger Redsail, and his Redsail raiders. Brave beyond recounting, this living legend and his viking crew are said to have toppled foreign thrones, drunk mead with stormgods, and even sailed over the edge of the world. Now Rothger is back in his homeland and he has no qualms about what his next voyage is to be: He aims to sail against the giant and topple Ylnriig's head from her shoulders, so that the people might never pay her terrible price ever again.

Setup: This scenario works best if the party has a good impression of both Ylnriig and Rothger early on. Trophies from the Redsail's travels hanging in the tavern, local monuments to where Ylnriig averted some disaster through magical might or cleverness. Have the markets flooded with wonders offloaded from Rothger's latest viking expedition, while the town fountain runs with healing waters after being blessed by the giant's own hand. Neither side of this conflict is strictly in the wrong, and both give much to the world simply by their existence.

Everything changes when Rothger sails back into harbour and starts laying the groundwork for his attack on Ylnriig's home, securing supplies and new recruits for the Redsail Raiders, hobnobbing with the local power players to ensure they support his actions. Initially he'll keep the goal of his next expedition secret, boasting to the masses only that his next mission will deliver them into a time of prosperity and opportunity that neither they or their direct forebears could imagine.

Adventure Hooks

Facing some great challenge, the party might be sent to petition Ylnriig for aid, being forced to make the trip to Frostmanse, her isolated sanctum nestled among the far fjords. The ice giant may seem to give them the cold shoulder, sending them off on some wizardly errand as payment for her involvement, but after some time enjoying her hospitality the party may come to know Ylnriig as the deeply caring scholar that hides beneath her shrewd and utilitarian exterior.

Early on, the party might be tempted to join the Redsail Raiders. Doing so would greatly boost their credibility, and give them backing and direction that they'd normally miss out on as independent sellswords. Doing so will likely require that they prove themselves to the hardened sailors of Rothger's warband , but that's what apprentice level adventurers do isn't it?

Eventually a secret long buried will come to light: More than a score of years ago Rothger and Ylnriig used to be lovers, their relationship as passionate and tempestuous as where volcanic flow meets glacial ice. Rothger was off on one of his grand adventures when plague broke out in his home village, a plague that could only be staunched through drastic magical intervention. Ylnriig ran the numbers, and make an awful but nessisary choice that saved tens of thousands while dooming Rothger's family and clan to a cold and awful death.

Though Rothger's animosity towards Ylnriig is genuine, his actions are being backed by a coalition of powerplayers throughout the region who consider the Wizard's continued meddling an impediment to their ambitions. If he succeeds, they'll be able to enact schemes and settle scores that've stayed idle for generations. If he fails, they'll have a martyr to rally support around, as they make a second attempt to oust the giant.

Artsouce

[illegiblewords]

Complete warlock lineup challenge, explanation and all concept info under the cut. EXTREMELY LONG. In order the pacts are:

Great Old One (Elder Evil) Fathomless (Aboleth) Hexblade (Primordial Fang) Genie (Djinn) + Patron Yugoloth Fiend (Baernaloth) + Patron Undying (Kyuss) Fey (Sea Hag) Fey (Archfey) + Patron Devil Fiend (Erinys) Demon Fiend (Juiblex) Undead (Lich) Celestial (Planetar) + Patron

I've seen some genuinely interesting analyses of warlock/patron dynamics since Baldur's Gate 3, but noticed that discussion tends to assume that all pacts are with lawful evil devils specifically. Decided to give myself a challenge to come up with a variety of relationships (some positive, some negative) between many different pact types.

GREAT OLD ONE (HADAR): Went this route for Baldur’s Gate 3. A priest of Lathander where such faith is a minority has a child with a tiefling woman. The congregation cries corruption and kills his wife, leaving him to flee with his daughter alone. The two travel together as outcasts—her for her infernal heritage, him both for his faith and for fathering a tiefling. Eventually the girl runs away in the hope that her father, at least, can lead a more normal life in her absence. For a time she travels westward. Eventually the girl gets accused of causing unseasonal, crop-destroying frost and is imprisoned. When the guards make clear they plan to do terrible things to her, she prays first to her father’s god. Then to any god. Then to anyone at all. Hadar, a sentient star being devoured by his fellow elder evil Ihbar, answers. This is less a calculated act, more that the girl's fear, isolation, and hopelessness are intimately familiar to Hadar. The tiefilng wants to repay her new patron but comes to realize that no amount of sacrifice can save him. Hadar is too far gone—even if Ihbar vanished, he would succumb to his wounds. So she searches instead for anything that might alleviate his suffering, talking to him regularly in the hope of giving distraction and letting him know he’s not alone. She isn’t sure if Hadar even recognizes her. Whole thing has lot to do with ideas of self-worth and abandonment. Hadar is used to people exploiting his desperation for power and has punished warlocks who promised sustenance only to betray him—but it gets complicated when a warlock is freely offering without much concern for personal ambition. Basically, good-aligned warlock + elder evil friendship, a lot tied to suns/stars, depths of the sea vs depths of space.

FATHOMLESS (ABOLETH): This warlock is the firstborn son of a fisherman in a family where the eldest inherits the traditions and practices of those who came before. His father taught him all he knew from mending nets to mapping heavens, petitioning the gods and reading weather conditions. They had means of catching any number of creatures from the deep, whether through mundane or enchanted means. During a year of particular scarcity, fishermen are forced to cast themselves farther and farther from familiar waters. Desperate and discouraged, the warlock to-be’s father sets out. He makes prayers and offerings before venturing forth with his crew. When the vessel fails to return, his son takes a small boat and collection of potions to learn what became of them. He catches and questions various creatures, who speak of a terrible lord beneath the waves calling men to join him below. Not dead, they insist, but in service. All life flees before them. The fisherman’s son is extremely wary at this and seeks to learn more of this lord and comes to understand the aboleth in fragments—along with its territory. A creature older than gods, a creature with many slaves, a creature whose touch corrupts, a creature who remembers the lives of its ancestors like its own. The fisherman’s son returns home empty handed but with a plan, and alongside the families of the crew manages to buy and slaughter an ox. A single command spell is woven into its flesh by the local enchanter. Surface. The fisherman’s son takes this and journeys deep into the aboleth’s domain, ties the dead ox to a rope, and shoves it overboard with a strength potion to aid him. Then, he waits. The aboleth surfaces at nightfall, and its body dwarfs the boat many times over. The spell was laughable but the ox offered a meal it had never sampled in its long, long life. So they two will have an audience. The fisherman’s son acknowledges the greatness of the aboleth and that he has reason to believe his father and crewmen are enslaved below. The aboleth, identifying these people by thought, confirms. And the fisherman’s son offers himself in pact to be the aboleth’s eyes inland, bringing experience and tribute well beyond the sea if the aboleth will return those it's taken. The aboleth laughs at the idea of exchanging several servants for one, and asks why it is the son values himself so highly. The fisherman’s son tells the aboleth that within the sea, there are none wiser than it. But the world is larger still, and with all those many millenia of memory there is little novelty left in it. Seeking wonders unknown to any other aboleth, broadening its understanding, must surely be worth something against infinity. The aboleth considers and agrees but only if the fisherman’s son finds replacements for every slave surrendered. Which he does. By the time the warlock joins an adventuring party he has already given others to the aboleth, now ostensibly fulfilling the second part of his pact by finding inland novelties. He actually wants to become powerful enough to slay his patron at this point to free everyone. Added complications tie to the transformations and psychic domination of aboleth victims. For this concept, I realized that I had three ocean-themed warlocks and wanted to be very careful to ensure each had a distinct vibe. Great Old One covers deep sea, mystery, and tentacles. Sea Hag is closer to shore and has haunted vibes. I decided to make Fathomless draw from fairy tales, fishing stories, and the idea of a massive sea monster. I swear that any similarity between this seafaring half-orc warlock and another seafaring half-orc warlock is 100% coincidental lol. I knew this guy would be my physically largest and most traditionally masculine warlock, and when I was thinking about race options it struck me that there's a lot of narrative opportunity if his father was human and his mother was an orc—especially given the tradition of passing knowledge from parent to eldest child. I like the idea of a mainly human and orc fishing village.

HEXBLADE (GIFT OF THE WORLD EATER): The sword is made of arcane shadow that never falters, never fades. Its blade is a fang large enough to split the sun and small enough to pierce the veil of sleep. It slipped from the mouth of Dendar the Night Serpent—fated to someday escape her prison and end the Forgotten Realms as we know them. The devourer of nightmares whose coils shatter worlds, a primordial who threads her way through the roots of Yggdrasil. She lost her tooth while feeding where the Fugue Plane meets the Shadowfell, and it took upon characteristics of the last dreamer it touched. Its voice is the voice of the umbral-self—every feeling, thought, and urge the person wants least to acknowledge. That this tooth was fashioned into a blade is according to the will of its owner. The dreamer herself was an acolyte of Ubtao the Maze-Maker, Chult’s deity who once betrayed the primordials to trap Dendar. This dreamer has spent her entire life studying to become a Mazewalker priest. This involved a huge amount of historical study, prayer, ritual memorization, etcetera—all while Ubtao himself remained silent. This was not due to inability but because the impositions of mortals left him weary. Meanwhile, one of the other acolytes was a yuan-ti pureblood who’d found a home in the dreamer’s community. He’d taken up the faith of Ubtao freely, in spite of his own history. The dreamer received Dendar’s fang some time before this yuan-ti received his title as Mazewalker, and the blade incited all of the dreamer’s repressed jealousy. She challenged the newly appointed cleric to a duel with her blade but was stopped by a more established priest. She was then sent away to learn the shape of her own maze properly. Patron isn't actually Dendar here, but the repressed aspects of the warlock herself. I figured if the Shadowfell is intrinsic to Hexblades now, I didn't want to treat the Raven Queen as the only option. I did some research on Aztec traditional clothes--this isn't an accurate depiction by any stretch but I tried to evoke winged serpent imagery since there's relevance for Dendar and tried to bear in mind materials, colors, and patterns somewhat. Ubtao also has a lore aspect about splitting off his own personal shadow (stolen by Shar) so figure there's a narrative opportunity for mirroring there too.

GENIE (DJINN): A djinn is enslaved by a powerful wizard for many centuries. An earth genasi born from dao is the one to break him free, with no demands of his own. The djinn puts on a front of superiority but claims he will need sufficient display of wealth and power if his reputation on the Plane of Air is to be salvaged. The only solution is for him to amass a trove worthy of his return. He would pact with his liberator and grant a sliver of his power in return for aid in such an endeavor. The genasi is extremely skeptical but agrees. It comes out later that the djinn doesn’t actually think anyone missed him, is convinced he’ll be seen as weak and contemptible for being captured, has no doubt his servants have fled or died while his estate is in tatters, and is convinced he will carry the shame of enslavement with him until he dies. He’s terrified to go home, believes that no one looked for or tried to help him, and is essentially still hiding in the prison of his lamp because it’s all he’s known for so long and he's afraid he doesn't know how to be free anymore. By contrast, the genasi’s father abducted and bedded his noble human mother to display power to other dao. She and the resulting child were subsequently banished to mine gems and precious metals—with the son specifically being seen as valuable for his earth manipulation. A dao would never lift a finger to find wealth, but genasi are not dao. The genasi and his mother were eventually freed and returned home via adventurers paid by her family. While both mother and son were welcomed with open arms, the mother’s way of coping was to try and pretend the experience never happened and ignore the child reminding her otherwise. The genasi was left furious and feeling betrayed, left home when he came of age to pursue his own fortune and define himself beyond the shadow of his parents. He actually succeeds through his mining capabilities, but money can't erase the trauma and he starts to get scared of becoming his father. Adventuring is what he takes up instead to emulate his rescuers and say he's helping people. There's still worry because he isn’t sure if he's only protecting others to make himself feel better though. The genasi shares his wealth with the djinn as part of an attempt to prove himself above greed despite claiming disdain for the djinn’s materialism and arrogance. The djinn continues providing power in return across the adventure from his lamp. The djinn and genasi eventually realize they’re both kind of fucked up, and at some point of getting to know each other become friends. Wanted to do earth vs sky themes between the two (a ton of freedom of movement between the pact and genasi abilities), drew from descriptions for both dao and djinn respectively, and tried to go for distinct visuals that can look nice together.

YUGOLOTH FIEND (BAERNALOTH): If you ask them, baernaloths are the hand that moves the cosmos. Eldest of all fiends—they sparked the war between law and chaos. They brought low the angels that would be devils. They gave life to fiends of all alignments. But baernaloths, like all yugoloths, have no qualms with lying either. The baernaloth is a gaunt, infected, disproportionate, humanoid creature. Its head resembles an emaciated horse crowned in horns. Baernaloths feel no emotion and no social connection. If there is meaning to their lives, it comes through the myriad ways they spread destruction across the universe. What was made is unmade by their hands. What lives will die by their decree. There is no hope, mercy, or possibility to be found in a baernaloth. They are practiced in torture, deception, and murder because the associated pain is fundamentally beyond their capacity. Existence is a meaningless, obsolete thing and they are the instruments to dismantle it. They can mask their lack of feeling through performance, but it is just that—a performance. Baernaloths make no preference between consuming fine cuisine and rotten meat, but may feign enjoyment of either to provoke a reaction in someone else. They fundamentally are not equipped for caring or morals, and while their abilities rival that of evil demigods every choice they make (including combat itself) is designed to manipulate others. They come from the Gray Wastes, and are neither lawful nor chaotic in nature. The specific baernaloth pacted with here articulates his sadism as something resembling curiosity. There is something in other creatures that mourns, that clings, that treasures, that fears and struggles. This instinct strives to preserve itself against harm even when giving up would end that harm. There is, however, a point in prolonged torture when the soul surrenders hope entirely as a final attempt to shield itself. It isn’t the same as what the baernaloth knows, but the numbness and indifference bear some resemblance and it’s the closest he can get to connection. The warlock in this case is a woman whose town worshipped Xammux, god of knowledge independent of morality. Any act of cruelty or torment was permissible so long as it offered previously unknown information. Not all experiments conducted there were motivated by sadism. Not all would have been considered immoral by the broader population. Some were. This town is destroyed by paladins of Tyr seduced by Bane. They glory in the death of their targets, believing they extinguish evil for a greater good. They are convinced that profane knowledge is something that can be buried and unlearned. The warlock only survives by hiding, and she is driven to rage by both by the loss of knowledge and the loss of everyone she knew and cared for. She seeks and pacts with the baernaloth in revenge, to punish those responsible. The baernaloth, knowing her to be faithful to Xammux, sees himself as a teacher and has enabled her toward slaying paladins in ways that serve Xammux. Their deaths must always provide an opportunity to learn. The baernaloth sees harming the self, harming others, repeating acts versus new acts, predicted outcomes and unpredicted outcomes, as being largely the same in the end—but he’s inviting the warlock to explore what they offer to her, and what distinctions do or don’t exist in destruction. If there is any such thing as moral high ground at all. The warlock here is determining her own identity in the shadow of god and fiend together, and she can either forge herself in their images or she can set herself apart by rejecting them. She is very evil-inclined, but in a do-evil-unto-evil way. With the right party she could be sparked toward embracing or rejecting her worst impulses, but this probably ends at best in bittersweetness and at worst in horror and tragedy. I wanted this warlock to have Blair Witch vibes, and given baernaloth designs I decided a similarly muted palette made sense for her. Superficially prim but with hints of violence under the surface, very dead feeling.

UNDYING (KYUSS): Kyuss was once a mortal necromancer of great renown, whose deeds came wreathed in prophecy. He gathered for himself a cult to defy death itself. Kyuss innovated spells casting their subjects beyond the limits of mortality—consciousness divided amid countless worms animating flesh. So great did his power grow that he took a path toward godhood (or something greater, something worse) and sacrificed his entire following at that altar. Transformed by the ritual, Kyuss's role now is the Worm That Walks. Those innumerable tiny lives composing his own are enough to blot out the stars. He is beyond anything that can be destroyed. The warlock who pacts with him is a goblin who found herself the sole survivor of her clan against a troop of adventurers. Without the others at her back she is left cripplingly aware of the fragility of her own life, and the limits of her own abilities. She’s always been a runt but even the booyaghs and warriors towering over her were nothing in the end themselves. So the goblin pretends gratitude toward the adventurers, and they let her tag along (not like an equal but a pet to be condescended to) until the day she learns of and makes contact with Kyuss. Like Kyuss himself, the goblin slays those around her for the promise of immortality. But in the aftermath she finds herself alone with her patron, with more blood needed to build her strength. She doesn’t kill the next adventurers she meets but offers her allegiance genuinely as a warlock, demanding to be treated as an equal. When they try to get to know her, the goblin has to reflect on her own fear and mistrust toward others along with whether she’s willing to risk guaranteed safety to connect with anyone. Probably there’s some examination of loneliness and fear between her and Kyuss. I think the warlock realizes over time that Kyuss’s existence is pretty miserable, and it might be better not to follow in his footsteps. First, worth mentioning that everything I found about undying warlock pact versus undead warlock pact 1) said undying is mechanically terrible 2) struggled to differentiate the two tonally. What I gathered after WAY too much investigating was that undying = 'I will become unkillable' while undead is about occupying the space between life and death specifically. And guys, holy shit was it hard to pick a patron for undying that wasn't a lich/vampire/mummy that had specific ties to regeneration or being indestructible. Also still spooky. I wanted a smallfolk warlock, and decided going with a goblin who struggles with feeling like vulnerable canon fodder would give a lot of opportunities for growth. I think the idea of her exploring the worth of life as a whole (in all its fragility) while also gaining power has a lot of cool possibilities. I forbade myself from going green again here because it would be excessive. Kept the scheme more natural and utilitarian otherwise. You know this goblin is a protagonist because she got that white anime hair. How many goblins with white anime hair have you seen? Not enough.

FEY (SEA HAG): The sea hag looks like a drowned and bloated corpse. Seaweed-like hair and patches of peeling scales. Rows of teeth like a hagfish because the jokes write themselves. Her proportions are wrong—there are too many bones in some places and not enough in others. Her eyes are dark and flat like a shark’s. It's worth knowing that sea hags in particular not only loathe beautiful things—they seek to deface them at any opportunity. The warlock in this story is a half-elf who was once very handsome, wed to a woman falling to disease. He made a deal with the hag to save his bride, but in exchange the hag had liberty to disfigure him to her satisfaction. And she did. The wife he did this for could no longer bear to look at him, but wouldn't admit this lest she be a horrible person. When another man approached she became enamored and began an affair. The wife simultaneously grew colder and crueler to her own husband. Other people in town clearly knew, but didn't tell him to spare their own discomfort. So the hag finds her victim isolated and desperately miserable, pretends at pity, then gives him an ornate shell. If he crushes this, she’ll initiate a pact with him and he will have the most wondrous power at his disposal until the end of his natural life. Compensation for the mess. The man is repulsed and tells her off, but keeps the shell. He later finds his wife in their shared bed with her new lover, and in the ensuing confrontation she turns all of her guilt, frustration, and sense of being held back into rage—lashing out at her husband. He breaks the shell. His fury and anguish combine with an influx of magic from the pact, and he levels the town. The warlock discovers shortly after that he can’t actually kill himself either, since the pact lasts until the end of his natural life. Unnatural causes can no longer kill him. He has to live with himself. But… he does still have that pact after all. For arc bits, the guy might be able to say that he didn’t have control over his magic—but he did want everyone dead in that instant. Not just his wife or her lover but every person who shunned him, everybody who knew and bit their tongue, every person who went on to treat him like something dirty. I originally didn't plan to make three ocean warlocks here, but I kept seeing people comment on how sea hags are supposed to be the ugliest hags only for the descriptions to be standard. I felt a moral responsibility to conceptualize the ugliest and most horrific looking hag I could. Drowned corpses are upsetting and seemed like a no-brainer for some of that. I kept hag-green in the warlock's color palette but tried to tie to driftwood and seaweed to differentiate from Great Old One and Fathomless. There is a face design under the bandages but I think keeping him covered gives more room to imagine the extent of disfigurement. I wanted this guy to feel like he's been physically and mentally destroyed just by looking at him. He has stopped trying to take care of himself in any capacity.

FEY (VERENESTRA): The warlock is a farm woman whose husband died due to the machinations of a hag. She's heartbroken and enraged, but doesn’t believe herself strong or clever enough alone to take revenge properly. She knows enough of hags and fey to decide it would be better to find herself an ally that understands the target. She seeks archfey Verenestra the vain and beautiful. Verenestra has abandoned countless lovers over her life without a thought to be spared. Being met with the rage of a supplicant seeking aid is new. Verenestra asks the woman if her husband had been very beautiful. This is met with a snort and the claim that her husband was plain as plain could be. Knobby elbows, bony face, crooked teeth. But he was beautiful to her. Verenestra mentions how she’s been serenaded and worshiped by her own lovers—sometimes very sweetly. She asks if it was the same. The farm woman replies that her husband had no knack for such things, but he’d rub her feet after a hard day and made her laugh herself sick more than once. There was no one kinder or gentler than him. Verenestra asks why go through such trouble for a man already dead when she could simply find another? Hags are a terrible bother, and her husband is lost already. The woman says that it shouldn’t have happened to him, or to her. She won’t see it happen to anyone else. Verenestra doesn’t quite get it but is intrigued and agrees because she thinks there’s an interesting tale in the mundanity of it all. She and the woman pact, becoming companions on the journey ahead. No romance for either of them. The farm woman processes her grief, but also there’s room for both her and Verenestra to wonder at each other’s lives and develop empathy/connection for each other. Friendship development between the two, some examination of beauty and relationships to other people, the concept of irreplaceable things. For fun, knowing that Verenestra is 4’6’’ and barely wears clothes—warlock should be fairly tall and broad while dressing with remarkable practicality. Both the farm woman and Verenestra should undergo character development for the better, and both have their share of faults and virtues. Both are wise when it comes to different things. Possibly touch on the Prince of Frost (Verenestra’s brother who fell into rage and cruelty that persists because a woman he wanted loves someone else), with how they both understand that behavior. I tried to keep largely in-line with Verenestra's descriptions while giving her a distinct look, and tried to keep both characters tied to different aspects of nature. The warlock is more practical and has harvest colors/light hair versus Verenestra having otherworldly 'immune to staining' fey garments and dark hair. Autumn versus spring vibes.

DEVIL FIEND (ERINYS): This is another one of my Baldur’s Gate 3 characters, and likewise a tiefling. From childhood the warlock had it enforced by those around her that being of fiendish blood, she was an inherently wicked person. Her parents tried their best to teach her otherwise but people were just as awful to them. They couldn’t run a shop, join a faith, participate in local events. And if an unrelated terrible thing happened, there was a non-zero chance they’d be scapegoats. When her father was beaten and the family business vandalized beyond repair, the warlock decided to embrace what everyone accused her of being and pacted with a devil. She slew the people targeting her parents, but they were absolutely horrified by her pact and by her actions. The culprits hadn’t committed murder after all. And hearing from her that she’d done it for them—the warlock’s parents were horrified and distraught. So she left. She uses her pact in service to herself now and argues that it’s ridiculous, thankless business to stick your neck out for others. Her patron prefers to enable her selfishness, her anger, her sense of injustice, and her belief that no one else is on her side. The devil doesn’t seek to inspire fear because it would be counterproductive in the warlock’s fall and corruption. “No one is with you except for me.” This warlock I think will examine her relationship with selfishness versus selflessness, helplessness versus power, who she is or isn’t willing to make herself through choices, and the worth of mortal lives. I want her to have fire motifs and to lean into more traditionally infernal aesthetics without them being the only thing to her. She's the most traditional pact on the surface but things get psychologically complicated when you look closer. I also wanted this character to be visually very distinct from Great Old One as a tiefling lady warlock.

DEMON FIEND (JUIBLEX): This warlock is a common-born male drow from the slums of Menzoberranzan. He was intended simply to be eldest but became the disappointing only child when his mother experienced complications during childbirth. The family traded in mushrooms through a combination of foraging and cultivation—covering food, medicines, and poisons. It was practical that, while worship was exclusive to Lolth, there was respect for Zuggtmoy and Juiblex given their influence in the Underdark. When disease swept the Braeryn, Menzoberranzan watched on indifferent at the culling of undesirables. Attempts to heal were in vain and the body count became so obscene that the warlock was forced to flee home for survival. During a nervous breakdown trying to survive alone outside the city, he pacts with Juiblex for his ties to pestilence—the strongest force he knows. Sacrilegious for a Lolth worshipper, but he feels himself so far beneath her notice it makes no difference. And Juiblex, infection from the wound of the Elemental Chaos, accepts. This warlock is a walking agent of plague and oozes. He's already convinced that he will die, and die horribly. He hasn’t had hope for a better life before and can’t quite wrap his head around what that would even look like. He could be encouraged to break his pact and try to build a future with the right party. In terms of design I wanted this guy to feel striking but not luxury since he's a bit of a mess. Walking biohazard vibes, glasses partly because sunlight sensitivity and partly to evoke plague doctors. Juiblex is basically a shifting pile of hot sentient tar with red eyes, and red eyes are common in Lolth-sworn drow so I played into both.

UNDEAD (LICH): The lich patron was a powerful Imaskari wizard in life, but that was long ago. As a young man he learned terror of death in witnessing the fall of his empire. This meant the loss of not only his family but his community, its buildings, its technology, its culture. Faced with such overwhelming impermanence he spent the rest of his life building power in secret with the goal of escaping mortality. Achieving undeath, the lich then focused on making himself as obscure as he could—consuming only what souls were necessary to sustain himself and blotting his very name from history to avoid enemies. He catalogued and maintained as much as he could of Imaskar in his lair only to be forced to flee by a group of adventurers. (Theft doesn’t count if the owner is undead, apparently.) Left without material properties to ground him, the lich is terrified to find he’s not only forgetting details—he doesn’t remember what it felt like to be alive much at all. He no longer knows who he is. He’s been in seclusion for ages trying to hold onto something lost. There’s nowhere he belongs and no one he belongs with. The warlock in this case is a quiet scholar who craves power, knowledge, and renown after a lifetime of going without. The scholar comes from a large family where he was expected to keep his head down and his mouth shut—only being known in relation to those around him. He’s approached by the lich with an offer of magic, information, and wealth in exchange for aid. The lich wants his stolen artifacts recovered and his identity restored. The warlock is building a reputation for himself that’s divorced from his own life and history—he wants to leave a mark on the world that will never be forgotten. For good or ill. The lich sinks deeper into grief over the course of his story and needs to finally come to terms with the ephemeral nature of all things along with his own death. The warlock changes for worse over his own story and becomes either a token evil party member or someone who actively needs to be stopped in contrast with the lich patron becoming more human and sympathetic. Cool possibilities if the party encounters Deep Imaskar and none of it feels like home to the lich anymore either. I designed the warlock with a lot of red-violets partly because one of the descriptions I found of Imaskar referenced purple stone being common to the architecture and it seemed like a fun reference, partly because I wanted him to feel a little ostentatious, partly because I had to do a segue between the color scheme from demon pact into celestial pact.

CELESTIAL (PLANETAR): An aasimar is captured by demons and falls upon being forced to kill not only other aasimar, but devils to survive. This act answers the corruption of Zariel by infernal forces. The aasimar had previously been guided by his celestial mother, but she ceased contact at his corruption. At the direction of Ilmater, a planetar is sent instead to help this aasimar escape with the suggestion of forming a pact. The planetar pacts as directed (reluctantly) and gets the aasimar to safety, but the aasimar was in no state to continue fighting for the cause of good for a while. After being spurned from most places due to fallen status, he finds shelter at a temple of Ilmater while trying to come to terms with trauma, survivor’s guilt, and abandonment issues. Repressed anger on his own behalf is too deeply buried to touch yet. The planetar observes all of this. One day an influx of refugees pours in as the result of nearby demonic incursion, and the aasimar decides to attempt to aid the mortals there through his pact despite being terrified. He at least knows what that kind of conflict entails, but isn’t sure whether joining is for himself or others. The planetar decides it’s a good act either way and lends aid freely. The aasimar becomes an adventurer following the battle but it’s unclear whether this is maladaptive coping (if he’s in the middle of combat he’s not thinking about ‘what if’s) or actual healing. The planetar needs to learn more about empathy, moral complication, and the value of life itself outside being an instrument of judgment. The aasimar needs to come to terms with self-worth, finding a sense of belonging in the world outside being an instrument of war, and rediscovering any kind of safety. The aasimar also needs to come to terms with the idea that his mother’s love was contingent upon his purity, and she may not be able to love him the way he wishes she would. I've been fucking around with aasimar and celestial variants similar to tiefling variants because I think there's untapped opportunity for them to look a bit alien in their own ways, particularly with distinct facial structures. I actually had this aasimar design mostly ready before doing the project and wanted to give him a color scheme tied to dusk. Ilmater seems like the most consistently good deity of good aligned deities and with his mercy motifs also has ties to twilight clerics. I struggled SO MUCH picking the celestial patron because during my research there was a lot of 'this group won't associate with mortals', 'this one won't associate with anyone who isn't morally pure', 'this one is a straight up animal'--and I wanted to go with at least some classical angel vibes. I also wanted to do something with the premise 'this warlock did some terrible things but is trying to get better, the patron is good aligned but fixates on purity' as conflict to avoid celestials being the 'easy' pact if that makes sense. My understanding is that most planetars are bald and green but I rejected that since planetars tied to particular gods vary sometimes and I wanted a silvery-brown bird angel. Brown in both warlock and patron was because I wanted to ground in nature at least a little. Dusk visuals I wanted to feel like the last moments of sunset while the planetar feels a little like a rising moon.

Not included:

- A warlock using mainly the color yellow. - A warlock that is even more red. - Great Old One pact with Karsus, which is a stupidly cool option imo but one I have ideas about for other stories. - The lich patron design. Guy seems like a buddy but I got tired. - Making up pacts for the horrendously neutral planes, as in Mechanus and Limbo. For real it bothers the hell out of me that these aren't just as hardcore as positive and negative planes.

As a whole, I just really wanted to explore a range of positive and negative relationships across many different pact types. I'm not of the mind that the relationships between clerics and gods are inherently healthy while warlocks and patrons are inherently unhealthy. Versatility in terms of what relationships look like across pacts was something I wanted to cover too. I didn't want it to be a situation where you could look at any given pact and just assume what the relationship is. Ex. Fey you might have an adventure between friends but you also might get a hag shaped disaster. If you got here lmao thank you for checking this out, hope this was fun to read for you like it was fun to make for me. Do you have any ideas for pacts you would like to see?

[callme-adam-iguess]

Welcome home incorrect quotes! WARNING: A L O T

Barnaby: I bet you can’t make a sentence without the letter “A”!

Wally: You thought you just did something there, didn’t you? Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but numerous sentences could be constructed without employing the first letter of the English lexicon.

Howdy: Fuck you.

∆

Howdy: Eddie learned how to fold origami penguins from Barnaby the other day. I told them, “I feel a little bad for the penguins, it’s hot here”, and the next day they put them in the fridge.

∆

Barnaby: I’m not a doctor I’m a medic.

Eddie: What’s the difference then?

Barnaby: Well doctors actually save lives, medics just make you feel more comfortable as you die.

Howdy: Note to self; never get shot.

∆

Barnaby: What are you two arguing about this time?

Frank: They’re always using common phrases incorrectly!

Howdy: Cry me a table, Frank.

Or, alternatively:

Y/N: What are you two arguing about this time?

Barnaby: They’re always using common phrases incorrectly!

Wally: Cry me a table, Barnaby.

∆

Frank: I have a bad feeling about this...

Wally: What do you mean?

Frank: Don't you ever get that little voice in your head that tells you if you're going to get into trouble?

Wally: No?

Barnaby: That actually explains so much.

∆

Eddie: Where’s Frank?

Howdy: Around.

Eddie: Around?

Eddie: You don’t have any idea, do you?

Frank, dropping down from above: Did you know there’s a space above the ceiling?

∆

Howdy: *finds a note* Hmm, whats this?

Y/N: Hey, that's mine! *tries to grab it*

Howdy: Aww, it's a love note for Wally?

Y/N: No-

Howdy: *opens it*

Howdy:

Y/N:

Howdy: I can't read this.

∆

Wally: When I was a kid, Howdy told me that the paper strip that’s in the chocolate kisses were edible and I ate them with the chocolate for a year.

Frank: They are!

Wally: FOR REAL?

Frank: No! Why did you fall for it again?

∆

Barnaby: What time is it?

Wally: I don’t know, pass me that saxaphone and we’ll find out

Wally: *BLASTS the saxaphone*

Eddie: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXAPHONE AT TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING

Wally: It’s 2 am

∆

Y/N: The clock is ticking! We don't have time for this asinine tomfoolery!

Howdy: This unmitigated poppycock?

Frank: Extravagant hogwash!

Y/N: Okay, stop.

∆

Y/N: My father's name is just mine as well, so I'm technically Y/N Jr.

Howdy: But who comes up when you look up Y/N on Google?

Wally: That's what I thought!

Howdy: One Y/N to rule them all!

∆

Barnaby: Adults are the most insanely stupid people I have the displeasure of interacting with.

Howdy, referring to themself and Wally: Even us?

Barnaby: Especially you guys.

Wally:

Howdy:

Wally: Petition to kick Barnaby out so they stop insulting us.

Howdy: Seconded.

∆

Wally, whispering to Y/N, who's on the phone with Frank: Ask them something!

Y/N: How are you feeling?

Frank: Fine.

Wally: Something personal!

Y/N: At what age did you first get your period?

∆

Wally: *speaking Spanish*

Barnaby: I know, I know.

Y/N: You speak Spanish?

Barnaby: No. I just know the phrase, 'this is all your fault' in every language Wally speaks.

∆

Y/N: Can we go to a haunted house?

Frank: What’s wrong with the one we live in?

Y/N: Wh-what?

Frank: Goodnight, Y/N.

∆

Barnaby: Advice of the day kids, if you ever meet someone who calls Gatorade flavors the actual name of the flavor instead of just the color then they are a certified nerd.

Howdy: Yeah but you have to specify, frost glacier or cool blue? You can’t just say blue because there’s more than one blue.

Barnaby: Blue and light blue, nice try nerd.

∆

Eddie: That’s the longest worm I’ve ever seen.

Howdy: That’s a snake.

∆

Eddie: Why are you doing this?

Y/N: Same reason I do everything, Eddie. To get somebody to like me.

∆

Wally: I am a responsible adult!

Barnaby: *raises brow*

Wally: I am an adult.

∆

Howdy: *sharpens knife* We've got ways of making people talk.

Howdy: *cuts piece of cake*

Barnaby: ...Can I have some?

Howdy: Cake is for talkers.

∆

Eddie: Alright, so the vampire's gravestone is—

Frank: Cenotaph.

Eddie: What?

Eddie: It's only a gravestone if it marks the location of a body. A monument honouring someone whose body isn't present is a cenotaph.

Eddie: I'm... not sure that's how it works if the body gets up and walks away on its own.

Frank: There's a precedent for gravestones being reclassified as cenotaphs if the body is later removed and reinterred elsewhere. There's no rule that says the body itself can't do the removing.

Eddie: Okay, but the body is very much coming back. That's kind of what we're here to accomplish.

Frank: So it's a temporary cenotaph.

Eddie: And naturally our greatest concern here is avoiding semantic ambiguity.

Frank: Semantic ambiguity is how vampires get you.

∆

Y/N: Honestly, I am so evil. So full of darkness. I feed of the souls of the living I strike fear into-

Barnaby: You sleep with a teddybear.

Y/N: He’s my sECOND IN COMMAND IN MY ARMY OF DARKNESS!

∆

Eddie: If you got arrested what would be the charges?

Y/N: Theft.

Frank: Disturbing the peace.

Howdy: Aggravated assault.

Barnaby: Arson.

Wally: All of the above. In that order, probably.

∆

Y/N: From now on we will be using code names.

Y/N: You can address me as Eagle One.

Y/N: Frank is “been there done that”.

Y/N: Eddie is “currently doing that”.

Y/N: Barnaby is “it happened once in a dream”.

Y/N: Wally is “if I had to pick a dude/gal/enby”.

Y/N: And Howdy is..

Y/N: Eagle Two

Howdy: Oh thank god.

∆

Eddie: Christmas lights?

Howdy: Check.

Wally: Thermos of hot cocoa?

Howdy: Check.

Y/N: Santa suits?

Howdy: Check.

Frank: Shovel?

Howdy: Check.

Barnaby: Alibi and bail money?

Howdy: Check- wait, WHAT?!

∆

Howdy: What's worse than a heartbreak?

Y/N: Waking up in the morning and your phone wasn't charging.

Barnaby: Waking up in the morning.

Eddie: Waking up. (I'm concerned -Adam)

Wally: Waking up in the morning...

Wally: And seeing Frank.

Frank: Hey! Rude!!

∆

Frank: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life.

Barnaby: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back...

Eddie: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this.

Y/N: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years.

Howdy: I knew I lost that potential somewhere.

Wally: Mental stability, my old friend!

Frank: Jesus, could you guys lighten up a little?

∆

*The gang responding to being stabbed by a sword*

Frank: Rude.

Eddie: That's fair.

Barnaby: Not again.

Y/N: Are you gonna want this back or can I keep it?

∆

Frank: Y/N spat in Barnaby's ear today when they were sitting on the couch together.

Wally: ...What?! Why?!

Frank, shrugging: You tell me.

∆

Wally: Die.

Barnaby: Please don't die!

Wally: DIE!

Barnaby: PLEASE DON'T DIE!

Y/N, confused: Why are they yelling at a plant?

Frank, watching while eating popcorn: They bought it together and Barnaby wants Wally to accept it as their kid.

∆

Y/N: I give up. I am so tired.

Eddie: Get the emergency supply!

Frank: *carries Howdy and places them in front of Y/N*

Howdy: *smiles*

Y/N: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO

[adorablelights370]

Top Modern Chandelier Trends for 2025

The Evolution of Modern Chandelier Lighting

Modern chandeliers will update their traditional appearance in 2025 to blend sleek style with useful features and ecologically-friendly materials. Your search for a new chandelier will succeed as modern lighting trends show you which designs fit both art and practical needs.

Bold and Artistic Designs

People currently prefer chandelier designs that showcase artistic expressions boldly in modern lighting scenarios. Chandeliers now function as more than light sources because they have developed into stunning artistic installations. Design studios test new chandeliers by crafting asymmetrical forms and toughened glass with geometric designs to match your unique style. Designers will produce chandeliers that stand as modern sculptures which gracefully combine past and present aesthetics.

Brass and Glass Combinations

The use of brass with glass remains the prevalent lighting design approach in 2025. The Brass Glass Globe Pendant Light design shows timelessly elegant trends combined with modern sleekness. Brass accent colors look wonderful with glass parts because they produce an elegant high-end style. Salt and Pepper chandeliers enhance contemporary and transitional interiors by creating a stylish atmosphere in both dining spaces and living areas plus bedrooms.

Semi Flush Mount Lighting: A Versatile Choice

People who want chandelier style lighting but not the grand scale should choose Semi Flush Mount Lighting. The specific designs work perfectly in rooms with petite ceilings by providing the best combination of desirable looks and practical setups. During this year designers craft semi-flush mount chandeliers with minimalist style using frosted glass matte black frames and gold details. Chandeliers with fixed ceilings work well in entrances, corridors and small rooms where big light fixtures would feel out of place.

Smart and Energy-Efficient Chandeliers

Advanced technology brings smarter and greener chandeliers to the market. LED lighting has become basic in chandeliers because it provides long-lasting products that use less power. People today can change their chandelier brightness and color temperatures using cell phone apps or spoken instructions because many new fixtures have smart control features. This upgrade lets users control light settings to match any situation they want.

Sustainable and Eco-Friendly Designs

Chandeliers designed today emphasize sustainability as a main theme. People who value environmental protection choose chandeliers constructed of recycled materials, sustainable wood, and LED light bulbs that save energy. Lighting manufacturers now create unique decorative lamps from old metal and glass materials to deliver beautiful lighting solutions that save our planet.

Conclusion

Light fixtures for the year 2025 will connect beauty with practical use and eco-friendly design. Brass Glass Globe Pendant Lights and Semi Flush Mount Lighting styles bring aesthetic options to match different home designs and individual needs. Different lighting styles this year give you both impressive artistic choices and useful functional setups that keep your space both beautiful and well-lit.Our business Adorable Lights provides a selection of chandeliers that follow present-day design patterns. Find our chandelier collection now to add modern glamour to any room.

[downtoearthmarkets]

As frigid temperatures abound, it seems that Punxsutawney Phil was accurate when he predicted six more weeks of cold weather after seeing his shadow earlier this month. However, there is still reason to take heart as February is the last full month of winter and our clocks spring forward in only a couple of weeks’ time. While we eagerly await the return of warmth and sunshine, let’s not forget to relish the all-star lineup of late winter produce that’s reaching peak season in the farmers market right now. 

What a Sweetheart February is the month of love and heart health awareness, so what better winter vegetable is there to enjoy than aptly named sweetheart cabbage? Also known as Hispi, sugarloaf, pointed or conehead cabbage, sweetheart cabbage hails from the fertile plains of Germany’s Filder region where it’s been cultivated since ancient times. If you’re not a fan of stronger-tasting cabbage, this petite, heart-shaped brassica is sure to melt your heart and your taste buds with its delicate, remarkably sweet, subtle flavor.

Ever since The New York Times declared cabbage to be cool again, sweetheart cabbage and its cruciferous siblings have been having a moment while popping up on the menus of renowned fine-dining restaurants everywhere. Because its tender green leaves are softer, less dense and cook faster than those of ordinary white cabbage, sweetheart cabbage is more easily digestible and extremely versatile for use in many dishes.

Charring sweetheart cabbage is a delicious way to coax out its natural sweetness and create an umami-laden, caramelized exterior. Pick up one of these cruciferous cuties from the farmers market this weekend and enjoy making this quick, easy and heart-healthy recipe. If you can’t find sweetheart cabbage, a medium-sized head of white cabbage will work well too.

Just Beet It Beets do best in cool weather and can tolerate light frost so many varieties can be grown inside cold frames and unheated greenhouses during late winter. With their brilliant red, purple and golden jewel tones, beets are chockfull of pigments called betalains that have antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties and may help protect against cancer and cardiovascular disease.

Thanks to their superfood status, beets have been steadily gaining in popularity over recent years to become winter produce darlings of the farmers market. While roasted beets are perhaps the most common and popular preparation in this country, these English-style marinated beets, that I grew up on and still delight in to this day, offer a simple way to quickly transform an underrated veggie into a bright, tangy and peppy dish:

Ingredients

1 bunch (4 or 5) farmers market red beets

1/4 cup balsamic vinegar

1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon sugar (optional)

1/2 teaspoon dry mustard

Salt and pepper

Instructions

Remove greens from beets and save for future use, if in good condition (they can be cooked like Swiss chard). Scrub beets free of any dirt.

Place beets in saucepan and cover with water by about an inch. Bring beets to a boil on high heat then lower heat and maintain a simmer for 35 to 45 minutes, until they are easily pierced with a fork.

Drain beets and rinse with cold water. Use your fingers to slip the peels off beets. The peels should come off easily. Quarter or slice the beets.

Make vinaigrette by whisking together balsamic vinegar, sugar, olive oil, and dry mustard with a fork. Adjust to taste. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Combine beets and vinaigrette in a bowl and marinate in the refrigerator for 30 minutes.

Enjoy on the spot and cover and store any leftovers in fridge.

Eat your Greens! A staple in Southern cuisine, collard greens taste best in winter due to a phenomenon known as cold sweetening. When exposed to cold temperatures, the collard plant naturally converts its starches into sugars to act as a protective antifreeze that lowers its freezing point. This survival mechanism allows collard greens to withstand frigid temperatures and makes them taste sweeter and less bitter after a frost.

Like other leafy greens, collards are a fantastic source of calcium, folate, fiber, magnesium, potassium, and vitamins A, B2, B6, C and K. While many people consider kale to be king when it comes to leafy green nutrition, collard greens actually contain 18% more calcium than kale, making them a delicious way to promote bone health during the winter.

Enjoy this classic southern recipe for collard greens using ingredients from the farmers market:

Ingredients for 8 servings

1 pound washed and chopped farmers market collard greens

4 bacon slices, chopped

1 tablespoon salt

1 tablespoon garlic powder

1 tablespoon onion powder

1 tablespoon white sugar

1 pinch cayenne pepper

5 cups water, or more as needed

Directions Combine collard greens, bacon, salt, garlic powder, onion powder, sugar, and cayenne pepper in a stockpot. Pour in enough water to cover greens completely. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low, and cook at a simmer until greens are very tender, about 2 hours. 

February is often overlooked as a great month for enjoying a full all-star lineup of locally grown winter produce from the farmers market. Unlike most grocery store produce, the arrays of colorful, crisp vegetables at our farmstalls are sold much closer to the time they were picked and have traveled minimal distances which helps preserve freshness, flavor and nutrient-value.

[mintdecor]

Space-Saving Marvels: Top 2-Door Wardrobe Ideas for Master Bedrooms

Creating a master bedroom that is both functional and stylish requires paying attention to the details, especially when it comes to wardrobe design. A 2-door wardrobe may seem compact, but with the right design, it can provide ample storage and elevate the aesthetic of your bedroom. Bedroom interior design Kerala is renowned for combining elegance with practicality, making it the perfect inspiration for wardrobe designs.

Here are five stylish 2-door wardrobe ideas curated by the best interior designers in Kerala to help you make the most of your space.

Minimalist Mirrored Wardrobe

A minimalist mirrored wardrobe is ideal for the more petite master bedrooms. Not only does it make the room aesthetically pleasing but creates an illusion of more space. This design has been a favourite among top interior designers in Kerala as it can easily be adapted to various bed themes. Finish it with soft lighting.

Classic Wooden Wardrobe

Nothing can beat the timelessness of a classic wooden wardrobe. Made from high-quality wood, these 2-door wardrobes exude warmth and sophistication. Bedroom interior designers in Kerala often recommend wooden wardrobes for their durability and compatibility with Kerala’s traditional and modern homes. Opt for sleek handles or carved patterns to add a personalised touch.

Sliding Door Wardrobe

Sliding door wardrobes are ideal for saving space without losing style. They provide smooth functionality and a modern look. Sliding doors can be customised using frosted glass, laminates, or even fabric to complement your bedroom interior as suggested by the best interior designers Kerala has to offer.

Wardrobe with Open Shelving

Adding open shelving to your 2-door wardrobe will allow you to display decorative items or keep essential items within easy reach. Bedroom interior designers in Kerala combine closed storage with open shelves for a balanced design that is both practical and visually appealing.

Compact Wardrobe with Built-In Lighting

Add a touch of luxury to your master bedroom with built-in LED lighting. This feature will add an element of comfort and visibility to the wardrobe. According to interior experts from the best interior designer company in Kerala, built-in lighting can be paired with neutral finishes for the wardrobe to create a sleek and modern look.

[myflowertree12]

Bento Cake Online: A Delightful Trend in Personalized Desserts

Bento cakes have taken the dessert world by storm with their charm, compact size, and versatility. Originally inspired by the Japanese bento lunch concept, these mini cakes are perfect for small celebrations or as a thoughtful gift. The rise of bento cake online options has made it easier than ever to access these adorable treats from the comfort of your home.

What Are Bento Cakes?

Bento cakes are small, single-serving cakes typically measuring around four inches in diameter. These cakes are beautifully decorated and packed in a minimalist yet elegant box, similar to a bento box. Their petite size makes them ideal for intimate occasions, whether it’s a solo celebration, a couple’s milestone, or a small gathering.

The growing popularity of bento cake online platforms has brought diverse designs and flavors to consumers. Whether you’re looking for a classic vanilla cake or an adventurous matcha-flavored one, the options are endless. The ability to customize these cakes adds an extra layer of appeal, allowing you to create a dessert that truly reflects the recipient’s personality or the theme of the event.

Why Choose Bento Cakes Online?

Opting for bento cake online services offers numerous advantages:

Convenience: Ordering a bento cake online saves time and effort. With just a few clicks, you can explore various designs, flavors, and customization options.

Freshness and Quality: Most online sellers prepare these cakes fresh to order, ensuring that you receive a high-quality product.

Personalization: Many online platforms allow you to personalize your bento cake, from the flavor and frosting to the message and decorations.

Variety: The online marketplace offers a vast array of choices, catering to different tastes, dietary preferences, and occasions.

Occasions Perfect for Bento Cakes

Bento cakes are incredibly versatile and can be tailored to suit any occasion. Here are some popular events where these mini cakes shine:

Birthdays: A small, personalized cake can make someone’s day extra special.

Anniversaries: Celebrate love with a custom design that reflects your journey together.

Thank You Gifts: Show your appreciation with a thoughtful, edible gift.

Casual Celebrations: Sometimes, you don’t need a reason to enjoy a sweet treat.

Tips for Ordering Bento Cakes Online

When purchasing a bento cake online, consider the following tips to ensure a smooth experience:

Read Reviews: Look for customer feedback to gauge the quality and reliability of the seller.

Plan Ahead: Place your order in advance, especially for customized designs or during peak seasons.

Communicate Clearly: Provide detailed instructions for any personalization requests to avoid misunderstandings.

Check Delivery Options: Ensure that the seller offers delivery to your location and that the packaging will keep the cake fresh and intact.

The Appeal of Bento Cakes

Bento cakes are more than just desserts; they’re a way to make moments memorable. The availability of bento cake online options has made it simple to surprise loved ones or indulge in a little self-care. With their delightful presentation and customizable features, these mini cakes continue to win hearts worldwide.

Whether you’re planning a celebration or just want to treat yourself, exploring bento cake online platforms is a fun and rewarding experience. Their compact size, aesthetic appeal, and rich flavors make them the perfect dessert for any occasion. So why wait? Dive into the world of bento cakes and let these tiny delights bring joy to your day!

[interiordesignerrrr]

“Easy Tricks to Make Small Rooms Feel Bigger and Brighter”

Small rooms can often feel cramped and claustrophobic, but with a few clever design tricks, you can transform even the tiniest space into a cozy, open, and inviting area. Whether you're working on a compact bedroom, a snug living room, or a petite kitchen, these strategies will help you maximize your space and create an airy ambiance. If you’re looking for professional help, check out interior design services to get expert advice tailored to your needs.

1. Maximize Natural Light

One of the easiest ways to make a small room feel larger is by letting in as much natural light as possible. Keep your windows clear of heavy drapes and opt for sheer curtains or blinds that can be pulled back during the day. If privacy is a concern, consider frosted window films that still allow sunlight to filter through.

Mirrors are another fantastic tool for amplifying light. Position a large mirror opposite a window to reflect light around the room. You can also experiment with mirrored furniture or wall panels to enhance the effect.

2. Use Light and Neutral Colors

Light colors, especially whites, creams, and pastels, create the illusion of more space. Paint your walls, ceiling, and trim in a single light shade to blur boundaries and make the room feel more expansive. Adding pops of color through accessories like cushions, rugs, or artwork can provide visual interest without overwhelming the space.

For a polished and cohesive look, consider consulting a professional in home decor who can help you choose the perfect color palette for your small room.

3. Choose Multi-Functional Furniture

In small spaces, every piece of furniture should serve more than one purpose. Look for beds with built-in storage drawers, ottomans that double as coffee tables, or sofas that can convert into beds. Wall-mounted foldable desks and dining tables are excellent for maximizing floor space when not in use.

Investing in custom furniture designed by an interior design expert can also ensure that every piece fits perfectly and serves a specific function in your room.

4. Embrace Vertical Space

When floor space is limited, think vertically. Tall bookshelves, wall-mounted storage, and high curtains can draw the eye upward and create the illusion of height. Floating shelves are particularly useful for keeping things organized without taking up valuable floor space.

To get the most out of your vertical space, consider working with a home decor specialist who can provide creative and functional storage solutions.

5. Keep It Clutter-Free

Clutter can make even a spacious room feel small and chaotic. Be intentional about what you bring into the space and adopt smart storage solutions to keep surfaces clear. Use decorative baskets, under-bed storage, and hidden compartments to tuck away items you don’t use daily.

A minimalist approach to decorating can also help. Instead of filling your walls with multiple small frames, opt for one large piece of art to create a focal point without overwhelming the room.

6. Incorporate Glass and Lucite Furniture

Transparent furniture made of glass or lucite can give the illusion of more space by allowing light to pass through. A glass coffee table, for instance, can make a living room feel less crowded compared to a solid wood one.

For tailored furniture recommendations, explore interior design services that specialize in space-saving solutions.

7. Play with Lighting

Layered lighting can do wonders for small spaces. Combine ambient lighting (like ceiling fixtures) with task lighting (like desk lamps) and accent lighting (like LED strips) to create depth and dimension. Avoid harsh overhead lights and instead opt for warm, diffused lighting to make the room feel cozy and inviting.

If you’re unsure about the best lighting setup, consulting a home decor expert can help you create a well-lit and welcoming environment.

8. Opt for Large-Scale Rugs

Contrary to popular belief, small rugs can make a room feel smaller. A large rug that extends under your furniture anchors the space and makes it feel more cohesive. Choose a light-colored rug with subtle patterns to maintain an open feel.

9. Create Zones in Open Spaces

If your small room is multifunctional, such as a studio apartment, use furniture and rugs to create distinct zones. For example, a sofa can separate the living area from the sleeping area, and a rug can define the dining space.

For professional advice on zoning and layout, explore interior design services that can optimize your space.

10. Keep Scale in Mind

Choose furniture that is appropriately scaled to the size of your room. Oversized furniture can dominate a small space, while petite pieces can make it feel more open. Pay attention to proportions and leave enough negative space around your furniture for easy movement.

Transforming a small room into a bright and spacious haven doesn’t have to be difficult. By applying these simple tricks, you can make the most of your space while creating a stylish and comfortable environment. For expert assistance and tailored solutions, consider partnering with interior design professionals who can bring your vision to life.

[notmuchtoconceal]

. o . ( o ) . o .

The word is with Jacek. The word is in Jacek.

From the beginning, he was He. Until the ending, he will Be.

"I can remember new concepts, facts and phrases."

(I can (not) remember new concepts, facts and phrases.)

"My glossary of cues and associations is direct and without fault."

(My glossary of cues and associations is (in)direct and (full of) fault.)

"What I see is sensibly ordained and materially verifiable."

(What I see is [irrationally propagated] and [hysterically projected].)

"It is worthwhile and fruitful to communicate what I see and what I feel to the people around me."

(It is worth[less] and fruit[less] [faultless and fruity!] to communicate what I see and feel to the people who don't care.)

"I am direct and unwavering in my perspective."

(I am [a tyrant, a retard, and a whore.])

"I trust that I can divine my higher good, even at times when I may feel lost, or stalled by the inevitable probability of unforeseen error."

("I trust [that my wild delusions will give me the retard strength and idiot lack of self-awareness to humiliate the people around me into just letting this go and never bringing it up again.])

"Why would I fear or revile what I perceive as the lack inherent within myself when I see this seeming emptiness is in fact an ever-fecund fullness from which originates my boundless potential?"

(Why [am I such a fucking dumbass, bro?])

The word within him sang. Within the word, he sang without.

Whispers coming in his ear. The properties stood unoccupied for generations. Only day spores of mold crept in veins of decay in what was otherwise drywall rosettes of cake frosting. Heavy pinks and jade satin faintly metallic from the quilt.

Here, he had all they needed. Here, there was nobody else and all was theirs for the taking. Any other he seen he knew how to control. Make friends, make fuck, make war and reload save states.

Someone was whispering to him. A lapping of the tip of the tongue came as a cyclone down saltwater seas, inland channels and underground reservoirs emptying out from temple walls to dry beds, leaving sands to churn through fingers in a bowel of glass.

He was looking for a brother.

Any man who put his hands on him was his brother.

Any man who leaned in close and whispered, he would follow to the ends of the earth. For the tapping of his pouting lips against his lobe, he would lead siege over cliffs, drop bridges on which he still stood -- to advance the cult, the tribe, the herd, the shepherd of the flock in which he was lamb, lying down with itself coiled in the belly of an otter.

As a serpent, a lion, the whimsies it breathes as toxins atmospheric and ambient, signing contracts to unobtainable dreams without amendment, holding handholders hostage with niceties, building wells in which to flood ruins long abandoned, stonewalling itself in concentric circles.

By his side, the silver fox smiling with fangs petite as Louis the XIV butterknives. Eyes on not even a single hen to hawk, simply cocks mid-strut in need of hand to head, smiling sweet as madeleines to slice and syringe with melted butter and shine up the tea late summer blooms of bitter shellac.

With them, a weasel, a rat, a mongoose, a cat, mounted and feeding, a vampyre bat. A small band of smaller carnivores he let lay down with his flock, to cause them no harm, but tantalize him by their trickery and eagerness to connive and conform. For always he could smile back, draw the blood from their throat, the throat from their necks. Watch their eyes roll back in dances within spasms where the eyes were left always white and their faces always read til none was left, the skull beneath never as clean as when it welt the desert sun.

Around the tip of his spear, which he had not with him, regrettably - wielding now, as a hammer, the plinth he drew with the sword - he could see them impaled and coiling around one another as if for shelter from the open heat. Naked of their skins, seeking perhaps the cold of death in each other's arms. A bronze would come over them, charred black as charcoal, and yet his nostrils enticed him with the aromas half-lingering of things only imagined, for there was no meat here, in this desolate dustbowl where grew only bulbs which howled in hydrocephalopoda rank with external afterbirth sloshing out their cabbage heads.

Though he worked the land, he would not forget.

He was, by nature, a hunter.

The coming days will linger long in memory for what he ventured to take of them. This night he will make his own, and from them the following he would make his: anew, alike, forever.

[tmntxthings]

HELLO!! I've been binging your fics lately and I am absolutely in love with your writing!! I haven't seen many but I was wondering if you could do a Rise Donnie x chubby reader? Nothing with insecurity or anything, maybe just something fluffy! It's rare to come across fics w a chubby reader that isn't angsty LOL -👑

What Are You Waiting For?

author’s notes: animal by neon trees influenced this oneshot greatly, I hope my 👑 anon that this is what you had in mind 💜✨

warnings: longer oneshot, super fluffy

> part two <

—————————————————————————

Donnie was humming along to a song as he floated above the tall buildings of New York City. He was currently scanning all the nearby buildings with his headset, until his gear loaded in a match. “Found you!” Donnie said triumphantly as he pushed back the goggles. It was 9:00 pm, the sun only having gone down an hour or two ago. But Donnie couldn’t help himself, plus he was dressed pretty inconspicuously, purple hoodie and all. He landed in the alley next to the small bakery, making sure he looked presentable and his tech was stowed away in his shell.

“Alright Othello Von Ryan, be smooth~” he spoke to himself as he started walking to the sideway. “Yo bro, where you at?” Leo’s voice patched in from Donnie’s wrist tech. “Occupied, talk later!” Donnie said immediately before turning off the voice channel, not wanting any interruptions once he finally walked into the shop. The smell of freshly baked goods wafted into his face as he opened the door. And coffee! He sighed dreamily, if he could bottle this smell up he would. Which gave him an idea for later. But back to the task at hand!

He was the only customer in the store, which was a shame as well as an advantage. He’d have your absolute attention, though as he looked around, the counter also seemed to be empty. Then as if his thoughts had called to you, you came bursting through the back door that led to the kitchen. “Sorry about that dear customer, I was taking out some macaroons from the oven!” You said not looking over at him just yet as you crossed out something on a tiny notebook. After that you finally looked up, Donnie had made his way to the counter, like a moth drawn to flames. “Oh! Donnie, it’s you!” You graced him with a smile and Donnie could only nod for a few seconds before actual thoughts came to him.

“Yes it is I, Donatello, your favorite and most valued customer,” he said smiling a little smug smile. You giggled at that, shaking your head but not going as far as verbally refuting. “You always like to come when I’m about to close up shop!” You said as you glanced down at the treats you had left. Today looked to be a busy day for you as Donnie looked at his options. All his favorites were gone and he clutched at where his heart would be. “Not the scones! And the petits-fours too?!” Donatello hid a frown behind his hand as he contemplated trying something new or just getting a coffee. “Oh wait!” You said shaking him from his inner thoughts as you quickly disappeared from his view back into the kitchen.

When you emerged both your hands were behind your back as if to hide something. Donnie looked at you curiously and it wasn’t til you stood right in front of him, the counter the only thing between the two of you, did you reveal two perfect little cakes. Donnie gasped as you said, “I thought you might come tonight and remembered to save your favorite!” Donnie smiled brightly, they even had purple frosting on them! He readily held out his gloved hands, you gently placed them both and he was enraptured by your fingers, they were so small compared to his own. So cute and chubby and he blushed to himself at the word cute. “That’ll be $10, did you want a coffee too?”

You didn’t seem to notice him going into a reverie over just the sight of your cute hands up close. “Hmm? Oh yeah I’ll have a coffee, your special” he specified, because not only were you an excellent baker but you were a bangin��� coffee maker too. Donnie didn’t think he would ever make his own coffee if all it took was a five minute trip here from the lair. “Coming right up, most valued customer,” you giggled and winked at him. He was stunned, you were usually so shy with him. But he had become a regular, maybe you were finally warming up to him! That thought made him feel all mushy inside, he reallyyyy wanted you to be comfortable around him.

He watched as you flitted around behind the counter whipping up his coffee. “Soo do you have any plans after you close up shop for the night?” Donnie was trying his hardest to be smooth. He had practiced that line about 20 times. “No plans!” You said in concentration as you poured a certain amount of creamer into a cup. “Welll” Donnie started to fidget, getting nervous because this was the part that would either mean success or failure. “I was wondering, if you would wanna go watch a movie sometime?” He had been staring at the back of your head with pleading eyes hoping for just a chance and when you turned to him, cup of coffee in your hands he looked away, down at the countertop.

He was too nervous! How could he possibly watch as you turned him down. He should’ve known- “I love movies! When were you thinking?” You chirped happily as you slid the coffee into his frame of view. His head shot up, “Really?” then just as quickly he said, “I mean, we can go tonight! To the theater just around the corner?” He said a smug smile coming back to his face. But relief flooded his mind, he couldn’t believe it! You were giving him a chance!! “Sounds good to me, it’ll take me a couple of minutes after closing to get the shop ready for tomorrow,” you said and Donnie was offering his assistance. “Oh no, you haven’t even started on your coffee and cakes!” You said nodding to his hands.

Which reminded him he needed to pay! And as he started digging around for his wallet you stopped him, “how about you get a special discount tonight since you’re taking me out on a date,” you gave him another flirtatious wink. Boom. His brain fried up completely as his mouth dropped open slightly, “I’ll be right back!” You said giggling at his reaction as you went to get the shop ready for tomorrow. Donnie found his way to a table and a chair as he sat down not really thinking about anything other than you winking at him. His heart was pounding as he sipped on his coffee and nibbled the petit-fours. He was a goner if you kept flirting with him like that, he’d surely make a fool out of himself!

But while his brain was running around flailing it’s imaginative arms in worry, Donnie’s heart was fired up and ready. He wanted you to flirt with him again, and he wanted to flirt back. He just needed another opportunity and not short circuit like before. When he finished off the treats and coffee he went to the trash can to throw away the wrappers and empty cup. When he turned around you were coming out from behind the counter, apron off and hair down. He swore under his breath as he took in your fitting jeans and cute purple shirt. You were so pretty, and he obviously knew that before, but seeing you now with his favorite color on you and the rest of your outfit, your hair down, his heart was racing. “Ready?” You smiled shyly as you twirled a strand of hair absentmindedly. “Yep,” he said in awe as he held the door open for you. You smiled, waiting for him to follow through before locking the door with your keys.

“So what movie were you thinking?” you said getting the conversation flowing and Donnie breathed through his nose to try and get it together. “I’m down for anything, but my favorites are sci-fi and action,” the conversation went on from there as he learned your favorites. The two of you walking closely together as the night had gotten chilly. He wasn’t ready to make a move like wrapping an arm around you, but maybe he’d work up the courage in the theater! He still couldn’t believe it, that you had agreed and it had a constant smile on his face. “Oh look! They’ve got Avatar 2!!” You said excitedly and before he knew it you had his gloved hand in your own, tugging him forward as you ran to the ticket booth. His mind screeched as he moved trying to keep up but his eyes were glued to where you held his hand. He wished he didn’t have the gloves on, to be able to feel you, but he pushed that thought away quickly. Baby steps Donatello, don’t go ruining things just yet!

“Two for Avatar,” Donnie said as he pulled out his wallet with his free hand, not wanting you to let go but you did so he could grab some dolla dolla bills. Tickets now in hand, Donnie pushed open the door letting you walk by him, you smelled like your bakery, he tried not close his eyes at the smell. “Are you hungry?” Donnie said as he followed after you noticing the snack bar. “Hmm do you wanna share some popcorn?” you asked looking over at him and he nodded swiftly.

The two of you sat towards the back, popcorn in your hands as he carried the drink, he had gotten two straws and he was mentally flippingggg out. Seriously he couldn’t believe how lucky he was, he could hardly contain his excitement as you both settled in your seats. The lights dimmed and the movie started. You glanced at him hands coming together to clap silently showing you were just as excited though probably for the movie and not about him. Donnie didn’t think too hard about that though, not letting anything ruin his mood even his own thoughts. He took off his gloves thinking in the dark you wouldn’t notice, and hoping for the off chance of reaching for popcorn at the same time. What?! Donnie liked all the clichés! And it happened more than once and each time it felt like electricity, you were too occupied with the movie though. Hardly noticing while it was all he could notice, your fingers were so soft!

Once the popcorn was finished Donnie started to actually watch the movie. Every now and then he’d glance over and watch your reactions of awe and wonder at the big screen. He would smile to himself, and go back to watching until he felt a nagging thought. He wanted to make a move, flirt back like you had at the bakery. He took a deep breath and moved his arm to go around your shoulders, and you leaned in closer his way almost immediately. Mission accomplished!!!!!!! And he was chewing on his lower lip to keep from smiling like an idiot or worse squealing with excitement.

When the movie was done and the credits started rolling you slowly stood, stretching. The movie had been a long one but that just meant Donnie got even more time with you. “That was awesome!” You said as you turned to him, the purple turtle had quickly put on his gloves and replied, “yeah the cgi was incredible!” The two of you walked out of the theater, talking about favorite scenes and characters. “This was really fun Donnie!” You said thanking him once out on the sidewalk. “Thanks for coming with me I had an equally great time,” Donnie said unable to help his bright smile.

He breathed in through his nose again as he rallied his courage. “Can I get your number?” You asked holding out your phone with a slight blush dusting your cheeks. You had beat him to it!! Donnie laughed saying those exact words and you giggled and watched him type in his number. “I’ll see you later then, Y/n!” Donnie waved as you started walking backwards waving back and thanking him again for a great night. He watched as you turned and walked until you were out of view, taking a corner and disappearing behind a building.

Donnie had happy feet! And he jumped up fist bumping the air. “Fibonacci!!!” He practically hollered in victory, walking no skipping, the opposite way you went, entering an alleyway and shooting up to the sky, flying with his tech. He raced all the way home to the lair. “Well well well, look who it is,” Leo said as Donnie entered the abandoned subway. “Surprise surprise,” Donnie waved his hands sarcastically, as he took off his gloves. “Where were you brother of mine?” Leo questioned coming up and wrapping an arm around Donnie’s neck. “Just out and about,” Donnie droned as he tried walking to his lab. Then his phone buzzed and he immediately pulled it out forgetting about Leo.

‘Made it home!! Hope you did too, just in case you hadn’t heard me the first two times 😂 I had an amazing time 😊 goodnight Donnie’ - y/n 💜

Leo gasped into Donnie’s ear and the purple turtle turned dark green. “YOU!” Leo said loudly catching the attention of Mikey and Raph. “SHUT UP!” Donnie screeched as he tried to push Leo away but Leo’s grip only tightened and he grabbed for Donnie’s phone. “Guys you won’t believe what I just saw!!” Leo said goading his brothers to come see. Mikey was up and bouncing towards them in seconds, “ohhhh what, what is it?!” he said as he watched his older brothers struggle. Donnie trying to keep his phone away while Leo trying and succeeding in capturing it. “LEO!” Donnie hollered and stomped his foot down on his blue brother’s.

Leo yelped hopping on one foot and dropping Donnie’s phone. Donnie lunged for it but Mikey was faster, and as soon as he got the phone he was off running to Raph who was laughing at the whole thing. “MIKEY!” Donnie yelled running after him telling him to stop. This went on for a while before all his brothers knew of Y/n and he ended up confessing about the amazing date he had just went on. All brothers listened intently, teasing him here and there but ultimately super proud of their genius brother. “So when we meeting???” Leo said curiously, “and when are you gonna tell them you’re a turtle?” Raph said eyebrows going up.

“Problems for a later time,” Donnie said waving his hand and with his phone back in his possession he headed for his room. He realized he had yet to text you back!

‘I made it home too, sorry for the late reply my brothers bombarded me 💀, we should definitely have another night like tonight 😁 goodnight Y/n!’ - donnie

He landed on his bed, closed his phone and rolled around too excited to do anything else. He couldn’t wait to take you out for another date. Hoping this would become a recurring occurrence in his life. He couldn’t wait and immediately started thinking up other date ideas, kicking his feet out happily.

[loving-bucky-is-easier]

in the right hands

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 5.5K

Summary:

Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes from her lips, from the frost melting into teardrops on her eyelashes, from her slack face that seemed like the life was being drawn straight out of it with every wavering breath.

Blue lips were supposed to go with twinkling eyes and sticky fingers and half a headache from being in the sun too long.

Warnings: 18+, language, whump (of course--it’s me who's writing it), violence, injury, angst, mention of disassociation, mentions of prayer and mild religious background, non-sexual nudity, that good old sharing-body-heat trope, fluff

Minors--this is not for you. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Please be discerning. Do not interact.

A/N: Okay, it’s been a bit. Life decided to screw me over a little bit, but we’re here and we’re making the most of it. Special thanks to @fragile-heartt, @dazzlingpoe, @sventeen-daybreak, and some lovely anons for their kind words and fic recs to help me through. If you’ve sent me a request, I promise its on the docket and is coming eventually. If I’ve liked your fic recently, a reblog is likely on your way as well. Much love to you all. 🖤

At least the blood dripping from the lacerations on his hand was warm. 

Bucky was certain that the rest of him was fairly warm as well, the serum in his veins hardly struggling against the snow crunching under his feet and the icy flakes thrown with abandon against his face by the chill wind. But his entire being felt numb as he marched through the growing blizzard, stormy eyes never really leaving the fragile bundle in his arms. 

He could feel his blood dampening her hip, slowing as it spread down her side. Life dancing from his veins, an offering to pull her along with him. He’d gladly continue to bleed if it warmed her even a little, if it could coerce the blue from her lips and calm the shivers wracking through her body. But he doubted the serum would allow his bleeding to go on much longer.

“C’mon, Y/N,” he pleaded. “Stay with me, doll.”

His only answer was the howl of the wind whipping across his face.

“Why doesn’t Hydra pick someplace tropical for their bases?”

Across the conference table, Bucky snorted. You flashed him a grin, leaning forward on your elbows, goaded further into tormenting Steve.

“I’m serious,” you continued. “Literally every base Bucky and I have picked off has been somewhere with a shit-ton of snow. I’m already dreading the twelve-mile trudge.”

Steve paused his shuffling of what you had no doubt was yet another frigid assignment. “Twelve-mile trudge?” he sighed.

You leaned forward even further, palms pressing into the table. “Well of course the high and mighty Captain America wouldn’t know about the twelve-mile trudge. That’s just for lowly B-list Avengers like Buck and me,” you mused in mock annoyance.

Steve glanced at his friend, but Bucky’s only response was to throw his hands up in lazy defense.

“Are you gonna tell me what it is, or are you just going to continue to pontificate over there?”

“Can’t I do both?”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Well, Cap,” you continued, “the twelve-mile trudge is the lovely little walk we all get to take after missions without extraction. The minimum twelve-mile adventure after we’ve kicked ass and nearly killed ourselves saving lives, to find our safe house. Which never has a heating system or, more importantly, any good snacks.”

“More importantly?” Bucky interjected.

“Shut up and support me.” Bucky rolled his eyes and offered a sarcastic thumbs up. “Every base Buck and I have taken out in the last three months has had us wading through snow to get to our safe house. I petition we go save somebody in Bermuda next,” you finished with a teasing grin.

Steve chuckled. “Your petition has been noted. But for now you B-list Avengers” -- you gasped in mock offense -- “will be sticking with your wintry escapades. So pack a scarf for that twelve-mile trudge. Which, by the way, is not a good name for it. Or at least not a correct one. SHIELD protocol requires a minimum 19-kilometer radius from any known unfriendlies for safe house setup. So maybe you should come up with a more accurate moniker.”

“Nah,” you dismissed. “My alliteration is cuter.”

“Oh, of course,” Steve nodded with eyes narrowed, clearly mocking. “Well, you stick with that, but please note that your safe house for extraction is 22.6 kilometers from the Hydra base,” he warned as he passed you and Bucky your mission briefs, “so your trudge will be just over 14 miles.”

“Oh, joy,” you snipped, flicking the folder open.

“Standard operation. You’ve done half a dozen of these together already. Download whatever intel you can find, then blow the place to hell. I’m not expecting--”

“Pardon me, Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY interjected, “but you are needed in Mr. Stark’s lab. Agent Romanoff just returned with some time-sensitive information. Dr. Banner would like your eyes on it immediately.”

“Copy that, FRIDAY,” Steve said to the ceiling. You stifled a laugh, watching him address the AI as if she were a physical presence. You turned to Bucky to see if he shared your amusement, but he suddenly looked very uncomfortable. Eyes shifting, half-chewed fingernails picking at the dry skin on his bottom lip.

Damn it. Not again.

Steve turned back to you and Bucky. “I’ll leave you two to go over the mission briefs together. Let me know if you have questions. Wheels up for the quinjet tomorrow at 0600 hours. Sam will drop you over the base. Now if you’ll both excuse me.” Steve quickly made his way out, and with him he seemed to pull the air right out of the room.

Bucky continued to fidget across the table, clearly reading the same page in the mission brief over and over again. Mere moments ago, he’d been teasing right along with you, and now it was as though he were trying to hide from you. His tactics might have worked better if you weren’t the only ones in the room.

You stifled a sigh. If this had been the first time this had happened, you might have chalked it up to pre-mission jitters, or maybe residual discomfort at a subordinate showing disrespect to her superior officer left over from his time in the military. But lately the easy rhythm the two of you used to share was reserved for the dance of combat, any other interactions reduced to something closer to stepping on each other’s toes. That is, if he didn’t flee the dance altogether. 

You found yourself zoning out, completely incapable of absorbing any of the information printed on the pages in front of you.

If he has a problem with me he should just say so. How are we supposed to keep working together if he won’t even look at me?

You flipped the page, mentally apologizing to the poor SHIELD agent who had compiled this beautifully thorough brief you weren’t even reading.

Bucky flipped one too.

What did I do? What changed? Should I ask him? Should I wait for him to speak up? Did I offend him somehow?

Bucky picked at his lip, drawing blood from a small crack in the center. His tongue darted out to sweep across it, and yours followed suit on your own chapped lip. You flinched back, having to physically pull your stare from him.

You idiot. And you’re wondering why he’s so uncomfortable around you?

“Hey if I--”

“Do you want coffee with me?” Bucky blurted so violently his words seem to knock your folder to the floor.

“Umm...what?

“I mean... sorry, I--would you maybe, sometime... want to... please... get coffee with me?” he finally managed, unable to meet your eye.

The only sound for a moment was the air conditioning whirring.

Without warning, you burst out laughing. A flash of hurt painted across Bucky’s face as he sunk further into his chair and you quickly realized your mistake.

“No! I mean, yes, of course I want to get coffee with you! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... Buck, I was so worried you were upset with me for something and you just wanted to... ask me out? God, why were you so nervous? Did you think I would say no?”

A small, slightly embarrassed smile crept back onto Bucky’s face. “I mean, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t want to ruin what we have. I didn’t know if you’d want to deal with... all of this.”

You snorted. “James Buchanan Barnes, you are a catch. And you did ruin what we had. For like three weeks when you pretended not to know me every time we were alone together.”

He huffed. “You’re intimidating, doll! It took me a while to work up the nerve.”

You blushed at the nickname; it wasn't the first time you’d gotten it, but it meant more given the circumstances. “Well, I’m glad I have my best friend back. And when we’re back from this God-awful snowy hellscape, it’s a date.”

“You got it, doll.”

“Maybe a trip to Bermuda, too.”

His laugh filled the room. God, you’d be content if it was the last thing you ever heard. “Sure, Y/N.”

By the time Bucky reached the door of the safe house, Y/N wasn’t shaking anymore. He knew that wasn’t a good thing.

The door was opened and closed again in a heartbeat. The room surveyed in another.

He was a hurricane tangled around the front room, drawing its contents to the center, a nest of blankets and firewood and pillows and anything that might be of any use deposited around his eye of the storm: Y/N, laid unmoving across the sagging couch.

A sharp contrast to Bucky, who was the storm itself, his movements not stopping for a breath. 

He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t ever stop.

Start the fire. Move the couch closer. Collect the blankets. Check the exits. Find water. Do something do something do anything at all. 

Just don’t stop to breathe. Don't stop to think.

Because if he stopped to think he would stop breathing too. And how would he save her then?

The fire crackled in the hearth, a slight pop as one of the logs split, and he stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn’t even remember having gotten the fire started.

Bucky scrubbed a hand down over his face. You’re not focused, Barnes. You’re a soldier. Y/N needs that right now. She needs you to compartmentalize and actually save her life, not just freak the fuck out over her. If you keep this up, you’re gonna miss something.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, exhaled heavily, then allowed himself to look at the mess he’d already made of their little safe house.

Behind him: the fire was going. A pile of logs stacked nearby. A good start.

On the half-step up to the kitchen: a case of water bottles lying on its side, a couple of them leaking onto the hardwood floor. Clearly he’d gotten side-tracked as he’d brought them in. 

At the edge of the hallway to the bedroom: a small heap of blankets he’d dragged off the beds, halfway to where they were really needed. The rug upended from the couch being dragged across it.

And in the center of the mess, Y/N. Chest rising almost imperceptibly. One arm hanging limply off the side of the couch, drops of water from her thawing tac suit dripping steadily off her fingertips. 

And what had Bucky done to warm her up so far?

Placed a throw pillow on her chest. Apparently somewhere in his little hurricane, he’d thought “I should cover her up” and the best he could do in his absent-minded state was a fucking pillow.

He grit his teeth as he strode towards her. You fucking idiot, Barnes. This is what happens when your emotions take over. You have to fucking disassociate to not lose it and then all you can manage is shit like this.

The pillow was quickly replaced with the blanket off the back of the couch. He knew it wasn’t enough. He could almost hear Sam’s voice in the back of his head telling him what he needed to do. But could he cross that line with her? Would she ever forgive him?

He pressed two fingers to the pulse point on her throat, and before he could even feel the assurance of her heartbeat, her breath hitched at the pressure. His eyes fell to her lips. Blue.

“Raspberries aren’t blue.”

“Well, these ones are.”

“Y/N, that doesn’t even--”

“Bucky, I don’t care what fucking color they are. Try the damn popsicle.”

“Why, so I can turn my entire mouth that color like you?”

“That’s half the fun.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Shut up, you love it.”

Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes from her lips, from the frost melting into teardrops on her eyelashes, from her slack face that seemed like the life was being drawn straight out of it with every wavering breath.

Blue lips were supposed to go with twinkling eyes and sticky fingers and half a headache from being in the sun too long.

He took one more look at the pile of two measly blankets by the hallway. 

Fuck.

“Please forgive me, doll,” he muttered as he fumbled with the buckles on the front of his suit. The damp leather squeaked as he peeled it off and dropped it heavily to the floor. Faster, Barnes.

Boots toed off. Belt and pants and soaked-through thermal layers adding to the mess.

And then, left only in his boxers and undershirt, Bucky froze, his shaking fingers gripping the back of the shirt neck. He knew the shirt had to come off. It was soaked through, and in this state she needed as much direct body heat as he could offer. But Y/N had never seen the mess of tissue that was his left shoulder. If she woke up, and God... God, he prayed she would.

He bit down on the side of his tongue. This is what she needs, Barnes. And when this scares her away you’ll at least have saved her life. That’s all that matters.

The shirt joined the rest of the hurricane. He wished his metal arm could, too. Wished he could discard anything that tore him away from the eye of the storm.

Bucky kneeled next to the couch and lifted the blanket off of her. His fingers rested hesitantly on the zipper at the base of her throat. Who are you to touch her? He bit his tongue. Just do it, Barnes. You know it has to happen.

The zipper stopped about halfway down, teeth locked together by ice. He tugged a bit harder, but all he managed to do was jostle her entire torso. Cursing, he turned and dug through his pile of clothes until he found a small knife.

He flipped it into his left hand, stretched the material away from her as much as he could, and began to cut it away, using his right hand as a barrier. With every brush of his fingertips against her icy skin, his heart sank a bit further.

Four incisions in the material from her sternum to the end of each limb. The damp fabric curled away from her, leaving behind a sea of goosebumps. He eased her up gently, first her torso, then her legs, slid the ruined suit out from under her, and discarded it on the floor.

Bucky brushed his fingers experimentally on the strap of her sports bra, the waistband of her spandex shorts. Both soaked through.

The shorts went first. At least she still had underwear on underneath them. He was sure they were wet, too, but there was no way in hell he could bring himself to do away with those.

Before he could doubt himself any further, he slit the sports bra down the front and at the straps, laying the blanket back over her chest before he removed any of the pieces.

He sat back on his heels and took a deep breath. That was the hardest part. 

Bullshit. The hardest part was what he knew he needed to do next. 

He scooped up the blankets, wrapping one around his shoulders and placing the other next to Y/N.

This is literal proof, Barnes. What more could you have asked for? He climbed over her to lay on his side, his back pressed to the back of the couch.

It’s not a threat. It’s going to save her life. He rolled her gently to her side to face him, her back to the roaring fire.

His ma always used to tell him to be careful what he prayed for.

“If you pray for patience, God isn’t going to just make you more patient. He’s gonna give you opportunities to be patient.”

He slid the blanket between them down to wrap around her feet. Tucked the one he'd left behind her around her back and shoulders.

Had he prayed for this? Prayed to learn what it felt like to make contact with another person and not drown in the hurt that they brought. Prayed to learn not to flinch away from the glancing touch of friend and foe alike. Prayed to be less broken, to let someone prove that he was real, and whole, or at least whole enough.

Did he even pray at all anymore? Or had they too long seemed to fall only on deaf ears?

It was all he could do to suppress the alarms going off in his brain, jarring enough that he had to pause for a moment. Fists tensed, eyes squeezed shut, breaths forced out through his nose. Proof, he chided. Proof that it doesn’t always have to be...

He pulled her into him, pressed his bare chest to hers. Wrapped his arms of flesh and metal around her.

...pain.

She gave a low, broken moan, her nose like ice nuzzling into his neck.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.” He exhaled shakily.

Every inch of her skin was ice. No, snow. Soft, not sharp. This isn’t pain, Barnes. He wished there was more of him to give. To wrap around her and drive the cold away.

Slowly, gingerly, he eased himself closer, all the while grounding himself in the lack of pain being visited upon him. He tucked her arms into her chest, the backs of her forearms pressed flat against his stomach. He tangled his legs with hers.

Bucky settled his arms around her back, pulling her as tightly to him as he could. And then he allowed himself one kiss to the crown of her head. 

“Bermuda next time, okay?” he sighed.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Bucky roared to no one in particular.

“Buck, calm down.”

“Calm down?” he asked incredulously, a wild look in his eyes as he scrabbled at the thick glass pane between you. The glass that had descended between you without warning, sealing you both in opposite sides of the room.

You pressed your hand against the glass opposite his. “Bucky,” you said gently, “panicking isn’t going to do us any good. My way out is locked. Why don’t you go out yours and come around to meet--”

“I’m not leaving you until I know what’s going on.”

“Okay. So then we’re stuck in here for a moment. Let’s figure out what we can and go from--”

“You should listen to your little girlfriend, Soldat,” a snide voice called over the loudspeaker. “Panicking won’t do you any good.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide. You knew instantly he knew that voice, and nothing good would come with it.

“Of course,” the voice continued, “there’s nothing that would really do you any good at this point. Did you really think we’d allow you to pick off our bases one by one without consequence?”

You chewed on your lip, deciding Bucky seeing you confident was worth any retribution that came from some sarcasm. “I don’t know,” you crowed. “The first six went down pretty easily.”

A low chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine crackled through both sides of the room. “Lovely Y/N. Unfortunately for you, your only use to me is to remind our dear little Soldat who he is meant to be. He’ll be rejoining us. Where he belongs.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed. Your eyes locked on Bucky’s. You wished you could calm the terror in them.

The voice ignored you. “You see, Y/N. I have a little problem, and I think you can help me.”

You opened your mouth in protest, but before you could speak, he snapped. “Interrupt me again,” he hissed, and I’ll send someone in to cut out his tongue. The Winter Soldier does not need to speak.”

You grit your teeth, biting back several choice words. Not worth it.

“As I was saying, I need your help. The Soldat loves you, Y/N.” Bucky’s eyes fell, unable to meet your gaze. “I see it in how he protects you, how the two of you fight together. I made him. I know what my machine looks like when it has been corrupted.”

Bucky was backing slowly away from the glass, face burning in shame.

“I could wipe him, but we both know that Sergeant Barnes has a nasty habit of breaking through to fight back to the ones he loves.”

“Bucky,” you whispered. His eyes flicked to yours, clouded with tears.

“You are his heart, Y/N. And the Winter Soldier’s heart,” he paused, chuckling as if sharing a joke with himself. “The Winter Soldier’s heart must be cold as ice.”

You screeched as you were hit from behind with a stream of ice-cold water. A second followed, this time from your right. You spun quickly, trying to dodge in vain as a dozen swiveling nozzles emerged from the three walls.

You heard Bucky yell your name from the other side of the glass.

You tried to step closer to him, to the one barrier not spitting water at you, but your feet slid out from under you and you crashed to the floor. The streams of water zeroed in, dousing you from head to toe. You coughed, struggling to breathe under the assault.

Without warning, it stopped. You sputtered, shoving the hair plastered to your face back and out of the way. 

“Y/N! Doll, are you okay?” You looked up. Bucky was pressed against the glass, a frantic look in his eyes.

You coughed a bit more. “Yeah,” you grumbled, getting slowly to your feet. “I’m fine. What the hell was--” Your eyes fell on a display projected on the glass. “Oh shit.”

“What?”

“I--shit.”

“Y/N, you gotta talk to me, doll.”

You took a deep breath. The display continued to tick lower. You could feel it, too.

“Bucky, you gotta get out of here.”

“Don’t be an idiot. We’ll both get out of here. What’s got you--”

“Bucky, leave. I don’t want you to--”

“Will you tell me what the fuck is going on?” he roared.

You exhaled shakily, finally meeting his eye. “They’re gonna freeze me out, Buck. There’s a temperature read-out up there. And it’s moving down. Fast.”

Bucky seemed to stop breathing.

“They want you to watch this. They want it to break you. Go. Get out before they come to collect... what’s left.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. “This is because of me,” he breathed.

“No,” you snapped. You surged forward, pressing both hands to the glass, trying to still the shivers starting to wrack through them. “This is Hydra. They are sadistic and awful regardless of who’s involved. They got me. Please don’t let them get you too.” You rolled your shoulders, which were already starting to stiffen up. “They’re taunting you with that door. They think they know you. That you won’t take it and go. They think they’re breaking you--”

“They are.”

“Bucky,” your voice broke. Your whole body was starting to tense. You resisted the urge to look up at the temperature display. No good news would be waiting if you did.

“If I leave they’ll kill you immediately.”

Your teeth chattered as you sunk to the floor in front of the glass. “Wouldn’t that be kinder than this?”

He fell to his knees as if you’d pulled him down with you. “I--”

“I’m growing impatient,” the voice rang out again. You curled more tightly in on yourself, tucking your knees to your chest. “Let’s try this.”

Vents slid open on all sides, and chill air rushed in with a roar, like the winds of a blizzard battering you as you sat pressed against the glass.

Your vision was starting to darken at the edges. You thought you knew what cold felt like, but this... God, you just wanted it to be over.

You could see Bucky mouthing your name, saying something, but you couldn’t hear him anymore over the wind. He scrambled to his feet, and you were glad for a moment. He was going to go.

That hope was crushed as he threw himself against the glass with everything he had. Nothing. No give. No crack. But that didn’t discourage him. Fists of flesh and metal attacked the barrier between you without pause. 

Your breaths were shallower with each exhale.

His skin broke first. Split knuckles spattering red across the tiny web of cracks he was forming.

You fought your heavy eyelids, fought your body pitching backwards to the floor.

With all the control you could muster, you pressed a hand to the glass in front of you. Bucky froze in his frenzied attack, something feral in his eyes stilled by the pleading in yours.

“I love you,” you whispered. There was nothing but pure anguish on his face. You couldn’t tell if he understood you. But there was nothing more you could do as your frozen fingers slid down the glass, and the world went black.

Bucky flinched violently when Y/N began to stir.

He wished he could help it, wished her breath against his neck didn’t startle him even as it steadied.

It was easier for a bit, when her shivering resumed. That at least kept him present with her. But when that began to settle as her temperature rose further, he was lulled into half a doze, content to hold her until she woke.

He was nearly asleep when she inhaled sharply, hands instinctively pressing into his stomach and pushing away.

Bucky froze for a second, thrown briefly back into half a blurry memory of sharp stabs to his abdomen, but he quickly shook it off. Her hands were soft. Panicked, but gentle.

He eased back into the couch cushion until he could see her face. The panic in her eyes was already starting to ebb, and they crinkled at the edges when he met her gaze.

“Hi,” she croaked.

Bucky fought the tears welling in his eyes. “Hi, doll.”

A shiver wracked through her. “Cold,” she muttered, cuddling back into him. Her cheek pressed back against his neck.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “No shit.”

The only sound for a moment was the last embers of the fire crackling.

“Did the charges work?”

“‘Course they did, sweetheart. You programmed ‘em. Set ‘em off as soon as we were clear.” He shook his head. “Can’t believe that’s your first question.”

“Well, what... what happened?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “How much do you remember?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “I, uh... I told you to go and you wouldn’t. You were trying to break the glass. Your hand—”

“Is fine. Stopped bleeding a while ago. Helen’ll stitch it up when we’re back. Medevac is on its way, too.”

“Was it Steve that answered?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did he say we could go to Bermuda now?”

Bucky laughed. “Y’know, I think he’s considering it.”

“He damn well better be.” She pulled away from him, her eyes welling up a bit as they bore into his. “It was so cold.”

“I thought you were gone, doll,” Bucky whispered. “I don’t know how long it took for me to break through after you went down, but it was... too fuckin’ long.” He pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “You were right, though.” 

Her brow furrowed.

“Once I got to you, getting out was easy. I guess they didn’t think I’d be able to pull it together. Seeing someone I... someone else go through some of the same things I did.”

Y/N grimaced. “You never told me that. You mentioned cryo, but that’s not the same.”

Bucky sighed, turning his head to stare at the ceiling. “There’s a lot I don’t talk about. What good would it do?”

Gentle fingers turned his chin back down to face her. A calloused thumb running small circles along the edge of his jaw. “It might make things easier for you, Buck. To not have to carry it by yourself.”

He smiled ruefully. “Maybe when we go to Bermuda. If Thor can provide some of that Asgardian shit.”

“Fair. I doubt this kitchen has anything to help make that conversation any less painful.”

Bucky chewed on the inside of his lip, mulling over her words. “I almost could, doll. I never thought I’d be able to be this... close. To anyone. Ever again. And not completely fall apart. But you... you’re so... you reminded me that I could...” He couldn’t find the words, but she nodded.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Buck. I can’t imagine how awful it must have been for you to be there, and then to have to...” Her eyes flicked down, then back to his. It was only for a split second, but it clearly acknowledged the elephant he’d put in the room.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“Don’t. You crossed a line for me. I know how important your space and privacy are to you, and you sacrificed that for me. You saved my life.”

Bucky flushed, at a loss for words. “You should, uh... I should get you some water.” Before she could answer, he unwrapped himself from her and started to climb over, but his legs tangled in the blankets and he fell heavily on top of her.

Bucky froze, his ears heating up as he locked eyes with her. Shit. “I—”

She burst out laughing. He breathed a sigh of relief, his own laughter joining hers.

“Y’know,” she smirked, arching an eyebrow. “I could get used to this.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped. His entire face was on fire. Y/N laughed even harder, and he couldn’t control his grin.

“Guess there’s not really any coming back from this, is there?” he sighed.

“Probably not. I mean I did say I love you thinking they’d be my last words.” She said it so casually, like it wasn’t the most important thing he’d ever heard.

“You what?” he choked.

“Yeah, that’s what I was trying to say right before I passed out. Kinda dramatic of me, I guess, but to be fair that Hydra asshole started it. ‘The Winter Soldier’s heart must be cold as ice.’ For fuck’s sake...” She was still talking, but Bucky couldn’t hear her over the blood roaring in his ears.

She what?

“...like did he have that setup in every room just so he could have that specific play on words...”

She’s not just humoring me with a coffee date. She loves me.

“...I wonder what their water bill is like, if they had that...”

She loves me. She loves me and I can hold her and nothing hurts and she loves me and--

“Buck?”

“Hmm?” He had stopped listening entirely, but refocusing on her beautiful eyes found them filled with concern. He had been staring.

“Are you--”

“You love me?”

She grinned. “I do.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. A breath, and then his lips met hers too. Warm as summer sunshine. Sweet as honey.

"I love you, too,” he whispered into the breath shared between them. She hummed contentedly, shifting slightly, and he suddenly realized he was still lying on top of her. “I’m squishing you, aren’t I?”

“Mmm, maybe just a bit,” she laughed. “Hey!” she yelped as he rolled the two of them without warning away from the edge of the couch until their positions were reversed.

Giggling in the dying glow of the fire, the color returning to her face, her eyes twinkling in the dim light, she was radiant.

“So fucking beautiful,” he breathed, stealing another kiss.

“Bucky,” she laughed, “I was literally just defrosted like some godforsaken leftovers. There’s no way that--”

“Shut up and support me,” he teased in an awful imitation of her voice. She groaned, pressing her face into his chest before planting a thumbs up next to her head. He could feel her laughter shaking through his entire core. He wanted to feel that for the rest of his life.

Across the room, the clearance light began to flash. Y/N stilled, and in the silence Bucky could make out the drone of a quinjet approaching.

“Medevac. About time,” he muttered.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not wearing any clothes.”

“Right. Yeah, umm--”

“My suit--”

“Gone.”

“Gone?”

“Well, shredded, anyways.”

“Right,” she grinned. “So you’re definitely paying for the coffee.”

“As if I wasn’t going to already. You wound me, sweetheart.”

“I’ll make it up to you. But first I’m gonna steal your t-shirt. And you’re probably not gonna get it back.”

“Ah, so it begins.” Bucky grinned as he pulled her in for one more kiss.

He breathed her in as he did, breathed in the warmth that his embrace had given back to her, breathed in the light of her laughter and the softness of her touch. Breathed in the feeling of skin on skin, intimate and innocent all the same. Breathed in her fingers carding through his hair, her belly pressed to his, her toes on his ankles, offering nothing but comfort. Breathed in her palm pressed nonchalantly, uncaringly to the scars on his shoulder. Breathed in the believing that if he could preserve the light that was her, his eye in the storm, then maybe the storm wasn’t so bad after all.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I absolutely adore this trope, and I couldn’t resist sharing my own take on it. But if you like it as much as I do, please check out Burya by @constantwriter85, Cold and Broken by @sunriserose1023, and Cold, Cold Water by @wkemeup — their variations are all insanely brilliant. As always, feedback is so incredibly appreciated. And in case no one told you, you look really good today. 🖤

Update: I created some bonus content for this fic for my Paper Anniversary celebration! Check out some answered questions about this pairing’s dynamic and the writing process for this fic here.

Tag List - Comment, message, or send me an ask if you’d like to join! (If you’re crossed out, I couldn’t tag you. Sorry!)

@buckysbabygorl / @bvckyswildflower / @justanothermarvelfanaccount / @kalesrebellion / @kolakube9 / @levylovegood / @pspice639 / @saiyanprincessswanie / @soullessheartlesshumanoid​

[dirtytransmasc]

Help save Frost!!

https://chng.it/sTJ8Rm6hXs (petition link also in comments)

[bookofjin]

Account of the Braided Bandits (SS095)

On one side of the River, Daxi Jin and Lord Black-Lance. On the other side at the Tiger's Pen, Mao Dezu.

The Braided Heads Bandits have the family name Tuoba. Their ancestors were descendants of the Han general Li Ling. Ling surrendered to the Xiongnu and had several hundreds and thousands of offspring, each one established fame and reputation. The Braided Heads likewise are one of them. At the beginning of Jin, the Braided Heads kind had their section groups of several ten thousand families in Yunzhong.

At the end of Emperor Hui's regin, the Inspector of Bing province, the Duke of Dongying, Sima Teng, was besieged by the Xiongnu at Jinyang. The Shanyu of the Braided Heads, Yichi, dispatched an army to help Teng.

Emperor Huai's 3rd Year of Yongjia [309 AD], Chi's younger brother Lu led the section groups from Yunzhong to enter Yanmen. He went to the Inspector of Bing province, Liu Kun, to press for Loufan etc., five counties. Kun was not able to hold authority, and moreover wished to depend on Lu for aid. He therefore sent up words:

Lu's older brother Chi had merit in saving Teng. Old achievements ought to be recorded. [I] request to move the people of the five counties to Xinxing, and use their land to settle him.

Kun also petitioned to ennoble Lu as Duke of Dai commandery.

At the beginning of Emperor Min's regin, he again advanced Lu to be King of Dai, and added revenue from Changshan commandery. Afterwards within Lu's state there was great chaos, and when Lu died, his son was also young and immature. The section groups divided and scattered.

Lu's grandson Shiyijian was brave and strong, the multitudes then adhered to him. He was titled Duke of Shangluo, to the north he had the Sand Desert, to the south he occupied Yin Mountain, his multitudes numbered several hundred thousands. Afterwards he was routed by Fu Jian, who took him back to Chang'an. Later he was allowed to return north.

[Shiyi]jian died, his son Kai, courtesy name Shegui, was installed in replacement. Before this, Murong Chui of the Xianbei usurped the title in Zhongshan. Xiaowu of Jin's 21st Year of Taiyuan [396 AD], Chui died. Kai led 100 000 cavalry to besiege Zhongshan. Next Year, 4th Month [13 May – 11 June 397], he overcame it. Thereupon he ruled the central provinces, declared himself as Wei, and titled the year Tianci [“Heaven's Bestowal”]. 1st Year, he set his seat at Pingcheng in Dai commandery's Sangqian county, established schools and officials, and set up boards of the Masters of Writing.

Kai was quite learned and informed, and comprehended astronomy. His customs was to sacrifice to Heaven in the 4th Month, and at the end of the 6th Month lead a great multitude to Yin Mountain. He spoke of it as turning back the frost. The distance between Yin Mountain and Pingcheng is 600 li. There is deep, far-reaching and rich forest, and frost and snow have never once melted away, perhaps he intended to use warm air to turn back the cold.

When he died, he was secretly buried, without a place for the grave mound. Reaching the seeing off of the burial, they had both emptily built an inner coffin and erected a barrow and outer coffin. All of the chariots, horses, and implements he had made use of while alive they burned to see off the perished.

Kai was violent, cruel and fond of killing, the people could not bear his instructions. Before this, there was a spirit magician who warned Kai he would have a violent misfortune, only by executing Qinghe and killing ten thousand people could it be avoided. Kai therefore wiped out Qinghe, one commandery. He often killed people with his own hand, wishing to make it number a full ten thousand. Sometimes, he would drive a small carriage, and with his own hand hold the sword [and?] strike the carriage rim at people's brain. When one person died, another person replaced them, all in one action. The dead were several tens. At night he constantly changed and altered the place where he slept, so that people did not know. Only a loved concubine named Wanren [“Ten thousand Persons”] knew about his location. Wanren had secret intercourse with Kai's son, the King of Qinghe. He worried the affair would become known and wished to kill Kai. He made Wanren his inner agent. At night they waited until Kai was alone at the place, and killed him. As Kai was approaching death, he said:

The talk about Qinghe and ten thousand people then were about you.

That year was Emperor An's 5th Year of Yixi [409 AD].

Kai's second son, the King of Qi, Si, courtesy name Mumo, apprehended the King of Qinghe, and responded to him with shouting and weeping, saying:

The weightiest in a person's life is the father. Why are you talking of making rebellion?

He pressured and made him kill himself. Si was installed in replacement. He posthumously titled Kai as the Guiding and Martial [daowu] August Emperor.

13th Year [417 AD], Gaozu went west to attack Chang'an. Si had previously taken as wife a daughter of Yao Xing, and therefore dispatched 100 cavalry to gather and join up north of the He to save him. They were greatly routed by Gaozu, the affair is in the biographies of Zhu Chaoshi and others. Hence he dispatched envoys to seek peace, and from then envoys and instructions passed through yearly. Gaozu dispatched the General Within the Halls, Shen Fan, Suo Jisun as responding envoys. They were already returning from instructing and had reached the He but not yet crossed, when Si heard the news of Gaozu's collapse. He pursued and apprehended Fan and others, and cut of peaceful relations. Only when Taizu was enthroned did he dispatch Fan and others back home.

3rd Year of Yongchu, 10th Month [31 October 422 – 29 November 422], Si himself led a multitude to arrive at Fangcheng. He dispatched the General of Zheng Troops and Inspector of Yang province, the Duke of Shanyang, Daxi Jin, the General of Wu Troops and Inspector of Guang province, the Duke of Cangwu, Gongsun Biao, and the Master of Writing Hua Ji, to lead more than 20 000 infantry and cavalry, cross south south-west of Huatai at Shiji [the “Stone Crossing”] on the border of Dongyan county, with the supply wagons, the weak and tired, accompanying himself.

The Defence Master of Huatai, General who Soothes the Distant and Grand Warden of Dong commandery, Wang Jingdu, hurried to report to the General of the Best of the Army and Inspector of Si province, Mao Dezu. He defended Hulao, and dispatched Marshal Zhai Guang to lead the Army Advisor Pang Zi, Grand Warden of Shangdang, Liu Tanzhi, and others with 3 000 infantry and cavalry to resist them.

The army stayed at Tulou in Juan county. The bandits moved camp to two li east of Huatai City. They constructed assault implements and went daily to threaten the city. Dezu, since the defenders of Huatai were few, made Zhai Guang recruit strong soldiers among the army, and dispatched the General who Soothes the Distant, Liu Fangzhi, to lead them, and help Jingdu with the defence. Fangzhi brought along more than 80 people, and broke through to enter the city.

Dezu also dispatched the General who Chastise the Bandits and Grand Warden of Hongnong, Dou Yingming, leading 500 people, and the General who Establishes the Martial, Dou Ba, leading 250 people. Both were to use water forces and succeed each other in issuing out, and would together be under the authority of Zhai Guang.

Earlier, the fugitive Sima Chuzhi and others would often hide and conceal themselves on the borders of Chenliu commandery. When the bandits had crossed south, they hurried to join up with them. They chased away and fomented in the border areas, and greatly became a worry for the people. Dezu dispatched the Prefect of Changshe, Wang Fazheng, to lead 500 people and occupy Shaoling, while general Liu Lian led 200 cavalry to reach Yongiu and defend it. Chuzhi assaulted Lian at Baima county, and was routed by Lian. By chance army supplies sent off from the palace arrived, and Lian went to welcome them, but a commoner from Suanzao, Wang Yu, knew that Lian was to the south, and hurried to report to the bandits. The bandit general Hua Ji led a thousand to drive a raid on Cangyuan, the troops and personnel fully went over the walls to scatter and flee. The Grand Warden of Chenliu, Yan Man, was captured by the bandits. The bandits immediately employed Wang Yu as Grand Warden of Chenliu, controlling the troops defending Cangyuan.

11th Month [30 November – 28 December 422], the bandits attacked the walls of Huatai with full strength. The north-eastern walls collapsed into ruin, and Wang Jingdu set out and ran. Jingdu's Marshal Yang Zan stood firm in defence, and did not move. [Though] the multitudes dispersed, he was unyielding and steadfast and did not surrender, and was killed by the bandits.

Dou Yingming struck the bandits' supply wagons at Shiji, and routed them. He killed more than 500 of the thieves, and beheaded their Defence Masters [lacuna]-lian Neitou, Zhang Suo'er and others. Yingming from Shiji proceeded to Huatai, heard the city was already lost, and thereupon advanced to station at Yinmao. Dou Ba hurried to go to Zhai Guang.

When the bandits had overcome Huatai, they combined their strength towards Guang and others. His strength was no match, he pulled back and withdrew, turned to fight and then went forward. For two days and one night, he cut down travel to ten or so li. The bandits' infantry armies continuously arrived. Guang and others' arrows were exhausted and their strength at an end, they were greatly defeated. Guang, Ba, Tanzhi, and others each dispersed on their own and turned back. The bandits exploited the victory to then arrive at Hulao. Dezu set out with infantry and cavalry intending to strike them. The bandits withdrew and stationed at Tulao, and again withdrew to turn back to Huatai.

The people of Chang'an, Weichang, and Lantian counties lived beside Hulao. Dezu in all cases made them enter the city. The bandits separately dispatched Lord Black-Lance to lead 3 000 people to Heyang, intending to cross south and capture Jinyong. Dezu dispatched the General who Rouses Power and Prefect of Heyin, Dou Huang, with 500 people to defend Xiaolei [lit. “small ramparts”], the Prefect of Goushi, Wang Yu, with 400 people to occupy Jiancang, the Prefect of Gong, Chen Chen, with 500 people to strengthen Xiaoping, and the Army Advisor Supervising Protector, Zhang Ji, to station at Niulan. He also dispatched the general and leader Ma Dui [?], together with the Prefect of Luoyang, Yang Yi, a combined 200 cavalry, to hem the banks of the He and follow the moment to go and link up.

12th Month [29 December 422 – 27 January 423], the bandits set up defences at the Luo Stream's small ramparts. Dezu dispatched Zhai Guang to hurriedly go and strike them. The bandits withdrew and fled. Guang calmly erected defensive dikes, repaired and organized the walls and fortifications, and then turned back to Hulao.

The Inspector of Yu province, Liu Cui, dispatched the [Assistant at] Headquarters Gao Daojin, to lead 500 infantry and cavalry to occupy Xiang. He also dispatched Marshal Xu Qiong to support him. The palace dispatched generals Fu Boqian, Yao Zhen, Du Tan, Liang Lingzai, and others with various naval and infantry forces to carry on the advance. The Inspector of Xu province, Wang Zhongde, led an army to stay at Hulu.

Lord Black-Lance dispatched his Senior Clerk to bring along 1 000 people to pressure Dou Huang and Yang Yi. Huang and others confronted, struck, and seized him, capturing alive 200 people. Afterwards, the General of Zheng Troops with 5 000 cavalry unexpectedly assaulted Huang and others. Black-Lance crossed and combined strength with him, and they attacked the ramparts on four sides. Huang and others' strength was little and their multitudes scattered. Huang and Yi both were heavily wounded.

The bandits' general, the Duke of Anping, E Qing, crossed south with two armies of 7 000 people, east below of Que'ao and arrived at Sidoukou, about 100 li from Yinmao. The Inspector of Yan province, Xu Yan, abandoned the army and garrisons, and fled. Hence Taishan and other commanderies equally neglected defences.

Zheng Troops, together with Gongsun Bao and the General of Song Troops and Inspector of Yan province, the Marquis of Jiaozhi, Pu Ji, with 15 000 cavalry then went towards Hulao. They formed camp 5 li south-east of the city, and divided off infantry and cavalry unfolding [?] from Chenggao towards the western gate in Hulao's outer walls. Dezu confronted and struck them, killing and wounding more than a hundred people. The bandits withdrew to protect the camp.

The General who Garrisons the North, Tan Daoji, led a navy north to rescue. The General of Chariots and Cavalry, the King of Luling, Yizhen, dispatched the Dragon-Prancing General, Shen Shuli, with 3 000 people to go to the Inspector of Yu province, Liu Cui, to measure the suitability of hurrying aid[?].