#the plot in general might be thin as ice

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Miscalculation

AN: I don't write nearly enough for Felix. Luckily, that SKZCode lab episode planted this idea in my head, and it's taken a viciously hold on me. Also, just to be super clear, despite Reader being a year old experiment, she's very much an adult. She came into the world that way. Also also, I edited this while sleepy so, hopefully it's coherent lol.

Synopsis: Your first heat hits you unexpectedly and violently one day. Thankfully, your favourite person pays you a visit in an attempt to comfort you through it. However, you both severely underestimate just how much your heat affects you. Especially around him.

General tags and warnings: Lee Felix x Fem! Reader, Scientist! Felix, Cat hybrid! Reader, lots of unethical research, Reader is an experiment, Felix tries his best to humanise Reader, doesn't really apply here but, since Reader is an experiment and Felix is a scientist there is the potential for a power imbalance, Reader is in heat, Reader is manipulative and maybe in love with Felix and not much plot.

Smut tags and warnings: heavy dubcon, mentions of masturbation and exploration of sexuality, virgin! Reader, kind of sort of fingering (f. receiving), humping/grinding, over the clothes touching, scent kink of sorts, clothes being ripped, nipple play (m. receiving), Reader takes charge a lot throughout this, little to no foreplay for Reader and a very unrealistic first time, piv sex without a condom, marking and clawing (m. receiving), biting (m. receiving), one mention of blood, possessiveness from Reader, dirty talk, praise and creampie.

Word count: 3.8k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Everything burns. 

Your blankets are a crumpled mess on your floor because you're certain you'll shred them into pieces with your claws if they so much as touch your overheated body right now. The persistent buzz of the air conditioner brings you no comfort. Sweat dots your forehead and you'd take off the oversized shirt that clings to your body within an instant if Doctor Bang, red faced and avoiding your frustrated gaze, hadn't insisted on some sense of propriety. Aren't these men supposed to be doctors? Trained medical professionals? Have they never seen a naked body before? He's lucky that he's the only one out of the three older men that you can somewhat stomach because if Doctor Lee or Doctor Seo had suggested you cover yourself, you would have hissed and clawed at them. 

A frustrated noise builds from the back of your throat when you can feel your sheets starting to grow damp underneath you. You've already had to change them five times in the past two days and, you feel like you're losing your mind. Actually, you just might be. Worse than the burning that emanates through your entire body and the non-stop sweat that clings to your skin no matter how many ice-cold showers you take, is the perpetual ache between your thighs. You're not stupid. This lab may be all that you've known for the entire year of your life but, you have basic instincts and common sense. Coupled with all of the sessions you're forced to sit through with Doctor Bang in an attempt to understand you and aid you in understanding yourself, you're more than aware you're aroused right now. Or ‘wet’ as Doctor Lee and Doctor Seo put it, much to the dismay of the older of the three. 

You just don't understand why. 

In the rare moments that you've wondered about your sexuality and sex in these sterile walls, it's rarely gone beyond a few curious pokes and prods at yourself. It's mostly been a neutral experience and you didn't derive much pleasure out of it. You're sure your limited knowledge and experience on the matter has hindered your ability to enjoy masturbation much but, it's not as though the four men will just give you the material or knowledge to help pleasure yourself. You're not even sure you care all that much.

Except for when you do. Thinking back to quiet nights where the silence and loneliness of the lab was too much for your mind to handle and masturbation crossed it as a hope for distraction. A brief escape from the life you've been forced to endure. So, you tried it. Flashes of a kind smile and blonde hair making your stomach twist in a way that wasn't unpleasant, just unfamiliar. Full lips and memories of a deep voice causing arousal to trickle onto your inexperienced fingers. You'd even managed to make yourself orgasm once. It was one of the few sincerely pleasant moments you've had. 

The rest centred around him too. 

“–she's deep in heat right now, Lix.” You recognise the voice as that of Doctor Bang. Your ears twitch atop your head in interest at the conversation he's having with the only doctor you've grown fond of. You're always grateful for your hearing abilities in moments like these. 

“We can't just keep her in the dark,” Felix argues and your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Electricity zipping through you just at the sound of his voice and the knowledge that he's just beyond your bedroom door. The throbbing between your thighs worsens. 

“I know,” Doctor Bang sighs, “but, we won't be getting a shipment of suppressants until three days from now. We're just going to have to wait it out.” 

“We?” Comes Felix's incredulous reply, “We're not the ones suffering right now. I went to visit her last night Chris,” your eyes widen at the confession, “She was burning up and covered in sweat and, she's only had to deal with two days of it. You know it's not fair to her.” 

“What do you want us to do, Felix?” The older man argues, his voice heavy with frustration. 

“Treat her like a fucking person,” the younger man argues just as frustrated, “Tell her what's going on. We know she's incredibly smart. Maybe she has some biological way to make herself feel better that we haven't thought about or explored.” 

Silence stretches between the two for a few, long moments. 

“I don't think that's a good idea,” comes Doctor Bang's resigned reply, “Look Lix, I know that you care about her and the two of you have always been close. Too close for what could be considered appropriate,” you snort at that. Now he cares about ethics and what's appropriate? How funny. “But, Minho, Changbin and I care about her too. She's not just some experiment to us,” you find that hard to believe, “We just know when it's appropriate to step back and keep our distance. This is one of those times. We're going to try and help her through it as best as we can but, we're going to wait for the suppressants then feed them to her. That's it. End of discussion.” The sounds of footsteps echoing through the hallway are all that accompany his words. 

Well, at least you finally know what's wrong with you. You're in heat. Something they've apparently known you're capable of experiencing and have been suppressing since you gained consciousness. The fact that they're so blasé about letting you suffer in your room and wait days until you're able to find any kind of reprieve boils your blood in a way that has nothing to do with your biology. Yeah, so much for caring about you. You haven't even seen Doctor Seo and Doctor Lee since your symptoms first started. You don't even notice your claws prodding in your anger. You should have attempted to escape on those rare trips Felix had taken you outside of the lab. Consequences be damned. At least you'd have a shot at a normal life. You should have never let his warm eyes and compassion keep you coming back to this hellhole. 

Your furious, internal tirade is interrupted by your door sliding open. You don't have to turn around to know that it's Felix. His scent always betrays him before anything else. The familiar mix of bamboo and vanilla hit your senses. However, unlike the other times you'd bask in his scent, now it worsens the thundering of your heart and you notice the slick between your thighs increasing. 

“Hey,” he says gently, shutting the door behind him. All you can think to do is stare at your wall wide eyed as his scent grows closer with every step he takes towards your bed. Saliva begins to pool in your mouth just at the smell of him and the soft timber of his voice adds to the pit forming in your stomach. Your hands desperately grabbing at your arms in an attempt to calm you down. It's just Felix.  

“I just wanted to check up on you,” he adds when his greeting is met with silence. You have to fight extremely hard to not let your tail move wildly and to keep your claws retracted when he sits down on the edge of your bed. Fuck. He's so close now and his scent is overwhelming. The smell that used to bring you comfort now puts you on edge. A feeling that you've only felt sparks of now sets your entire body alight and the ache between your thighs starts to become unbearable. He needs to leave before your heat causes you to do something very, very stupid. 

“I know you've been struggling a lot lately,” the apologetic tone to his voice melts your heart and your impulses yell at you to crawl into his lap and nuzzle at him until he no longer sounds upset, “I'm sorry. We should have told you this when it started but, you're in heat. That's what's causing you to feel this way,” he explains, as though you hadn't overheard (more like intentionally listened in on) his conversation with Doctor Bang. 

“I know you're probably mad at us, at me,” you want to tell him no, you could never be mad at him but, you're afraid that if you speak now, you'll say something you can't take back, “I'm truly sorry. The suppressants will be here in a few days. Till then though, I'm here for you,” he says softly, laying a hand gently on your arm in what you assume is an act of comfort but, it has the complete opposite effect. 

Your blood turns molten in your veins and the fog that's been on the edges of your mind swallows it whole. All you can think about is getting your hands on him. Touching him. Feeling him. Mating with him. You've never felt more animal than human. 

One of the major perks of being a cat hybrid, you've come to learn, is your quick movements. Before Felix can process it, you're sitting up and pressed to his side within an instant. The confusion and concern on his handsome face is so endearing. He's so cute. You just want to devour him. 

“Felix,” your voice sounds near unrecognisable to even your own ears, “I want you to help me with my heat,” you practically purr into his shoulder. Grasping his arm and delighting in the pretty flush that spreads across his face. The ache of your canines extending doesn't bother you in the slightest. Your mind focused on nothing else but, the man that's been your lifeline for the past year. 

“I–I um I ca–can't do that,” he explains, his voice sounding strained. His attempt to pull his arm away proves to be futile. Not that he was trying particularly hard anyway. “But, Lix,” you whine, pushing your body closer to his, your breasts pressing against his arm, “Didn't you say you'd help me?” 

The way he attempts to stammer out a reply just makes him so much cuter to you. Nothing but, instinct driving you to press yourself even closer to him. Delighting in the shudder you feel run through his body when your breath hits his exposed neck. “Don't you want to help me, Felix?” You ask with a desperate edge to your hoarse voice, one of your hands travelling down the span of his lab coat until you reach his soft hand. Moving it until it's between your slick covered, inner thighs, “It hurts, Lix.” 

Felix, for his part, looks absolutely shell-shocked. Warm, panicked brown eyes staring at you unblinkingly but, he doesn't move his hand. Not even when your own is no longer holding it. Your body moves on its own. Hips chasing the brush that his fingers offer. Your lashes fluttering at the pleasure courses through you. You feel so sensitive, even his barely there touch is enough to cause you to gush further onto his fingers. 

And Felix watches it all. Watches the way you clumsily try to hump his fingers. Watches the minute expressions of relief and desire and frustration that all cross your beautiful face. Watches the way your canines sink into your bottom lip. Feels the way your sharp claws dig into his lap coat. He doesn't miss a thing. 

Impulse and maybe a fraction of ration desire push you to tug on his button up shirt and kiss him. You're moving completely on what feels natural and what you've seen a couple of movies he's watched with you. It takes him a second to kiss you back. Tentatively following the movements of your lips and guiding you in more comfortable and enjoyable directions. You swallow his stuttered groan greedily when your tongue invades his mouth. Searching for more of him to explore. To taste. To burn into your memory. 

As nice as it feels to kiss him like you've thought about far too many times in the silence of your room and, use his fingers and hand to help satiate the persistent ache that sits in the pit of your stomach, it still all isn't enough. Not even close. This time, you moan into his mouth when one of your hands snakes its way down the front of his body until it comes to rest on his lap. A particularly painful throb coming from the apex of your thighs when you feel how hard he is beneath your touch. 

“So you do want this just as much as I do,” you sigh dreamily against his lips, sparks of desire shooting through your entire body with every palm of your hand over his clothed cock. All of his adorable, little noises making your walls clench. You don't think you've ever felt pain like this in your entire, short life. Saliva pools in your mouth as his scent wafts to you. Much heavier and headier than earlier. Beneath the anxiety and fear, the arousal makes its presence known clear as day. 

“W–Wait, I–” Whatever he was going to say is cut short by you shoving him onto your bed. His wide eyes, pupils blown out and completely swallowing his irises, meeting your lidded ones as he watches you straddle his slender hips. You've always thought he was a good-looking man but, he looks even better like this, underneath you. 

Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head when you press down on him. Your drenched folds coming in contact with the evident bulge in his dress pants. Resting your palms on his stomach, you start to move. Chasing the friction against your clit desperately. Not caring all about the mess you're making of his pants. Your eyes focused on watching the way he tries very, very hard not to lose himself in the way you grind against him. His hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he lays there and let's you use him. 

Fuck. What a cutie. 

His eyes shoot to your face when you use your claws to rip his blue button up open. While the colour looks absolutely lovely on him, you much prefer the sight of his bare chest. Your tongue running over your teeth at all the skin that you now have access to. 

“He–Hey, I think we should calm d–down a bit and–” Felix tries to interject, the drop in octave of his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you. You disregard his words easily. Leaning down to shut him up with your mouth while your hands busy themselves with exploring his chest. Your canines nipping his bottom lip when he gasps into you while you trace his nipples with your claws. Sensitive too. Perfect. 

“Why stop when I can feel how hard you are for me, Lixie?” You whisper against his full lips, fingers tracing random patterns into his nipples. His hips jutting up to meet your drenched core every time you touch him a little too harshly or drag yourself along his entire length. 

“Don't you want to just give in?” You ask, meeting his blown out eyes as your hands move their way along his lithe body until they reach his belt buckle. 

“I–I–” he stutters out when you sit back up so you can gain a better view of his frustrating belt. He must see you preparing to rip his pants off too because he stops you immediately, “I–It's okay, I got um it,” he quickly responds. You shift down him a little to provide him with space to unbuckle his belt. Fortunately, he doesn't take too long. You're sure your impatience is rolling off of you in waves. 

Much to your surprise given how bashful he's been, he tugs his pants and boxers down in one go. His hard, pre-cum covered cock slapping against his stomach in his rush, his eyes pointedly looking at everywhere but, you. 

It's one thing to feel him, it's a whole different matter entirely to have his cock right there, ready for the taking. And take, you do. It's adorable how red his face is and the way he sneaks glances at you shyly when you shift back up his body until your dripping pussy is hovering over his twitching cock. Your shirt sticks to your damp body uncomfortably and, the reminder that you're still wearing it is an unwelcome one. So, you simply tug it off. Exposing yourself freely and readily to his shy eyes. 

Not that he's all that shy when you're bare for him to fully drink in. Bruised lips parting as he watches you grasp his cock with an impatient hand and align it with your dripping hole. He doesn't stop you when you begin to sink down onto him. Strained whimpers falling from his pretty mouth with every inch you eagerly swallow. The stretch only stings a little. The sensation of his scorching cock dragging along your walls more than makes up for it. It's your turn to moan once he's fully sheathed inside of you. Your clumsy attempts with your fingers don't hold a candle to this. 

The way Felix chokes on your name when you start to move will forever be etched into your memory. The pleasure clear as day on his face spurs you along with the desire to feel him inside of you for as long as you can. To make love with him in this awful place that only he gave any semblance of meaning to. To mate with him. 

You lose yourself in the way his cock feels easily. Fluttering lashes threatening to shut every time he hits a spot inside of you that makes your pace falter and your claws dig into his soft stomach. The faint, pink lines that decorate his skin cause you to preen. They look gorgeous on his skin. They look like they belong there. Like they were meant to be there. Based on the way his hooded eyes switch from watching the expressions your face morphs into, the way your breasts bounce with every movement on his cock and the way you swallow as much of him as you can, you don't think he minds or cares all that much. 

Your skin grows impossibly hotter when his hands touch you. He's careful. Watching for any discomfort but, there's none to be found. If anything, you revel in the gentle hold his hands take of your hips. Not controlling your movements but just enjoying touching you while you bounce on his cock. 

You might actually love him. 

The thought prompts you to lean down and smash your lips to his once more. The metallic tang of blood lets you know that you nipped him too hard but he doesn't care all that much. Letting you take everything you need from him right now while he lets you. You can feel the way he throbs inside of you. He tries to stop himself but, you notice the way his hips sometimes jerk up to meet you, to move with you. And the knowledge that, on some level, he wants you just as much as you want him sends you into overdrive. 

His sharp inhale echoes through your room when you sink your canines into his neck. The punctures aren't deep but, they're more than enough to satisfy you. You're not sure why or how you knew to do that but, instinct has been your driving force all night and you're going to continue to trust it. 

“We're mated now,” you sigh, thumbing his flushed cheek. 

He just looks up at you for a moment, attempting to digest your words before responding, “Mate–Mated?” 

“Mmm,” you hum in confirmation, purring when you notice the way his twitches like crazy inside of you, “You're my mate now, and I'm yours,” you explain breathlessly. A tension you're barely familiar with building in the pit of your gut that you chase. 

“But we fuck can't–” his sentence is cut off by the drawn out moans from the depths of his chest, his eyes rolling into the back of his head when you pick up your pace. He looks so attractive like this. A bruise already forming on his neck and his chest littered with faint marks from your claws. He's gorgeous. 

“I'm ah cl–close,” he gasps out, his glazed eyes meeting yours and his hands desperately gripping your hips, “You need to shit st–stop,” he manages to stutter out. You think it's amusing that he thinks you're going to stop now. Especially when you're just about to get what you want. Leaning down to his ear, you whisper, “Why, Lixie? You look so cute like this. Why would I ever want to stop?” You smile when you hear the way he whimpers and his cock pulses harder inside of you, “Don't you want to cum inside me?” His hold on you grows tighter, “I want you to. I want you to cum inside me until it's spilling out of me,” you emphasise your point by intentionally clenching around him, “For days.” 

That's all it takes for him to break. His cock throbbing as he shoots his cum into the deepest part of you. A mix of his whimpers and strangled moans of your name tickle your ears as his cum fills your eagerly awaiting pussy. Your tail swishes in glee and your ears twitch in happiness. Your own orgasm creeping up on you when you feel the last of his cum spill into you. Truly, the late nights alone in your bed could never compare to this. To him. Your first orgasm could never hold a candle to this. Your entire body is riddled with quivers and shakes, your wetness gushing onto Felix's softening cock. Your thighs are sticky with cum and you're drenched in sweat but, you've never been more at peace. 

For some time, your shared laboured breathing is the only sound in your room. Fondness bubbles up inside of you when you glance at his flushed, sweaty face. His golden hair sticking to his forehead while he takes some time to come back to himself. Your fingers move before you can even think about it. The fog retreating slightly while you play with his hair and enjoy the simple pleasure of watching him while your combined releases trickle out of you. Much to your displeasure.  

You smile at him when he finally blinks his eyes open to meet yours. Your fingers ghosting over his mate mark as something primal and affectionate simmers in the pit of your stomach. He really is yours now. Your tail wraps around his leg without you even noticing. 

The smile he gives you is small but, it's still one of his smiles and the way your heart hammers in your chest lets you know he really was meant to be your mate. 

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[isnotwhatyourethinking]

The Warrior & The Healer - Chapter 3

Cassian x Winter Court Healer Reader

Summary: Y/n's healing powers are unparalleled, a gift from the Mother that she wields with precision and care. Sent to Velaris under the guise of a diplomatic mission, Y/n is secretly bound by a darker duty—spying for the Winter Court's ruthless war general, Isarn, to protect her imprisoned mother. But as she works to heal the wounds inflicted by Hybern, a chance encounter with a certain Illyrian warrior changes everything.

Word Count: 5.8K

A/N: sorry this took so long, I had to organize an auction T.T though I loved loved loved diving more into the plot and introducing new characters! hope u like this one, angst and all xx

Warnings: girl can't catch a break, angst, mentions of family abuse, blood, violence, waterboarding, language if you squint, some fluff at the end, sorry if I missed anything!

All ACOTAR rights to the genius of Sarah J Maas✨

Upon arriving at the Winter Court, I was greeted by a too-familiar frigid air that clung to my bones, making me long for the warmth of Velaris, and by a structure before me that loomed like a minatory giant, challenging me with its sheer presence. 

The Hailstone Citadel stood majestically atop a rocky hill, its towering spires piercing the frosty air. Constructed around a grand meeting hall where the leaders of the Court gathered for official events, and made from spotless white marble with delicate veins of silver, its walls shimmered like freshly fallen snow under the pale winter sun. The battlements, adorned with intricate carvings of long-forgotten runes, were fashioned from pale blue quartzite, their surfaces glistening as if perpetually coated in a thin layer of frost. 

Inside, the grand halls were lined with smooth alabaster, casting an ethereal glow that mimicked the natural luminescence of ice. Blue calcite pillars rose to support the vaulted ceilings, their icy hue deepening the castle's wintry ambiance. Even the floors, polished to perfection, reflected the cold beauty of the surroundings, with inlaid designs of glacial stone that told tales of ancient winters. 

I stared at the mythical beasts that welcomed me, standing as majestic statues at the base of the blue pillars, symbols of the Winter Court’s strength and ferocity. Great white glacial bears, their fur eternally pristine like the marble walls, were carved to perfection. Snow griffins and frostfang wolves, their watchful gazes following my every move, guarded the halls with silent vigilance. They had always made me feel so small, as if they might jump and shred me to pieces at any second.

The entire structure exuded an icy aura, both in temperature and in its hauntingly beautiful design, perfectly encapsulating the essence of my court. I was caught off guard by the subtle shudder that thought caused.

As I made my way to the tactical wing, I felt a shiver run down my spine, and not just from the cold: a large group of soldiers greeted me with their imposing presence. Isarn might be playing the role of a vigilant warlord, but the overabundance of soldiers spoke volumes about his paranoia. Still, they were a formidable sight, their uniforms a mixture of elegance and intimidation. Each soldier wore a long, icy blue tunic of thick wool embroidered with delicate silver snowflakes. Over this they wore white, fur-lined cloaks, fastened at the shoulder with silver clasps in the shape of direwolves—the well-known beast form of our High Lord. 

Trying to shake off the thought of what Kallias would do to me if he discovered what I was doing, I shifted my attention back to the formation of the soldiers, the details of their armor gleaming in the pale light, silver breastplates intricately engraved with frost patterns and beasts, polished to a mirror-like finish that reflected the icy surroundings. 

I slightly nodded at the formation, heading to Isarn’s office. I raggedly filled my lungs and held my pendant before walking into my cursed fate. No fear. One deep breath. No hesitation. Another deep breath. I knocked once announcing myself, and opened the door.

❄❄❄❄❄❄

Isarn's office bore none of the elegance of the grand halls of the Citadel. The walls were adorned with detailed maps of Prythian, some marked by battle plans. Shelves lined one wall, filled with tomes on warfare, tactics, and the history of the Winter Court. Weapons of all kinds—swords, daggers, and axes—were meticulously displayed, the room was lit by a single obsidian chandelier, its dark crystals casting sharp light across the space. 

In the corner, a fireplace donned with a shiny grease black tile crackled with blue-tinged flames, the firelight casting eerie, flickering shadows across the room. The hearth was decorated with carvings of snarling beasts, and despite the warmth it provided, the fireplace only seemed to add to the cold, merciless atmosphere. A large desk dominated the center of the room, made of dark, polished ebony that looked almost black in the dim light. Behind it sat a high-backed chair, its design as austere and commanding as the man who occupied it. 

Despite his stature, the General's presence was overwhelming, his authority radiating with sheer force. He was a short, chubby male with skin so pale it almost appeared gray, the black ponds of ink he had for eyes missing nothing—a cold, calculating gaze that seemed to see through any facade. His gray hair, balding at the crown, was meticulously combed straight and sleek in a strict military fashion that only added to his stern demeanor. Dressed in the immaculate regalia of a warlord and topped with a prominently displayed black onyx blade, he projected an aura of intimidation and behest. I loathed this visit, though I was looking forward to hearing news of my mother.

"Sit down", he commanded in his screeching voice. 

"I’d rather stand", I spat back. An evil smile crossed his features. 

"Y/N… You’re in no position to negotiate, and I’m not in the mood for insubordination. Sit. the fuck. down". 

Prick.

My back tensed as I reluctantly sat in one of the chairs located in front of his desk, hands still in my pewter cloak’s pockets. 

"I hope, for yours and your mother’s sake, you’re not wasting my time."

I nervously looked at his chubby hands, adorned with rings shaped like bears, tapping rhythmically against his desk. Every other plump finger was wrapped in a band of platinum, a showy attempt to command respect, as if a reminder of his authority had to be displayed at all times, I thought. 

"The Night Court is heavily secured since Hybern’s attack," I began, trying to keep my voice steady. "Thanks to the Ancient One’s powers and the Cursebreaker defending the city, Hybern did not stand a chance." 

Isarn’s expression remained inscrutable as he leaned back in his chair, calculating. "Go on," he pressed, his voice a dangerous murmur.

I took a deep breath, the weight of the pendant around my neck grounding me. "Amren’s powers are… unlike anything I’ve ever heard of. She can seamlessly control mind and body, the Cursebreaker herself was impressed by her skills."

"What about that winged bastard? Did the treacherous High Lord reveal anything useful about their plans against Hybern?" he said in a mocking tone, each word a poisonous blade cutting through the tension in the room. 

I hesitated, the memory of Rhysand mentioning a book to Feyre flashing through my mind. I knew, I knew this was wrong, and I hated the thought of putting the Night Court at risk. But the desperate need to gain leverage gnawed at me. No, I couldn’t reveal this information before negotiating my mother’s release. "Where is my mother?" I asked, trying to shift the conversation.

Isarn’s eyes narrowed, and he stood, moving around his desk with the grace of a predator. "Information first," he said, his voice unyielding.

A power struggle unfolded as he circled me, each step calculated. "Your dear mother is expecting you to fulfill your side of the bargain." He hesitated for a second, carefully measuring his next words to avoid giving anything away. "And the Night Court is not your concern," he added with a tone of casual malice, as if the subject was of little importance to him. 

Interesting.

In a blink, he was beside me, and before I could react, I felt the cold touch of his onyx blade at the nape of my neck. Isarn was faster than I had anticipated, his military training evident in his swift, lethal movement.

I summoned a burst of chilling force to my upper body, just in case, trying to remain grounded. 

"Tell me… what you know," Isarn demanded, slowly pressing the blade harder against my neck.

I felt a warm liquid trickle down my back—he had pierced my skin. The pain was sharp, but the realization of my vulnerability was even more cutting. My wound was healing quickly, though the gash hurt like hell. 

He kept pressing with intent and what felt like... pleasure? I fought back tears until they finally broke. 

"I heard Rhysand and Feyre talking about a book the Ancient One is working on. It could be a weapon, I don't... I don't know anything else." 

Isarn’s smile was victorious as he released the blade from my neck. "A book?" His eyes gleamed with greed. "See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?" he taunted, his voice mocking and triumphant. Then the bastard licked my blood from the tip of the blade, never breaking eye contact. Repulsive, dishonorable, evil shred of a male. 

I forced a gag down my throat and kept an impassive expression on my face to avoid giving him a reaction, but I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I was disgusted, enraged, frustrated and tired. How much longer did we have to put up with this prick? From the moment I was recalled from the Boreal Retreat to the Citadel a few weeks ago, Isarn had made it his personal mission to humiliate me every chance he got. The Commander, Gods only knew how, had managed to convince Kallias to assign me to aid the Night Court, so I hadn't even had time to delegate my duties, and I often wondered how my patients at the Retreat were doing. 

Fortunately, a knock on the door interrupted my torment.

"Sir?" A soldier peeked his head in with hesitation and fear. He had been summoned by the Commander but clearly did not want to disturb him. He knew better than that.

"Alfson. Take the lady here to the lower chambers. Make sure she sees how her mother is being well cared for." Isarn snarled with disdain. Then he pinned me down with his resolute obsidian eyes as he reclined on his desk, their fixed stare anchoring me in place. 

"We are done here. You're to remain in the Night Court until I say otherwise, and you better not try any funny business." He tapped the ebony with his fat fingers, emphasizing the last three words. "I've got eyes and ears everywhere."

"I've got eyes and ears everywhere," I scoffed in my head. Honestly, what was his interest in the Night Court? 

What is your endgame, Commander?

A surge of strength coursed through me, a defiant fire igniting in my chest. While my resilience had always been a silent force, manifesting through actions rather than words, this newfound courage startled me. 

Before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out of my mouth.

"You mean Hybern’s?"

His head suddenly snapped up, a shadow crossing his face. Without warning, his hand lashed out, striking me across the face with a force that sent me reeling. The sting of his platinum rings bit into my skin, and before I could even touch my cheek to ease the pain, his gaze shifted to the soldier. With a slight nod and a silent command in his eyes, he conveyed his next order.

A sudden, searing pain exploded at the side of my head, and my world turned black.

The barren, snow-covered ground crunched beneath our feet as we searched for anything to stave off our gnawing hunger. It had been two weeks since my father had left us to fend for ourselves, his absences a common trial we had learned to endure. The biting wind whipped through my thin clothes, but I barely felt it, my focus solely on survival. 

I ran ahead of her, a small figure stood out a few meters away in the sea of whites and grays around us.

“Mama, look!”

We had stumbled upon a rabbit, its fragile body barely clinging to life. I looked at my mother with young, inexperienced eyes, searching in hers for an answer to the rabbit's pain, though knowing this could be our dinner. 

She knelt beside the animal, examining it with gentle hands despite the harshness of our surroundings. Her eyes, a blend of resolve and sorrow, met mine with a weight that belied her calm exterior. She cupped her hand on my left cheek, a mother's heart breaking at the lesson she was about to teach her little girl. 

"You must choose," she said gently, her voice trembling yet firm as strings of mist came out of her mouth. "Help it get better, or let it go peacefully. The decision is yours, my love."

Her tone carried not just the necessity of our survival, but a plea for understanding. 

I hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on my small shoulders. The rabbit's labored breaths filled my ears, and I felt a pang of empathy for the creature. But the growling of my stomach and the desperate look in my mother's eyes forced my hand. With trembling fingers, I reached out, knowing that this choice meant survival.

I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering my strength, then made the call. 

I snapped the flimsy neck, ending the rabbit’s suffering to provide us with a meal. The act felt heavy, its significance settling deep within me.

My mother’s gaze hardened as she stroked my hair and looked into my eyes. 

"You did good. Sometimes we must do not what our hearts desire but what our needs demand, without fear nor hesitation” 

Her words replaced the feeling of guilt and grief, they had etched themselves into my soul, becoming a cornerstone of my resilience and determination.

I bolted upright on the cold stone floor, my mother's voice echoing in my mind. The nightmare, the memory, had faded, but the longing for her warming presence remained.

As my senses returned, I realized I wasn't in my bed but in a dark, dank dungeon. The chains binding me were a deep, otherworldly blue, shimmering faintly in the dim light. Each link felt like liquid metal solidified into an unbreakable structure, wrapped tightly around my wrists and ankles. The subtle chill from their touch seeped into my bones, sapping my strength with powerful magic. 

I groaned as I tried to reach for the back of my head where an intense headache originated, pounding behind my eyes, likely from the blow Alfson had delivered in Isarn’s office. My vision was still blurry, but as I blinked rapidly trying to clear my sight, the full extent of my situation became painfully clear: I wasn't healing.

I struggled against the chains, my movements slow and sluggish. Each effort to free myself only seemed to tighten their grip. Panic began to set in, my breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. Then, amidst the silence of the dungeon, a familiar whimpering voice reached me over the ringing in my ears.

Across the cell, through the dim light and shadows, I saw her. She was huddled in a corner, her once-vibrant form now frail and broken. 

No. No, no, no–

Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized the horror of her imprisonment. Isarn hadn't been keeping her in some quarters as I had hoped; all this time, she had been held captive in a dungeon cell. 

"My child," she murmured. 

It pained me to hear her voice barely audible carrying the weight of all the suffering she had endured.

"Mama," the call came from the bottom of my heart, out to my lips, hoarse and desperate. The sight of her, more than the chains, more than the cold, more than the headache, shattered my core. I fought against the bonds with renewed desperation, my mind racing to find a way to free us both. A thousand questions swirled in my mind, and I could see the same confusion and urgency reflected in my mother's eyes.

I breathed, trying to keep my voice steady, "I've been out assisting the Night Court."

Her eyes widened, a spark of shock briefly flickering through her weariness. I wanted to tell her everything, about the beautiful city of Starlight, the people I had met, the mission I had undertaken, about my mate, but there was no time. The sound of boots echoed faintly in the background, so I continued.

"Mama, I’ve been well, but I can't talk for long," I said, my words hurried. "They're coming."

She nodded, understanding the urgency. Despite her frail state, she reached out to me as if she could hold my hand from a distance. "Bjorn," she said, her voice dry and raspy, "he's been aiding me."

Bjorn. The mention of his name brought a flood of emotions. My uncle, my mentor, the one who had always been there for us. While my father abandoned us, Bjorn had stepped in, teaching me everything I needed to know to survive in this frozen hell. As the Captain of the border forces with the Autumn Court, he had been a figure of fortitude and tenacity, walking alongside me every step of the way, from treating soldiers in makeshift tents to becoming indispensable to the court. He was more of a father to me than my own ever was. 

"He sneaks in when he can... Isarn still doesn’t know," my mother continued in a whisper, forcing a gulp. "He doesn’t know you’re related. It’s our only advantage."

I nodded, tears welling in my eyes. The thought of seeing Bjorn again gave me a glimmer of hope. I had kept it together up to this point but gods knew I needed a lifeline. 

"Do what Isarn says for now, my love. Find Bjorn. He’s been looking for you, too."

My mother fought a cough, struggling to talk. As her eyes met mine, I silently pleaded with her to stop, to save her strength, but she pressed on, defying my unspoken request. 

"He mentioned tensions at the border are growing, and that he’s been looking for a way to undermine Isarn's influence, to exploit his vulnerabilities."

The sound of boots grew louder, the guards getting closer. Panic surged through me, but I held on to my mother’s words. "We’ll get through this," I promised. "I'll find Bjorn." As soon as Isarn grows bored of this hissy fit and sends me back to Velaris.

The Mother must’ve heard my prayers, as two soldiers finally approached the cell’s gate, each carrying a large bucket filled with what looked like water, and two thick linen cloths. This couldn’t be good.

"Rise and shine, ladies," one of them sneered.

Fuck, how long had it been?

The soldiers walked into the cell with a menacing air. "This is a mercy from the General, a little reminder." one of them said, his words dripping with that characteristic malice of Isarn’s personal guard.

Before I could react, they grabbed us and forced us to the cold stone floor. The first splash of icy water hit my face like a thousand needles, the shock making me gasp for air. The cloth was pressed over my face, and the torture began.

I struggled to breathe as they poured more water on me, each inhalation bringing it into my lungs. Panic and pain overwhelmed me as I heard my mother's muffled cries close by. I fought against the restraints, desperately trying to break free, but the chains held me fast.

Just when I thought I would drown, they stopped. I laid there, coughing and gasping for breath, my body trembling. The soldiers laughed, their eyes savoring their making.

"If you don’t comply with the General’s orders," one of them said, leaning down to whisper in my ear, "or if you dare to question him again, he will personally stab you both with faebane, bathe you in cold water, and leave you out to freeze to death."

The other soldier removed the dark indigo bonds and spat on my face.

“Scum.”

But I ignored it all as I crawled towards my mother, every movement a struggle. "Mama, please," I begged, "stay with me."

Darkness was closing in, my strength fading. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was my mother’s frail form, her eyes filled with love and desperation. 

I drifted in and out of awareness as rough hands grabbed me, dragging me out of the dungeons. My body felt heavy, my limbs barely responding. Through blurred vision, I saw the dimly lit corridors of the lower levels of the Hailstone Citadel pass by, the cold seeping into my bones.

"Keep moving," one of the soldiers muttered, his grip tightening on my arm.

They hauled me through a hidden exit at the back of the citadel, into the freezing night. The biting wind stung my face, jolting me closer to full consciousness. They dragged me into the bailey, the snow crunching under their boots, until they finally dropped me unceremoniously onto the ground.

I laid there, shivering, hardly breathing. I had to move. Summoning the last of my strength to heal the tightness in my muscles, I pushed myself up, staggering towards the stables I knew were nearby. Each step was a battle as I reached a horse conveniently saddled, its breath visible in the cold air. I had always prided myself on being self-reliant, I’d been taught to never depend on a male for strength or comfort. But now, as my body temperature kept dangerously dropping, I found myself wishing for Cassian’s warmth, his strong arms wrapping around me. I held onto that feeling for solace, while focusing on mounting the animal. 

I urged the horse south, towards the Autumn Court border where I knew Bjorn was positioned. The ride was a blur of icy wind and snow-covered trees. I fought hard to stay awake and to listen to the rhythm of the horse’s gallop—it was the only thing keeping me from slipping back into unconsciousness.

When I finally reached the border at dawn, the outpost where Bjorn was stationed came into view. It was a watchpoint where the soldiers of the Winter Court kept an eye on the shifting lines between territories. Tents erected around a tall brick structure dotted the landscape as far as I could see, blending into the snow-covered ground.

A soldier approached as I dismounted, recognizing me from past encounters at the recovery camps. "Y/N," he greeted, his voice filled with concern as he saw my condition. He helped me unmount, his hands steadying me as I stumbled. 

"I have urgent business with the Captain," I muttered as I could.

The soldier nodded, understanding the urgency. "This way."

He tied the horse to a post and guided me through the site as I made my way to Bjorn's tent. The sounds and faces of the outpost, once familiar and comforting, now felt distant and blurred as if they were fading away. At last, we arrived at Bjorn's tent. The soldier stepped inside first, clearing his throat before speaking, "Captain, someone’s here to see you." I followed, my legs barely holding me up.

Bjorn turned around, shock registering on his face when he saw me. "Y/N," his voice broke, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and worry. 

I couldn't contain my tears any longer. I ran to him, collapsing into his embrace. He wrapped me around tightly in a fatherly comfort I had longed for since I left for the Night Court.

As we stood there, memories of our time together surged through my mind. I recalled the countless hours we spent in the training grounds, his voice calm and steady as he instructed me on how to hold a blade, how to keep my balance even on treacherous ice. He drilled me in the military structure of the Winter Court, ensuring I understood the hierarchy and strategies that could one day save my life. 

His patience never wavered as he guided me in harnessing my healing powers, teaching me to channel my energy and focus it precisely where it was needed. Every lesson, every word of encouragement had shaped me into who I was today. He had been there for me in my darkest moments, offering his support and wisdom when I needed it most. Our familial tie was forged in those early days of hardship, and it had only grown stronger over the years.

"I thought I'd lost you," Bjorn whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

I pulled back, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. "My mother…" I pleaded, "she needs help."

Bjorn’s face set with resolve. "We’ll take care of her."

He turned and called for the soldier who had brought me to the tent. As the soldier approached, Bjorn drifted to his work table, quickly scribbling something on a piece of paper. He handed it to the soldier. "Take this to Eirik," he instructed. "He’ll know what to do."

The soldier nodded and swiftly left the tent, leaving me sighing with a sense of relief. Bjorn finally faced me, studying me with worry. 

"I look like hell, don't I?" I managed a weak smile.

Bjorn chuckled, a soft, affectionate sound. "You always did have a flair for understatement," he teased, his teal blue eyes scanning me for injuries. He quickly urged me to sit, gently helping me as I sank onto a nearby stool. As he helped me remove my wet cloak, no longer pewter but a light charcoal due to all the dirt, and my boots, he gazed at my wrists where they were still hurt. My powers were almost depleted.

When he took off my boots, he noticed the bargain tattoo. His lips pursed. "Your mother told me about..." He pointed at the tattoo with his chin. "When you left... I couldn't, I haven't forgiven myself. I should've been there for you. I'm sorry." 

I reached out for his arms, like I always did many, many times when I was younger and none of this mattered. 

"You had no way of knowing, and I won't let you carry the guilt of Isarn's doing," I whispered in our embrace.

I took a deep breath and slowly let go, still holding his hands. "I was in the Night Court, sent to work as a healer, but I was spying for Isarn. He..." I looked down at my wrists, cuts from the chains still open, "did not hold back when I returned. The moment I mentioned the King of Hybern, he snapped. I don't get it, why is he so interested in the Night Court?"

Bjorn's face hardened. "Because he’s an ambitious prick. I have spies within Isarn’s close circle. He's working with Hybern. He’s promised him the Winter Court in exchange for his help." 

He saw the blood leaving my face as my heart sank, waves of blame and dread suffocated me. 

Dear Mother. What have I done?

"Is that even possible?"

"The fool is a loyalist. He’d gladly sell his own pathetic life to bring back the days of human enslavement."

Weariness was creeping in. I hadn’t slept all night, though the gravity of the conversation was enough to keep my mind alert. 

"It gets worse," Bjorn continued. "Isarn plans to help Hybern destabilize the Night Court by kidnapping the Cursebreaker. Apparently Hybern wants to use her powers against all humans down the Wall, though we still don’t know how."

"Feyre... But why would Isarn do this?" 

Despite his cruelty, Isarn was a military commander through and through, his loyalty to the Winter Court woven into the very fabric of his being. Betrayal felt out of character.

Bjorn's eyes locked into mine, his demeanor to the brink of desperation. "Isarn has long harbored resentment towards Lady Viviane for commanding the Winter Court armies during Under the Mountain. He felt..." 

The soldier that brought me to the tent interrupted, bringing two steaming bowls of stew, the savory aroma filling the tent. 

"This might not be a feast, but it'll keep you going," he remarked while he offered me a shy smile, approaching me with a bowl.

Ever the overprotective parent, Bjorn grabbed both from his hands, dismissing the soldier with a nod, and continued. 

"He felt small and undermined—no surprises there." He winked at me conspiratorially. I would have laughed at the joke if the guilt within me wasn't drowning me.

"Especially after discovering Lady Viviane's leadership role. His supposed captivity by Hybern was a ruse; he was collaborating with them all along."

I felt a sickening twist in my gut. I lowered my head into my hands, resting them on my legs, overwhelmed by exhaustion and frustration, and unable to process any more information. Telling Isarn about the book had been a mistake. A grave mistake. But I couldn't burden Bjorn with the weight of my call, I'd rather keep him focused on my mother's well-being. Then there's the safety of my mate… I had to fix this. I knew what I had to do. 

"I have to go back to the Night Court." I uttered with a stammer. 

Bjorn's eyes blanked with a resolve that startled me, he’d seen right through me and instantly knew my intentions. He stood up and started pacing around the tent. 

"If you plan to share any information about Isarn and his plans with the Night Court, you need to be prepared, Y/N.”

He was right. If I approached Rhysand and Feyre, laying out everything I knew about Isarn while also proposing a solution, they could not only be warned but might also offer resources and intelligence to our advantage, in a joint effort. A pang of gratitude hit my core when I realized that, in the rush of the moment, Isarn wasn’t too specific with the terms of the bargain. 

A fool, indeed. This might just work. 

I felt a hint of pride in my chest.

"Not bad for an old captain," I winked at him, and replied with a smirk when I shared my conclusion. 

"I'll need to devise a plan that ensures Isarn can't retaliate. If I can present them with a strategy to counter his, they may be able to support us."

Bjorn agreed, his expression serious. 

"Exactly. They have as much at stake as we do."

He slowly leaned towards me, placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes, his gaze full of emotion. I knew this moment would come once more, the moment we part without knowing when we’ll see each other again, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. It seemed like all we had now were these fleeting moments, and there was still so much I wanted to share with him.

"You can do this, Y/N. But remember, you must keep up the facade with Isarn until the very end. Any slip, and he will come down on you hard. On both of you.”

"I understand," I said firmly, taking his calloused hands in mine. 

Then he searched my eyes for the tenacity he'd taught me to maintain in these situations, and found another emotion seeping in instead.

A longing for the male I'd been relentlessly pushing away, leaving him behind at the Night Court.

"Alright, spill it, child. What’s going on?" Bjorn pressed, his gaze unwavering.

I hesitated, my thoughts a whirlwind. I wanted to tell him about Cassian, but how could I explain this to Bjorn when Cassian himself didn't know about the mating bond? Not that I was planning to tell him either. 

The risk of exposing such a deeply personal truth made me feel incredibly vulnerable. Still, I wanted him to know. I needed his guidance and support, now more than ever.

"I..." I started, struggling to find the right words. "There’s someone at the Night Court. Someone... important to me."

Bjorn's thick eyebrows burrowed, but he waited patiently for me to continue.

"I think... I think I've found my mate. He's very well known and a person of trust in the Night Court. He doesn't know though, about the bond."

Bjorn's lips drew a line. 

Oh, Gods. 

I hadn't been this nervous since the first time I met Kallias. I forced a swallow down my throat and continued, the words coming out of my mouth in a hurried tirade like a child who had been caught being naughty.

"I cannot, will not risk this mission for a male I barely know, though," I continued, determination hardening my voice despite the pounding in my heart. "There's too much at stake, and I need to focus on what matters now."

Bjorn’s lips twitched, and for a moment, I saw the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. 

"So, you’re just telling me now that you found your mate?" he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. "And here I thought you were keeping all your secrets from me."

Despite the tension, a small smile crept across my face as I lowered my chin and looked at my bare foot. "It's not like that."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, I know, child. I’m just teasing. But seriously, a mate? And an important one in the Night Court, no less,” his hands reaching his hips. “You sure know how to pick them."

I mentally sighed as all the light-hearted taunting eased some of the anxiety gnawing at my insides. 

"I didn’t exactly choose this, you know." 

Bjorn’s expression turned more serious, though the warmth didn’t leave his eyes. "I admire your determination, Y/N. And I’m happy for you, really. But you need to be cautious. Especially if he’s a significant figure in the Night Court."

He elbowed me with complicit eyes, "Can I know who this significant other, I mean, figure is?"

I rolled my eyes, tempted to fall into more of his tease but instead I hesitated, thinking about the answer. 

"You’ll know, Bjorn. In time. If everything goes well after Isarn is dealt with. For now, we move forward with the plan."

Bjorn nodded, understanding the boundary. "Fair enough. Just promise me you’ll be careful. And be smart. Remember your training."

"I promise," I said, knowing that I would cling to those words when the moment demanded it. I stood there for a moment, trying to hold on to this precious instant with him. His concern for me was evident, and it mirrored the worry I felt for him. 

"Good," he replied with a reassuring smile. Bjorn’s blue eyes softened as he pulled me into a tight embrace. The familiar scent of mist and pine enveloped me, grounding me in the moment. 

“Please be strong, petal,” he murmured, his tone carried a hue of anguish. I nodded against his shoulder, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall upon hearing the affectionate nickname he’d given me since I was a child. “I will.”

We pulled back slightly, our hands still clasped together. His rough palms were a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I looked into his eyes again and recognized the unspoken devoted love that had always been there. 

"This isn't goodbye," I said softly, squeezing his hands. "Please keep her safe. Who knows, the next time we meet I may bring some allies, Mother willing."

"I'll hold you to that. Now go," he held my chin up gently, with a caress. "Go back to the Night Court and show them what you're made of," his eyes shone with affection. 

With a final nod, I gathered my now somewhat-dry cloak, and some clean clothes and supplies for the journey he'd packed for me. 

Before I walked out of the tent, he called after me.

"He better be good with a sword."

I hid a grin, knowing the answer. "Something like that."

taglist:

@bravo-delta-eccho @yamisuke @randomperson1234sblog @anxious-cactus @lilah-asteria  @darkbloodsly @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden

dividers by @estrelinha-s

[rillils]

so um, so maybe i'm addicted to prompt generators. that might be a thing. hm. *screeches into the void*

rating: T wordcount: 1342 tags: fluff, crack, established relationship, bearded Steve because i've got a soft spot for him, general silliness, dorks in love, domestic bliss, aaand that's it i think

If life was fair, and not plotting to give Bucky an inappropriate boner in the middle of a crowded beach, then for once Steve might deign to look like an average guy enjoying a hot summer day with his man, rather than, you know, put to shame the rest of humankind with his luxuriant, marble-carved, sexy lumberjack league, mouth-watering presence.

But nope.

He walks out of the ocean with seafoam lapping longingly at his ankles, looking for all the world like Aphrodite and Magic Mike had hot writhing sex right there on the shore, without ever getting a single grain of sand in any uncomfortable places, and nine months later he happened, with his thick thighs and his tapered waist, and droplets of saltwater gliding down the slick planes of his torso like liquid diamonds. Which Bucky will abstain from licking off Steve’s skin, not because he’s feeling especially strong today, no – just so they don’t end up charged with public indecency. Again.

Steve’s face, though, as he splashes eagerly towards him, is the face of a kid who just spent the better part of an hour frolicking about in the water, flushed and animated, ecstatic, and bearing the promise of one hell of a nap sometime in the near future.

He seizes Bucky by the waist with his big wet paws, and presses a victorious kiss to Bucky’s mouth, nearly causing him to drop his ice cream bar – yes, the one Bucky bought just so he’d have an excuse to step back and enjoy the newly familiar sight of Steve Rogers having the time of his life, in the most joyful, delightfully mundane of ways.

He should get to be this carefree every day. Bucky feels very strongly about that.

“Come back in, honey, come on,” Steve cajoles, wearing the biggest, goofiest grin Bucky’s seen on him since the day he caught this very man hurtling down their driveway on a hoverboard at breakneck speed. It would have taken some pretty heavy divine intervention for him not to go crashing straight into the trashcans – and God must have thought it wasn’t worth the hassle, if the big oaf was just going to pick himself up and try again anyways.

“In a minute,” Bucky promises him. Because, while there might be a universe out there where he’s actually capable of denying this guy something he wants, it’s definitely not this one.

“Come on, the water’s great!” Steve presses on, his meaty hands squeezing gently at Bucky’s waist, deliciously cool against Bucky’s sun-warm skin. He’s like a big puppy begging for another treat, buzzing with energy, glowing with it from the apples of his flushed cheeks to the sparkling blue of his eyes. He is, for lack of a better word, fucking. precious.

Bucky slides his free hand up Steve’s chest, metal fingers stroking appreciatively over the dark whorls of his chest-hair. It’s ridiculous, how quickly he’s ready to give in.

“At least let me finish my ice cream, first,” he says, waving the thing under Steve’s nose. He could swear Steve’s ears perk up, like he’s only just noticed the stick in Bucky’s hand.

“Oh,” he says, and it’s a pleased kind of oh. “Can I have some?”

“’course. Here.”

Rather than passing the ice cream over to him, Bucky just lifts it to Steve’s lips, inviting him to take a bite.

Eyes crinkled with some secret pleasure, Steve leans in. The thin chocolate shell breaks with a crisp, satisfying crunch under his teeth, the creamy vanilla filling kissing his bottom lip and lingering there, helpless, until Steve collects it with a slow sweep of his tongue, never one to leave someone behind. The soft mmh he releases goes straight to Bucky’s gut, warming him from deep within.

He smiles, like he’s been trying to hold back and he just can’t help himself anymore. “Is it good?”

Steve gives him the Look – the one he gets in his eyes sometimes, when the toe-curling intensity of his gaze tells Bucky that he’s thinking about them – them in their bedroom, stumbling their way through the door with groping hands and tangled legs, laugh slipping into moan slipping back around into laugh, or on the kitchen counter, making the cabinets shake and the bag of sugar spill everywhere, or in the broom closet, caught by a mid-morning frenzy like they were last Saturday, quick and frantic and muffling each other’s moans, as if somebody might have walked in on them any second. And they’re in public, so Steve can’t do anything about it; but Bucky can tell he’s filing away all the words he wants to say and saving them for later, when he can lavish them straight onto Bucky’s sweat-slick skin.

“’S nice,” Steve rumbles, gaze dropping to Bucky’s lips for a long, deliberate moment. “But I know something better.”

A sweet shiver rolls down Bucky’s spine. “Do you, now.” He palms the side Steve’s neck, thumb circling over the delicate skin behind his earlobe, and pulls Steve to him, meeting him halfway into the kiss. Steve’s lips part gloriously for him, the hot caress of his tongue slipping the taste of chocolate and vanilla into Bucky’s welcoming mouth, spiked by a thrilling hint of salt.

A few drops of saltwater drip from Steve’s beard to land on Bucky’s bare chest, and from there trickle down his stomach, skirting his navel to soak into the waistband of his swim trunks, following a path Steve himself has traced with the tip of his tongue many a time.

Only too soon, Steve nudges his chin into Bucky’s own, pulling away, and Bucky chases his lips for one last peck before he lets go.

Steve looks back at him, eyelashes fanning darkly, thick with moisture. His eyes come alive with his smile, gleaming with the pure, blinding joy behind it. Openly adoring, they are, in a way Bucky couldn’t perceive any more clearly if Steve were spelling it out for him. He thinks Steve knows (how deeply, desperately) he feels the same way. He thinks he should tell Steve more often, just in case.

“You gonna join me, then?” Steve asks, all sun-kissed freckles and hopeful eyes, hands giving Bucky’s hips a playful little wiggle. Silly man. Bucky would reach up and pluck the sun out of the sky for him, if he only asked.

Bucky grins, and hopes it doesn’t scandalize any onlookers, with how obscenely fond it must be. “What about my ice cream, though?”

The curl of Steve’s mouth turns unexpectedly mischievous.

“Just hold it out of the water,” he says, and with no further ado, he swoops in to hook one arm behind Bucky’s knees and hoists him up, startling an undignified squeal out of him.

“What–! ”

Steve beams down at him, an almost manic glint in his eye. “Let’s go!”

And with the enthusiasm of an excited golden retriever, he goes bounding towards the glittering waves, kicking up wet sand behind them. Bucky grabs onto his broad shoulders, partly just to feel the firm muscle there, and partly out of a last-minute sense of self-preservation.

“Steve!” He calls out, laughter ripped out of his chest, sudden and shocking, as they splash a bunch of shrieking children on their path. “Put me down, you punk-ass manchild–”

“Nope,” says Steve, relenting only once the water’s reaching up to their chests. There, he stops, swaying gently with the tide, and shifts Bucky in his arms until he’s got Bucky’s legs wrapped around his middle, gathering him close. “I’m your ride for the day.”

And how could Bucky ever object to that? The ocean dances sweet and placid around them, warm under the midday sun, and the man he loves wants him here, tucked in the circle of his arms.

“Fine,” he says, pressing the word to Steve’s lips with a slow kiss. Fine, have it your way.

His last coherent thought, before Steve licks expertly into his mouth, is that they might not escape the public indecency allegations today, after all.

[waywardavatarenthusiast]

possible career paths/life purposes for azula.

A scientist of some sort

I don’t believe for one second that Azula never bothered to investigate why her flame turned blue. The creators explanation is a plot hole, and there must me a canon reason. I do believe she would want to study the science behind her flames and bending in general. Maybe she’d even discover her own sub-bending down the line.

A teacher (probably with younger children)

I think Azula would definitely feel that her childhood has been ripped from her when all is said and done because it has. That being said, I think she would grow to love children due to their freedom and innocence and would often wonder how her parents could look at such a pure mind and begin molding it for such a dangerous society. Also, while I do like the idea of Azula becoming a mother, I think she would feel this is a safer option to her corrupting and passing bad things onto children of her own.

A therapist

This idea is on thin-ice because I feel like one would need to tread carefully and refrain from whitewashing the Fire Nation and its institutions, but I do think Azula might want to help heal the minds of others since she had to heal her’s all by itself.

A fire healer/dancer/artist

Literally just Azula learning that her fire can be beautiful and useful and doesn’t necessarily have to be a weapon. I think her bending is one of her favorite things about herself not even because of its value in her society. You don’t get to Azula’s level of skill without a little bit of passion.

A singer/actress (credit to @newbie-i-guess)

Azula could definitely get famous all by herself. I think Azula would garner immense fame as a singer/actress and when her family hears about her and work they’re like “our azula?? that’s the one people are drooling at the thought of meeting and not because she’s royal? bonus: Kiyi is a super fan and practically faints when she discovers that the Azula is her sister.

Azula should not be:

A firebending instructor

The only person Azula might teach to bend is Kiyi because I feel she would want her sister to be as strong and powerful as the rest of the family, but Azula underwent gruesome training to get where she did, and while I think she would teach Kiyi with safe-methods only, noble-ranking Fire Nation parents aren’t really concerned with the comfort of their children above everything. They would try to push and bribe her to make their kid as powerful as she is.

A general:

Azula doesn’t belong near a battlefield at all after what she’s been through. I’m more than surprised to see the popularity of this concept. It honestly feels like turning Azula from a bad weapon to a good one.

Zuko’s advisor

For some time, at least. She also really shouldn’t be coaxed into the job by any of her family members. Azula has spent her entire life working for the Fire Nation throne. I also don’t want her to be tied down to her country and not get a chance to explore the world the way every other character has. I do think she might like the job, but she has to build a strong sense of self before taking it on.

Comments and other suggestions are welcome!

[a-vivid-dreamer]

Hello! Once again, it's me :) So after seeing your post about the Mirror Image AU yesterday, this got me wondering more questions.

1. So since Both Gingyan and Ahsim are literally mirrored versions of Yanqing and Misha, what are their personalities like in the perspective of other characters who don't know yet?

2. Since Gingyan and Ashim are powers of Yanqing and Misha and can unlock the full potential of them, what are the powers like once they go through the limits?

3. Other than Fu Xuan, who are the other characters who got suspicions of Gingyan and Ashim? Does Tails know about or at least sense them?

4. Also this question might sound dumb, however, since Black Swan is a Memokeeper, does she know the presence of both Gingyan and Ashim?

I hope I'm not a bother for asking his questions.

I don’t mind! It’s nice for me to get to talk about my aus in general especially since I’m pretty slow to actually write their plots.

1.

Qingyan is an incredibly cautious/reserved and straightforward type. He has a lot less patience dealing with nonsense and is highly protective of Yanqing. Qingyan even still has trust issues with Jing Yuan which certainly deepened after the first part of Xianzhou/Luofu storyline. He often takes the role of being Yanqing’s voice of reason and will often scold Yanqing for any impulsive or reckless decisions Yanqing makes. Though, despite him being a bit jaded, he still has a lot of thought and care.

In the times people have witnessed Qingyan in control (still thinking it’s Yanqing), it’s either interpreted as Yanqing being in a sour mood or going into a “serious” mode.

Ahsim is more of a bold schemer type. Unlike Misha, he’s definitely not one to shy away from things. And sometimes has to act as Misha’s bravery/courage. And while he is extremely protective of Misha, his behavior is more relaxed about it. He will even act like a teacher by encouraging Misha to take some (manageable) risks to help Misha grow as a person. Ahsim often thinks things through, creating plans and backups if possible with a calm and collected mind. He also struggles to pass up on the chance to tease others, finding the reactions entertaining. Regardless, it’s usually difficult to tell what he’s thinking even for Misha.

In the times where people have withness Ahsim in control (still thinking it’s Misha), most do not actually realize it’s Ahsim. Why? Because Ahsim often masks his presence by convincingly acting as Misha. There have only been a rare handful of times where his act has slipped, but even then it’s such a minor error most people brush it off.

2.

Naturally, Qingyan is able to take Yanqing’s ice abilities to the next level. From freezing entire chunks of terrain to creating “living” ice creature summons, Qingyan can do a lot more intricate techniques and a much wider area of effect. It’s even possible for him to make an entire area his “domain” by turning a battle zone practically into an ice cage. He is also able to have excellent control over more weapons simultaneously than Yanqing can. However, a major risk is how much Yanqing’s body can handle. It’s entirely possible for Qingyan to get Yanqing killed by going too far.

Ahsim’s abilities are tied to the dreamscape. So, he is naturally strongest when in the dreamscape. He has a fine control over memoria and detecting memoria entities. His ability to traverse through the layers of the dreamscape (and defy gravity in the dreamscape) are certainly enough to rival a memokeeper’s. He’s also got some ability to tamper with memoria. Due to this, the dreamscape environment gives him a natural advantage. However, he is significantly less capable in the real world.

In the real world, his weapon is hidden inside the handle of Misha’s broom and is basically like a rapier due to its thin blade. There’s a second piece with it he can bring out that is like a shorter version. The concept for this is to mimic the hands of a clock being his weapons. While Ahsim can channel his abilities to at least give a small boost in speed and the power behind attacks, it’s a significant drop from how he performs in the dreamscape. Despite this, Ahsim still is stronger than Misha since Misha still doesn’t fully grasp the art of combat or their dreamscape abilities. As a result, Ahsim usually takes full responsibility for using their powers until the day Misha is trained enough to be capable of using their abilities for himself.

3.

For people who have potentially picked up on Qingyan’s existence but still don’t know:

Fu Xuan, Qingzu

Recently: Sushang, Jingliu, Blade, Black Swan

For people who have potentially picked up on Ahsim’s existence but still don’t know:

The Family/Sunday

Recently: Black Swan

(This list may change since the current Penacony story has yet to wrap up.)

4.

While Blackswan is a memokeeper, even she can be caught off guard. Though, she definitely has picked up something unique going on with Yanqing and Misha… If she were to dive deeper to figure it out, she’d definitely find out about Qingyan and Ahsim quite easily for sure.

[greenbloods]

Janos Slynt's Powerful Friends

so janos' "powerful friends" are pretty much a joke meant to show what a blustering oaf his character is, right? but theres also an undercurrent of something deeper beneath. because before hes executed by jon he says this:

“No,” Slynt cried, as Emmett half-shoved and halfpulled him across the yard. “Unhand me ... you cannot ... when Tywin Lannister hears of this, you will all rue—”

so we know exactly who his 'friends' are. but why does he put so much faith in tywin, half a realm away? and what exactly are he and allister thorne plotting, that jon is so afraid of the two of them?

lets take a look at alliser's part in the scene again.

“Lord Janos,” Jon said, “I will give you one last chance. Put down that spoon and get to the stables. I have had your horse saddled and bridled. It is a long, hard road to Greyguard.” “Then you had best be on your way, boy.” Slynt laughed, dribbling porridge down his chest. “Greyguard’s a good place for the likes of you, I’m thinking. Well away from decent godly folk. The mark of the beast is on you, bastard.” “You are refusing to obey my order?” “You can stick your order up your bastard’s arse,” said Slynt, his jowls quivering. Alliser Thorne smiled a thin smile, his black eyes fixed on Jon. At another table, Godry the Giantslayer began to laugh. “As you will.” Jon nodded to Iron Emmett. “Please take Lord Janos to the Wall—” —and confine him to an ice cell, he might have said. A day or ten cramped up inside the ice would leave him shivering and feverish and begging for release, Jon did not doubt. And the moment he is out, he and Thorne will begin to plot again. —and tie him to his horse, he might have said. If Slynt did not wish to go to Greyguard as its commander, he could go as its cook. It will only be a matter of time until he deserts, then. And how many others will he take with him? “—and hang him,” Jon finished. Janos Slynt’s face went as white as milk. The spoon slipped from his fingers. Edd and Emmett crossed the room, their footsteps ringing on the stone floor. Bowen Marsh’s mouth opened and closed though no words came out. Ser Alliser Thorne reached for his sword hilt. Go on, Jon thought. Longclaw was slung across his back. Show your steel. Give me cause to do the same. Half the men in the hall were on their feet. Southron knights and men-at-arms, loyal to King Stannis or the red woman or both, and Sworn Brothers of the Night’s Watch. Some had chosen Jon to be their lord commander. Others had cast their stones for Bowen Marsh, Ser Denys Mallister, Cotter Pyke ... and some for Janos Slynt. Hundreds of them, as I recall. Jon wondered how many of those men were in the cellar right now. For a moment the world balanced on a sword’s edge. Alliser Thorne took his hand from his sword and stepped aside to let Edd Tollett pass. —A Dance with Dragons

we see alliser considering open rebellion to jons order, but thinking better of it. clearly theres a close alliance between the two of them, with common enmity against jon snow. on my first read i didnt spend too much time thinking of alliser and janos other than generally occupying the "antagonist" role in jons chapters. but i think theres so much more going on here.

The sound of voices echoing off the vaulted ceiling brought him back to Castle Black. “I don’t know,” a man was saying, in a voice thick with doubts. “Maybe if I knew the man better . . . Lord Stannis didn’t have much good to say of him, I’ll tell you that.” “When has Stannis Baratheon ever had much good to say of anyone?” Ser Alliser’s flinty voice was unmistakable. “If we let Stannis choose our Lord Commander, we become his bannermen in all but name. Tywin Lannister is not like to forget that, and you know it will be Lord Tywin who wins in the end. He’s already beaten Stannis once, on the Blackwater.” “Lord Tywin favors Slynt,” said Bowen Marsh, in a fretful, anxious voice. “I can show you his letter, Othell. ‘Our faithful friend and servant,’ he called him.” Jon Snow sat up suddenly, and the three men froze at the sound of the slosh. “My lords,” he said with cold courtesy. “What are you doing here, bastard?” Thorne asked. “Bathing. But don’t let me spoil your plotting.” Jon climbed from the water, dried, dressed, and left them to conspire. —A Storm of Swords

what is going on??

ok. so it seems like the senior members of the night's watch--othell yarwyck, bowen marsh, and alliser thorne in the scene above--are attempting to decide whether or not to put their support behind janos slynt in the vote for lord commander, in order to best navigate the future of the watch amidst the turmoil of the war of the five kings, and are considering their options between pissing off stannis or tywin. tywin is in active communication with men of the nights watch (!!) outside of the lord commander's knowledge (!!!) (not that there was one at this time). so it seems like alliser thorne's allegiance is ultimately to the preservation of the watch, but to achieve those goals he is allied with janos slynt, who is tywin's man. its interesting that alliser seems to be playing on the same side as tywin in all this, since tywin is the one who forced him to take the black after robert's rebellion. imo this is meant to show that alliser--despite being an asshole--is ultimately a man who puts his sense of duty first.

where does this leave us in our understanding of night watch politics? we know that there was backdooring, that tywin supported janos slynt for some some mysterious purpose to become lord commander, with othell bowen and alliser convincing each other to put their stones behind janos 'for the watch.' now we just have to figure out what tywin's goal is in all this. as far as i can tell theres two two possible explanations. either 1) he's swaying the watch to give him arms so he can secure the north 2) he's planning on assassinating jon snow to complete his campaign of exterminating the starks. for the second explanation we have to look no further than the red wedding, another major time tywin used "quills and ravens" to gain allies in the north who would win his battles for him, in the hopes of crushing ned stark's household. the first notion is a little subtler, because if theory #1 is correct it wouldnt be the only time in the series a lannister in kings landing schemed to assassinate jon snow

She let Lord Merryweather fill her cup once again. “Another problem has arisen on the Wall, however. The brothers of the Night’s Watch have taken leave of their wits and chosen Ned Stark’s bastard son to be their Lord Commander.” “Snow, the boy is called,” Pycelle said unhelpfully. “I glimpsed him once at Winterfell,” the queen said, “though the Starks did their best to hide him. He looks very like his father.” [...] “Snow shares Lord Eddard’s taste for treason too,” she said. “The father would have handed the realm to Stannis. The son has given him lands and castles.” [...] Qyburn leaned forward with a smile. “The Night’s Watch defends us all from snarks and grumkins. My lords, I say that we must help the brave black brothers.” Cersei gave him a sharp look. “What are you saying?” “This,” Qyburn said. “For years now, the Night’s Watch has begged for men. Lord Stannis has answered their plea. Can King Tommen do less? His Grace should send the Wall a hundred men. To take the black, ostensibly, but in truth . . .” “. . . to remove Jon Snow from the command,” Cersei finished, delighted. I knew I was right to want him on my council. “That is just what we shall do.” She laughed. If this bastard boy is truly his father’s son, he will not suspect a thing. Perhaps he will even thank me, before the blade slides between his ribs. “It will need to be done carefully, to be sure. Leave the rest to me, my lords.” This was how an enemy should be dealt with: with a dagger, not a declaration. “We have done good work today, my lords. I thank you. Is there aught else?” --Cersei, A Feast for Crows

cersei rightfully gets a bad rep in the fandom for making terrible decisions throughout feast, but people dont give her a lot of credit for being able to correctly pinpoint threats. the tyrells are a threat to lannister power bronn's loyalty to tyrion is a danger and jon's command of the nights watch is a thorn in her influence over the north. so in an attempt to lead like her father would, cersei plots to assassinate jon. maybe like cersei, tywin would have identified this threat too. only like his daughter, he would have been much subtler in his attempts to kill the lord commander, using key allies (like how he used the boltons and freys) as catspaws that receive most of the blame for the act itself.

this theory rly fits for me thematically because it parallels quite well with the Great Northern Conspiracy being cooked up by the stark loyalists down south, and because it interfaces nicely with the whole "nights watch takes no part" arc words jon struggles with throughout dance.

so in conclusion i think that janos' "powerful friends," although used to make a joke out of his character, also shows us that there were deeper things brewing beneath the surface of the nights watch

[wetcatspellcaster]

Not only do I love your writing, with many a snippets living rent free in my head, and now you are spoiling us with these DVD commentary posts! Oh, and here's on:

As her arcane vision opened, and she was greeted by a hexagonal chamber, wrought from white marble. The proportions of the chamber were briefly dizzying, and off-putting enough to require adjustment to - its walls were high, suggesting a tower, with long, thin, arched windows and a mural in the domed ceiling. Everything was deathly still, and quiet.

And at the chamber's centre, a pristine white coffin.

Its lid was carved into an ornate frieze of flowers, foliage, and winged birds. All its fastenings were pale white gold, the clasps inlaid with rubies. Rose felt her consciousness tugged like a boat anchored, as the hairpin focus called her forward.

When Rose approached the coffin, she heard stifled, harried breathing within. This was truly Astarion’s resting place, then - and close enough for him to cross planes in the time it had taken them to make it to their own sanctuary. He was already inside, recovering from the death she’d willed upon him. If she’d been real, in this moment, Rose would’ve laid her hand upon the surface of the casket.

Echoing from within the coffin, came a long, gravelly groan, that ended in a series of stuttered breaths.

Ah, Rose thought, skin burning in the material plane. Not in too much pain, then.

And... definitely Astarion.

She hastily backed herself away from the coffin, rising up through the centre of the strange, pristine room to the nearest window. It seemed the quickest way to find out more information on their current location, and to leave him to whatever… that was. She felt the connection finesse itself and stretch taut, finding the limits of her own concentration as she drifted up-

Rosalie felt the temperature drop drastically as she came up to the arched window. Its glass was rimed with frost, small glittering starbursts of ice lining the edges and patching the view in places with fronds of glimmering crystal. Beyond, a pale, snow-covered landscape with no signs of life, only mountains that were impossible to scale, and a sky that was brutally dark. A night blue as ink with not a single star to light it, only pulses of colour in an aurora of paler blue and deep, bruise purple, fluttering in and out of existence and rippling through the endless, dark sky like a wave.

Rosalie did the disembodied, arcane equivalent of pressing her ear against the glass. The metal of the window frame felt so cold, it burned across her mind like flame. Though the air inside the chamber was still, she thought she heard the high, roaring howl of a merciless wind.

...why did I not realise that when I offered up DVD Commentary the 'is he wanking in his coffin' segment was bound to come back to haunt me :-)

Curse you, anon (affectionate).

I spoke a lot about where I wanted to put the coffin in the endnotes, but there are many spoiler-y reasons why I decided on Cania as the ideal place, to the point where it caused me to ignore the fact that it technically broke Scry. I'm going to try and give teasers here for the fun of it, but unfortunately a lot of my commentary on this section is going to be [REDACTED] bc it's setting up some (I think) very fun and sexy plot-twists later. Maybe I'll just use this space to be really indulgent and point out some instances of foreshadowing just to annoy readers into guessing what they might mean.

I really love the Hells in general in D&D - I'm not just brain poisoned by the House of Hope, I've always been obsessed with the very D&D specific distinction between Lawful Evil and Chaotic Evil and what Hell, as the Lawful Evil plane, looks like as a result.

Cania is Mephistopheles' domain, I based the choice that they would be in contact not just on the fact that the Black Mass is Mephistopheles' plan, but also on that one line in Ascendent!Astarions dialogue with spawn!Tav when he mentions 'Mephistopheles' gifts', as if they're on first name terms and pals now.

The description of Cania was based on what lore I could glean from online searches and also Descent Into Avernus. Cania isn't actually spoken about in great detail to be honest, it's basically lifeless, cold, and barren. Which...was already prime Gothic vampire imagery, tbh, but then I found this line on the wiki: 'Preserved corpses were frequently uncovered after collisions between glaciers.' I see Ascended!Astarion essentially, at this point, as a 'preserved corpse', particularly when contrasted to Rose's aging, so I figured it was fate.

Also idk if people have googled Mephistopheles but based on his wiki description... it seems like him and Ascendent!Astarion would get along :)))))

The flashes/aurora in the sky are meant to be a sign of arcane activity, Cania is characterised by Mephistopheles 'overseeing endless experiments with arcane magic [...] conducted throughout the wastes of the layer.'

The inside of Astarion's infernal palace registers to Rosalie as warm, but the world outside is very, very cold. There. That is my only piece of foreshadowing that I can highlight here. Make of it what you will.

Also.... yes, he was wanking in the coffin :') at least, in my vision as an author. But tbh the responses in comments were so valid, and I now also have a very funny image of it being a combination of a wank and a panic attack, which... you know... if you're an invulnerable, all-powerful vampire who's become alienated from your own humanity and your own emotions, maybe being scared *does* get you off?

Also shout out to the commenters who imagined what she overheard was actually just a Blood of Lathander style temper tantrum. Imagining an alternative version of this scene where Rosalie goes over to the coffin, here's a tea kettle high voice going "Power Word Kill! Power Word Kill!!" and goes "...ah, that's Astarion alright. Just like the old days." and then moves on with her life.

DVD commentary ask

[raccoonfallsharder]

Chapter 9/20 - Window Across the Galaxy

let me know via comment, message, or ask if you'd like to be added or removed from my fanfic taglist ♡

girl falls first; raccoon falls harder.

Jolie chews her lip. She’s pretty sure she might be about to cross a line by asking him if he’s coming to bed - by straddling some hesitant hope that they’re going to sleep together again - but she really can’t help herself.  There’s no harm in asking, she tells herself staunchly. If she’d previously thought just sharing a room had done wonders for her sleep, it was nothing compared to the deep-rooted rest she’d gotten with him curled up next to her. And even if she’d fucked it up immediately, waking up with him pressed against her had been delicious. She’ll be thinking about it for weeks, probably.  “Bedtime?” She asks hopefully from the doorway, leaning into the utility closet. 

Chapter IX. Scrapmetal and a Dream. in which we redefine homemaking.

exposition + fluff.

General summary/notes + links to recently preceding chapters behind the cut.

General Summary~

Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops.

let me be real with you: this fic is really about wish-fulfillment. not just the eventual smut (but that too). mostly i just want someone to be nice to my best raccoon

Chapter I. A Delicacy. in which our reluctant heroes meet atop a crate of Sovereign porn in the bowels of a Ravager ship. Chapter II. Monster For A Pet. in which one hero wrestles with his inner Groot, and the other is quite possibly a moron. Chapter III. A Kindness.in which Rocket gets in his own damn way: not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. Chapter IV. Got There First. in which our heroes obtain an arsenal and street food. Chapter V. Things No-One Has Said Before. in which one hero refuses to babysit and the other refuses to leave. Chapter VI. Two and a Half Billion Units. in which we lean into the “they were roommates” trope. Jolie has misgivings, while Rocket has fantasies - about getting rich, of course. Chapter VII. I'm Here.in which we visit Knowhere. Chapter VIII. The Care & Feeding of Human Pets. in which our heroes practice breathing and we lean into a new trope: “there was (technically) one bed.” Chapter IX. Scrapmetal and a Dream. in which we redefine homemaking. Coming Soon: Chapter X. Thin Fucking Ice. in which our heroes get fucked. Not in the good way.

slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1 (but will hit most of the same major plot points). slooowww burn + eventual smut with a lot of pining in the middle. kinda enemies-to-lovers? (but only one of these idiots thinks they're enemies). elements of hurt/comfort because rocket is the saddest-angriest boy. rating will go up and tags will be added to as needed.

@evolvingchaoswitch ♡

[kidcataldo]

I am once again presenting this hellsite with a sequel series idea for a popular tv show that will never see the light of day because I do not work in hollywood

Characters:

Amaryllis Kiltcher

The new slayer in town, eager to prove herself.

At 15, she’s young and sometimes reckless.

Her attempts at bringing peace often leads to more chaos, especially when right and wrong are hard to tell apart.

A special bond grows between her and her Watcher, even if they don’t necessarily see eye to eye.

Reggy Clark & Ishaan Kapur

Reggy and Ishaan are the slayer’s loyal friends, who have been with her through thick and thin. Even before they found out her destiny.

Their roles are similar to Willow and Xander in the original series.

Reggy and Amaryllis’ relationship was becoming something more before this whole slaying thing started. When duty becomes a priority, though, they agree to put their feelings aside and focus on saving the world.

Ishaan kind of hates being the third wheel. He’s the whiz of the group. Probably on the path of becoming President or something equally as important. For now, he’s just happy to help his friend in her newfound role.

Lotus Kiltcher

Amaryllis’ kid sister, always looking for trouble.

She’s the fire. Her sister is the ice to cool her down.

She’s the only kid brave enough to talk to local weirdo, Bird Pratt.

Bird Pratt

He shows kindness to everyone, alive or dead.

He attempts to befriend the creatures he encounters. Most times it gets him in trouble. But sometimes kindness prevails and he makes a new friend.

He’s the oddball, obsessed with monsters. But there’s something else strange about him. And it’s even weirder Willow sometimes refers to him as something more, something greater. He’s like a secret.

Bill Pratt

He has vague memories of a different time, of a time of darkness.

But he’s mortal, and monsters only exist in his son’s imagination—he ignores the nightmares telling him otherwise.

His son holds him in a light he knows, deep down, he isn’t worthy. But Bird’s faith in him makes him want to try.

Willow Rosenberg

Amaryllis’ reluctant Watcher, sent to protect this new generation of Scoobies.

Watching over the new gang brings back memories of her youth. She only wishes Spike knew who he was and remembered her from his past, so she has an adult to talk to about all this.

She keeps quiet, for now.

Details

I don’t really have a particular plot in mind. They’ll just be fighting monsters each episode that leads up to them fighting the final boss, like how it is in the original series.

It’ll basically be a Buffy reboot but for the modern times.

But I like the idea of exploring the anti hero this time around. Like, maybe the main character isn’t necessarily good. Maybe the slayer was a thief before all this. And this newfound role is putting her on a better path, but also maybe not.

Still not sure about Bird’s name (thought about it being Buddy, but that sounds too close to Buffy), but I imagine he’s a junior, as in Spike named him after himself, and he goes by a nickname.

Bird, I imagine, is similar to Dawn in that he might not be quite human and “Bill” (Spike) somehow became mortal and lost his memories to keep him safe.

I wanted Spike to be back (because I like him as a character), but the actor’s older and doesn’t look like his vampire self anymore, which is okay (aging is beautiful). It just means he has to age somehow.

Again, I don’t even know if any of these Buffy characters are even alive by the end of the series.

And obviously other characters from the original make guest appearances:

Buffy

She’s obviously still alive, probably slaying in Europe or somewhere. Her guest appearance most likely is to get Spike back to the way he was.

I just imagine her watching the oblivious “Bill” in the distance as he just casually shops for groceries or does something else so ordinary Spike would vomit at even the thought of doing it

Maybe they go on a date or two, but she can’t continue with the lie, so she cuts it off when she can’t convince him to snap out of it.

The other Scoobie members make various appearances to visit Willow and help out whenever they’re needed.

Notes

I haven’t finished the series yet and I’m not planning to read the comics continuing the story, so who knows if anyone’s even still alive¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also, Willow’s kind of crazy right now (I’m nearing the end of season 6), so hopefully she snaps out of it.

And Angel and Cordelia could make appearances too. Probably. If they’re still around. I haven’t seen the Angel spinoff.

Idk how the whole Spike/Buffy thing turns out, but I like them together. Like, Angel was puppy love. I don’t know if Spike/Buffy is love yet (at the end of season 6), but I can see it growing into something more mature, omitting the bathroom scene.

You’ll notice this new “cast” in my concept image is a little more diverse than the original. I like having diversity.

Lastly, Joss Whedon will obviously have no part in this hypothetical sequel. He will stay far away.

[mjm5655]

SHIPPING INFORMATION

this post is honestly going to be half a headcanon, & just half general stuff i require for shipping on this blog, since majima is literally my first muse ( i have mostly wrote villains & animal characters in the past ) that can actually develop into having romantic relationships. i'll likely be linking this under shipping in my rules so it's easily accessible in the future.

it should be noted first that majima is a very dangerous man, in most of his canon verses, he is yakuza, & even verses where he is not yakuza a good majority of the time, he's still got that vibe to him ; he'll still smash a dude's head in if it called for it. he's also an enforcer in the yakuza, which is the type of yakuza that will carry out punishments, & even hits. this can make him a huge target to others, & his loved one can end up getting in this kind of mess too if they are discovered.

going off the previous, later on, when he has really established his family, he is considered the reigning force of the tojo clan, the chairman, daigo even has a lot of respect for majima, & tends to lean on him for advice, but anyway, his family consists of several thousand men, & maybe some women here & there. not all of them are outright yakuza, some are construction workers, some run clubs, but a good majority of them are yakuza. it is shown in the first yakuza mainly that majima has no issue punishing & killing any of his men that step out of line, & i would consider this still goes for the later verses too ! he is quite aggressive. but this is another thing that will have other clans going for his head, knowing he's the reigning force of the tojo clan, they realise this will be a big hit to the tojo clan if they were able to land a hit on majima, & were successful with it, likewise, his loved ones could be targeted to draw him out.

saying all this, majima is very soft toward women, he has a huge soft spot for them considering how scary of a yakuza he is, some women he goes with might not agree with this, & want to try & fix him, but honestly, hate to break it to you, there is no fixing him, this is the way he is, he would sooner want to break up if he felt he was going to be as controlled. generally, if a relationship is to go well with majima, this is something his partner will just have to accept, that it's a part of him.

if the partner can accept this fact, he is extremely protective, for example, if anyone even looks at his partner in the wrong way, they are walking on thin ice around majima. majima is very much willing to kill to protect the one he loves.

i headcanon majima to be heteroflexible, this means he mostly does prefer women, but he can be attracted to other men, there is dialogue that he says as goromi which reveals this, & also more dialogue when he's in a dirty dvd store ( where he discovers videos of naked buff men "wrestling" & seems into it ).

he does have his tastes when it comes to men, he really only likes strong, as in buff men, he wouldn't be interested in men who aren't, & he tends to really only want to have flings with men, nothing really serious, just a bit of fun.

as for women, he can be a bit of the polar opposite here, he really likes any kind of woman, he's not picky when it comes to his type of woman. though, he does have a preference to those he considers cute.

now just some general rules when it comes to shipping here !

i will only ship our muses if there is enough ooc plotting involved. i'm not into pre-established shipping, or just shipping on the fly, i prefer there's some development in the threads as well as plotting ooc for it.

majima has various different verses, his age range in them are 20-54. i would normally set him in a verse whereas there is not a large age gap between the two.

i do not outright roleplay fluffy stuff, so don't expect a lot of it.

smut may be written, but i will require there to be a lot of plotting involved, this just won't happen if no plotting, i choose to not write it in threads, i prefer doing so in asks only.

i don't like to write anything involving pregnancy. if our muses have kids, it's either via adoption, or we skip that part of the roleplay entirely. majima has kind of hinted at wanting kids in the series, so it is something that would otherwise have the chance of popping up but i would not write the pregnancy part & i ask people to at least respect this.

[missvifdor]

Tsfgae : Tome 2

I recently bought and finished volume 2 of the school of Good and Evil.  And loved it and can't wait to get book 3!  Like last time, I'm going to give my general opinion and on the characters, trying not to spoil the plot!  I'm going to start with our heroines, ending with the new character that we were given to discover.  So:

SOPHIE : At the beginning of my reading, I was able to find the Sophie that I had discovered in volume 1. Egocentric, Her funny and annoying personality, her contempt for her father and her love of the spotlight. But we also feel that her experience at school has also changed her and we feel her fear of becoming the horrible witch she once was, which is why she clings so much to Agatha that she now considers no only as her saviour, her anchor, but also now really her friend in a much less superficial way. We FEEL that she needs Agatha by her side to convince herself that she will never again become the horrible thing she turned into. Of course she remains quite despicable towards the other villagers of Galvadon but now she is trying on a deeper level to be better. She wants to convince herself that she is capable of doing good and I feel her struggle with it throughout the book. And then when things start to heat up, I think she really matures and is a much better friend here than she was in book 1. The ending broke my heart and because of the fears and from the suspicions of those she called the people who matter to her, she actually ended up becoming what they feared she would become again. And it's all their fault. From my point of view, Sophie really tried and, I think, swapped roles with Agatha in this volume 2. She has so much faith in Agatha and their friendship, it was overwhelming. Also, her search for true love (now that I know the deeper meaning) makes her an even more interesting character to me, I really enjoyed Sophie in this read and she goes back to the top of my list of my favorite characters by Tsfgae.

AGATHA : I loved Agatha in volume 1. In this one, I think she goes down to second place of my favorite characters in the series at the moment. Her fears and suspicions are valid, after what she endured at school before returning to Galvadon I think she has a right to feel the way she does. However, now it is she who refuses to see the truth about her deepest desires, as was the case with Sophie in volume 1, which is what led them into the disastrous situation in which everyone is at school (although of course, Sophie has her fair share of responsibility). What breaks my heart is that the Agatha in volume 1 would never have doubted Sophie despite his actions, but it's very different in volume 2. She also wants her "True Happy Ending" so badly. Agatha forces herself so much to believe that she trusts her friend (trust that she doesn't feel at all) that it's almost sad. And also breaking my heart, she broke Sophie's with mine in the process. I think if Agatha hadn't been so scared of the witch's return, they might have had a chance.

TEDROS: First of all... TEDROS WHAT DID YOU MAKE SO FUCKS?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR SPIRIT?! Tedros was already on a thin layer of ice in Book 1 but boy...I get he's from a place where he's instilled that to get to his happy ending you obviously have to kill the "bad guy" but man... think with your brain! Didn't his meeting with Agatha teach him anything?! And then he goes from bad to worse (and okay, it was a misunderstanding) but what happened with the Grand Master should have taught him a lesson! But noooo, sir prefers to think with his ego! In the end, he is almost better and then... he becomes a fool again! Someone give this boy a working brain and rid him of his Mommy Issues, please! I feel like taking my sandal, throwing it in his face and insulting him with the worst French insults I know! Anyway welcome to the BI family, Tedros, even if irritating and stupid you are on some level, I'm glad you discovered yourself on a deeper level.

HESTER: She is in my top 3 characters that I will defend body and soul! This girl is awesome and even though she sucks at being Dot's friend, she's still one of my favorites!

ANADIL: Same thing for Anadil as for Hester.

DOT: I was so happy and sad for Dot, she finally felt accepted and loved school. Anadil and Hester are not tender with her, despite everything she remains their friend. I just think she deserves better.

HORT: My poor darling! Not only is he heartbroken but they don't even treat him well in his school when he does everything to make himself useful 😭 I was hoping he would be better in Volume 2 but obviously he continues to be everyone's punching bag, he doesn't deserve that! Volume 3 better give him the happiness he deserves!

BEATRIX : Our number 1 bootlicker didn't change much in the end, trying to be the favorite of the new character from book 2! Besides, I will add that many of the Ever girls were still as much of a hypocrite as possible. Maybe Kiko was the least hypocritical of them all.

TRISTAN : MY HEART IS BROKEN ! THIS ENTIRE BOOK WAS INTENDED TO BREAK MY HEART AND CRUSH IT INTO A THOUSAND PIECES!

LADY LESSO: In Volume 2 we got a lot more insight into our favorite Dean for Evil and I'm so glad! His secret didn't really surprise me because I was spoiled before reading this volume, however, I think it adds a little depth to his character and I'm waiting to know more about his background.

PROFESSOR DOVEY: Much less present but still nice to see anyway. And I always hear about his interactions with Lady Lesso 🤭

EVELYN SADER: Here she is, the new face of faculty and characters. Suffice to say that from the start of its appearance in the book, I was intrigued. Her physique, her personality, her intriguing insects following her everywhere (her outfit is pretty cool, it made me want to draw her for later). His powers are as intriguing as they are cool and dangerous, in my opinion. I loved and hated her in a common measure, especially when she had this "discussion" with Lady Lesso and what she did to Sophie. Very happy with her fate at the end, hoping that she will not make an appearance again in the next volumes. There's some new stuff she brought to school for girls that I can appreciate, however the rest is really stereotypical (even if it's less than what Evergirls was asking for in Volume 1, the rest seems incredibly ridiculous and dangerous).

[mystcryshcck]

About the muse / Rules / Verses

On the surface, Stanley is conniving, money hungry, and appears to have little regard for other people. He runs the "Mystery Shack", a self proclaimed "ninth wonder of the world" in the middle of Gravity Falls, Oregon, but it's nothing more than a tourist trap and a front. Assuming the identity of his twin brother after his disappearance, he goes by the name "Stanford" and has, unfortunately for his brother, committed many crimes under this persona such as fraud, embezzlement, and money laundering. Good luck flying anywhere, Stanford.

General Information

Name: Stanley Pines

Nicknames: Stanford, Stan, "Grunkle", Old Man, Lee (reserved exclusively for his brother(s) (Ford is on thin ice if they're fighting)/mother/significant other, if anyone else calls him this they're getting punched)

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: closeted bisexual

Family: Stanford Pines (older twin brother), Shermy (younger brother), Mabel Pines (great-grand-niece), Dipper Pines (great-grand-nephew), Filbrick Pines (father, estranged), Margaret Pines (mother, estranged)

Underneath his gruff exterior, Stan would protect the people that he loves fiercely, including both Mabel and Dipper, and his employees Soos and Wendy. Found family means everything to him, and if you're lucky enough to be part of his found family (blood related or not) than he and his brass knuckles have your back.

Rules: (subject to change as I think of more)

1. Shipping is fine! Stanley is a closeted bisexual and might not openly admit feelings for other men, but he has absolutely had crushes on them in the past. It could even be unrequited love.

2. I am semi-selective and happy to write the following: with crossover characters (as long as I know the media they're from at least OR we are friends), original characters + self inserts

3. I am a very spontaneous writer. Plotting can happen! I'm just not as good at replying to plotted threads. If you have ideas/I get an idea, let's talk!

4. Stan might not be very nice to your character at first (unless you're a cop, then go fuck yourself). But befriending him has it's perks! He's more likely to be nicer to kids/pretty women + men

Verses:

Good old days. v (childhood verse)

Turbulent weather. v (teenager verse)

Sinking ship. v (early adulthood verse, specifically after he gets kicked out and attempts to prove his dad wrong)

Cloudy skies. v (takes place during the course of the show)

Clear skies. v (good ending, he sails the seas with Stanford)

Stormy skies. v (bad ending. this fucker never remembers what happens/the bait and switch plan doesn't work and Bill wins/ ect.)

[ferinehuntress]

are there any lesser played canon characters you’d like to see in your community? would you consider writing them? , do you prefer plotting a thread or improvising? does it depend? , how do you feel about canon divergences, crossovers, and alternate universes?

◈　 ⇢  @knlfed　 ⋯　 questions for writers

I did answer this in another one, but at the moment I can't think of really any. I just kind of go with the flow with whoever has what.

I might try my hand back at Miss Fortune again, I love a sassy pirate. I dont' see her around much, Another one might be Nami, but she is so highly restrictive with being a water being/mermaid type character and I wouldn't like that kind of restriction. I tend to try and focus more on characters form Piltover and Zaun though. I did write Mel a bit, but I just realized due to some situations I can't write her (I still love her though). Grayson is a big one, I wish someone wrote her, I lvoe to write with her.

Maybe I could, come up with a plotline, maybe something almost mirrored reflection like what happens to Vander becoming Warwick. Imagine someone doing that to Grayson, like kind of being this protector of the night but she has to stay in the shadows. Where Warwick is struggling with the bloodlust and that, Grayson having complete control, but she would be absolutely outcasted by Piltover due to her 'monstrous' look.

As for my style, I'm very much a plotter. I can't do random threads off the whim and improvising is way too hard. Now, I'm not saying I need a script, its okay if a character does something unexpected that we didn't talk about. What i'm looking at is more of a plotting foundation rather then 'we have to do this, then this, then this'. It gives a form of stability, while still allowing characters to act out. I guess, ironically, think of it like DnD. The dungeon master gives you a storyline, a plotline, and then you throw your characters into it to see what happen. You don't know what will happen, but you have a general idea of what your goal is.

I don't mind canon divergence, in fact, when you look at my Caitlyn and Vi, they are EXTREMELY divergent. They are both half vastaya, caitlyn never becomes sheriff, Vi will never be an enforcer (ever), my ciatlyn actually does get into the politic lifestyle as she is the heiress of her house now, etc….. but I never take away from the character. I take what is made form the character and expand.

However, I do not do crossovers. There is this problem in my head that, when you cross two worlds, it functionally does not work for me. Its like putting ice into fire, the ice will not last, it will melt and disappear. It takes away from the inclusion of the world in my mind as well, I do not like it. Trying to throw say, Elsa from Frozen into Hazbin Hotel, its just not going to work for me. Massively two different genres, different worlds, smashed into one is not the kind of chaos I like. Even if someone is say a "multi-universe traveler" it still takes away that inclusion factor for me, so I stay away for it. It is why I say crossovers are not going to happen on my blog.

Alternate Universes, I don't really engage in. Again, I prefer to try and keep my character in the world they are in. AUs create different worlds, and so the character may grow up differently. The only AUs I do on this blog is putting Caitlyn and Vi into BG3. That's why I have it where I say I'm only writing in the BG3 universe or the LoL Runeterra/Arcane Universe. No AUs, no other things. It spreads me too thin and I really want to focus more on how these characters develop in their own worlds.

[variousqueerthings]

It's a movie. You'd like that one too. Everybody dies.

Empress of Mars, let's goooo! I've actually taken notes for this one too, although I did have to watch it over four sittings, due to limited time, so now it's kind of a puzzle of vignettes in my head. very short serial length

sexism rank objectification (female character is ogled/harassed/turned into a sex joke by the doctor and/or a lead we’re supposed to root for and/or the camera): 10/10

sexism rank plot-point (lead female character is only there to serve plot, not to have her emotional interiority explored, or given agency to her emotional interiority): 4/10

interesting complex or pointlessly complex (does the complexity serve the narrative or does it just serve to be confusing as a stand-in for smart, this includes visually): 7/10

furthers character and/or lore and/or plot development (broader question that ties into the previous ones, at least two of these, ideally three should be fulfilled): 7/10

companion matters (the companion doesn’t always have to be there, but if the companion is there, can they function without the doctor– and overall per season how often is the companion the focus or POV of the story): 4/10

the doctor is more than just “godlike” (examines the doctor’s flaws and limitations, doesn’t solve a plot by having it revolve entirely around the doctor’s existence): 9/10

doesn’t look down on previous doctor who (by erasing or mocking its importance, by redoing and “bettering” previous beloved plotpoints or characters, etc.): 10/10

isn’t trying to insert hamfisted sexiness (m*ffat famously talked a lot about how dw should be sexier multiple times, he sucks at writing it): 10/10

internal world has consistency (characters have backgrounds, feel rooted in a place with other people, generally feel like they have Lives): 8/10

Politics (how conservative is the story): 5/10

FULL RATING: 74/100 (if I can count….)

I think I like this one. I'm always a bit wary about stories in Doctor Who that are about British colonists, and I'd say this one doesn't quite hit the mark on justifying that point of view in this one either, but otherwise there's a fair bit to enjoy. It's solid. dependable. Ice Queen hot. that sort of thing

the pacing is a bit wack, but otherwise...

OBJECTIFICATION: Bill has a great look in this one generally. I mean, she's dressed like the Doctor, so they're both killing it, and then she's also pulled her hair back, it's great, sleek, pro scifi lookin stuff -- also considering this is a very dude-heavy episode, they eschew (this appears to be my favourite word of the day) any creepy leering of the kind I remember all too well from some other stories that featured men from this era (looking at you dinosaurs on a fucking spaceship)

I'd even give it bonus points for its Ice Queen design, which, generally I think DW has been pretty good at making men and women alien designs relatively equal (nothing like like sexy cyberwoman of Torchwood), and in this case I was having a bit of the swoons at the Ice Queen's predator-like dreads and wonderful armour!

PLOT-POINT: Bill isn't really explored in this one. she's present alongside her ideals, although I do think this is one of the ways it's a bit of a flaw to make the other characters Victorian soldiers -- they're the sanitised version of what this might look like, up to and including a black man in the unit who's just some guy along with the rest of them, which is really more about politics than anything else, but the point is it feels kind of strange to have her in this place in a way I think for example thin ice, which was able to be an episode that had black people in it, while still acknowledging that black people walk through the world differently due to racism

which, considering how heavily this episode focused on "empire as concept" in various parts, feels a bit like an oversight to not have Bill at least have more opinions about

I did like her having some Moments with the Ice Queen, mainly because the way Pearl Mackie played it made me think Bill was also kind of attracted to her (alien fucker Bill seems right to me), but I wish they'd amounted to a little more than the lip-service of "men amirite?" because yeah, Victorian-age soldier dudes probably would have been insufferable to deal with on average (#notallvictoria- *gets sniped*) and Bill potentially having to navigate around that in order to find common ground with the Ice Queen idk... coulda been cool as potential

it all comes back to the choice of making this a bit about Queen And Country which is what I'm not so into, and other things fold into that

COMPLEXITY: it's relatively simple once you get past the "Victorians on Mars" part, which is standard DW fare. I do think some of the plot was paced a bit oddly, but that could have been my fractured watching schedule. it just seemed to go quite slowly up until finding the Ice Queen and then very fast to the conclusion

CHARACTERS/LORE/PLOT: the Master is now freeee!!!!!! and the Ice Warriors are more back in nu!who DW lore than previously (they have been in nu!who before, but this feels a little more like the Silurians, a bit more settled AND it ties into stuff they wrote for the third Doctor)

(I know Waters Of Mars was a Very Particular Kind Of Episode, but I always wonder if that's just... lurking underneath there...)

it's on the whole not super overarching plot-driven, which is fine. the Master is in two scenes and she kills both times, honestly Michelle Gomez takes my breath away

COMPANIONS MATTER: Bill, as mentioned, has some heeey Ice Queen moments, and I like how well she and the Doctor work together and how she's able to take lead. I am in a headspace with Bill where I wonder how willing she is to die or whether she thinks she will die. in the last episode she really did think she would, so what does that say for where she is now when she says she's willing to act as a distraction -- it all ends up fine, but I'll probably come back to this thought once we've seen the last episode

also liked that she was savvy enough to guess that the atmosphere was breathable. it's just little things like that which feel like a companion is involve in the story and not just tagging along and waiting for the Doctor to do something impressive

“GODLIKE” DOCTOR: yeah, the Doctor is more aware of how to deal with the Ice Warriors, but on the whole is as much taken along for the ride as everyone else, and he's not the one who saves the day either

PREVIOUS DOCTOR WHO: ALPHA CENTAURI!!! I heard the voice and was like "I KNOW THAT VOICE NOW!" (classic!who watch upgrade!) and of course the Ice Warriors! I think this episode ties into the curse of Peladon which is wonderfully involved as callbacks go and honestly I think one could continue along that strand if one wanted to

I cannot remember how I felt about this episode when I didn't have all this context, but it definitely heightens its enjoyment upon watching it this time

“SEXINESS”: none of that nonsense here. the Master has some fantastic moments in her brief appearance of this and it's so delightfully serious, which is a neat turnaround for her depiction of the Master and continues on from last episode

INTERNAL WORLD: Once the Victorians on space is accepted (yep, accepted) they're on Mars, simple-as. Not overcomplicated as is often the case

POLITICS: Sooooooooooooooooooooooooo why Victorians? Why soldiers? (soldiers because of the Ice Warriors connection, which, I note they did in Cold War too, because nobody's allowed to meet Ice Warriors that's just some guy I guess)

it feels like it was under-thought/under-baked as a whole, which leads to a certain lacunae related to these white guys running around trying to colonise Mars for the queen as set dressing for the episode, with their one token Black Victorian soldier guy who's the same as the rest and dies a very gruesome death, which is meant to be the point of Making The Audience Connect To The Poor Victorian Soldiers because he has a sweetheart yousee, he's quite lovely, but it all comes off a biiiit like they didn't think through the Connotations of what they were doing. things like tokenism and colour blind casting and generally the sort of complaints that have been had about Martha's season as well in relation to the historical episodes

and while there is some mention of the Victorians as colonisers, it's a bit haphazard, because in the end it's mostly just this one guy who's bad and the other one who pledges himself to a new queen

it's not the worst of politics on this show by a long mile, but I think nu!who has had a bit of an issue related to British history and romanticising British empire and monarchy (queen Victoria, Queen Elizabeth 1st and 10th, Churchill, that guy in dinos on a spaceship, to some extent nightmare in silver and smile)

(not to mention classism and underlying empiristic concepts in things like girl in the fireplace and some of the underlying problems of human nature/family of blood, which while honest about WWI struggles with balancing its depiction of British boarding school's violence against boys with what Martha faces especially, some of my personal qualms with writing UNIT, and the president of the world stuff)

there's more or less of this depending on the series and s10 is better for it mostly (including in the very next episode) but it did mean this episode came out of left-field by making these choices and then not doing anything substantial with them

FULL RATING: 74/100 (if I can count….)

she's quite highly rated this one, and I think it partially comes down to Ice Queen hot and partially the way it ties into some very old lore making a reappearance

I quite like this one, it's a simple solid concept. if it weren't for those Victorians and the pacing being a bit off... but yeah, I had a good time

[littlewalken]

Sep 21

Started rewriting the boy band story in preparation for typing it. The way this one worked is I did a draft by hand from my notes (this story has had several drafts over the years but was stripped back down to plot points and notes for reasons) and the next draft is also being hand written. I'm still tidying up and trying out a few things and it's easier to go back over hand written notes right now.

Once I finish this next draft and let it rest I should be able to type it in to the computer then print out a copy so I'll have a version on hand just in case. Of what? Exactly. Last house had a week long black out because someone decided they wanted copper wire, then another one because someone hit a major power pole while street racing. Here brown outs are just part of the dystopia.

Wait a minute, it's not a dystopia because no one in this zip code is a White Person. We're just the white ladies who share the bounty from our junk runs and returned squirmy neighbor puppy when she got out.

But if you're poor and already on the poor people electric plan, they do check so you can't scam, and have medical equipment like a sleep breathing machine or something do ask the power company if you can get a generator. Because we live in a place that seems to hit the brown out lottery on a daily basis they gave us a generator and portable solar panels to charge it.

You can also request the poser company inspect your home and if you're poor enough or your fridge is old and shitty enough they might give you one. No ice maker or wifi but it still fridgapates. The one they gave us is nearly 20 years old, should have got replaced at the last house with a few other appliances but guess which family member fucked that up too.

But the place we're hoping to get in to will come with appliances so we'll get to leave that fridge for the next people who move in here and that could be a blessing for them.

Well, we start physically butting things in storage in preparation for the eventual move today. This time it should only be for 3 months at the most, the destination is supposed to be ready to walk thru in October which means we can hopefully got in sometime in November or December but I don't hold my breath for shit like that, and it will be close enough to visit and not half a continent away.

So hopefully there will be some healing mixed in with this. It will be one large unit, not three of varying size because half of it has to be the Life Ruiner's literal trash, and there is time to organize how the stuff goes in to utilize the space more efficiently.

Hell, most of my stuff like my craft room and pretty much everything doll related has been packed since 2021 anyway. Can't sort what I literally can't get to. Now aside form compacting anything of the dealing with nature will just have to wait for the new home.

Aside from books, of which I thinned out the hoard quite well, and the Barbies I want to part with I'm pretty sure my possessions spark joy. I just haven't been able to use or display them in a joyful manner for a couple of years because shit happened.

[mephicchi]

((I can personally recommend watching Kruggsmash's Dwarf Fortress videos on YouTube, he makes illustrations of characters, artifacts, and events that happen in his fortresses as he's telling the story which helps with some amount of understanding. He also really gets into the rp side of it all and just has a nice storytelling voice in general. MonsterKiller, and HoneyStoker are my personal favourite fortresses he's done. HoneyStoker especially, but it has a rougher beginning and Krugg swaps between a few fortresses in that storyline. I'll cut myself off here, or I could talk about DF all day. My humble apologies to your followers.

I'll admit I'm a little concerned about how quickly and how thin exactly the veil may be getting, but I'll keep this rolling for now. I have ideas for how this can play out ic if you feel so inclined to indulge me. You'll see in the letter.

I have. SO MANY mini campaign ideas I want to DM. I love planning for sessions. Making borderline unnecessary props. And cooperative worldbuilding and character building is a favourite passtime of mine. Almost like I enjoy rp or something cough cough. Although when it comes to actually DMing a live session I feel like I choke, I can't read my own notes any more, and descriptive words suddenly all fall out of my brain like it's made of swiss cheese. It's probably all in my head as so far I haven't received any complaints from my players. In total I've probably only DM'd 4 or 5 sessions, all 5e (although once I tried to mix in my own dismal attempt at a homebrew mechanic.) Unfortunately the friendships fell apart and went separate ways due to outside and unrelated circumstances. But it's been 3 years or so and I haven't DM'd live since discovering CR and picking up a lot of techniques from Matt Mercer. I'd like to try it again with what I've learned. In the meantime however I've been DMing a murder mystery over text with my one remaining player still with me. Mostly just written rp, not unlike we have been doing here, although in a much shorter format, and involving skill checks and challenges whenever something necessary comes up. I'm much more in my element when writing tbh.

I am toying with the idea to retry the aforementioned homebrewed mechanic I attempted, but move it over to Call of Cthulhu one day, as the plot I had come up with mainly involved horror themed mindfuckery. But I'll need to do a lot more research and I'm currently, if you'll excuse the phrase, balls deep in 5e with my current headworld obsession.

Ahh I'm going on too long though, once again I apologise to your followers, and I'll leave you with that and move on to the actual letter now.))

// Thanks for the recommendation, I'll definitely check out some videos of his, who knows, perhaps I will fall into a DF hole, I wouldn't count on it though.

In my mind the veil might have already been lifted, but I am having way too much fun to stop this, communicating like this both ic and ooc might just have ignited a small spark of mine to seek out some text based RP groups, while it has also been a wonderful opportunity to learn more about both you and your character, which I would never say no to.

Your enthusiasm towards DMing is all too familiar, I too get ideas all the time, I never write them down anywhere though so they always get lost to time, but perhaps that is not the worst thing for I feel like I am incredibly bad at describing things, and even worse at changing my voice for different NPCs, making it hard for my players to discern who is speaking with them in a conversation with multiple NPCs.

As mentioned before, this whole "thing" might make me seek out some text based RP groups, for as I've just now discovered with this, I seem to have an incredibly amount of fun with it, even if I sometimes have to google translate a word, or look for a word that better encapsulates what I want to say, since English unfortunately isn't my first language.

Despite my refusal to DM, since I feel I am awful at it, I've picked up the rulebooks of a good few systems I'd like to try someday, seems I simply have to find someone that will indulge in my torture and run them for me, hah!

Aside from DnD 5e, I have the core rulebooks of Pathinder 1st Edition, Cyberpunk 2020, Vampire: The Masquerade, Werewolf: The Apocalypse and Mage: The Ascension taunting me with their presence in the corner of my eye whenever I am using my PC.

I hope you know how much I truly appreciate this exchange, but alas, I shall too get to writing the letter. //