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ro-botany · 11 months

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On the Characteristics of the Risen, and the Character of their King

The Risen King... Finally, a concept which once only existed in whispers and a single cipher 0 card, has made it into a Fire Emblem video game! Just the mobile game, sure, but it counts. And the Fell Exalt Chrom unit is so fascinating to me that I have not only this, but at least two other meta posts in the pipeline about it. I am so normal about him.

To kick things off... let’s talk about exactly what Risen King Chrom is, and also how he’s doing mentally. (Badly. He’s doing very badly.)

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Real quick, we have to get one snag out of the way: the mechanism by which a Risen is made.

Shadows of Valentia introduced us to a prototypical version of the Risen created by Forneus, known as Death Masks. They’re made by fitting a dead body with a mask containing insects known as thanatophages. The thanatophages prevent the body’s decay and assert physical control over them in a manner not unlike certain real world parasites that control the muscular movements of their hosts.

I’ve seen a handful of my colleagues (lol) assume there are modern Risen made the same way. BUT. The Risen which exist during the events of Awakening are explicitly NOT Death Masks. During the xenologue Death’s Embrace, Brady states that “In the future, our wounded often turned to Risen just as we were tryin' to heal 'em.” This has to mean that Grima is transforming the dead and dying remotely, using some kind of magic; and at the height of their power, they may be either passively creating or deliberately casting an area of effect that turns dead bodies automatically. There’s nothing to suggest any Risen are manually created with thanatophages, or that Grima is manifesting thanatophages for that purpose.

Alas, we cannot do insect body horror with RK Chrom while also staying true to canon. But moving on...

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Fell Chrom is, to make an understatement, very unique among the Risen. And to discuss why he’s unique, we first have to define what’s typical.

Behaviourally, typical Risen don’t appear to have sentience outside of their competency in wielding weapons and their tendency to form loose hierarchies based on individual strength. They’re incredibly aggressive by nature; it’s like their only innate drive is to fight and kill humans. Most of them are not capable of speech, though the stronger Risen Chiefs can grind out single words or even short phrases, which are usually just related to wanting to kill things. When being actively controlled through dark magic, they appear capable of basic tactics, though whether that comes from them or the person controlling them is unclear.

There’s no doubt that Fell Chrom is a Risen. He’s certainly got the appearance, the purple miasma, and the vocal distortion for it. Not to mention the giant glowing fatal wound in his side. Man certainly isn't alive.

He’s evidently still subject to control via dark magic too, if the fact that he was forced to war against his own country is anything to go by.

Fell Chrom also has the strong aggressive drive typical of Risen. Nearly all of his dialogue in battle situations suggests this. In order of increasing intensity: There’s the turn action quote “Find me an enemy”, which depending on your mood can read as either resignation or as chomping at the bit. There’s hostile level up quotes like “You shall count yourself...among the dead” and “You would...block my path”. His special trigger quotes are yet worse. He yells “This is your fate”, “No resistance”, and “Useless effort” with a fury you don’t expect from Chrom—and for the fourth one, he just shouts “DEATH”. And his voice clips for attacking aren’t words or even anywhere in the realm of a regular human noise, they're just distorted, monstrous growling.

But unlike with typical Risen, aggression is not all RK Chrom is. He can walk around the Askran castle and be around others without constantly trying to attack people. And in fact, he’s aware of and bothered by how violent being Risen makes him. One of his status page quotes is begging someone to “back away!” in a panic, as though he’s afraid of hurting them. It’s possible the violent instincts Risen have mainly only come into play for him in battle situations, or possibly when he’s in a state of heightened emotion.

And while RK Chrom displays the kind of difficulty with speech you would expect of a Risen, with his slow halting pace and gravelly tone, he speaks in complete, coherent sentences and displays remarkable clarity about who he is and what’s happening around him. He’s no husk. Chrom's mind is intact.

That is massive. That is completely unique among Risen, and deeply, deeply horrifying. Because even though he can think, he is by no means in control.

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If the Forging Bonds supports are anything to go by, Chrom did try to resist Grima, at least in the beginning. From C through to A he moves from disbelief to outright despair at the very prospect of warring against Ylisse. But by the S support—which necessarily takes place years after the others due to how far Grima’s campaign has progressed—he’s given up. So much of his dialogue is mourning the past, or repeating Grima's belief that everyone is doomed and nothing can change. He’s not fighting it anymore. He's resigned to his fate as Grima’s executioner.

And why wouldn’t he be? After the initial confusion from being resurrected passed, he was lucid. He was fully mentally present when he was murdering his allies and slaughtering his own people. And between the deep, fundamental drive to kill and the direct influence of Grima on his actions... There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop himself. He couldn’t protect a thing.

Even now that he’s free of Grima’s influence in Askr, he doesn’t exactly do anything to avoid being an instrument of violence. Otherwise he wouldn’t be a playable unit. Everyone he’s ever cared about is dead, and he’s been nothing more than a monster and an instrument of violence for years. Why not fight. It’s the only thing he has left.

This Chrom is a deeply broken man. Angry and utterly hopeless. It’s no wonder after all he’s been through.

And yet... there’s still a spark there. For all his rigid insistence that Grima’s bleak outlook is the truth, his ally growth quote speaks volumes: “If this power were mine...back then...”

If fate is so immutable and hope is so pointless, why deal in what-ifs? Why wonder about what could have changed? And he’s still trying to protect people he cares about from himself; why else would he yell for others to “back away” when he feels he might attack them?

Through all the years of horror and the terrible curse of undeath... he’s still Chrom.

#fire emblem #chrom #risen king chrom #meta #not ME dropping depressing character analysis of the most traumatized version of chrom on his birthday. oops.#i've converted the big grima skull in plegia into a lecture hall and we're in there giving RKC blankets and talking about feelings #actually putting read mores on long posts? on this blog? its more likely than you think

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a-student-out-of-time · 3 months

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And to think that Chihiro was the most controversial character. Then again that character probably still is because at the very least the Hiyoko drama is limited to one person. Chihiro involves multiple people.

//Someone came to me about this a while back, about how their friend hated Mondo for what happened in Chapter 2, and I feel bad I never responded to them. I'll do my best to try and explain it here, since we're on the subject:

//Much of the controversy with Chihiro really comes from a misunderstanding about his personal identity, which I don't blame Western audiences for not getting, since it's a Japanese thing.

//Yes, how it's presented does come off as uncomfortably transphobic, especially now in 2024. However, nothing in the narrative ever suggests that Chihiro is trans. I have gone through DR1 several times, and I can tell you that everything points to Chihiro himself identifying as male.

//While it would be easy to dismiss that as poor handling of a serious topic, the fact that DR never even references Chihiro's gender outside of judgements about him not being tough and manly, and explaining to Makoto at the end of Salmon Mode that he's actually a boy, all lend credence to the idea. He never says he wants to be a girl, never uses different pronouns, and distances himself from other girls while they're trapped, such as turning down Sakura's offer to have them workout together.

//It's also important to keep in mind that the DR1 cast are all based on different Japanese subcultures- Junko's a Gyaru, Mondo's a Bōsōzoku, Sayaka's an idol, Hifumi's an Otaku, etc.- and Chihiro is no different. He's a reference to Otokonoko, a male who engages in crossdressing and presenting as female.

//This actually has a long history in Japan, even as far back as onnagata, where male actors would portray female characters in kabuki theater. Crossdressing is not seen as culturally strange in Japan, hence why it's also very common in manga and anime.

//Furthermore, Japanese has more of a loose relationship with gendered words than English does, and there's always going to be translation gaffs when something is localized and given a more literal meaning. That's why a lot of games from Japan can have such awkward line delivery when removed from their cultural context.

//And most importantly, Chihiro's story isn't about transphobia, it's about unreasonable expectations about him being a man. He was bullied because he was very weak growing up, told that's not what a boy is supposed to be like, and so to escape that, he started crossdressing. It's a bit out there, but DR is no stranger to ridiculous plot points and this is at least a more grounded one.

//Meanwhile, Mondo was subject to the same but from the other end. He internalized the idea that a man has to be strong, which means burying all his feelings of sadness and guilt over his brother's death, which only festered over the years and probably fed into his rage issues.

//Mondo doesn't kill Chihiro for being a boy who dresses like a girl, but because Chihiro being willing to confront his own perceived weakness with the desire to change made him feel weak by comparison. That set off a moment of blind fury and, without even intending to, he killed Chihiro. Both of them were victims of toxic masculinity, which was and still is a pressing issue in Japan and the West as a whole.

//I'm not saying it was presented perfectly, but in that cultural context, it explains that a western localization doesn't properly convey and has thus given people the wrong impression.

//I can understand anyone who still wants to assign Chihiro a status as LGBTQ as part of their headcanons, and that's totally fine. I personally like shipping him with characters like Makoto and Kazuichi.

//The problem is, when we don't examine the cultural context that characters like this emerge from, it can give us the wrong impressions. Impressions that have lead many to read Mondo's actions and Spike Chunsoft's writing in this Chapter in bad faith, which does far more harm than good when dissecting its flaws.

//I hope this at least manages to clear some things up.

#mod talks #a student out of time

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ahamkaracature · 9 months

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Omg okay so. HTTYD 3: The Hidden World is, in my opinion, a good solo movie. It is NOT, however (and this is popular among many fans I see), a good sequel, as it blatantly disregards lore from not only the series’, short movies and (questionably canon) games, but also arguably the movies themselves. They should have went with the original concept of ‘Night Fury Cave’, and I hold this opinion within my very heart and soul.

Some spoilers for both the TV franchise and the books. This is really long, so sorry.

First of all, the entire message goes against the point of the franchise itself. HTTYD1 is a lesson on not judging/seeing the best in others, despite what others are saying. It’s about being brave enough to be yourself and do what you trust is right, even if it goes against what you’ve been taught/ what others think. The dragons and Vikings are at war, but Hiccup realises that Hey, They Aren’t So Bad Actually, and refuses to harm them even at the very real risk of being turned on by his community. This message is more or less continued in HTTYD2- though the overall moral is that you must learn to grow up, the fact remains that the vikings and dragons fight for what’s right, despite the enemies they’re undoubtedly provoking.

The Hidden World takes one look at this, considers it. And then takes a bat to it.

At first glance- and as a solo movie, which is what it should have been- this message of having to say goodbye, and doing what’s right even if difficult, are fine. Great even. However, the main problems arise when put in to context of the franchise: this movie practically erases all the progress and work from the entire rest of the show. Of course you could argue that Hiccup NEEDED to befriend the dragons first IN ORDER to send them away, but that only raises more questions— if the above ground world is so dangerous for them, why didn’t they just leave themselves, with no intervention needed? Where does One Viking get the right to send away entire races of deadly creatures because ‘it’s too dangerous’ (and weren’t they defending themselves perfectly fine before they bonded)? Most importantly, and one the one I have most issue with, how is the environment supposed to function when unbelievable amounts of dangerous apex predators suddenly disappear?

All these questions and more deserve their own posts, but I want to keep this (relatively) simple so it hopefully doesn’t get too out of hand.

I feel that the reason for this decision was simple. Dreamworks wanted an end to the money making series, and the ending of the books they’re (pretty loosely) based off provided a good scapegoat. We know for certain this is the inspiration for the ending, as the final monologue is the same as in the books. However. There are many things that don’t make sense with this decision that support my statement of ‘they wanted a quick and easy ending’. The first is that it doesn’t match up with the TV series at all, which leads quickly to the next and likely most notable point- never, in the entire rest of the movies or shows, did they follow the book so closely. Ever.

I mentioned previously that the adaption to film is ‘pretty loose’. This is an understatement. Perhaps the only things that these franchises have in common is the title, some names and relationships, and the fact that they both have Vikings and dragons. Maybe some vague design cues for the Vikings. Trust me when I say that is IT.

And we’re perfectly fine with that! Ecstatic, even- both are incredible ideas, and anyone who’s consumed both almost certainly hold affection for both, though in different ways. The dragons are incredibly designed yet uniquely different in both, the relationships are intriguing, yet fairly different in both, and the conflicts are interesting, you guessed it! But different in both. This leads to the issue of The Hidden World- of all times to reintroduce the book elements, why now, in the final instalment? I’ll tell you why. To put this bitch to REST in the easiest way they could. Also coincidentally the worst way.

The books and TV instalments don’t only differ with relationships, designs, characters and their personalities, and plot- though those are all obviously very important changes, to the point where some characters would not be recognised at ALL as their counterparts if not for the name. No, probably the biggest and most prominent difference is the COMPLETELY DIFFERENT WORLD-BUILDING.

That’s right. even if you only changed the names of the current TV franchise, you would NEVER be able to link the two series’ to the same universe- at least, not without some VERY impactful reaches.

In the books, the war is not the backstory- it’s the result of building tension THAT WE SEE growing throughout the novels. This contrasts directly with the already-present animosity in the movies. In the books, the dragons have a language that hiccup can speak (another point for ‘the dragons are sentient’ which I may or may not mention later- why are they acting like wild animals in the 3rd movie if it’s reportedly based on these books?), and are practically kept as pets or work animals, like dogs or horses, with Vikings having multiple dragons each with the jobs of flight/transport and hunting respectively. They are used for the Vikings’ convenience, with the overbearing conflict being that they used to be equals, and the dragons are not happy. THIS is what leads to sending the dragons away- they cannot coexist because they don’t, as a whole, see each other as equals. They will always be fighting for power, and the war will solve nothing, and so the dragons will be hidden until the humans wise up.

This ending is so unfit for the movie franchise- whose whole point is basically that coexistence and mutual respect IS possible and wonderful- that it’s not even funny. Why is this random man, who we’ve never seen before and are supposed to believe ‘killed all the night furies’, where they draw the line? They have faced way bigger threats before (albeit mainly in the shows, which not everyone has watched [though that’s no excuse to nerf the protagonists for the sake of conflict]), and this guy doesn’t even seem to know his stuff anyway (again, deserves its own post, unfortunately).

The answer is it’s not. It never has been, I doubt it ever will be.

But fine. Say that they really, genuinely wanted to tie in the books, and this was the intimate goal. Why stop there? This ending may not make sense with the context it was given, but if they used more ideas from the books, surely it would have made more sense?

What I’m about to say is coming from a place of love. Of understanding. Of ‘this is my favourite character and I’d never recover if this happened but he must take one for the team’.

If they were set on this. If there was no other way for this to end. If this was IT.

They should’ve killed off Snotlout.

LISTEN. I don’t know if you’re all that familiar with this franchise in the first place, but Snotlout Jorgenson is the most specialist guy ever. Embodiment of ‘he’s such a Guy I want to put him in a blender’. Of course, this adoration is largely due to the development he goes through in the series’ and not really in the more recent movies (and also maybe a bit subjective 🙈) but I digress. This guy was the first ever recorded instance and possibly the cause itself of my reliable formula for my favourite characters in every media I’ve ever consumed- Guy That Could Be My Son. I love that little rascal with questionable morals with my whole heart.

.. which is why it’s physically painful to see what they did to him in the 3rd movie. If they smashed the messages of the previous movies with a bat into an unrecognisable corpse on the floor, then Snotlout Gary Jorgenson is in a body bag at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. All his development out the window, though this could, if you were generous, possibly be attributed to his character in the books. I would honestly prefer they killed him off to what they did, though this particular interpretation of him is already dead to me so maybe it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

In the books, Snotlout is a the antagonistic cousin of Hiccup (leading to the fairly popular headcanon of them being cousins in the movies) who later sacrifices himself by disguising himself as Hiccup and valiantly charging into battle in order to distract the enemies so Hiccup can escape, leading to his death. If this happened in the movies- just this one, simple detail- the ending could be explained. A direct loss of someone close to Hiccup could ‘open his eyes’ to the danger they are putting themselves in for the hope of ‘friendship’, and force him to realise that it’s safer for dragons and Vikings to just… let go. Make the ultimate sacrifice of saying goodbye for the sake of their individual peoples’ safety.

Unfortunately the writers did not think this through. At all. And the ending is the only thing they took from the books because the two franchises are practically unrecognisable from each other anyway.

I could talk for HOURS all about the points I skipped; my complicated thoughts on the light furies, the inconsistencies about the world building that make No Sense at all, the blatant mischaracterisations that only serve to make the protagonists look like incompetent coworkers who kinda hate each other rather than the near lifelong friends they really are and to make the villains seem more threatening than they actually are, and of course the ‘domestication’ of the dragons/ the removal of their intelligence despite the many reassurances that they stay because they WANT TO and they had MULTIPLE CHANCES TO LEAVE and have proven TIME AND TIME AGAIN that they stay for COMPANIONSHIP and NOT NECESSITY and the topic of animal instincts and finding a mate has ALREADY BEEN DISCUSSED IN THE SNOGGLETOG SHORT MOVIE-

But this is already way longer than I thought it’d be 🥰 if you read all this way. Um. Sorry 🥺🥺 thanks for the option to rant my family are tired of hearing this 😼 toodles

Damn I hadn’t even seen the third movie and DAMN that was a lot of typing

Very well written 10 out of 10 would 10 again

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beardedmrbean · 3 months

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Hmmm, that wasn’t me. But I can see why you think it was

I bitch about my white stepmom, but her family while did treat me and my sister like part of them

Now I did a huge fuck up so I’m estranged. But my little sister is still very close to them

Yet I always saw the issues because the left allow people with toxic treats of my stepmom goes uncheck also allow them to hide their bigotry

The left: All men are trash!

Black men: Hmmmm?

The left: I mean white men!

It’s like the Israel/Palestine conflict and many Jews feel betrayed. Like Jews, the left may have said “Fuck Columbus/Colonizers!” a lot. But they never hated the atrocities they committed. They hated that the non whites were on the loosing side of the wars, a long time ago

Take a look at Killmonger, an embodiment of Black Israelite racist view on the world who turn himself into a weapon of cia imperialism. AND destabilized Wakanda so he can make his own empire where black people was in the top

(Even though pre phase 4 Nick Fury, War Machine, and Falcon would have killed his ass.)

Also someone lives in the Chicago area, if the hood rats got Wakandians tech. They wouldn’t overthrow white people. They would kill each other more

In high school, there was a story about a gangster being a son of a rival into a alley and killing him

Then one Halloween, a Latina girl was killed in a crossfire while fucking trick or treating

But …certain n-words people like Killmonger overlook the horrific things we do to each other

Then there the women king, which expose people to the horrific actions of what Africans did to each other. Not to mention I finally learn who cut my ties to Africa

The French and British should have asked the USA to send some African soldiers to help them out. Though we would probably make the fall of Carthage look like a joke

Trailing off, but why the fuck African Americans were never taught about they in school?

No seriously I demand answers to it wasn’t taught in schools to the point Viola Davis basically did a black “Jews lionizing the Nazis” or birth of a nation movie for female empowerment

The Amish know why their ancestors went on the mayflower

The Irish and Italian descent Americans knows why they are in America

Steven Spielberg did a fucking kids movie loosely based off his grandfather as a child traveling to America. Where it most famous song is “There are no cats in America!” JEEEZ I WONDER CATS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE A REFERENCE TOO

Also Muslims spin a tail saying they always been peaceful and such. Hmmm what happened 52 years ago during the Olympics? I think Robot chicken did a parody of https://youtu.be/vuQIh0mHGrI?si=1jSOKkrYfPIZCvim

But that the thing about the I/P, I asked Dave, tumblr local libertarian and shitposter. Why do modern feminists and Hitler sound so a like? Now he pointed out that both groups believe in conflict theory and yep.

Jews, the left only used the Holocaust as a way to bash white people. They never care about you as a people. So they would automatically see you as evil to protect the innocent Muslims

(I don’t think all Muslims are evil. But they act like feminists saying that they group never had bigotry and such)

And people think Jews would be perfectly safe after Israel dislove, I follow a Hindu blog that reblog the Kashmir Hindus genocide

That happened in the 90’s

Lord’s know what would happen to Israel if they fall

It's amazing the things folks do in the name of nation or religion, heartbreaking too.

In the name of family makes some more sense, we should focus on humanity instead, but that's not gonna be a huge thing I don't think since we tend to use that as a way to bash other people and ideas anyhow.

wish we could just stop hurting each other, all the yelling and screaming about pollution I imagine war is going to be one of the bigger drivers of climate change, at least the part that humans are responsible for.

Maybe some day, folks can change their focus.

As for your family, hopefully you can get bridges mended eventually at least to the point of being cordial.

Needs to be far less anger in the world

#zoomer huey anon

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gavillain · 1 year

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Hihi! I love your writing, and your Maleficent writing tips are quite helpful! Do you have any tips on writing the Evil Queen as well?

Thank you so much! And sure, off the top of my head...

Much like Maleficent, you have to contextualize her as a character written for a mainstream audience in the 1930's so her speech shouldn't be too archaic or too modern and she's not really the type to use a ton of purple prose that young people wouldn't understand.

The biggest thing to understand about Grimhilde is that she has two distinct personalities, and they don't/shouldn't blend unless you're specifically doing something intentional with her character to where they would. You have the regal and elegant queen, and you have the sadistic and over the top witch.

As the queen, you're going to want to have a very controlled and poised persona. Every detail and every word is carefully chosen to put forth an image of being the Fairest One of All and the fearsome queen of the kingdom. She's slightly softspoken, but she's firm and commanding with assertive presence to every line. This is not a woman who can be argued with. She tends not to show her emotions very much on the surface, and usually when she emotes, it's in her eyes (particularly rage).

The witch form, on the other hand, is loud, over the top, hammy, and cackling. She has a dark and sadistic sense of humor, and she shows all of her emotions very physically and viscerally whether that's fury or wicked glee. Her speech is a lot less refined as well; she speaks more like a commoner with more colloquialism endemic to the time of the film ("I'll fix ya!"). Basically think of her as Grimhilde letting loose in contrast to the queen being very tailored and specific.

She's not insecure, she's not jealous of Snow White, she's prideful. There's a difference. She believes herself to be the greatest thing in history, and Snow White is a rival to that. She DETESTS a rival. She also does not care if there are alternate ways to deal with the situation. If someone rivals her, she wants them dead for the insolence of opposing her, intentionally or not.

This woman is obsessive and myopic - when she wants something, she laser focuses on it and will stop at nothing to get it done. The things that she prioritizes (mainly being the Fairest One of All) are all that matters to her. She's not one for distractions or for having her fingers in multiple pies at once.

She's also one of the cruelest and darkest Disney Villains. She will take things to any murderous length that she deems necessary, and woe to anyone who earns her wrath!

Magic wise, in the actual film we really only see her working with potions, but she has numerous books on spellcraft. Plus in the Romano Scarpa tie in comics and in the Kingdom Keepers books, she has a lot more occult abilities than she uses in the movie. She's full of magic spells and witchcraft. If you want to treat her as just an alchemist based on what we see in the film, you would certainly be justified in that, but I personally think it's more holistically canon to have her possess greater dark magic than that.

#Queen Grimhilde #Evil Queen

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youllallriseintheink · 2 years

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Joey Drew Switcharoo, chapter 1

Hey, everyone. I decided to make a little story (somewhat loosely) based on the “Joey Drew Switcharoo” AU, which the Sammy server came up with a while ago. It’s using my own versions of the characters. I hope you guys enjoy it.

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Susie’s cage spun as it hung from the ceiling, and the cold, basement air was almost painful on her skin. At very least, she’d pushed Alice down for now. She wondered how long she would be there, in this dark, empty, awful place.

The door swung open, and Susie was surprised to see not Joey, but Sammy and Allison coming through it.

“Hey. We’re going to get you down,” Sammy explained, “It’s just for the evening. We’ll have to put you back before he notices you’re gone. But Allison has set up a little... magical venting session for employees who hate Joey Drew.”

Allison caught up with him and leaned on his shoulder. “We think it might change his mind about treating everyone so poorly. Maybe he’d even release you!”

“Don’t get your hopes up for that. But let’s get you down. We’ll do our best.”

The two lowered Susie’s cage down and unlocked it, and then the three took the bus to Allison’s house. There was food and drink already laid out, along with a cauldron and what looked like piles of carefully measured dried plants and tubes of liquid. Not too much later, Wally Franks, Grant Cohen, and a teenager Susie had never met showed up. Susie tried to ignore the latter two’s stares and hoped that Wally wouldn’t ask why she was out. Thankfully, he didn’t.

There was a loud bang as Allison dropped a cauldron on the table, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Glad everyone could make it! So, here’s what’s going to happen. Sammy and I have made up a spell that will let us construct a little fantasy for Joey lasting an hour for each of us. Sammy and I were thinking of sticking to a ‘walk a mile in your worker’s shoes’ theme, but if you just want to straight-up torture him, your choice-"

“No,” Sammy cut in. “Stick to teaching Joey what an awful person he is. We want him to change and we need to take this seriously. He’s hurting people.”

“Okay,” Allison added, “But just so you know, there’s no lasting consequences and no way for Joey to prove this actually happened. Also, we’ll all get to watch everything from the cauldron. If you’re feeling skeptical, just you all wait a moment. Sammy?”

Sammy brought over the tray of strange-looking liquids and dried plants, which he added to the cauldron as Allison stirred. At the end of it, Sammy drew a pentagram around the cauldron, which began to produce rising yellow embers.

“Now. Who’s our biggest skeptic here?” Allison asked, “You,” she grabbed Grant’s hand and plunged it into the cauldron.

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Joey woke up face-down on a desk, feeling like he’d been hit with a truck. When he opened his eyes, he found that he was in Grant’s office.

Did I doze off here? Where’s Grant?

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It was Sammy Lawrence, only... taller... it seemed. Sammy stomped past Joey and took a seat across from him, staring him in the eyes with fury and disbelief.

“What the Hell are you doing with the studio’s finances? Do have any idea how expensive instruments are, or how empty media feels without compelling music? Of course you don’t. Why the Hell did you slash our budget again?”

Joey just sat there, stunned. “I’m not responsible for that!” he finally spat out.

“I know that the boss overspends. He makes all of our jobs difficult. Find a better excuse. Just give me my fucking paycheck.”

Thoroughly confused, Joey froze for a second before asking, “who do you think I am?”

Sammy gave him a weird look before getting up and opening the desk drawer. He shuffled through some checks until he found the one with his name on it. “There. I’m only taking mine, see? If any of the others go missing, get me arrested for all I care.” With that, Sammy left.

“What the Hell is going on?” Joey wondered aloud. And then he left the office and saw his name on the door.

Oh. Oh my.

Either this was a dream, or Grant had gotten his hands on magic. The latter was a laughable idea. And Joey was a vibrant dreamer, this was far from the zaniest dream he’d ever had. This had to be a dream, then.

As time went on, Joey began to doubt that little hypothesis. The dream sequence was just so unimaginative, repetitive, and just not that torturous: a few people snapping at him over late pay checks and a meeting with the boss. It was on brand for Grant’s lack of creativity, and Joey could quite literally come up with better in his sleep.

And then there was the meeting itself. Joey Drew, perhaps Grant in his body, had quoted their previous meetings word-for-word. He’d gotten into Joey’s personal space the same way Joey sometimes did to intimidate him. He’d even called him “Drew,” the same way Joey often called Grant “Cohen.” It might not have been as intimidating had it not been evidence that this was real, and that Grant Cohen had somehow gotten his hands on magic and was using it on him.

---

Joey woke up, this time in an iron cage, feeling as cold as if he’d been left outside on a winter’s night. This time, the physical change to his body was incredibly obvious. His arms were thin and black. Plastic-like strands of hair fell over his shoulders. It was obvious what this was now: he was Alice Angel, once known as Susie Campbell.

His torture was simple. He had to stay there an hour and freeze in a body that provided no warmth, cramped in an oversized bird cage. He could hear ink creatures howling around him. He could feel a separate consciousness controlling his body.

It hurt. But it also gave Joey time to think. This spell, colloquially named “mile-in-my-shoes” for its most obvious use, only allowed each person involved to control the narrative for a single hour. The first hour had been Grant- that was obvious. The second hour had to be from someone who knew about Alice’s fate. Had Alice escaped? Or was this someone who knew about her? Sammy would make sense. It would require Sammy to have more magical abilities than he’d thought, but it was still a better thought than having Susie on the loose, and unlike Susie or Grant, Sammy did at least know some magic.

---

Joey woke up again, this time in a closet from somewhere within the music room. He could see that he was in a woman’s body this time. He emerged and entered the recording hall, and from there, he could tell that something was very off.

Everyone was whispering, sending Joey the occasional glance. It occurred to Joey that he didn’t know what his job was, and since this was a fantasy, he could leave at any time. But for whatever reason, he stayed to listen to them. They were whispering something about a Alice Angel.

Sammy Lawrence- Joey noted that he was the same height as him this time around- strode towards him, a sympathetic look on his face.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

Joey smiled. “Why wouldn’t it be? Just show me what we’ll be doing today and I’ll get started!”

“Wow. You’re taking the loss of your role awfully well.”

“My... what?” Other members of the music department turned towards him, making Joey feel overwhelmed.

“You didn’t know...?”

“Uh... gimme a second...”

Joey ran off the women’s bathroom. Even though he didn’t have any attachment to a role he didn’t have, the embarrassment alone had stung. He shouldn’t have put Susie through that... it was wholly unnecessary not to tell her directly.

But there was little time to think about that. Susie had to be in on this now, unless it was two people who were especially sympathetic towards her. Joey looked in the mirror to see who exactly he was, and he was faced with long brown hair, a diamond-shaped face and light grey eyes.

Allison.

It made perfect sense, of course. Allison would be just the type to bring people over for a party where everyone participated in a spell. And since she and Tom were an item, it made sense that she’d known about Susie.

A terrible thought struck Joey: Allison was in his body right now, able to access any secret of his that she could want. She could even figure out how to release his ink creatures if she got to the basement.

Joey ran out into the hall, only to trip on Allison’s heels. He threw them off and ran barefoot to his office, wincing at the splinters from the cheap wood floor. The woman in his body was leaving it, ink machine keys dangling from her fingers.

“Hey!” he yelled.

Allison didn’t even look back at him.

Joey ran over and tried to snatch the keys from Allison’s hand, but Joey pushed her against a wall.

She’s stronger than me, he realized. He’d have to rely on strategy and agility. And since this was an illusion, he didn’t have to worry about the integrity of the world or injuring their bodies.

Joey ran. He was faster in this body, he realized. There was no reason that Allison would waste time chasing after him, so he had to find a solution before Allison made her way to the basement. He found his solution in a cigarette lighter he’d found laying out on someone’s desk, which he snatched before running to the elevator, at which Allison was waiting.

The two locked eyes. “I know what you’re doing, Allison. You won’t get away with it.” Joey growled.

Allison made her best confused face. Joey wasn’t sure whether it looked strange because she was faking it poorly or if it was just strange looking at someone else wearing his own face. “This is just a dream, Joey. Don’t worry about a thing.”

Joey tensed up, almost ready to strike her.

A ding indicated that the elevator had arrived, and Joey rushed to light it on fire, feeling Allison pull him back only after he’d tossed the lit lighter into a pile of ink within the elevator, setting it ablaze. He looked back to Allison with a childlike, triumphant smile.

Allison was unphased and started for the stairs. Joey ran ahead of her, unsure what his plan was. What followed was several minutes of the two wrestling in the stairwell, at one point tumbling down a flight of stairs, breaking bones, and continuing to fight.

---

“Allison!” Sammy snapped. “This was supposed to be about making Joey walk a mile in our shoes. Now he’s going to make the whole thing about protecting his secrets!”

Allison nodded and lowered her eyes. “Yeah. I got carried away. But to be fair, I don’t think any of us has taught him anything yet. He’s just been focused on trying to figure out what’s been going on.”

“Well, I guess it’s up to the last three to teach him a lesson. Who’s left?” Sammy eyed the room and realized that it was just Wally, a timid-looking teenager whose name he didn’t remember, and himself. He sighed heavily- they weren’t exactly a dream team. “Alright. Let’s make a game plan and hope this goes right.”

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #joey drew #allison pendle #susie campbell #grant cohen #malice #sammy lawrence #AUs #my fanfiction

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anne-lida · 1 year

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Hello, Lida *-* I saw some Japanese titles in your WIPs names, so... Do you speak Japanese and never told me??? Do you know I love Japan, Japanese folklore, culture and their traditional food?? Now you know (Nikujaga is on the menu for dinner tonight ٩◔‿◔۶)

So, tell me more about those titles. And... how many languages do you speak? Did I see some Spanish titles too? Mmh.. Interesting!

Aaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!

Hello, dearest Lady Connor!

I'd just ran around my bed in excitement for... maybe two minutes or more after seeing your ask. Really tired, but happy to see you in my ask box! ^^

Anyway, for the ask:

I'll be very honest, I just started learning Japanese last December and I still can't make a proper sentence yet--probably even less knowledgable about Japanese anything than even you ^^'. Really sorry for disappointing you ;_;

Other than their foods, I do really love tokusatsu, especially shows like Super Sentai (and its American adaptation Power Rangers) and Kamen Rider. But last year, I delved into Ultraman franchise and found a... deep liking into a certain character ._.

And that's when I made that first Japanese-titled WIP ^^

(Btw, all of my Japanese-titled WIPs are Ultraman fanfics and for now, they're still written in English ^^)

So, for 限界を超えろ (Genkai wo koero!), I did post the faceclaim of its main character, Kazuki Ōkami ^^

Story-wise, it's a story of Kazuki, a paralympic athlete who was once a big fan of his city's hero, Ultraman Srika. One day, Kazuki lost his best friend during an attack and he found out that his very idol caused it. He was boiled in hellish fury, but far from enough to give him an even chance to survive the giant's blow, if he should fight Srika.

On his lonely walk, he sacrificed his life to save a mysterious young man, who turned out to be a new Ultraman in disguise named Gala. To pay for Kazuki's heroic deed, Gala bonded with him. Reviving him in the process and giving him ability to become giant. A chance to fight alongside Ultraman Srika, or against him :)

Yeah, that's basically what the first episode is ^^

The story of ミスター • ウルトラマン (Misutā Urutoraman) is still not well developed. The main concept is this series' Ultra host is a CEO of a food company. He only turned into giant if the company's properties were at high risk of getting damaged by the Kaiju and often used the catastrophic attacks to create his company's heroic image as "the savior of starvation" kind of thing through food donation xD

強大な翼 (Kyōdaina Tsubasa) popped quite recently. There's a pair of twins who worked in a Kaiju defense force--one is a pilot, and the other's a naval flight officer. On one mission of finding the Kaiju's nest far outside the border of the outmost village, the pilot's team was attacked by a mama Kaiju and the base lost contact with them. As the Kaiju got closer to the populated village, a mysterious Ultraman appeared and saved the day. Yet, after a search, no trace of the fallen pilots had been found.

And this is his story of finding his sister (and the process of accepting the possibility of her death) and, while still in grieving state, helping other living pilots protecting their homeland (along with the unknown gigantic alien).

Btw, on how many languages I speak...

Uh, it's only three ^^'

Japanese and Spanish (and Bable aka Asturian) are not even one of them. So if you (or anyone else) notice any mistake, please correct me xD

Idk if you also ask about the "Spanish-titled" files, but I'll tell you about it anyway xD

It's all under a WIP folder of a very loose Power Rangers fanfic. It was inspired by social-deduction games mechanic (like Mafia, Werewolf, Town of Salem, Among Us).

"During the sickening century of old, there were murderous beasts called "Monscuros". At night, they searched for foods and followers amongst humans and at day, dressed like the humans. The people of Nagüestia didn't have strength to hold off against their devilish power. But under the slightest glare of sun, people took a chance to push anyone who looked like they did the darkest sin last night into trials.

"Those people claimed that was the only way to win. But seeing so many innocent blood spilt before a sinner was caught, some of them silently believed more in the fabled Layenda. The heroes of the stars, who also hid amongst the men until the sun went down, when they would strike the monsters at the heart with their silver blade and starlight spells. Saving humanity from those wretched creatures... and themselves."

And that's the somewhat romantization vibe of that WIP ^^'

Also, I posted a drawing of a Layenda in the past.

So, yeah. Thank you so much for asking me! ^^

#lida's story #ask box #tag game #names of files in wip folder #ultraman #Ultraman Gala #Ultraman Tunas #Ultraman Crow #ultraman oc #power rangers #Power Rangers Layenda #power rangers oc #I think it's been 4 years since the last time I got an ask--and around December too. maybe coincidence?#researching for fanfic purpose is a really fun way of learning new knowledge. at least for me.#is it effective? idk. I felt like I learned words from two dozens languages just through WIPs alone. but I can't make a sentence on my own.#but it pushed me to search for new foreign things with more open mind.#btw I had to hold back myself several times before this post become a wall of text xD #also sorry for the late answer ^^'

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autolovecraft · 2 years

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Perhaps he screamed.

He was the devil incarnate, Birch, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was.

He had even wondered, at Sawyer's funeral, how the vindictive farmer had managed to lie straight in a box so closely akin to that of the diminutive Fenner. Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch. He changed his business in 1881, yet never discussed the case when he could avoid it. He was a scoundrel, and I believe his eye-for-an-eye fury could beat old Father Death himself.

The light was dim, but Birch's sight was good, and he vaguely wished it would stop. I still think he was not an evil man. Birch decided he could get through the transom. Maddened by the sound, or by the stench which billowed forth even to the open air, the waiting horse gave a scream that was too frantic for a neigh, and plunged madly off through the night, the wagon rattling crazily behind it. I've seen sights before, but there was one thing too much here. I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. Birch? Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley; and was a very calloused and primitive specimen even as such specimens go. The skull turned my stomach, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the tomb. The borders of the space were entirely of brick, and there seemed little doubt but that he could shortly chisel away enough to allow his body to pass. When he perceived that the latch was hopelessly unyielding, at least to such meager tools and under such tenebrous conditions as these, Birch glanced about for other possible points of escape. Birch decided that he would begin the next day with little old Matthew Fenner, whose grave was also near by; but actually postponed the matter for three days, not getting to work till Good Friday, the 15th. Davis died. As he planned, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made. In time the hole grew so large that he ventured to try his body in it now and then, shifting about so that the coffins beneath him rocked and creaked. That he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. I suppose one should start in the cold December of 1880, when the ground froze and the cemetery delvers found they could dig no more graves till spring. Why did you do it, Birch? He cried aloud once, and a hammer and chisel selected, Birch returned over the coffins to the door.

Great heavens, Birch, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was. I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live. I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. He would have given much for a lantern or bit of candle; but lacking these, bungled semi-sightlessly as best he might. At any rate he kicked and squirmed frantically and automatically whilst his consciousness was almost eclipsed in a half-swoon. As he planned, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not an evil man. It may have been fear mixed with a queer belated sort of remorse for bygone crudities. Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. On the afternoon of Friday, April 15th, then, Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner. Clutching the edges of the aperture. As he remounted the splitting coffins he felt his weight very poignantly; especially when, upon reaching the topmost one, he heard that aggravated crackle which bespeaks the wholesale rending of wood. Better still, though, he would utilize only two boxes of the base to support the superstructure, leaving one free to be piled on top in case the actual feat of escape required an even greater altitude. Several of the coffins began to split under the stress of handling, and he planned to save the stoutly built casket of little Matthew Fenner for the top, in order that his feet might have as certain a surface as possible. The pile of tools soon reached, and a hammer and chisel selected, Birch returned over the coffins to the door.

He was a bachelor, wholly without relatives. God, what a rage! At last the spring thaw came, and graves were laboriously prepared for the nine silent harvests of the grim reaper which waited in the tomb. It was generally stated that the affliction and shock were results of an unlucky slip whereby Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley Cemetery, escaping only by crude and disastrous mechanical means; but while this much was undoubtedly true, there were other and blacker things which the man used to whisper to me in his drunken delirium toward the last. I am no practiced teller of tales.

Several of the coffins began to split under the stress of handling, and he planned to save the rejected specimen, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. Another might not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. After a full two hours Dr. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch. He would not, he found, have to pile another on his platform to make the proper height; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the company beneath his feet, he philosophically chipped away the stony brickwork; cursing when a fragment hit him in the face, and laughing when one struck the increasingly excited horse that pawed near the cypress tree. Perhaps he screamed. The practices I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least to such meager tools and under such tenebrous conditions as these, Birch glanced about for other possible points of escape. Birch. Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales.

I'd hate to have it aimed at me! Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not care to imagine. There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb. That he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the emerging moon must have witnessed a horrible sight as he dragged his bleeding ankles toward the cemetery lodge; his fingers clawing the black mold in brainless haste, and his aching arms rested by a pause during which he sat on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside.

Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales. Steeled by old ordeals in dissecting rooms, the doctor entered and looked about, stifling the nausea of mind and body that everything in sight and smell induced. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to use it when Asaph Sawyer died of a malignant fever. His frightened horse had gone home, but his frightened wits never quite did that.

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sushi-rat · 1 year

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I don't know where the idea came from exactly. But I have a headcanon that Thor struggles a lot with his identity as a destructive god who grew up in a war-based society.

Bucky has a particular arc in the MCU. Bucky, after being forced/tortured to be a brutal weapon with not even a real name, finally starts remembering his life, remembers and falls in love with Steve, heals from his hypnosis and mind control, and seems to find safety in being gentle, being presented and treated more delicate and peaceful. I particularly love gay-jewish-bucky's posts about soft Bucky (not @ them as this post has little to none to do with Bucky or them). Bucky doesn't want to be dangerous, he often covers or takes off his prosthetic as he still needs room to learn how to trust himself, he doesn't want to fight. He's done and tired and would rather sit at home under a fluffy blanket, in some cozy, loose pjs, and cuddled next to Steve. (I reject most of Endg*me and onward)

I like to also apply this sort of arc to Thor. He's very much a kindhearted, loud, caring person who does mature and takes the time to learn and listen. A lot of development and maturing happens in Thor 1 when he goes from battle-driven and practically blood-thirsty to understanding life of beings and that killing an entire race for the acts of the few or the acts of the past is unjustifiable. Problem is, he started off as a self-absorbed killer primarily due to Odin and the glorifying of conquering in Asgardian society, the fact that Odin is known for his acts of violence and control over separate colonies, that brute warriors are prioritized over the more physically weak like Loki, ect. While Odin showed fury over Thor's brash actions and harshly punished him, it has been shown that Odin never really took any steps to teach Thor true peace, especially with things like the control over colonies which was addressed in Ragnarok to have been happening in the background, Odin's talk to Thor in The Dark World where Odin says that mortals' lives are fleeting and therefore should mean nothing to gods which, most likely, that sort of talk about other races has been a part of the boys' upbringing, and Odin telling his stories of victory since the boys were young and fueling them on seeking glory. The true extent of the bloody history of Asgard is touched upon more in Ragnarok with Hela's upbringing and in the comics (I own the Thor vs Gorr series and there's a part where Thor goes to a Nexus for research and the librarian is very hostile and mentions how an entire library section about murders and bloodshed is mostly full of Odin's/Asgard's "adventures"). All-in-all, very war-driven society that Thor grew up in, so of course he knows destruction better than anything.

Later he gets to uncover lies, he loses everything, and shows a distancing and tiredness when it comes to fighting. One of the few things I agree with in Endg*me is how all of the remaining Avengers show a distancing to fighting, so much to the point they distanced from each other. Thor was genuinely depressed and consciously attempted to repress or ignore everything previous, and tried to build some semblance of peace out of what little he had. He has seen what true war is. What he grew up with, that glory, was Odin having perfect control and power over his enemies and beating them to submission. Fighting Hela and losing your home and people in the process, fighting Thanos and losing people that you love, feeling guilt over not being good enough when you fail, he now knows what TRUE war is like. And it broke him. So much so, he doesn't jump at the opportunity to fix everything and he worries over failing again.

I feel Thor's feelings about battle and his change could've been addressed better in anything released after Infinity War, falling into a similar arc as Bucky's: being a weapon (though for the 2 characters, it was much different situations with different levels of willingness- in Bucky's case none at all) but ending up in a situation that makes them crave being softer and non-threatening.

I also think a good, secondary tie-in for this sort of development for Thor is the fact that he is a god of nature. He is the God of Thunder with an ability to also create/control storm events like lightning, a tornado as seen in Thor 1 which could prolly be extended to controlling wind, and many people headcanon that he could control rainstorms due to the associated lightning + thunder abilities. Thor is not a God of War or Destruction or Battle. His powers lie within nature, nature events that can be destructive but can also be peaceful and kind; the rain that waters the plants, the soft thunder that people often love and even listen to ambience of to go to sleep at night, the beautiful strikes of lightning that many are obsessed with, the breeze to cool a hot day. I feel many gods of nature are treated much more gentle, and this could be a really good note towards Thor's character: a god of nature that grows up learning nothing but war, coming to a point where he wants to have the opportunity that other nature gods have that he never got. He's known for being good with animals in the comics so maybe he starts a routine to feed the animals in his area, he learns to control his powers and can bring a gentle rain to water the nearby plants and even aid his own garden, his powers give him an exceptional green-thumb, he plays with the village kids by letting them ride the wind- literally, entertaining people with tricks with his lightning similarly to how Loki shows off the fireworks his mom taught him in the Loki series. Even his amazing strength he uses for helping to build the houses of New Asgard, or lifting up a horse to help carry it back to the stable.

I just really like the idea of Thor becoming softer and maturing past the oppressive destruction of the Old Asgard, paving his own way and bringing a new hope and light to a new, peaceful, Asgard

#marvel criticism #marvel headcanons #bucky barnes #tagging cause i quite heavily mentioned him #thor odinson #long post

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likelyslumbering · 2 years

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Tagged by @ibrividi. You tag me in these things like once a month and I always start them but never finish, but you persisted and FINALLY I have completed one. Thinking about things that bring me comfort made for a very calm evening, so thank you for the tag <3. Sorry if the formatting is bad, post editor is being fucking atrocious as per usual.

———

Comfort movie?

Not gonna lie usually I do not watch movies for comfort because I am a bitch partial to tragedies, but Everything Everywhere All At Once may become a comfort movie for me. I resonated with it on such a deep level and it’s so hopeful without being dishonest and I just love it Very Much. I really really enjoy Mad Max: Fury Road for similar reasons. I have made people watch that film SO many times and they hate me.

Comfort food?

Not to steal someone else’s answer but. Yeah, cheese is pretty up there. There’s just so many OPTIONS you know. I suppose I find melty cheese particularly comforting in all forms and combinations— mac & cheese, baked brie with crackers, cheese on toast, pizza…. the list is endless. (Honorable mention for pasta absolutely BURIED in parmesan.) Yes I am lactose intolerant.

Comfort clothing?

I generally prefer all my clothes to be comfortable— barring the sun and stars aligning perfectly I will NEVER choose to wear an uncomfortable outfit over a comfortable one when it’s very possible to find clothes that are cute AND don’t make me want to tear them off my body Right This Instant. But if I’m in particular need of feeling soft and safe etc I’ll usually go for oversized— very large shirt / sweater, loose pants, easy slip-on shoes.

Comfort song?

I don’t know that I HAVE a comfort song, really, but I generally like for music to reflect my mood rather than try to influence my mood via music, because I usually just want to feel seen™️. So I’ve been listening to Mitski a lot lately (I know I know shh) and in particular Crack Baby like, on repeat. We do not need to examine the implications of this any further NEXT!

Comfort book?

This is very very difficult for me, honestly. It’s been a very long time since I’ve re-read a book, but I will say that lately I’ve found Ishiguro’s books a source of comfort because of how familiar his particular brand of melancholy feels to me right now. (Oh lord these answers are getting so psychologically revealing. Moving on.)

More generally, I think the His Dark Materials trilogy by Pullman. I read it as a teenager and it was very formative on my view of authority, suffering, and our right to make decisions for others. It’s also just a genuinely beautiful series. Reading it feels like snuggling in a warm bed to me.

Comfort game?

The Nancy Drew computer games! I own ALL of them. I loved the books so much when I was a kid, and when I was gifted one of the games for my birthday I was hooked. They hold so much nostalgia for me but I also genuinely enjoy the puzzles, and think they’re part of what got me into science, really! Research-based sciences are basically just big investigative logic puzzles.

In terms of non-computer games, I really do love puzzles of all kinds: sudoku, logic puzzles, crosswords, etc, but I hold a special love for jigsaw puzzles :)

———

I’m tagging @agenderopossum and @mr-cryptid. Absolutely no pressure to do this, of course, but perhaps you could also use some comfort now, so I am sharing.

#tag game

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dailynicknews · 2 years

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New 'Paws of Fury: The Legend of Hank' Character Posters Released

Nickelodeon Movies and Paramount Pictures' brand new film Paws of Fury: The Legend of Hank is set to pounce into theatres on July 15, 2022, and to celebrate, Paramount and Nickelodeon has released a group of new character posters for the upcoming feature, which you can check out below!

Gabriel Iglesias as El Fluffy

A hard-on-his-luck hound Hank (Michael Cera) finds himself in a town full of cats who need a hero to defend them from a ruthless villain's (Ricky Gervais) evil plot to wipe their village off the map. With help from a reluctant teacher (Samuel L. Jackson) to train him, our underdog must assume the role of town samurai and team up with the villagers to save the day. The only problem… cats hate dogs! Also starring Mel Brooks, George Takei, Aasif Mandvi, Gabriel Iglesias, Djimon Hounsou, Michelle Yeoh, Kylie Kuioka, and Cathy Shim, PAWS OF FURY: THE LEGEND OF HANK pounces into theatres July 15, 2022.

The production pedigree for the film is also very strong. Loosely based on Blazing Saddles, The Legend of Hank is co-directed by Rob Minkoff, the director behind The Lion King, Stuart Little, and Stuart Little 2. It’s also co-directed by Mark Koetsier and Chris Bailey, who make their feature directorial debuts with this film.

youtube

Fans can also check out a new mini game released today, Jimbo’s Samurai Training, available online at game.pawsoffurymovie.com.

More Nick: Nickelodeon Supercharges Its Franchise Strategy With Steady Stream of New Premium Content for 2022-23 Season | Nick Upfront!

Original source: The Illuminerdi.

Follow NickALive! on Twitter, Reddit, Instagram, Facebook, Google News, Tumblr, via RSS and more for the latest Nickelodeon Movies News and Highlights!

from NickALive! https://ift.tt/enQzW63 via https://ift.tt/KDYi9q1

#Nickelodeon #NickALive

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jamesbuchananxsteviegrant · 3 years

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[AU, SMUT] What Are You? | Bucky x Steve x Reader

Category: AU, Smut (Mandatory) Age: 18+ Trigger Warnings: Mafia themes, derogatory language, intercourse Ship: Steve x Bucky x Reader Summary: Steve and Bucky Are Planning Some Work With a Client, But What Happens When That Client Doesn't Respect Their Girl? Request: N/A Contains Spoilers for: N/A Word Count: 2.6k

—

Almost everyone knew - there was no doubt about that. Everyone should’ve known, at least, but those who didn’t pay enough attention… sorry for them.

Everyone who heard the sound of the heels clacking against the marble flooring would straighten themselves up as if the sound was coming from the men themselves.

Which men? Oh, which men indeed.

That’s not to say that the woman couldn’t have any kind of friendships with any of the men in the building - she does need a little bit of platonic fun here and there.

“Slow down, Aphrodite, you might chip the flooring.” A mocking voice calls from behind her. Despite it being from a familiar face, the other men still stiffen as if they were the ones doing wrong.

“You might shatter the mirrors if you look in them for any longer.” The woman retorts as she attempts to hide the grin that forms at her own comeback.

The man, however, doesn’t even try to hide his smile as he turns his strides into a jog to catch up with her.

“How do you even know how often I stare in the mirror? You spying on me?” Sam asks, the pair glancing at each other and both now smiling.

“So you admit that you stare at the mirror, and not just look at it?” The woman tactically avoids his question with her own retort.

Sam’s laugh echoes through the corridor they’re walking through. It’s quite spectacular really - some would mistake it for being a palace. A place where only the good-willed people reside. Almost a shame that it’s full of the likes of James ‘Bucky’ Barnes and Steve Rogers - the two men who own just about all the power there is in New York, let alone Manhattan.

“You know they’re not done yet, right?” The man quizzes, a content smile still on his lips as his hands rest in the front pockets of his black trousers.

The woman doesn’t respond, simply nods.

Sam catches it out the corner of his eye and simply shakes his head.

“You have a habit of interrupting their meetings.”

“And you have a habit of saying things that might get you killed one day.” (Y/N) answers, but her gentle smile admits that that’s not entirely true.

Her attire consists of a loose but very fitting crimson dress that sits mid-thigh, along with the matching red heels that are buckled around her ankles. A simple silver chain around her neck that has two small, but very expensive, black and red diamonds resting in the centre of her collarbone.

“Tell Steve that his car’s being valeted if he needs it anytime soon.” The man comments as he turns off down another corridor, different to (Y/N)’s route.

She simply nods again.

Why is it that she’s heading toward her husbands’ meeting? Because she’s interested in seeing how it will end. The man who has been persisting to speak with Steve and Bucky for the last sixteen months is desperate, to say the least. He wants investment in their three hotels that are situated across NYC, in Queens, Brooklyn and Manhattan.

She was the one who decided on where those hotels would be built, so she wants to see the man, John Walker, crumble as her partners’ pretend they care, only to tell him no.

It might seem like a waste of time but in reality, it’s to see how the man deals with hearing the word no, and whether Bucky and Steve need to deal with him.

“Ma’am.” Christopher greets as (Y/N) approaches the door of the conference room that her men are in.

“Chris.” She responds, nodding her head as he opens the door for her. “How’s it going, gentlemen?” The woman adds as she casually struts into the room, grabbing everyone's attention.

There’s a moment of silence as everyone turns to look at the woman who’s interrupted their meeting. Steve and Bucky simply smile as they take a moment to admire their wife.

“Excuse me?” John is the first to speak up and everyone’s attention turns to him, including (Y/N), who doesn’t seem phased by his evident frustration.

“You’re excused.” Her response is simple but ignites a spark inside of the man.

“Do you usually let whores just stroll around and cause inconvenience in their wake, gentlemen?” He asks, but his eyes remain on (Y/N).

The woman’s eyebrows raise, and a surprised but impressed smile etches its way onto her face. She says nothing. John stares at her with a quirked brow, waiting for a response from the two men his question was directed to, so obliviously aware of the fearful stares he’s now getting from everyone else in the room.

Bucky and Steve’s heads turned very slowly, in sync, back toward their guest, their smiles now distorted into that of pure fury.

“Would you like to say that again?” Steve speaks up first, John now turning his head toward the boss in curiosity of his sudden change of voice.

That’s when the man notices all the stares on him. His eyebrows furrow as he acknowledges everyone’s expression. His eyes flick from the other men in the room to Bucky and Steve, to (Y/N), and back to the two leaders.

He gulps.

“I said: Say. It. Again.” Steve enunciates.

“Come here, doll,” Bucky speaks up also, his eyes flicking from John to (Y/N) for a brief moment, his arm opening up and inviting the woman to situate herself on his knee.

The woman obliges, striding over to her husbands and letting the brunet’s arm wrap around her as she sits.

John’s eyes haven’t left Steve’s, too mortified to even blink, but he catches the action of Bucky and (Y/N).

Steve’s eyebrow quirks, reminding his guest that he’s waiting. And Steve hates waiting.

“I didn’t mean- I didn’t know she was- gentlemen, please, look, this is all a big misunderstanding, I just-”

“Called our woman a whore and an inconvenience.” Bucky finishes his sentence, his expression just as murderous as Steve’s, despite the soothing actions of his hand stroking his wife’s waist.

“I didn’t know she was your-”

“And you think that excuses it?” Steve interrogates. “You think calling any woman a whore is acceptable? An inconvenience?”

John gulps and the sound echoes in the room. His eyes flicker away from Steve’s for a moment to the woman herself, intentionally or not, but his eyes drop to the prominent cleavage on display.

Bucky smirks at the action that most definitely didn’t go unnoticed by himself.

“Sweetheart,” Steve begins, John’s attention darting straight back to the blond’s once more. (Y/N) hums in response. “Who do you belong to?”

(Y/N) bites her lip, core throbbing at the obvious dominance and possession of the two men.

“You and James.” She whispers, Bucky’s hand gripping her waist tightly at the use of his birth name.

The sweat glistening on John’s forehead is clear as day.

Knowing what’ll get everyone in the room riled up even moreso, (Y/N) turns herself around so she’s facing Bucky, sat on his lap, legs on either side of his body. Everyone else in the room keeps their eyes firmly locked on the glass table or the white ceiling.

A pleasant hum resonates from the brunet’s throat, his hands naturally adjusting to rest on her hips.

The moment John’s eyes flicker to (Y/N) once more and then drift down her back, a gun is cocked and metal is pressed firmly against the back of the man’s head.

The woman goes to turn her head around to see what’s happened but Bucky’s lips locking with hers prevents that from happening. She whimpers against his mouth and he absolutely adores it.

“Bend over this table for me, doll.” The man murmurs. “Let’s show Mister Walker what a proper whore looks like.”

The excitement that sparkles in his wife’s eyes makes his cock throb between his legs.

“Yes, sir.”

The pet name makes both men throb.

The woman stands up and turns herself around, making sure every sway of her hips is a show to be watched. Her eyes lock with none other than their security lead, Tony Stark, who’s holding the gun up to Walker’s head, as she bends herself over the table, dress drooping at the front to display her cleavage.

Tony’s eyes don’t even flicker away from her own. The staff in this building know better than to try and indulge in what is rightfully Bucky and Steve’s. John, however, sees this as a prime opportunity to stare at what he believes he’s being offered, his trousers getting tighter.

(Y/N) sees it. She finds is humorous.

Bucky’s hands slide their way up the backs of his wife’s bare thighs, pushing up the crimson material as he reaches it.

Her eyes flutter shut and lips part in satisfaction at the feeling.

“Tell us what you want, doll.” Bucky mumbles, sitting the bottom of her dress at the base of her back, grinning at her lack of underwear.

“Touch me.”

The explicit word that escapes John’s lips are heard clear as day and he knows it, face once again panicking as he looks back at Steve, whose expression still hasn’t changed.

“Where do you want me to touch you, princess?” James continues, not paying an ounce of attention to anyone else in the room right now besides his missus.

His fingers stroke the top of her inner thighs, seeing her soaking wet core already dripping down them.

“Want you to touch my pussy.” (Y/N) breathes, eyes flitting open barely a millimetre.

James presses soft kisses on his wife’s ass before sliding his middle and ring finger lightly over her slit. The action gets a mewl out of her.

Fifteen men in this room in total, only two of them can touch this woman yet all fifteen are dreaming about it.

“Move.” Steve states, prompting John to widen his eyes once more, but this time the words aren’t directed at him.

Bucky grins and obliges, removing his hands from his girl and stands up.

(Y/N)’s eyes open fully this time as she whines in complaint at the loss of contact, but a large smack on her ass distorts her whine into a large gasp.

“You’ll get what’s coming to you, sweetheart.” Steve states, manoeuvring himself so he’s stood directly behind his wife, Bucky casually pulling his own gun out of his inner blazer pocket and wiping it down with his hands.

John’s face stays facing Steve, but his eyes follow Bucky as the brunet moves behind him and out of his sight.

Tony takes the sign to back away and let his boss take over from here.

Steve has no shame as he unbuckles his belt, undoes his trousers and pulls out his rock-hard cock, stroking it with his hand a few times while his other hand returns to Bucky’s previous actions.

“You see that?” Bucky whispers in John’s ears, prompting the man to gasp and jump in his seat. He gulps again but remains silent. “I asked you a question.”

The man frantically nods, fearful for his life, and absolutely humiliated.

“You’re so wet, baby,” Steve murmurs, leaning down and moving her hair aside, kissing the back of her neck.

Before the woman can even respond, her husband thrusts himself inside of her in one go, (Y/N)’s back arching and moaning so loud that Christopher can probably hear outside the door, and Steve’s head being thrown back, his own moan equally loud.

Bucky almost loses his composure if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew not to falter when making sure a man like John Walker was wanting his woman.

“Fuck…” Walker whispers, lips parted as he stares at the woman in front of him being railed by none other than Steven Rogers.

“Keep watching because this is your death wish.” Bucky whispers, John’s eyes widening. “Does she look good?”

John nods his head almost desperately.

Her moans only get faster and louder as Steve fucks her.

“Remind him what you are, sweetheart?” The blond groans, grabbing the woman’s hair and pulling her head back so she’s more or less face-to-face with Walker alongside her other husband.

“A whore.” (Y/N) practically begs.

“Louder.” Steve demands.

“A whore!”

“I said: fucking louder!”

“A WHORE! I’m your whore, sir!” She screams, John losing it and standing up to lean forwards but a gunshot firing beside his head makes him stumble back down to his seat.

(Y/N) flinches are the known noise but settles quickly as Bucky strokes her face with the hand that’s not holding the freshly-fired weapon.

“Don’t you fucking dare move an inch toward our wife.” Bucky threatens to the man he’s leaning over.

John gulps but nods, not taking his eyes off (Y/N).

“Is she inconvenient now, Walker?” Steve asks, glaring daggers at the man. He only shakes his head, eyes only meeting Steve’s for a split second. “No?” He breathes. “Then what is she?”

The guest falls speechless, shaking his head as his eyes flicker between Steve and (Y/N).

“Hot as fuck.” He whispers, Bucky growling in his ear.

“Fuck!” (Y/N) cries out, desperate eyes staring at Bucky’s, who smirks at her state.

“Think our girl wants to cum, Steve.” He comments, John panting in his seat.

“Yeah? You wanna show this scum what a good girl you are for us, baby girl?” Steve grunts, not slowing down but rather speeding up as he too reaches his peak.

The woman’s head nods in desperation, face flushed as her eyes flicker across all men in the room, including Tony’s, who simply winks at her before removing his stare.

“Say it, doll.” Bucky demands.

“I wanna cum.” (Y/N) gasps, watching her brunet lover shake his head.

“Gonna have to do better than that, doll.”

“Please,” She begs. “Please, daddy. Sir. Please, let me cum!” Her voice screams, Steve grunting in response to the feeling of her squeezing his cock, milking him for all his worth.

“Cum, baby girl.” He permits. “Cum like the whore you are.”

And how she does.

Her scream could shatter glass, Christopher would be concerned if he hadn’t already established the differences between the woman’s fearful screams and her pleasure-filled ones.

Taking full advantage of Bucky’s distraction, John leaps forward to get a taste of the woman who’s almost passing out from the pleasure, but that’s the last move he makes as a bullet is shot through his back, knocking him down onto the table.

Tony doesn’t seem phased as he shakes the smoke from his gun, settling it back into his pocket.

Making sure the woman doesn’t collapse atop the, now dead, man on the table, Bucky holds her up while Steve sorts himself out before pulling her back across the table and into his lap.

“You okay, sweetheart?” The blond whispers, smoothing the hair out of her face.

(Y/N) nods but keeps her eyes shut as she rests against her husband’s chest.

“Words, baby.” He requests.

“M’okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

Two of the security men alongside Tony head over and remove the body from the room, Bucky asking for someone to clean up the mess whilst walking over to his two lovers.

“We okay?” The brunet murmurs, Steve smirking and nodding before both paying attention to their girl who’s still half unconscious.

“Does anyone else in the room have anything to say before we carry on?” Steve asks, everyone shaking their heads frantically. “Good, now leave.” And they do.

“You okay, baby doll?” Bucky whispers, cocooning her cheek with his hand.

The woman nods and manages to open her eyes.

“Yeah.”

“That’s our girl.”

Tag List

Stucky x Reader Only Tag List: @polarbearnamedpanda | @marvelous-glims

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inukag-archive · 2 years

Note

what abt inukag fanfiction with reincarnation as a theme

Hello Nonnie,

Thank you for your patience with the ask. The fic finder team had a lot of fun finding this list so we hope it was worth the wait on your end too!

Circles by @dawnrider (E)

Summary: When the final battle with Naraku takes one of their own, Kagome is almost swallowed by her grief. The universe gives back in ways none of them could have expected.

A String of Souls by @mrfeenysmustache (T)

Summary: Kagome Higurashi lives in a world where everyone has a soulmate, and they don't have to wait long to find them. She is more than happy with the person fate has chosen to stay by her side, but as soon as Happily Ever After can begin, it's ripped away. Fate, it seems, can be a cruel mistress. Or maybe not... Time travel/Soulmate AU/No jewel/InuKag Rated T for language

Into The Woods by @mamabearcat (E)

Summary: When Kagome goes to visit her ill grandfather at his isolated mountain shrine in the woods, she didn't know she would be facing an ancient evil, or uncovering a shared destiny with a grumpy inuhanyou woodsman that would change everthing. Modern InuKag AU very loosely based on Little Red Riding Hood. Rated E for slight horror, swearing, and full on first-time smexiness.

Eclipse by Desenchanter (M)

Summary: He was no stranger to being laughed at... and she was daddy's little liar but neither ever thought wet dreams could be nightmares, too. Drabbles written for ed ficelt summer challenge. Warning: lewd language, smut, and sexual tension. Part AU-Part Canon

The Price by Fenikkusuken (M)

Summary: COMPLETE. Twisted Canon AU. If Inuyasha's sealing spell simply wore off after a couple of centuries, what could possibly draw him back to the Sunset Shrine in modern Tokyo? Rated M for violence, language & citrus.

50-3 by MuffyKastel (T)

Summary: The well never reopens, leaving Kagome Higurashi seeing things she shouldn't.

Future Incarnations: Inuyasha 2030 by Ai Kisugi (X)

Summary: COMPLETE. The Inuyasha gang have reincarnated and the year is 2030. Each person has only fleeting memories of their past lives. Can they re-group and remember their past before it is too late? Romance Lemon/Lime Inu/Kag some Mir/San.

Hidden Secrets by Lbliss21490 (M)

Summary: **COMPLETED** Alternate ending to the series- It's been five years since the well closed. Kagome, who is now attending Tokyo University, says goodbye to Inuyasha and moves away, heartbroken that she can no longer be with her hanyou. However, as she takes a history class, she becomes enamored with Yashiro Nagasaki, a young history professor who reminds her strangely of Inuyasha. As time goes on, she wonders what happened to Inuyasha as she succumbs to her attraction to the professor... Little does she know, he has secrets of his own, and Kagome must decide if she will share the part of her life where she loved a hanyou. Eventual smut, planning on a lot of smut. Also maybe some time travel. We'll see.

That Flesh of Mine by @witchygirl99 (M)

Summary: Kagome just wanted to get through high school in one piece. She never thought one night in the woods would change everything: that monsters were real. They were coming to the tiny town of Sakura for something important, something powerful. And one monster, with claws and fangs and blood-soaked silver hair, was the centre of all of it. Watching her with golden eyes. InuKag.

Broken Fates by Kanna37 (M)

Summary: How much damage can a pure soul take before it fractures into pieces? Sometimes, when you break something, it can't be fixed - at least, not entirely. Very angsty fic, not a children's story. 2nd Best O/Character for Yasha Second Quarter 2010 IYFG.

Soul Deep Fear by @neutronstarchild (T)

Summary: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Tsubaki was going to make sure that the Inu no Taisho’s family would feel her wrath. When her engagement to Tōga was broken by her sister Izayoi’s being the man’s soulmate, Tsubaki curses the entire Inu no Taisho line so that they should never find happiness with their soulmates. And when Inuyasha touches the hand of a barista at his local coffee shop, igniting the soul bond, all he can feel is her fear. Will he be cursed to have his soulmates flee from him for eternity? Or will this one, unlike the last, overcome her fear?

Aurora by @thunderpot (M)

Summary: "It is said that a long time ago in the age of heroes — when Mother Earth was awake and the Gods walked among mortals — there was once a beast created by the Sun that fell in love with a great warrior." A creative exercise from inuvember prompt: Myth Au

All of Me by @willowandfog (E)

Summary: Inuyasha lost his wife almost 30 years ago, so when his daughter runs into a woman that looks exactly like her, he has to know who she is and how she's connected with his late wife. "When you look at me, do you see what you lost or do you see all of me?"

Soul Doll by @dawnrider (E)

Summary: Post Society Collapse AU - Kagome awakens to a nightmare. She can't move, she can't breathe and everything looks and feels wrong. Reincarnated as a living doll, Kagome must find a way to escape this place she has woken in, the body which is not her own.

Inuyasha: Prince of Thieves by @starlingchildgazingatthestars (M)

Summary: Ever since the death of the beloved priestess Kikyo, the infamous outlaw Inuyasha and the corrupt Sheriff Naraku have held a stalemate for fifty years, the former evading arrest, the latter keeping his proverbial "throne." But then, a highborn lady, Kagome Higurashi, with a kind heart and fiery spirit, arrives in Nottingham...

Shikuro: A Caribbean Fairy Tale by Inuma Asahi De (M)

Summary: Inuyasha was as bad as pirates came, according to his legend. Kagome was a woman of propriety, destined to marry for her family's honor when all she wanted was to live on the sea. What happens when their eyes meet by chance or perhaps by daring fate?

Youkai in the Mirror by @sugarrosfanfiction (E)

Summary: Not your typical high school AU: Kagome Higurashi is lucky. She has good grades, good friends, and the cute, popular boy in class just asked her out. But when she accidentally unleashes a very wicked youkai from a very wicked spell, her luck runs out. Now on the run from a powerful priestess, Kagome must help Inuyasha get his revenge.

In This Lifetime or the Next by @writemydaydreams (M)

Summary: The dreams have started. Inuyasha knows what it means, knows what comes next. His soulmate is alive and she’s ready to be found; but this time, he's not ready to find her. Because he's cursed. Because every time he finds her, she dies. Because she’s never lived more than a year after the first dream. But one phone call and a pushy friend changes everything and now Inuyasha is faced with his past all over again.

#inukag archive #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag fic rec #reincarnation themed fics

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

Text

Returning The Favour - Bucky Barnes x F! Reader part 2 (smut)

Summary: After one hell of a day, you decide to help Bucky relax, and to repay the favour from a few nights ago.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut ahead! Oral/blowjob – M receiving, hand job – m receiving, swearing/cursing, p in v sex (unprotected) – doggy style, face sitting, cowgirl, just pure filth, tbh.

Smut under the cut!!

Word count: 4.5k+

A/n: A little bit of body positivity added in here too. You are all beautiful, and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise

A/N: This is part 2 of A Helping Hand, but as there isn’t much of a plot (aside from the smut. I mean, c’mon), it can also be read as a standalone!! It touches briefly on the plot of FATWS, but nothing really detailed.

Permanet Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @undiscovered-misunderstood

Part 1

A few weeks had passed by since that night Bucky had devoured you, tearing your soul to pieces and burning through you like wildfire.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about it… and hadn’t stopped thinking about him.

His hands on your body, searing lines into your skin, one hot and one cold.

The drag of his tongue inside your walls, letting you ride his face whilst the world crashed down through you.

His hand, that damned vibranium hand fucking you into oblivion.

God, you needed him. You needed more of him, all of him. You wanted him to tear you apart again and knit you back together with his lips and his tongue.

You wanted him to feel the same release you had the same earth-shattering pleasure.

You’d tried to calm the fire by using your own fingers and toys, but no matter how much you replayed that night in your head – in perfect clarity – it just wasn’t the same anymore.

Your toys, which you had spent a hell of a lot of money on… just didn’t do it. They weren’t enough.

They weren’t… him.

You couldn’t concentrate on your work, earning you more disapproval from Fury and he even asked you what the hell was going on and would you mind keeping your thoughts on the job, not on whatever was making you zone into space for twenty minutes straight with that look on your face.

Luckily, you had managed to escape anymore of Nick’s wrath, by tagging along with Bucky as he went to help Sam, who was engaged in trying to take down a group of rebels called the Flag Smashers.

You’d arrived to help him and the three of you set about doing what you could, also whilst trying to avoid John Walker, who had been rebranded as the new Captain America.

Touchy subject. Best not to go there.

Anyway, back on the case of the Flag Smashers. They were being supplied with Super soldier serum from someone called the Power Broker, and the boys were at a loose end as to how to learn more.

Well of course, there was one person who was the most knowledgeable about the serum.

Helmut Zemo, a Sokovian villain who looked like he’d walk straight out of a film about British spies, fast cars and imaginative villains.

You knew Bucky’s past with him, of course.

You had fought alongside the others when Zemo triggered Bucky into becoming the Winter Soldier again.

So, you had to admit you were surprised when you learned that Bucky himsef had ‘hypothetically’ given Zemo the way out of his German prison.

Plans had been made, which is how tonight, you’d found yourself in Madripoor, each of you posing as a different persona.

Sam was to be the ‘Smiling Tiger.”

You were Zemo’s… acquaintance. His “Little Bird” he’d called you – much to Bucky’s frustration. At first, you thought it was simply because Zemo was… well, he was a ‘bad guy’.

But as the night wore on, you noticed the looks Bucky shot the pair of you, his jaw clenching every single time Zemo’s hand brushed your waist, or he pressed his nose to your hair.

The Baron didn’t touch you in any way you hadn’t already discussed, and you were comfortable but… the icy glint in Bucky’s eye, the tightening of his mouth when you asked him what was wrong, and he stayed silent…

Something more was going on. More than just the role he was required to play.

Bucky was be the Winter Soldier again. The very man he tried so desperately to escape from, the man who’s actions he was still trying to make amends for.

You’d had to watch him play the Soldier all night, watch the tension build and build in the clenched muscle of his jaw, in the hard line of his shoulders and the tight prowl in his walk.

Which was why, after escaping a fight and getting a little banged up yourself, you were looking into the mirror in your hotel room, adjusting the straps of the lingerie set you had slipped into.

Okay, so maybe it was cliché.

But Bucky had had one hell of a night. You could practically feel the tension rolling off of him from his hotel room opposite your own.

You still had a favour to repay him, so why not go all out? He deserved it.

Besides, you had spent a long time working up the confidence to look into the mirror and be happy and proud of what you saw, instead of feeling the need to change.

You were proud of yourself and needed no-one else’s approval.

But it didn’t mean it wasn’t rewarding to hear.

Especially from a man with a wicked jawline and killer baby-blues.

With one final shake of your hair, you pulled on your silky robe, padding to the door of your hotel room and you slipped into the cool hallway. Goosebumps rose on your skin as you moved across the plush carpet, knocking on Bucky’s door.

Thank the lords, saints, old-gods and the new that Zemo was a Baron. This hotel was expensive, luxurious and did not have that funky smell that most hotels seemed to have.

The rooms were lavish and richly decorated, the bathroom dripping with taste and money and the bed… well. The bed was certainly big enough for what you had in mind tonight.

You were thoroughly determined to wreck the neatly folded covers.

A few moments later, you heard footsteps and then the door opened. Those eyes greeted you, though they were deeper, like the colour of the sea in a storm.

Bucky tilted his head, one hand braced on the door to open it, frowning slightly when he saw you. It was late after all. “Is everything alright, doll?” He peered down the hallway, like he was looking for threats.

You shook your head lightly, “Nothing’s wrong, Bucky…” Lifting your eyes to his through your lashes, you moved your hands to the front of your robe, “I just thought I’d return the favour. And help you relax…”

At your honeyed tone, at the movement in your hands, Bucky went rigid. Less in a tense way, more in anticipation. His eyes zeroed in on your hands, watching as you undid the sash and let the silk robe fall open, baring your body to him.

Clad in gorgeous lace and delicate fabric of your favourite colour, the lingerie clung to the shape of your body, flaunting it and accentuating every beautiful line.

Oh, it had so been worth the small fortune it cost.

You were glad you had purchased more.

The door creaked, wood protesting as his vibranium arm gripped it. Bucky’s pupils dilated, black blotting out the blue as he raked his eyes over every inch of you. It wasn’t creepy or possessive. It was… worshipping. Awestruck.

You had him in the palm of your already.

Soon, it would be physically.

“Are you going to let me in, Buck? There’s so many ways I could help you relax…” You let the robe slip off of your shoulders, leaving you incredibly bare in the middle of the very open hallway, in the very expensive, reputable hotel.

But you didn’t care.

Not with the way his Arctic eyes had deepened to the colour of cobalt, searing into you with the same fire that he had consumed with the other night.

Not as he stood back, letting you in and following every single movement you made, the sway of your hips, the feline smile gracing your lips as you sashayed past him. He was enraptured by you, rendered helpless by the mere sight of you.

You saw his hands clench just before he turned to shut the door, like he was stopping himself from pulling you into his body and shredding the scraps of lace and velvet that were a barrier to your gorgeous skin and curves.

The door snicked shut softly, shutting you both off from the rest of the world.

You turned to face Bucky, extending your hand to him, “Come here.” You kept that honey rich tone, but you had no need to raise your voice, because Bucky had moved before the words even left your mouth.

He slid his left hand into yours, the vibranium cool against the warmth of your skin. It was welcome, for you were burning an inferno inside that you were hiding very, very well. In fact, you were already wet, since the moment you slipped that lingerie on and saw your refection in the mirror.

You pressed your lips to the back of Bucky’s hand, saying with movement what you knew he wouldn’t believe in words.

That it was beautiful, strong… an extension of the graceful, deadly power that he had honed. You were never, ever afraid of it. Not even tonight, when he was playing the Soldier. Not even when he was the Soldier.

Lifting your eyes to his, you let your tongue dart out, tracing along the golden grooves in the plates of dark vibranium.

Fuck, the mere taste of the cool metal brought you back to that night.

You moaned a little in the back of your throat, appreciatively and flattened your tongue over his knuckles, bringing his fingers into your mouth and sucking on them delicately, just as you had before. Except this time, it was you in charge.

Bucky twitched, in every sense of the word. The plates of his arm clicked just faintly, like he was restraining himself even as a soft growl rumbled in the base of his chest. The sight of you sucking on his fingers again only made his jeans even more uncomfortable and he longed to feel your hot wet tongue on his skin. Every single inch of his skin.

His own hand wasn’t enough anymore, especially not after that night. It had been near painful for him when he left, and he’d barely made it back to his own room before his hand was jamming into his boxers and he fucked his own palm until he was crying your name through gritted teeth.

Never before had he felt such an urge to have feeling in his left hand, to feel your walls clench around him as you fell apart above him.

It was like you could read his mind.

You slipped off of his fingers with a small pop, a wicked gleam in your eyes as you dropped your hands to his belt buckle. Seconds later, you were undoing the zipper to his jeans, wasting no time in looping your fingers into both the waistband of his jeans, and the band of his boxers.

You pulled them slowly down, lower and lower past his hips until his heavy swollen cock sprung free.

Holy fucking shit.

He was huge.

Thick and smooth, the head already swollen and leaking.

You wanted to taste him.

You wanted him down your throat and buried inside you every single way until you could feel nothing but him, think of nothing but him.

Forcing back your impatience, you slowly lowered, pulling his jeans down until they reached his ankles, and you were on your knees before him.

Looking up through your eyelashes, you saw his head tilted down to watch you, is chin touching his chest. Those ridiculous eyes were fiercely burning, and his full, plush lips had parted in an effort to suck in more air.

Oh, you were going to wreck him.

You rose up a little higher, pressing your lips to the patch of neatly trimmed curls before following a trail lower, and then dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock, over that swollen vein that made you positively feral.

Bucky’s hands flew into your hair, a barely restrained groan rising from his chest and he muttered, “Shit – shit.”

Barely able to restrain the grin, you darted your tongue into the tiny slit, gathering that little bead of precum and then you took him into your mouth, inch by inch.

Fucking hell.

He was heavy, hot in your mouth and the velvety feel of his skin against your tongue and teeth was something you might just have died to feel again.

You kept him still for a second, really wanting to draw this out for him – and because the weight of him against your jaw was sending floods of pleasure between your thighs and you knew the expensive lace of your underwear was already drenched.

Bucky twitched, both inside your mouth and out and he tugged a little on your hair, “Baby, you gotta move – please, move.”

Had this been a normal game you were playing; you might have let him suffer a little longer. But this was about relaxing him, about making him feel better so you granted him his wish and began to bob your head up and down.

His soft moans were a symphony to your ears, a song you quickly learned the rhythm of as you moved faster, hollowing your cheeks now and then so he felt the drag of your wet, warm cheeks.

His moans turned into curses when you reached up to toy with his balls, massaging them just slightly as you dragged your lower teeth against the vein.

He jerked forward, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat suddenly, “Fuck, sorry baby, I didn’t mean to-“

His apologies were almost stammered, but you swiftly cut him off with a sinful moan.

The mere feel of him, the pressure of him pushing against your throat nearly made you explode there and then.

Your eyes rolled back slightly, hips rocking against nothing by instinct and fingers digging into his thighs.

Bucky swore softly under his breath, his voice nothing more than a broken whisper, “You – you liked that?”

Nodding around him, you pulled all the way off briefly, “Yes.” You gasped the word, pumping him with your hand a few times before taking him in your mouth again, sucking him with all the force of someone eating a five-star meal.

You devoured him, setting a relentless pattern of kitten licks, hollowing your cheeks and licking that throbbing vein. You let him brush the back of your throat a few times, never gagging, only crying out with pleasure at the press of him.

And Bucky’s moans… God, you could forgo music for the rest of your life and listen only to those noises his made.

Wanting more, more of those delicious moans and growls from him, you relaxed the muscles in your throat, pushing him down all the way until your nose was once again brushing his curls.

It was hard to distinguish your moan from his, the way his hands yanked hard in your hair, your fingers digging into his ass cheeks to force him deeper down your throat. You took a deep breath in through your nose, moaning at the heady scent of him as it pervaded your sense.

More, - you wanted to take him deeper and deeper until you couldn’t speak tomorrow without feeling him there.

You slid a hand down, grasping his balls once again and you palmed them, massaging and tugging them as you shook your head lightly against him, making him rock against your windpipe.

“Fuck!” Bucky’s head tilted back, his rough moan bouncing off the elaborately decorated walls and his legs trembled, signalling how close he was, how thoroughly you were hauling him toward that edge.

You felt his balls tighten in your hand, felt how close he was so you squeezed them harder and at the same time, swallowed around the thick length of him.

A broken version of your name echoed above your, both of his hands tightening in your hair so fiercely, you feared he might snap a bone. “Shit, shit-” His hips jerked forward and then he shattered apart, exploding in hot ropes down your throat.

You heard him mutter an apology, but you didn’t care, you couldn’t care because he tasted divine.

You drew back slowly, pumping him a few times with your free hand until he was gasping in a ragged breath, his legs threatening to give way, so with a gentle judge, you pushed him back on the bed.

He plopped down weakly, watching with wide eyes as you lifted your head, wiping the corner of your mouth with a feline grin. “Sweetheart, that was-“

A finger to his lips cut him off, “Oh, no no. I’m not done with you yet, Buck.” You quickly rid him of his shirt, revealing the broad plane of his shoulders and chest and then you urged him up the bed. As he lay back, you climbed on top of him, rising up on your knees. “I believe you made me come… three times was it?”

And that was when James Buchanan Barnes whimpered. A sound of pure carnal need and anticipation.

You grinned at him, reaching behind your chest to unclasp the delicate bra, before sliding it from your shoulders and throwing it to the side of the room. “I intend to repay the favour, and then some, Soldier.” You reached down for both his hands, placing them on your breasts. One warm, one icy cold.

Both your moans echoed in tandem, especially when he tightened his hands, squeezing and pulling at the soft flesh. “So beautiful…” He mumbled the words lowly, his voice a rough rasp and his ministrations caused you to arch your back further into his touch, allowing yourself a moment of pleasure.

But not for too long, because you soaked through the lace of your underwear, and you might well have been dripping down your thigh at this point. Dropping a hand, you moved your underwear to the side, before gliding your fingers through your glistening folds.

Yep, you were right.

“All of this is for you, Bucky. Because of how good you tasted in my mouth.” You moaned delicately, eyelashes fluttering as you circled your clit a few times, “How thick you were in my throat.” You gathered some of your wetness on your fingertips, before pressing them to Bucky’s lips, “See...”

He wasted no time in drawing your fingers into his mouth, dragging his teeth along the skin and cleaning every single millimetre. He seemed determined to pay you back, to try and make you feel some of the desperation he had felt.

You let it go, only because the combination of his hands pulling at your nipples and his hot tongue sliding between your fingers. You lowered down, resting over his already hardened length before dragging up and down it a few times, coating him in your slick. Low moans came from your throat, your eyes fluttering closed as you rocked yourself against him, waiting for him to recover for round two.

He soon groaned around your fingers, earning you a muffled, “Baby.” In an impatient tone as he twitched underneath you, hard and throbbing again.

Fine, you could give in.

You grasped his cock, before rising up and then lowering back down, taking him in.

Every single damn inch of him.

The stretch of your walls was painfully delicious, making you throw your head back and cry out softly, a low keen until you were seated on his thighs again. He was buried to the hilt inside of you and you could feel him everywhere. In your belly, in your toes, in your spine even.

Bucky’s back arched off of the bed, teeth clamping down on your fingers and his hands tightening on your breasts, before falling to your thighs where his fingertips dug into the soft flesh, “Fucking hell.” He gasped in a breath, lowering his head, “Look at me.”

The words were choked as you dropped your chin, meeting his eyes and the look int hem nearly floored you.

Near midnight blue with desire and lust, but they glinted like the night sky, full of admiration and… adoration of you. Complete and utter adoration.

Shit.

You stayed where you were for a second, speechless from the look of unbarred emotion on his face as the pair of you adjusted. Bucky soon swallowed, croaking again, “Move, darlin’ – please, move.”

Well, you didn’t need telling twice.

You rose up off him a few inches, before dropping back down with enough force to sear your spine in half. You quickly set an earth-shattering pace, rising up before sinking back down, his hips rising to meet you and push that little bit further inside.

Once again, the room filled with the scent of sex, the symphony of your bodies gliding with each other, mixed with Bucky’s rough moans and mutterings and your keening cries.

His hands grasped your hips, tight enough to bruise even with his right hand, but you didn’t care. You wanted to be marked, you wanted to feel him tomorrow.

And you wanted to mark him too.

You dropped down over his body, bringing him for a messy, deep kiss that was all stroking tongues and teeth.

He groaned into your mouth when you rotated your hips around him, this new angle causing your clit to drag against his firm muscles and rough curls.

The sensation was absolutely mind-blowing, and you dragged your mouth from his to bite at his jaw and neck, swearing against his hot skin, “Fucking hell, Bucky, you feel so good. You have no idea how good you feel – filling me up. So big-” The words were stumbly, broken sentences but you knew he understood them because he matched them.

Telling you how tight you were, how deep you were taking him. How good you looked fucking yourself and taking what you deserved – it was all yours.

You soon felt the pressure build in your lower back and belly, at the same time Bucky’s hips were snapping up into yours with more urgency. Quickly, you dragged yourself back to sit up, and began to ride him with wild abandon. His left hand came up to yours, giving you an anchor as you fucked him relentlessly, making the pair of you cry out with wordless groans of ecstasy.

To Bucky, you looked like – no, you were a goddess. Your body moving with carnal grace, head thrown back and those gorgeous moans and curses falling from your parted lips.

To him… there would never be a more beautiful sight.

Just as you began to grind your hips in circles with each downward motion, words started to spill from those plush lips, like he wasn’t in control, “You have no idea how much I wanted to tear Zemo apart tonight. His hands all over you – they shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t be touched like that.”

His lips parted wider for a moment, his hips thrusting up to meet your circular motions and it made the head of his cock thud against that spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves through your spine.

Your whimpering plea spurred him on, kept him hitting that spot with hard pressure that threatened to tear you to pieces, “You’re a goddess - Not a fucking piece of arm candy. The sight of him touching you-” He snarled, pulling you down hard on his dick for a second, taking the opportunity to rotate his own hips this time, “That should be me. Worshipping you. Not him.”

His rough words and the sheer intensity of his thrusted hurtled you closer and closer to that edge, the admissions sending just as much pleasure through you as his hard length.

That should be me.

Did he mean…?

You looked down through hazed eyes, like you were seeing all of this with a fresh gaze.

Bucky was already a mess beneath you, his head tilted back, and the line of his throat held taught. His deep curls with a mess, ruffled up over his forehead and the pillows.

Beautiful.

Bucky’s hips were starting to lose rhythm as he jerked up into you, but he never failed to repeatedly hit that spot, again and again.

You both chased down your orgasms, and with one final grind of your hips, one final sharp jerk of his own, you fell to pieces in tandem.

Bucky’s back arched, freezing as he spurted his hot load up inside you, at the same time your walls clenched around him, milking him for everything he had as your combined wetness slipped down his balls, making a mess of his skin – and the bed.

Like either of you could care.

Time lost all meaning yet again as you came down from your high, and later, you’d remember only by the places your bodies occupied.

Bucky hauled you up, finished with the lack of control and he took you against the floor to ceiling windows, your breasts pressed to the cool glass, the city twinkling below you as Bucky fucked you deep from behind, that vibranium hand against fitted snug around your throat.

Then on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, his dick sliding down your throat again as his tongue dragged between your folds, your knees braced either side of his head as you held onto his thighs.

When you retired to the sunken tub to wash up, you found yourself seated on Bucky’s lap, riding him once more with the hot, jasmine scented water splashing over the ornate tiles, your combined moans mingling with the steamy air.

The whole time, Bucky’s words played over and over in your head, echoing in the tiny space of your mind that wasn’t sex-addled.

He wanted to be the one to walk into a club with you on his arm. He wanted everyone in the room to know he worshipped the very ground you walked on, the air that you breathed.

It wasn’t like the feelings weren’t reciprocated either.

It had been the blue-eyed soldier in the forefront of your mind for months and months now, perhaps even far before that.

And it wasn’t until you were back on the bed, covers strewn on the floor that things truly shifted.

Bucky’s hands were gripping your thighs, pulling you down to fuck his face and tongue whilst you gripped onto the headboard, his groans of delight muffled against your wet heat.

The feeling was… other-worldly.

Your sexual partners of the past had gone down on you, sure. You’d even been in this exact position once, but it was nothing compared to Bucky.

No one worked you over with the same acute knowledge of what you liked, before you even knew it yourself.

His nose nudged against your clit, providing the perfect pressure whilst he spearheaded his tongue deep within you. Every time he did, he pulled you lower, shaking his head from side to side so that his stubble scratched your sensitive inner thighs and your swollen folds.

Words were beyond you, and all you could do was make incoherent moans and keens, sure the people in the rooms surrounding yours could hear your screams, but you didn’t care.

Especially when Bucky dragged his teeth over your clit, ever so lightly biting it and causing you to hurtle into the outer atmosphere and forget everything.

You collapsed, losing the tension in your legs and only Bucky’s hands shooting up to your ribs stopped you from smashing your forehead on the wall.

Light exploded across your vision, your blood roaring in your ears and you couldn’t move, your body was completely boneless. You were truly spent, muscles twitching with aftershocks and you only just noticed Bucky coaxing you to lay down next to him.

You faded in and out of a warm haze, registering a warm cloth gliding between your legs, over your flushed skin.

“Go on a date with me.”

The soft words underlined with that oh-so familiar rasp brought you rushing back to the present. “You... what?”

“Go on a date with me.”

You snapped your eyes open, only to be met with the Arctic ocean, almost glowing from within with sated desire.

Curling your lips up into a smile, you gently dragged Bucky’s head down to yours, pressing your lips to his equally swollen ones, “Okay.”

#well that happened #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #tfatws fan fic #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader smut

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