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ventiswampwater · 7 months

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subterranean

FANDOM : house of wax (2005) PAIRING : bo sinclair x afab!fem!reader RATING : explicit 🔞 WORDCOUNT : 3.9k

Reader POV. Basement fuckery. He tells you it's to keep you humble. It’s really just to keep you scared. The distinction doesn’t matter. You end up here again and again, knees biting into the concrete.

Crossposted on A03 here.

⚠️ Stockholm Syndrome. VERY dubious consent under duress. This was supposed to just be porn without plot. But then I lost my goddamn mind. Oops. Decent amount of weird prose. Depersonalization and derealization. Pet play (but make it weird and kinda metaphorical). Collaring. Forced boot riding. Vibrator and anal plug use. Bondage/gagging/edging. Bo at his absolute WORST (his natural state), being smug and mean and awful. Dirty talk dialed ALL the way up. Extremely dehumanizing and degrading language. Mind break elements. LOTS of backhanded praise. ⚠️

You always got too comfortable.

A lifetime before—when you were first here—you sat on this mattress with him, swallowing down mouthfuls of cold beef and carrots. You can remember the soup swirling in the can, murky and brown like a puddle of stagnant rainwater. He hadn't bothered to warm it up for you, but it hadn’t mattered. The food was something. Sometimes it felt like everything.

You licked the broth off the spoon as he plugged another tape into the VCR.

“One of my favorites.” He told you. Of course it was. Every movie he showed you down here was one of his favorites. Every can of soup might be the last. It was always the same things, over and over.

That’s when you started to lose track of time, you think—when you’d started to cling onto all that nothing.

Time wasn’t all that bad of a thing to lose, was it? Who needed it when his thumb was rubbing against your knee, stroking up your skin? The soup was cold, and his hand was warm. You traded one for the other and you liked it.

Funny. Thoughts like that always felt like they came with an or else tacked at the end.

A chunk of potato sat unpleasantly on your tongue—almost bitter, gravel in your mouth. Just like everything else, you swallowed it down.

He pressed play, his fingers drifting up your thigh. The TV quality was fuzzy, interrupted by the occasional flicker of static. Sometimes the films he chose would start in the middle of scenes. You’d get brief glimpses of things he’d recorded over—the triumphant blare of a talk show theme cutting off mid-note, dropping you in media res. He always assured you that you weren’t missing anything. At least that was one thing he didn’t bother lying about.

The movie wasn’t why you remembered that day, though. It was because of something he’d asked you.

“Where’d ya’ grow up?”

You hadn’t known what to say. He never asked you things like that. Your confusion only deepened when you turned towards him. There was no tension in his jaw, no furrowing of his brow. He looked, for the first time, wholly and startlingly calm.

When you failed to answer, he leaned forward and switched the TV off. He never did that either.

“Tell me ‘bout it. Whatchu do out there, anyway?”

You always regret not lying to him.

The world had shrunk down so much in the time you’d been in the town that it almost felt like you could gather it up and stuff it in your pocket.

You think about home. It looks different now.

Spidery tendrils of dust cling to the gaps between the balusters. It’s so difficult to get light in the house. No matter how many windows you open, there are always corners lost to shadow.

It’s strange how you could be up there one day, replacing the bulb under a fringed lampshade—and the next, you’d be tumbled back underground.

Just last week, you were lying on the couch in the living room.

The dog had padded into the room. She’d been gone for the better part of the day. With the doors unlocked, she went wherever she pleased. It had worried you at first, but it didn't anymore. She'd never leave town. She knew better.

At least, that’s what he’d said.

“Come here, beautiful.”

Jumping up, she curled into the space beside you. You wrapped your arm around her, wrinkling your nose. She reeked terribly of dog, stale corn chips and dirt and musk. You wondered if she might let you give her a bath now that you were in her good graces. It took a while to get there, but she came around. In a manner of speaking, the same thing had happened with you.

Pretty funny, huh?

Earlier, you'd been thinking about the puppies in the pet store window. Did she know about them? Slumbering away behind glass and dust, forever only a couple breaths old. Click. A switch was flipped, and they were as alive as they would ever be, nestled on newspaper shavings. On days like this, did she ever make her way down the hill to see them?

“Girls don’t last in this town.” You murmured, scratching behind her ear. “Just me and you, yeah?”

With a huff, she buried her head in the crook of your neck. It seemed like she was done listening to you.

That was fair, really. Half the time you weren’t even saying what you were really thinking anymore—and when you did, you weren't entirely sure that you made much sense. So much of yourself was locked up in your head and you kept forgetting where you left the keys. It all got clogged up inside your skull and oozed out of your mouth in a trail of sickly platitudes. You were just so thankful, so grateful.

“Sorry.” You whispered. You were always sorry for something, and sometimes you even meant it.

The rays of light were receding off of the arm of the couch, crawling up the wall. Your thoughts filled the living room. You could almost see them floating through the air, bouncing off each other like bubbles. Fleeting, effervescent things, popping as soon as you tried to track their paths. When you turned your head, you could smell his cologne. It was his jacket, hanging discarded over the couch cushions.

For a sudden, terrifying moment, you missed him.

That’s when you said the prayer. You didn't know where you meant for it to go. You guessed it was for whoever was around to hear it. Most days it was him and some of the time it was his mother. Both choices rang false. If God was still in this town, it was here, caught in these beams of light. Or maybe God was the dog heavy on top of you, her breath a rhythmic rumble against your throat.

Maybe you wouldn’t last long. Maybe it was all just wishful thinking.

Today, Bo fastens the collar around your neck. The leather feels heavy against your skin.

He tells you it’s to keep you humble. It’s really just to keep you scared. The distinction doesn’t matter. All the light bulbs you screw in will eventually need to be replaced. Wiping away the dust only gives way to more dust. You'll end up here again and again, knees biting into the concrete.

This almost feels more like his room than the one he sleeps in up at the house. Here, you can feel him more than anywhere else. There's more of you down here too. Real, tangible parts of yourself. Look around. There you are in the stain on the mattress, the blood crusted on the vinyl.

Welcome back, baby.

You keep your gaze on the ground, searching for something to bore your eyes into. Your eyes land on his shoes. Flecked with dirt, they bear obvious signs of wear. There’s a sizable hole in the toe of one of them. You focus in on that as he readjusts the collar, tightening the strap around your neck.

Embarrassment heats your cheeks as you hear him click the leash into place. Even without looking up at him, you can picture the expression on his face. It isn’t a good one. You still can’t decide if he looks more or less like himself when he screws his face up like that.

Tugging roughly at the leash, he forces you to look up at him. Wrists bound; your hands flex uselessly against your back.

“Please—”

Without warning, he sticks his fingers into your mouth, forcing them to the back of your throat. You choke, your hands flexing in panic behind your back. When he pulls them out, you cough, eyes watering.

“Now, normally I like hearin’ you, baby.” He says, smiling down at you. His face is a discordant thing. All American, boy next door. A slice of apple pie that someone put a cigarette out in. “But you know somethin’—”

He crouches down in front of you, still smiling. You watch him silently, shifting anxiously on your knees.

“I never did meet a dog who could talk.” Reaching over, he flicks at the metal ring on the collar. “Feels wrong.”

Dropping the leash, he gets to his feet, striding away. You crane your neck to the side as he rustles around behind you. After a moment, he lets out an affirmative grunt.

Quickly, you pivot your head back to the front. Making his way back to stand in front of you, your eyes flash to the item in his hands. Seemingly amused by your concern, he dangles it in front of you.

It’s a ball gag, shiny and black—noticeably a hair newer than the rest of the junk down here. Maybe he bought it just for you. It’d make a pretty lousy gift, but then again, he was always shit at stuff like that.

He had an incredible knack for getting you shit that you never asked for. Everything came with conditions, a laundry list of provisos and conditions that you didn't remember signing up for. Everything he gave you was actually for him.

“Open up, baby.”

Before you can think to do as he asks, his thumb forces your mouth open, pressing down on your teeth. You sputter as he forces the gag into your mouth, securing it around the back of your neck.

“That’s better, yeah?” He asks, grabbing hold of the leash again.

You stare up at him, exhaling tight bursts of air through your nose. You tilt your head a bit, working your jaw around the ball. Your teeth rest uncomfortably on the rubber.

“You been so good today, think we outta give that pussy some attention, huh?” He smirks. “Whatchu think?”

You whine, the noise coming out in an embarrassingly wet gurgle. Spit runs out of your mouth, dripping down your chin and trickling onto your neck.

“So cute.” His voice is syrupy sweet. He can play at authenticity, but never with you.

He kicks your thighs apart with his foot, nudging the tip of his boot between your legs. His eyebrows shoot up expectantly as he nods down at you.

“Go on, then.”

Disgust is an old friend. She disappears for months at a time, only to show up unexpectedly as if no time has passed. She’s back again, turning your stomach around in her hands. You tilt your hips down. Rubbing yourself against the tip of his shoe, you wonder if he’s doing this for old times' sake.

Rocking forward, you imagine a glossy magazine cover. You could see him on the cover of one. He does have the face for it, when he bothers to put it on.

Bored? 50 Ways to Keep the Spark Alive!

Your jaw is beginning to ache. Bo's hand strokes softly at the top of your head. You hate that the pressure against your clit almost feels good. Your mind unhelpfully supplies more article titles, bubbling up in your mind in obnoxiously curly lettering.

10 Mouth Exercises For The Modern Woman. Have You Tried Screaming? It’s All The Rage in This Town. Once You Start, You Won’t Want to STOP!

“That’s it.” He grins. “What a little slut.”

You look up at him pleadingly, another dribble of spit running down your chin.

“Always got told ya’ shouldn’t let dogs up on the bed.” He muses, the amusement plain in his voice. “But you been on your best behavior, huh?”

Last week, you fell asleep on the couch. You woke up somewhere else.

It was dark and you were pressed against something warm. Not the dog, not the light. Those were both gone. His jacket hanging off the side of the couch, maybe. But it was moving now, and so were you.

“Gotta getcha to bed.” He’d muttered, carrying you up the stairs.

You lay across Bo's lap, the side of your cheek against the dirty mattress. You shudder, your legs shaking.

“Pretty girl.” Reaching over, he tugs you up by the leash, forcing your head back.

Every breath you take seems to make your muscles clench around the plug in your ass. He works it in and out of you slowly and you gulp, shallow breaths whistling out of your nostrils. Every time you jolt forward you can feel him press against you, hard against your belly.

“Hey. What’s wrong, baby? That hurt?”

You nod frantically.

“Huh. Funny…'cuz I don't think it does. You wanna know how I know?” You feel him spread you open, fingers dipping into your pussy. “You’re wet for it, baby.”

He pushes the plug deeper, and your head spins at the sensation. A warbling moan pitches out of your mouth as you feel it sink fully into you. You shiver uncontrollably, whimpering around the gag. Saliva gathers on your tongue, and you feel it spill out of the side of your mouth, pooling under your cheek.

“Good.” He rumbles out, stroking his knuckles along your back. “That’s my good girl.”

You squeeze your eyes shut when you feel him nudge something between your legs. With a click, the vibrator buzzes to life. You let out a startled cry as he strokes it along your pussy.

“It’s nice, huh?” He chuckles. “Don’tchu act like I never gave you anything.”

The vibrator teases against your clit in short bursts, pressing down just long enough to leave you panting before he pulls it away. Almost enough, not quite. You arch back uselessly, chasing after that glittery warm sensation. He laughs a bit, holding the vibrator just above your clit.

You can feel the edge of pleasure, but it’s nothing more than a distant dull thrum. He keeps you hovering over it for what feels like forever, squirming over a feeling that’s hardly there. You bite down on the gag, your sob watery and muffled around the rubber.

“This body’s all mine, girl.” He murmurs, running his thumb down your spine. “I ain’t gotta make it feel good.”

With a hum, he rests the vibrator fully onto your clit. The sensation you’ve been chasing envelopes you, shimmering through your core. Nasally, high-pitched whines escape you in quick, desperate succession.

“But I do, don’t I? ‘Cuz I’m just so sweet.”

You open your eyes, staring up at him in bleary gratitude. He presses down on the plug. The discomfort has crested over and all you feel now is loose and pliant. You moan around the gag, your eyes fluttering.

“You like having somethin’ in your ass while I play with this pussy?”

And you nod, humming out your agreement.

“Mmm-hmm? Yeah?” He teases, mimicking your garbled reply. "That's good, baby. That's real good. Reckoned I’d fuck your ass today, but that pussy’s gettin’ nice and wet for me. Whatchu think? Which hole you want fucked?”

You mumble incoherently through the gag.

“All of ‘em?” He exclaims, the grin evident in his voice. “Well, ain’t that real sweet. Good answer, baby.”

He keeps talking, but it’s getting harder to focus on what he’s saying.

“Next crew that comes through here—maybe I’ll tell ‘em I got a slut who needs breakin’ in. You spread those legs so nice, sure you’d fuckin’ love it.”

The image flashes through your mind. Hands everywhere, laughter and heat and friction from a kaleidoscope of people destined for death. You’re in the middle of all of those faceless people—a tribute to be used up, one last meal for a parade of living corpses.

You’re all destined for the same end, but theirs is closer than they know. Yours is prolonged, tied around touches and salt.

Bo would be in the corner, lighting another cigarette—watching, because he’s always watching. Mouth twitching into a smile because he’s right again. You’re exactly what he thinks you are. You’ll keep your eyes on him because you can’t look at anyone else. After all, if it isn’t his hands, could you even feel it? Would it even count?

The panic is sudden and hot, twisting inside your chest. A desperate little whine builds at the back of your throat.

If I’m everybody else's, I can’t be yours.

“I’d have a hard time sharin’, though.”

Relief. The vibrator pulses against your clit and your eyes go unfocused.

“’S funny. Gotchu down here—and nobody knows.”

Between your legs, your pussy feels pathetically wet, sloppily sliding along the vibrator. You almost wish he’d keep you like this forever, jolts of pleasure lapping hungrily between your legs.

“If there’s even anybody out there lookin’ for ya’…” He muses. “Wish they could see ya’ now, huh? Don’t think they’d feel bad for you, baby.”

Pleasure rolls dizzily through you, electric licks of sensation as he rubs the vibrator against your clit. The rubber in your mouth is an anchor, it feels good on your teeth.

“Betchu thought you were really somethin’ out there.” He chuckles. “How’s it feel to find out you ain’t? Feels good, don’t it?”

You open your eyes and nod up at him, panting out your agreement. Through the haze, you see him smirk. It’s a cruel, cold thing. You’re all full and useless, but he doesn’t need you to say it, because he knows. Thoughtlessly, you shift in his lap, trying desperately to spread your legs wider for him.

“Nothin’ but a little fucktoy.” He coos. “That’s all you are, baby. Want you to remember that.”

He doesn’t need to worry. You remember everything, except what counts.

“Good girls cum, baby. They can’t help it.”

You’re hurtling higher and higher, the pleasure battering against your brain. That’s where the memories are, where the time used to be. It feels better to fill it with this. But then again, you’ve known that from the start.

“Go on, baby. Cum all pretty for me, yeah?”

And you do, a million times over.

He keeps the vibrator pressed firmly against your clit as you tense up, your hands clenching into tight fists behind your back. Your orgasm is a bone-deep shiver, wracking your legs with uncontrollable chills. The pleasure throttles through the last of your coherency, prizing a desperate noise from your throat. Maybe it’s a word. It might be his name. It might just be the time. Maybe this is how you find it again.

The buzz of the vibrator goes dim and far away as he holds it against you. You’re twitching somewhere above it. Each involuntary movement you make brings with it a new hiccup of sensation. Around you, the room seems to spin—whirling into a terrific blur of green and yellow.

It can be beautiful down here, if you squint.

When he lifts the vibrator off your clit, you pitch forward, warbling out a dizzy laugh behind the gag. You wait for the sound of the wand powering off. It doesn't come. Behind you, the buzzing is a low, incessant drone. You’ve barely managed to ground yourself when you hear it kick up a notch.

Click.

The sheets smell like all the thousand versions of you, each one answering questions she shouldn’t. Four walls surround you and they feel like they’re collapsing down on all sides. They could be made of plaster or stone, but they might just be something else. Your limbs, your heart, your mind, him. Separate appendages, but all linked. All part of the same crumbling structure.

A scream builds at the back of your throat as you feel him set it back on your clit.

“We ain’t done, baby.”

Your sleep is deep. Quiet. Only one dream.

Bo’s sitting on the edge of the bed, an inky blot in the gray morning light. He makes a move to stand up and you grab onto his arm.

“Go back to bed, angel.” He murmurs.

It almost sounds real enough.

When you wake up, you're alone. You try the door and find it unlocked.

Figures.

Upstairs, the shop is empty. There’s a can of unopened Coke on the counter. You crack it open and take a sip. Lukewarm bubbles of carbonation fizz over your tongue. God, he really was shit with gifts.

Walking up the hill, you catch your reflection in the window of a sedan. You look haggard, your hair a raggedy clump around your shoulders. You try the handle and it cracks open easily. Crawling into the dirty belly of the car, you wince as you lower yourself down into the seat. You sit with one leg dangling out, absentmindedly studying the dusty speedometer.

There are cars in other towns, parked on different streets. There are places without dust. There are always other futures. Sometimes you turn down the wrong road, and sometimes you die. Sometimes you don’t.

That’s just the way these things go.

You imagine the town collapsing in on itself like a pop-up book. There’s Bo, frowning down at it. He seemed like he’d been the type of kid that wasn’t allowed to check those kinds of things out from the library. He’d bring them back with pages ripped out, scrawled with pen marks. Pilled white card stock where faces used to be.

God, you’re miserably sore. It’s impossible to narrow down the ache to a certain part of you.

Lifting your leg into the car, you pull the door shut. The dust inside tickles your nose. Unthinkingly, you reach up, your fingers brushing against the metal buckle of the seatbelt. The sting is sharp and immediate. You pull your hand away with a hiss, your hand smarting. When you reach for the seatbelt again, you’re careful to avoid the clip.

You buckle yourself in. Click. Alive again, now more than ever. Wrapping your hands around the steering wheel, you close your eyes. The leather is hot against your palms, and it hurts a bit. Just a little. That’s just the pain again, but you don’t really mind. It’s something you can keep. It’s all yours.

Nothin’ you can’t handle, girl.

That’s what he said last night. Afterwards.

You were laying with your head in his lap, the itchy crust of dried spit against your cheek. It was then that you decided that you were so ugly that you had to be beautiful. You had to be worth looking at. You’d rolled over on your back, looking up at him through swollen eyes. That’s when he said it, so low and quiet that you almost didn’t register it. There’d been a an edge of pride to his voice.

Nothin’ at all.

A lick of pleasure thrums between your legs and your eyes flash open. You unbuckle the seatbelt and scramble out of the car, ignoring the pain that sings through your limbs.

Things like that? They always came with an or else tacked at the end. You remember that, don’t you? You couldn’t have forgotten.

Looming above you, the house is a dark blot of ink against the blue sky.

There were no collars for dogs in this town—they didn’t need them. They’d always find their way back home, pawing at the door for some scraps. The only leash is the one that exists in your mind. You can almost see it, trailing off your neck and up the hill, looped messily around the front doorknob.

You were going to die here with all that wetness between your legs, begging him to take out more of you with his teeth.

It's like he said.

You don’t need to tie up a dog if it loves you.

#I FINALLY finished this shit. it's horrific. tysm for coming there are drinks n snacks @ the door #we're goin back 2 ambrose I'm sorry 2 say #and our first stop? oh. just down these stairs #house of wax #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #slashers x reader #slasher community #x reader #my fics #in his basement like damn bitch u live like this #shit is dis cos tang #r/malelivingspace for fuckin real #I've stared @ these bingo bongo ass words for far too long. so I'm sure there's errors. but I will fix them when BRAINCELL lmao

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oldshrewsburyian · 1 year

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I finally finished Game of Thrones and... I knew that Daenerys’ relationship to the Dothraki was super-Orientalist from 1) the iconography of the show 2) scholarly reactions to ASOIAF, whether in print or at conference wine hours 3) the preceding chapters of the novel. But uhhhhh... I did not realize that GRRM gave her special knowledge of how to master the loyalty of the Dothraki literally through her blood that gives her smarter ideas and power over dragons and strong men and ancient magics blah blah blah, all of which exist in this culture but which only the woman with pale skin and fair hair Truly Understands.

...I’ve talked about haunting GRRM before, but I have changed my mind. I want to hold a seance in order to talk to Edward Saïd about this and then get him to haunt GRRM.

#holy shit #orientalism #a medievalist does got #grrm critical #also more horrific ableism with the death of khal drogo! wow!#bad medievalism bingo

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hojlundaise · 6 months

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for the blorbo bingo (only if you feel like it): rasmus, marco and pelle 💛

last one is for you hehe 😙 thanku for indulging meeee

ask me about anyone for bingo

#asking me about all my faves i see you 👀#i guess rasmus is my blorbiest blorbo i got a bingo!!#the half heart for him on the therapy one is cos its not that tragic yet but its on the way klfkjsfdl #the half hearts for marco about the fandom is more about the dfb respect him you dummies see how yall flopping from karma #also he needs more happy moments pls hes been through enough #and for pelle i just realised how normal i am about him lmao #i think its when everyone on dash is losing their minds about him i like to join in and encourage the unhinged behaviour heheehe #and finally i love you judith 💛❤️#the committed horrific atrocities is about the old hag and k*mmich slander btw(completely justified)#ask

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bingos-buttons · 11 months

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Why is pondering a fictionkin type so much more embarrassing than a regular type :(

#ik why #its because the media is horrifically embarrassing #and i on and off hate it smh #fictionkin #kinsidering #otherkin #bingo shut up #bingos rambles

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honorary-fool · 11 months

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obligatory venti nd bard for the bingo!

you got it ^^

venti's:

aaand the bard's:

#asks #ask games #character bingo #the fandom is mean bc of the horrific mischaracterization on venti's part #and on nb's part it's the lack of a proper name /lh #i love these mfers so sososo much #og posts #venti #nameless bard

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summerwritesfics · 9 months

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🥩Horrific Bingo Masterlist

Masterlist of work for Horrific Bingo, get your own card here!

Status: In Progress!

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ❓Ship - You Could See Worms Moving Under Your Skin

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥❄️Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang - Multiple Universe AU

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ⚰️&❄️Gen - Monsters As Metaphor Of Battling For Mental Health Issues

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🌼⚔️Tanya/Mileena - Human Soup

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ❓Ship - The Victims Point Of View Before They Died

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥❄️Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang - “Scars Have The Strange Power To Remind Us That Our Past Is Real” (Cormac Mccarthy)

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ❓Ship - Killing The Good Guy To Be The Good Guy

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ⚰️🔮Bi-Han/Sareena - Dates And Picnics In Haunted Buildings

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ❓Ship - Faith Driven Violence

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ⚰️&❄️Gen - When You Wake Up Everyone Is Dead But There Are No Wounds

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥❄️Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang - 33

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥⚰️Hanzo Hasashi/Bi-Han - The Detective Works Best Sober But Is An Alcoholic

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🈲❄️Sektor/Kuai Liang - Unreliable Narrator

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ❓Ship - The Killer Is Clumsy

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥❄️Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang - The Homicide Culprit Is The Supernatural Boogeyman

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥❄️🌺Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang/Harumi Hasashi - The Angel Of Death Doesn’t Look Like The Myth

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ❄️Gen - Hired Killer, The Target Is An Old Woman

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥❄️Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang - “Do You Want To Die?” “And What If I Do?”

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ❓Ship - A War Between Corrupted Law Enforcement And Corrupted Citizens

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ❓Ship - Borrowed Timed And Borrowed World And Borrowed Eyes With Which To Sorrow It (Cormac Mccarthy)

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 💨❄️Tomas Vrbada/Kuai Liang - You Saw The Killer Inside Your Friend’s Home Through The Window

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 💨Gen - Could Only Watch Your House Burned Down With Your Family Inside

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🐍❄️Shang Tsung/Kuai Liang - A Fallen Angel That Despises Heaven; Hell; And Earth

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥❄️Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang - Alien Invasion

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥❄️Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang - Bloody But Tender First Kiss

#🌸masterlists🌸#🥩Horrific Bingo

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ithebookhoarder · 4 months

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(BAU Headcanons) Spending a day off with your S.O.

Aaron Hotchner

Ok. So. First of all... Aaron's casual wardrobe is sinful and I feel like I need to mention it when talking about days off. After all, he's not going to turn down the excuse not to wear a shirt and tie, knowing jeans and his usual polo shirts are better suited to both relaxing and possibly chasing after Jack.

If you two ever got a rare day off then he would do his best to make you breakfast in bed, knowing that having an excuse to stay in bed is a luxury.

If Jack is with you, and not at Jessica's, then you know Jack would be right next to him in the kitchen, begging to help. I mean, if you watch Bluey, picture the episode where Bingo is trying to make that omelette for Bandit on his birthday... that's basically the vibe here.

Hotch wouldn’t try to force you out of the house if you didn’t want to go, as he’s perfectly happy to stay in and play with you and Jack. After all, you have the most recent lego set, which you bought him for his birthday, to finish building.

"You up for that buddy? Six hands are better than four, after all."

Or, if you don't have the energy or patience, then you three can curl up on the sofa together and watch movies and the backlog of tv shows you’ve missed out on whilst you’ve been away working.

Fun Fact: Aaron would rather die than admit to the rest of the BAU that you got him hooked on reality shows like The Real Housewives of Beverley Hills or Below Deck -but he is. He finds them fascinating case studies in human behaviour... or that's his excuse anyway when you call him out on it.

However, if you do want to actually leave the house and get outside then he’d be pretty relaxed about whatever it is you wanted to do, as long as you could all do it together.

He'd also love it if you both got the chance to go for a run, enjoying the rare opportunity to race you through the nearby park. You can just soak in the sunshine and watch the other people as they make their way through the world, before grabbing a coffee on your way home.

David Rossi

Rossi is a man who knows the value of creature comforts, as we've seen repeatedly in the show. You know this man enjoys having time off to indulge himself - and you too.

As soon as he knows he has the day off, you can bet he's driving you to the local farmer's market to buy all the ingredients needed for a home cooked feast.

Despite promising to be there only an hour, you know he's the kind of person who would talk to each and every vendor, learning all their names and asking after their families as if they've been friends since birth.

You'd end up spending almost the entire morning - and part of the afternoon - shopping, sampling various treats and wares, and buying several bag's worth, before you're finally able to drag him back to the car.

As he's cooking, Rossi would definitely play his favourite records. He alternates between crooning along and telling you tidbits about the artists - and the many crazy memories he has about these records.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I first heard this? We were in this tiny little motel, in the middle of a horrific blizzard, and several whiskeys in..."

It's hard not to get distracted, drawn in as he pulls you close and starts dancing about the kitchen. You'd get so distracted that you almost let dinner spoil and only remember it's even there when you start to smell something burning.

"Ah! Merda!"

After dinner you know you'd end up outside on his patio, enjoying the view as the sun goes down, over a cocktail of his choosing.

Derek Morgan

You know this eager beaver would not be spending a day off with you doing nothing or letting the day ‘go to waste’.

He’d be at your doorstep bright and early, looking unfairly energetic for someone who has been running on minimal sleep all week.

Thankfully, he brings coffee and breakfast with him which is his way of bribing you to get your ass up and out with him.

As for the day itself, he’d either have the day planned to a ’t’ or he’d have nothing planned at all.

“Relax, sweetness, we’re letting the day take us where it may. Enjoy the ride.”

He'd love having a reason to take you to whatever property he's renovating, hoping to share his vision for the place and getting your opinion on it all.

He'd even let you have a swing or two with a sledgehammer if there's a dry-wall that needs taking down. It's a great stress-reliever for you both, and there's nothing like hammering along in the time to beat of whatever playlist he's chosen.

He'd also order you a pizza, or whatever take-out you fancied, as payment for all your hard work.

You know he'd also been keen to help you wash up later, running you both a hot bath to soak in as you actually have the time to enjoy it.

And just between us - he knows Hotch and Rossi would have his guts his they found out - but he may or may not have left your cellphones on the bed-side table just to ensure you get an hour of peace, undisturbed...

Emily Prentiss

Ok. So. Emily loves having a day off almost as much as she enjoys working.

She doesn't require much in the way of plans. In fact, her ideal day off from the BAU involves you, a crossword puzzle, and your usual table by the window at the coffee shop around the corner.

It's right by the window, so you can bathe in the sun whilst you nurse your way through coffee after coffee.

The whole place reminds her of one similar that she spent her time in, in Paris. Just like then, she loves reading books, and completing the daily crossword with your help.

"Damn it. This is what time in Europe gets you - I forgot there's no 'u' in color. No wonder it wasn't fitting."

Emily also has a game she likes to play, watching the people around you, guessing what their stories are and imaging outlandish profiles for them all. It's a privilege to enjoy it when it's for entertainment and not out of a need to be aware of your surroundings or an ongoing threat assessment.

Afterwards, you'd go for a stroll around the park and most likely visit the shops you rarely get a chance to.

You both spend ages going through the racks and modelling outfits for one another, knowing you need some new things to fill out your wardrobes other than work-attire. It's a like private treat for yourselves.

Once you're home again, I feel Emily would want to cook and would do a pretty good job when she has the energy. However, she is not above ordering takeout when you both can’t be bothered.

After all, it gives you both more time together to lie in bed, with Sergio curled up between you, purring loudly as you take it in turns to pet him.

Depending on when you two got together (before or after Will), she would love to have a chance for the both of you to spend the day with Henry.

You're her family and the most important thing in the world to her. It's why she can't stop beaming as you spend the afternoon at the park together, running rings around the place and clambering all over the playground.

"I swear this kid is faster than most of the Unsubs we chase - and more sneaky too."

JJ would bring all your favourite snacks with her so you can all lie out on the grass and feast once your energy levels drop. She doesn't even mention the sugar content or how many E-numbers there are. You all deserve a treat, Henry included, so she's willing to put her 'mom hat' aside for a minute.

I feel like she'd also try and put her mom hat aside so you two can have some time without a child in tow. She'd try and make a last minute arrangement to get a sitter so you two can have some 'adult' time.

This normally involves making a reservation at your favourite restaurant, and insisting on you both dressing fancy just for the fun of it.

After all, you never get to play at being grown ups and just enjoy wearing something because it looks nice and not because you can run around in the field in it.

"I've had these heels for years and I swear I've only got to wear them like three times - and this skirt! I love this skirt."

Once you get to the restaurant, you spend hours just talking, drinking, and eating before taking a stroll on the way home.

You then curl up in bed and fall asleep to the sound of the TV playing your favourite movies, safe and warm in each other's arms.

Penelope Garcia

This girl is the queen of relaxing. If she doesn’t have to be awake before noon then you can bet your ass she’ll be tucked up and toasty till 12:01.

Once she's awake, however, she's a flustered mess, struggling to pick between her various plans for your time off together. There's just so much she wants to do with you and never enough time.

"What? I'm the queen of fun and I just want to make sure we make the most of our time together, sugar plum. I can't help it. I'm excited to have a day just you and me, not that I don't love the others too. I do, but you know, just having it be us is rare -"

You stop her rambling with a kiss, which of course makes her melt.

I feel like Penelope would always try and spend part of the day with you in the kitchen, baking a new recipe to take to work for the others to try.

She'd also love spending the day on the sofa with you, watching either a Rom-com or a Sci-fi marathon (depending on your moods).

Once the decision has been made, she'd insist on gathering supplies - AKA: onesies, takeout and face masks.

"It's the holy trinity of self-care," she explains, holding up your choices. "Now, do you want the tea-tree or coconut face mask?"

However, if you do feel like getting out of the house, then Penelope would take you on theatre trips - which are booked last minute but with amazing seats (courtesy of Penelope’s connections and slightly unorthodox know-how).

The others are still jealous after finding out she got you tickets to Hamilton, front row, with the original cast.

Dr Spencer Reid

You know Spencer is the kind of person that has a list of things the size of his arm that he’d love to do with you on a rare day off.

You’d probably have to negotiate with him to figure out which ones you could reasonably do in just 24 hours - and you try to find a balance between appeasing his interests and yours.

For example, you don’t mind sitting through a Russian movie festival if afterwards he agrees to let you wander around your favourite bookshop and spend as long as you want exploring the shelves - without him critiquing or spoiling the endings before you even have a chance to read the blurb.

If you also happened to let it slip that you'd never watched every single episode of Doctor Who that's ever been made, then you know your future days off will be spent marathoning on the couch.

"I'm just saying that he's underrated as the Doctor as arguably the narratives of his episodes are far better developed and reflect the point of the show, which is that the Doctor isn't perfect but rather a time-travelling refugee who acts as a healer, counsellor, and protector of the universe. It's why he calls himself 'The Doctor' ..."

He always looks so adorable when he gets excited about something he loves. It's hard not to fall in love with him all over again.

Apart from watching TV, you both also love spending days off on that couch, curled up together, reading your way through the stack of books you both had in your never ending ‘TBR’ pile.

Spencer would love listening to you discuss whatever you're reading, doing his best to memorise the characters, plots, and your thoughts on both. It's the least he can do when you listen so patiently every time he starts rambling on about whatever his latest hyper-fixation is.

"Can I... can I borrow that when you're finished? I'm now curious - just don't tell the others, ok?"

Masterlist

#ithebookhoarder #thesilentmage #masterlist #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #david rossi x reader #david rossi #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #penelope garcia x reader #penelope garcia

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k9effect · 10 months

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I heard the most horrifying thing the other day.

I was scrolling on tiktok and came across a Bluey post, not unusual as I love Bluey, but this post specifically made my skin crawl. It was AI music using the voice of the young anonymous actress who voices Bluey.

The creators of Bluey have made a huge deal out of making aure that these kids stay anonymous because they understand how the industry can be so incredibly damaging to children. Their names aren't even public knowledge. These kids are not only kept anonymous so that they can live as normal lives as possible, but they are kept anonymous for safety reasons. I'm certain you've heard the horror stories of children being groomed and endangered because they become so popular so young. Ludo Studios is trying to keep these kids safe. Evidence below (source)

Hearing this kid's voice used without her consent, without her parents consent, even without her knowledge and endangering her like this is the most disturbing thing I've seen in a very long time.

The worst thing about this? Everyone in the comments was going on about how cute she sounded "singing the song" and that OP should "make a version with Bingo", who's actress is even younger than Bluey's voice actress. No one saw that there was something wrong with this. I am disgusted and horrifically disturbed.

"AI" isn't "Artificial Intelligence". There is nothing Intelligent about it. It is simply programs and computer mimicry that is marketed as "AI" as a selling point. It isn't truly learning from anything to be considered intelligent. It is taking what you put into it and mimicing that. It is wrong and a violation of someone's life 100% of the time.

If you are considering creating "AI music" or any form of "AI" content, please reconsider. You are causing so much more harm than you realise.

#sam talks #AI #Bluey #ludo studio #ai music #ai art #vent #tiktok

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horrificbingo · 8 months

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Oddly Anomalous Bingo is a part of Horrific Bingo event but at the same time a stand alone.

In Oddly Anomalous Bingo we explore several rare literature genres such as:

1. Bizarro Fiction

2. Feghoot

3. Cli-fi

4. Fake memoir

5. Cashier memoir

6. Bangsian

7. Ergodic

And...

8. Bitpunk!

The rarity of these literature genres deserve to be explored more. However, the bingo squares will be just me choosing three words as themes from the genres you've chosen. The "words" would depend on the genre.

For an example if you chose "Feghoot", you'll receive—one of them—a pun as it involves that.

However!

There will be prompts for the usual trope in case you're not interested with the genres BUT I will give only weird shit for the theme.

There's no strict rules on how closely you have to fit with the themes, it's after all an literary exploration.

(and this is kind of an experimental kinda thing too)

In short: let's explore less known literary genres and make it weird.

Rules

Note:

The challenge doesn't have a deadline nor a schedule you need to follow. You just need to sign up, fill out the form and you can create anything anytime you want. The purposes are to inspire you to create something and maybe in some way making you have fun.

You are allowed to merge this with your Horrific or Non-horrific Bingo cards if you've received them.

@thebigbangblogproject

#horrific bingo #bingo card #fandom event #multifandom event #any fandom #bingo event #for all fandom #Oddly anomalous bingo #Experimental #Don't know if it'll work

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badassbutterfly1987 · 10 months

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#non horrific bingo #open to requests

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nikomedes · 28 days

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ive seen some great bingo sheets going around for malevolent s5 but i would ask you to go further. lets invent some new 13th century miseries for our failsons arthur and john

EDIT: people in the notes have mentioned they don’t know what some of these are, so i jotted down some quick and dirty explanations below the cut.

the bubonic plague or black death is pretty well known, a horrific illness mostly transmitted by fleas and rats that was responsible for mass death in europe.

marginalia are funky little drawings made in the margins of illuminated manuscripts, largely by bored monks and scriveners. my favorite is the penis beast.

a medieval lord’s military might wasnt made up mostly of knights, who were typically low in number and expensive to field. they largely relied on levies, groups of able-bodied men raised from their land holdings and basically given a pike (a long spear), the bare minimum of equipment/livery, and a slap on the ass, and sent to fight one of the many english civil wars.

leprosy was another greatest hit of medieval diseases that fucked your whole life up.

catholic heresies are super fun! christianity has existed in a sort of perpetual state of “fuck around and find out,” but the medieval period saw a supreme amount of fucking around. here’s a great post rating many of these heresies. check out marcionism for some great Demiurge Discourse

middle english was the form english took at this time. it can be very musical, but its, uh, yknow. difficult to parse these days.

crusades were basically the greatest pastime of medieval rulers. not sure what to do with a heap of gold and all your vassal lords getting antsy and potentially fomenting ANOTHER civil war? ship them off to the middle east to fight a holy war on any pretext you can think of, including “because i can.”

tunic malfunction is mostly a goof, but between hose, sumptuary laws governing specific colors and items different races/religions/classes could wear, tunic length discourse, and how expensive making clothes could be, well. it could be a hurdle

legal proceedings weren’t just for people back in the day. sometimes animals would be dragged to the stand and accused of crimes. pigs in particular were often accused of eating limbs, children, and promoting sin.

13th century well water is your one stop shop for some all-time hit fatal diseases, such as cholera and dysentery! also, even if it didnt kill you, frequent contamination means it usually smelt or looked bad. poisoning wells was a common warfare tactic as well.

#john gets really good at lefthanded longbow unfortunately did not make the cut bc its 14c #malevolent #malevolent podcast #john malevolent #arthur lester #poll #jarthur #private eyes

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reindeerswillsavethisworld · 6 days

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Corpse au case fic where the trio decided to try cracking a murder mystery, except instead of angst it's a comedy of errors where they make everything worse.

Like. Danny comes out of a portal dead and translucent and glowing, and there's charred remains of a human body on the floor. So now all three of them are freaking out, and instead of asking for help, or finding an adult, or telling literally ANYONE, they decide to just. Get rid of the body. As one does.

So that's what they do: they break out Tucker's nice shovels (because god forbid Sam's family owned something as pheasant as a shovel, and Danny's too afraid of touching their family's Patented Fenton ShovelsTM for... reasons), they find a nice desolate clearing in the woods, and then they bury Danny's body like one would a very unfortunate hamster who met their demise too soon under very suspicious circumstances. They even stay at the new "grave" in silence for a minute or five in respect and DEFINITELY nothing else, you know. And so, they bury the body, and then they (try to) forget the experience as some horrific nightmare.

And then, a year later, there's an uproar: the Amity Park's police department found the child's remains in the woods! And you see, Amity Park is not THAT big of a town, and the police estimated that the body belonged to a 14-15 year old child, and, look, there's only so many schools in a small town, alright. Obviously, the rumours start very soon in Casper High: about how the kid could've gone to their school, about how they could've died, about whether or not anybody was missing them, about their identity, and some definitely-truthworthy-would-I-lie-to-you-bro-come-on sources insist that the kid was murdered around a year ago, around the time ghosts started showing up. And these rumours obviously reach the ears of Sam, Danny and Tucker.

Now, you would've thought that their first thought would be something like "oh no, they found Danny's body", or "oh no, they know", or even simply "we're sooo fucked". Except. You see, the night they buried the body? It was really cloudy. And dark. And, y'know, it's very easy to get lost in a forest. And they were too high-strung, you see, they completely forgot to leave some sort of a marker or anything. And also like, it was so long ago, you know? A lot have happened, they were sooo busy and the likes, you can't really blame them for forgetting some things.

And here's lies the problem: all three of them just fucking forgot that there was a body left to bury at all.

And then it gets out that the police can't even conduct any sort of DNA test because it became corrupted to the point of being absolutely unrecognisable due to exposure to a large amount of ecto-energy.

It's now looks like a bad set up for a joke: an identifiable body of a child, cause of death unknown; the probable involvement of ghosts or at the very least a very large quantity of ecto-energy; a probable murderer on the loose, which naturally breeds suspicion and speculation; a town full of all kinds of rumours; and a trio of absolute dumbasses, who after hearing that ghosts were involved immediately went to stick their noses where they don't belong.

Rejoice, Amity Park! Sam, Danny and Tucker are now on the case! Except they are all teenagers, and nobody in their right mind will allow teenagers to solve a murder case. Plus, them poking around would be highly suspicious, but Phantom, on the other hand?

(people seeing Phantom helping solve this case and coming to the conclusion that the ghosts were definitely involved was not on their bingo card, but oh well)

They don't go to the cops, obviously: Danny at least in part because he's worried they will call GIW on his ass or try to arrest him, and Sam and Tucker simply because fuck the cops (one because the police is involved in a militaristic, capitalistic corrupted system that breeds injustice and furthers the divide between average people and the wealthy, and the other because cops suck and will probably call GIW on his friend's ass). They also can't go to any other authorities: cops are out of the question, as is the mayor; laboratory personnel will most likely just throw them out; and there're no witnesses or known relatives, so they're stuck.

Therefore they decide that desperate times need desperate measures, and so they enlist all of their ghost allies on a quest, hoping to find the ghost of the kid. Considering the amount of ecto-energy they were subjected to, they MUST have formed a ghost, they only need to find them.

Except. The Ghost Zone is a big place, and they only have so many allies, even if some of them are a queen and a god. So Danny bites the bullet and does the most stupid (debatable) thing he has ever done: he goes to his enemies for help. They're surprisingly understanding and willing to help, even if some of their reasons are a little... strange (Skulker and Johnny entered some sort of competition on who finds the ghost first, Box Ghost starts to seek out coffins (??) and Youngblood is not above to start torturing people to finally have a friend that is not either an adult or a complete stick in the mud). And even then they still can't find the ghost.

In the end Danny goes to Clockwork in a desperate hope that he will be able to glimpse at least a little of what had transpired on the night of the murder, and to Danny's annoyance Clockwork laughs so hard he almost pops a ghost equivalent of a blood vessel.

A few weeks down the line Sam hesitantly brings up Danny's buried corpse ("MY WHAT" "Your corpse which we buried in the woods, Danny, don't you remember?" "Yeah, bro, I think you dissociated the whole time we were digging the hole and carrying your dead body" "WE DID WHAT-"), reasonably saying that, you know, they ALSO technically buried a body in the woods. On that Tucker just shrugs because obviously it was not Danny's body, the place of the burial was way off, he remembers that there was a really big stone to the left of the grave (he doesn't and there wasn't), so they are in the clear. During that exchange Danny's sitting on the floor and having a panic attack, because he really did dissociate the whole time and afterwards legitimately forgot that there was a body to bury at all.

After that conversation all three of them leave with a certainty that Danny's body is still there where they left it, whenever it was. And so the shenanigans continue.

#yes i know that is custom made for some delicious angst and identity shenanigans #but also consider: this scenario would be very funny #three teenagers running around a crime scene trying to solve a murder case #and not realising they ARE said murder case #idk whether or not there would be an identity reveal down the line but if there would be one #i like to imagine vlad just sitting in his office alone afterwards head in hands #wondering WHAT he did to deserve this stupidity that went for MONTHS #like sir you did it to yourself when you decided to make a 14 years old your arch-nemesis #jazz is both horrified ('IT WAS YOUR WHAT') and exasperated ('what do you MEAN you forgot')#she's out there secretly hoping this sort of stupidity is not hereditary (in her case it kinda is lmao)#his parents are simply horrified (tho jack a few months down the line finds the whole ordeal rather funny)#the ghosts all forget about this shitshow rather quickly #except for ember youngblood kitty and johnny. they will NEVER let danny live it down. NEVER.#also danny waking up at 3am in cold sweat and remembering cw laughing his ass off: THIS MF KNEW ALL ALONG-#danny phantom #sam manson #danny fenton #tucker foley

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bulkyphrase · 9 months

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Cap-IM Rec Week - Cap-IM Monday Extra

Last day of @cap-ironman's rec week event! Thanks so much to them for organizing this event, and all the other events that inspired the following fics!

The Highwayman's Baronet by mariana_oconnor, orphan_account (@mariana-oconnor) (MCU | Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | 125,525 words)

Written for: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Big Bang

Summary: Steve Rogers has returned from the war. He has made his fortune, but lost everything in return. He is reeling from grief and at a loss of what to do with himself when the son of an old friend writes to offer him a home. He takes up the offer, but finds himself embroiled in a plot to bring down the country and raise Hydra from the grave. Can he uncover the traitor, save the handsome baronet, and avoid being hanged as a highwayman? A Regency AU featuring highwayman!Steve, Baronet!Tony, treason, nefarious plots and a dash of magic.

The Laird in the Water by jellybeanforest (@jellybeanforest-a-go-go) (MCU | Mature | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | 17,920 words)

Written for: Cap-IronMan Bingo

Summary: In 14th century Scotland, Steve is a child with an imaginary friend that lives in a nearby river, the site of many drownings and horrific discoveries. His Nan claims it to be the work of a kelpie. Steve doesn’t believe her of course. Kelpies are a myth, old wives tales to keep children from playing near swiftly-moving streams and young women from entertaining the company of handsome strangers. However, as he grows, Steve realizes that the young man in the water may not be quite as imaginary nor as innocuous as he once believed. For the Cap-IronMan Bingo 2019 Round 2 – AU: Fairy Tale Creatures.

Bugfuck Crazy (In Love With You) by Sadisticsparkle (sadisticsparkle) (616 | Explicit | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | 7,912 words)

Written for: Cap-IronMan Bingo

Summary: It's the Avengers' first mission in a long time. Everything is familiar but awkward, but Steve is sure they'll find their groove. And then Tony is turned into a giant bug. Things get a little out of hand after that.

More below the cut!

Eigengrau by vorkosigan (@the-vorkosigan) (MCU | Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | 16,811 words)

Written for: 2017 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange

Summary: Tony is captured; he doesn't know by whom, or why. He doesn't know how much time has passed since. What he knows is, he can now hear something in the adjacent cell, and that 'something' sounds a lot like Steve Rogers.

Let Us Not Forget This by citsiurtlanu (@citsiurtlanu) (Iron Man Noir | General Audiences | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | 36,040 words)

Written for: Captain America/Iron Man Reverse Bang 2017

Summary: Steve Rogers knew, knows, will know Tony Stark, the adventurer, the scientist, the futurist. And Tony Stark - well, he's not really fond of the idea of this Captain America fellow being assigned to tag along as he, Rhodey, Pepper, and Jarvis race to find a powerful relic before the Nazis do, but he just has to go with it. What he doesn't - and can't - realize is how deeply Cap is tied into his life in ways he can barely even understand. Also available as a podfic read by DuendeVerde4 (@duendeverde4)

Before the Darkness Swallows You by Veldeia (@veldeia) (616 | Mature | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | 30,837 words)

Written for: Captain America/Iron Man Reverse Bang 2016

Summary: Steve was gone. Tony was all alone in the dark, the blackness of the damp, rock-walled corridor only occasionally broken by the fluttering fluorescent lamps in the ceiling. He wasn’t afraid of the dark. An abandoned mine was by no means the scariest environment he’d ended up in. Still, he’d have been crazy not to be afraid of what lurked in these shadows.

The Unlikely Wingman by Sineala (@sineala) (616 | General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | 1,074 words)

Written for: Cap-IronMan Bingo

Summary: Clint doesn't see why he should have to follow Captain America's orders. But he also doesn't see why Captain America should have to sit around looking miserably lonely, either.

Think of This as Solving Problems (That Should Never Have Occurred) by Sineala (@sineala) (616 | Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | 35,216 words)

Written for: 2015 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange

Summary: No one knows Tony is Iron Man. Then Tony gets amnesia, and literally no one knows Tony is Iron Man.

Got You Under My Skin by BlossomsintheMist (@blossomsinthemist) (Ults | Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | 26,115 words)

Written for: Captain America/Iron Man Reverse Bang 2014

Summary: “I’d be happy to show you a good time,” Tony said, smiling a little obscurely, Steve thought, as if to himself, but still with that warm, knowing look, affectionate and oddly fond, “any time you want.” Steve Rogers goes to Tony Stark's birthday party. Things progress from there, with a lot of flirtiness leading to propositions, and propositions leading to, well, what comes next, and Steve isn't even sure what he wants after that. Set in the Marvel Ultimate Universe, and written for the 2014 Cap_Ironman Reverse Big Bang. Art by wiredoll, here.

#capimrecweek #stony #marvel fic rec #steve rogers #tony stark #also thank you to the authors who added the event name to their freeform tags #because my elaborate bookmark spreadsheet doesn't have a column for event or collection information #making works created for specific events very hard to identify

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