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rosazoldyckk · 1 year

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Yandere! Silva X Daughter Reader

⚠️warning⚠️ obsessive thoughts and mentions of death

Fandom: Hunter X Hunter. Character(s): Silva Zoldyck, Zeno Zoldyck, Illumi Zoldyck, Milluki Zoldyck

A/N: I DO NOT INTEND FOR THIS CHAPTER TO HAVE ANY RELATIONS TO INCEST!! I'm aware that some things written in this chapter might be mistaken as incest, but I promise I don't intend to make it seem that way.

Of course you can interpret my writing however you want to, I have no issues with that. Just please know I don't write stuff related to incest♡︎♡︎

*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧ 1138 words *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.

*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*. *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*. *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*

"Didn't I tell you to stop killing these poor butlers, father? How do you expect us to be taken care of if you take your rage out on our servents?" The young Assassin grumbled while putting her hands on her hips. Suddenly, the whole estate went silent. However, the rest of the lower butlers blinked and gulped in hope.

At the edge of the room, the young assassin can be seen. Her long H/C hair that shined under the moonlight can put any woman to shame. Her E/C eyes that they inherited from her father were sharp yet adorable. It could not be denied that with her looks and god-given talent for assassination that the girl belonged to the Zoldyck family.

With their sudden appearance, Silva lowered his guard and relaxed. It could be seen by his face that he adored the presence of his dearest daughter. With a soft tone, he asked, "Y/N, dear, what are you doing here? I thought you were out of the house."

The Lower butlers secretly beg the assassin to spare them from their death. By doing this, not only do they have a higher chance to survive, but they could also continue to contribute in caring for the Head's most adored daughter, Y/N Zoldyck.

One with no common sense would simply assume that Y/N was the glass child of the Zoldyck family, but behind closed doors they couldn't be any more wrong. Y/N was the glue that kept the family together. She was known to be cruel, sadistic, and outstanding in the art of assassination. However, there were people such as her siblings that could see the other side of her. Most of the time, Y/N was a kind and calm individual outside of work. And today just so happened to be a day where she felt generous.

Y/N thought for a bit before shaking her head, "I thought I told you our agreement about killing butlers in the mansion. Their screams can be heard from my room. It would be better if you killed them quickly or just let them free," she sighed as she turned her eyes to the poor butlers that had been severely tortured by electric shock.

Silva on the other hand glared sharply. Although it was subtle, his eyes went smaller, and clenched his hand.

He hated it.

He hated it when HIS daughter ignored him for Illumi.

He despised it when HIS daughter left him alone to play with Kalluto.

He loathed it when HIS daughter was playing video games with Milluki.

He felt sick to his stomach whenever he witnessed HIS daughter braiding Alluka's hair.

He detested it when HIS daughter is 'playing' outside with Killua and his pathetic excuses of friends.

And oh dear god did he want to smash a boulder across his head whenever he saw HIS daughter laughing with her mother and grandfather.

Silva loved his only daughter to death. Every inch of his daughter belonged to him and ONLY him alone. He hated sharing with others, family only being a small exception. If he could, he would lock her in his room and make her look at him and ONLY him alone.

Knowing that the entire family would riot against him if he were to bring harm to the assassin, he buried that plan deep within his heart and continued to be a 'good dad' for her. He forgot the agreement and decided to play it funny so that his daughter could let this case pass.

"I apologize, dear," Silva grumbled with a fake frown. "Unfortunately, these foolish butlers failed their mission and their penalty is nothing but death. I thought it would be great to punish them first but I overlooked an important part,"

Y/N kept her mouth shut and looked at her father. Somehow, Her emotions had stirred up from her father's response. She knew that her father loved her the most out of her brothers. He would remember every word she had said and did not dare to break any promises. Sadly, although she had been feeling generous, today has been a tiring day for her and all she wanted is a good night's rest.

"Just let them free for my sake. I couldn't hear them screaming any longer! Do you know how much their screams had disturbed me from my sleep?! This is a simple agreement and somehow you can't even remember my words. I'm so disappointed in you," Y/N spat in tiredness. As soon as she said that, she quickly turned her back and jumped to her room which is located on the outer side of the fortress.

Silva hid his rage and waved to her daughter's back. "I hope you'll have a nice dream, my sweet Y/N"

Soon after Y/N left the room, the temperature dropped. The butlers shivered as the waited for another wave of electricity to shoot through their bodies, but nothing came. They glanced up at their boss, only to see him with an expressionless face.

Without another word, he allowed the ball of electricity growing on his hand to explode, killing the butlers in an instant. With his eyes full of tenderness, he took a deep breath of air.

"I'll make it up to you, my daughter..."

⁂✧⁂

Zeno sighed tirelessly as he observed his sons actions. "When will he stop with this obsessive behaviour? Those butlers did nothing except make sure Y/N was taken care of, and yet he still killed them? In all my years I've never seen Silva express such madness before."

Illumi sighed in helplessness to his grandfathers words, "Even I'm starting to get a bit bored now, As her beloved eldest brother I must make sure that she is on the path to success. Father doesn't need to get involved when she has me by her side at all times."

"You're right," Milluki replied in annoyance, "Though Y/N is next in line to head the family, seems like dad is a little too eager for her to stay by his side, am I right?" He grumbled as he shoved a handful of chips into his mouth.

The 3 of them shared looks of confusion as Silva finally got up to exit his room.

All they could do is wait.

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buckets-and-trees · 7 months

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Devour: ACID

Fandom: MCU Collection: Devour Title: ACID Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!Bucky x f!Chef!Reader Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: A month since SALT and three weeks since FAT, your situation with the mob boss who bought your restaurant is still evolving in unexpected ways - including an unexpected episode after work tonight.

Content Warnings: explicit smut, oral: female receiving, analingus: female receiving, vaginal penetration/fucking, some light drinking, mob boss Bucky is kind of dom

Logistical Notes: I had planned for this to punch the ticket for week 10 of my Hot Bucky Summer 2023 collection for the prompt "Long day at work?" and so this is late for the @buckybarnesevents event itself, but I'm a completionist and am marking it off on my personal list for my own satisfaction. Also ticking off the U3: "Kink: Concubine" square of my Bucky Barnes Bingo, Round Five card for @buckybarnesbingo.

Additional Notes: @mlibbydp and @goldylions were so benevolent in doing some beta work on this so HUGE AMOUNTS OF LOVE TO THEM for what they both contributed to the piece and to me personally. This chapter is much longer than the previous two and just as part two evolved their relationship, part three makes some more significant moves and ... I needed the notes on making sure this still felt like Devour. Also... @biteofcherry you might see something interesting in here that's definitely included because of a throwaway comment you made earlier this summer.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

When you walked out into the garage, there was a black luxury SUV idling near the exit with Sam Wilson leaned up against it. Seeing you, he slipped his phone into his pocket and pushed off the side of the vehicle.

“Hey, Chef,” he greeted you with a grin.

“Really?” you sighed. “Now?”

He shrugged. “Please?”

“And is that you asking nicely, or him?”

“You know I just do what he says.”

You huffed. “You don’t always do what he says, but he knows you’re the most charming one and I wouldn’t refuse you.”

Sam laughed as he opened the door to the backseat. “Don’t let the charm fool you, honey, if you said no, I’d throw you in the back regardless, it would just be less fun for you.”

You knew that, too, which is why you simply got in without a fuss. Bucky, Sam, the rest of his men? They were all mobsters running mob business, dangerous beneath the surface.

As the door closed behind you, you looked to the front to see who was driving, then clucked your tongue. “He sent both of you?”

Steve smirked. “Buckle up. And of course he sent us. You don’t think he trusts just anyone with his girl, do you?”

Oh. You bit your bottom lip and looked away and out the window, a small warmth stirring in your belly. As inconveniently annoying as this ordeal seemed to you in this moment, there was that piece. Being his. You were starting to feel it.

You had told Bucky that second night in the restaurant that you needed more than gifts and sex.

He had taken your word seriously.

There had been walks in the park, an auction, brunch on his yacht, a gallery opening, a rooftop wine tasting, even a dinner party at Sam’s place where he ended up proposing to his girl. You had enjoyed all of them, but except for the night at Sam’s, the time with Bucky had been last minute – sometimes there was a text, but most times it was him showing up or – like tonight – someone sent to fetch you without notice. He seemed all too aware of your schedule, so none of these instances were logistically inconvenient, but with it happening once more again tonight, you couldn’t help but notice this pattern of behavior was clearly becoming a habit – being summoned. In general, you didn’t mind, you saw that he was demonstrating that he wanted to spend time with you, but if you were his girl, you didn’t want to be treated like one of the droves of people who were at his beck and call and certainly not like a concubine kept solely for his whims.

The SUV slowed and pulled up to the curb of an incredibly unremarkable building that spoke to money for how unremarkable it was – the kind of money that demanded magnificence but privacy. You’d never stepped in a place of residence quite like this before – you hadn’t even stepped out of the car yet, but even in the darkness you already knew.

Both men slipped out of the front seat. Sam opened your door and offered his hand to pull you to the sidewalk. “No frowns needed tonight,” he said.

“Says you.” You didn’t realize you were frowning.

Sam grinned, then headed around to take the driver’s seat just as Steve appeared at your side.

“I’ll walk you up,” Steve gestured for you to enter the building with him.

“This is his place?”

“One of them,” Steve responded.

You took a deep breath and followed him in.

Sharp looking doormen, green marble floors, golden elevators.

Chatting with Steve was always easy, and it was no different on the fifteen-floor ride up to the penthouse at the top of the building. However, you did feel a touch of nerves as this was your first time at Bucky’s place. You weren’t quite sure what to expect but were keen to learn more about this enigma of a man by seeing where he lived.

And there he was, ready to meet you as the doors of the elevator opened, hands in his pockets, tired smile on his face, but his blue eyes dancing with excitement, and that stirred the storm of butterflies immediately in your stomach. He reached out a hand to pull you into him.

“Thanks, Steve,” he said, though he didn’t take his eyes off you.

“Sure thing, Buck.”

Once the elevator closed, Bucky brushed his fingers over your cheek, cradled your head in his hand to tilt your jaw up, and then his lips were on yours, your back pressed up against the wall. Within moments you were breathless.

In the intervening weeks since seeing him at the restaurant he’d also kept his physical contact minimal, only a few light touches, an arm around you when it seemed natural for the occasion, except for two lingering kisses. One of those instances was after a walk in the park when he’d kissed you full on in the afternoon daylight, then deposited you into the car he’d arranged to take you directly to work, where his heated kiss had distracted you throughout your shift. The second was three nights ago, the last time you saw him, and that had been only a ghosting of his lips against your ear, along your jaw, and then a soft kiss pressed to your mouth before withdrawing and leaving you at your door, but it had gotten your whole body humming for him and haunted you as you went to sleep and in your dreams.

This, after so long, so much wanting, was like a wave crashing over you. You moaned softly, you let him pull you in, melting against him, and you nearly let him sweep you away, but then you pressed insistently against his chest.

“James.”

“Yes?” he did move back, but only enough to look into your face fully.

“What is this?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“So, you just summon me?”

You knew he didn’t miss the tenor of agitation in your tone because he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, and you could feel the smirk before he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the juncture at your shoulder. “I was hungry for you,” he said, completely undeterred. And as his lips moved solely along your throat, your core begged you to forget the conversation you were attempting to have.

“Why?” you barely managed to ask.

“You know why.”

“Do I?”

Bucky pulled back again, frowning this time, but you put your hand on his face to soften his reaction. “Steve and Sam said I’m your girl, but…”

“I told you you were mine. Surely over the past few weeks, you can’t doubt that.” His stare into your eyes was steady, straight.

You didn’t doubt him.

You did need to hear those words said just that way though. You didn’t know how much you had needed to hear them.

It gave you the surety to say what you needed to say to him. “I’m not just another girl. No more summoning me, Barnes. I’m not one of your people, I’m not your plaything.” With your hand now resting on his chest, you let your fingers brush soft strokes up and down over his heart. “If you want me, want all of me.”

He hadn’t interrupted your statement. He’d let you finish without argument. You could see the way his face changed, and the shift of the intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. He drew you in closer, encircling his arms around your waist. “Oh, I want everything, don’t doubt that.” He brushed his lips softly on your forehead. “I was only waiting for you to want this.”

Your chest tightened at those words, but the next moment you couldn’t think because then he kissed you again.

And that kiss, though brief, was thick with heat, and when he pulled back he said, “I see your point about the summoning. Just know that I was eager to have you around at any opportunity.”

You smiled because he smiled. “I can forgive you for that – I guess I can be a bit irresistible,” you teased. Somehow his confidence made you feel steady enough with him to be direct, to be flirtatious, to simply be around him.

He brought a hand to your cheek again. “I’ll mend my ways, but let’s be honest… a little bit of you likes it – the spontaneity of it.” His smile turned to a truly wolfish grin.

You sighed but rolled your eyes playfully. “Maybe a little.”

He stepped away, taking your hand. “Come. You can have a tour later.”

Rather than asking where you were going, you simply let him lead you through the grand apartment. You didn’t take in every detail, but it was big without being too big. Rich and luxurious without being cold or opulent. There were sleek lines, but also elements of warm and comfort folded into the power that was also clearly on display. But your focus was on the way he held your hand and led you through his domain. He had no question that you would follow.

Were you so easily his?

No.

Your mind wasn’t made up.

You weren’t all in, but you weren’t reeling to run away.

He stopped in front of a mahogany door and looked over his shoulder at you. You arched your brow.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

“Alright.” And you did.

He opened it, and you let him lead you inside, through a room, clearly walking you past some furniture. You heard the sound of a fire in a fireplace, then you heard another door opening, and he ushered you in front of him and through that door. “Take your time,” he said softly, lips against your ear. “I’ll be waiting.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, and then he was gone, shutting the door behind you.

You opened your eyes to the sight of a large jade green-tiled shower enclosed with glass and four gleaming gold showerheads. Turning around, you couldn’t help a soft giggle falling from your lips. The lavish bathroom was sheer perfection. Showering after your shifts at the restaurant was ritual for you. You toed off your shoes and began peeling off your clothes. Off to the side of the palatial shower, there was a gorgeous clawfoot tub, and next to that a plush navy settee with what looked like some silky things set out for you. After inspecting the knobs and heads of the shower, you got them running, adjusting them to the perfect water temperature easily, and stepped under the streams, a sigh falling immediately from your lips.

One of the shelves was stocked with some of the skin and haircare products you used, some you hadn’t but certainly knew the name and reputation of (but hadn’t indulged in for yourself), and the other shelf was stocked with men’s products. It reminded you of the significance of where you were – in his home – and the element of intimacy it evoked, being naked where he had been and would frequently be again. Where he likely would be naked with you. You bit your lip. You pulled down the bottle of his shower gel, popped the top open, and inhaled. You hated how much you already loved that smell.

No, you didn’t.

You inhaled deeply again, then set it back on the shelf.

After that, you set to reveling in the flow of the water over your body, and got to washing, unsure of the time, only focused on the smooth feel of the soap and textures over your skin, feeling more and more relaxed, and ultimately refreshed and clean.

Once you had shut off all four showerheads, you reached for towels more plush than any you had ever used in your life and dried yourself off before wrapping the large bath sheet around your torso. You padded over to the settee to discover a short black silk robe waiting for you.

And nothing else.

You shook your head but grinned. “Audacious bastard,” you whispered.

But you didn’t bother with anything else.

At the vanity there were more hair, face, and body care products and tools clearly stocked for you – again some familiar and some you’d only dreamed of, none of this really a shock given your experience with this man. You weren’t certain how long you’d taken in the shower, having lost track of time, but here you suddenly did find yourself trying to take more time, a small fluttering of nerves in your stomach, because though he'd had his way with you in the kitchen of the restaurant and discreetly pulled an orgasm from you at the table in the dining room, this would be different.

Tonight, your body would be his, no restrictions. There was no worry for privacy, no limited amount of time.

There were also emotions now.

You had set the terms – that you needed to be more than a body to him – and he’d met them, courting the rest of you these past weeks, and putting the physical on the back burner.

He had made his intentions for tonight expressly clear.

And you wanted him, too.

But you were still nervous.

When you put your hand on the doorknob, you closed your eyes for a moment, taking one deep breath to steady yourself. Then you stepped out and into the next room, which – to no surprise – was a grand and spacious bedroom. Bucky was sitting on a couch in front of the fireplace you’d heard earlier, but immediately set a book aside and stood when he heard you. You were happy – and feeling a little more heat in your core – to see he was out of his earlier clothes and down to only a pair of silk pajama bottoms.

“How was your shower?” he asked, standing up and beckoning you over.

“The shower was glorious. You’re a bit wicked to only leave me a robe, though, aren’t you?”

He placed a kiss to your forehead and motioned to get comfortable on the couch while he moved over to a small bar cart nearby to get you a drink. He shot a smug over his shoulder. “I plan to get lucky.”

You snorted. “You brought me here late at night, kissed me like you did earlier, sent me to shower, left me only a very slinky silk robe to wear, and then greet me again looking like this,” you gesture at him, “fixing me a drink, and you call that ‘planning to get lucky?’”

He shrugged, his smug grin only growing. “Do you think there’s any way in hell I’d be where I am if I hadn’t strategically hedged my bets? Absolutely I plan to get lucky. I make sure I don’t give luck any reason not to go my way.”

You didn’t need alcohol. He was beyond intoxicating. He had been from that first night.

“And I’m assuming I don’t get a choice of drink tonight, either?”

He looked at you again. “I let you choose a lot of things, but I want you to try this. I think you’ll like it.”

You bit your lip and tucked your legs up under you, draping an arm over the back of the couch and facing him as well as where he would return to sit once finished mixing your drinks. His back was to you now, and you were not surprised he seemed to want to keep his preparation a mystery at least for a few more moments.

“Long day at work?”

“Work?” You weren’t expecting such a normal inquiry about it.

“Yes,” he chuckled, “work, my beautiful, talented chef.”

He handed you a wine glass with clear liquids over ice, garnished with fresh mint and slices of lemon, while he had what looked to be a whiskey smash in his other hand. You took an experimental sip as he sat close to you, angling his body to face you, resting his arm over the back of the couch as well. The citrus and mint blended with something floral and…

You swished the contents of your drink in your glass before taking another sip. It was bright and refreshing and not quite the evening night cap you would have expected.

He watched your face, gaging your assessment as he sipped his own drink.

“What is this?” you asked.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes,” you countered, “but what is it, James?”

Your name on his lips ticked the corner up in a half smile. “It’s a Hugo cocktail.”

“It’s not a predictable choice for the middle of the night.”

“It wasn’t my intention to bring you hear and tuck you in straight away.”

You laughed. “There’s no question what your intentions were. We established that.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You’re not picking up on all my intentions.”

Your brow furrowed. Then you let out a little yip of surprise as he pulled you closer, you clutching your wine glass to keep from spilling the drink.

He had already positioned himself close to you, but this was even more intimate. You were nearly in his lap, and he did pull your legs up to drape across his thighs.

“Now tell me about your day.”

“Oh, you were serious.”

His hand settled on one of your bare thighs, just next to your knee.

“If I didn’t want all of you, I would’ve fucked you in the foyer and let you go home. I want this, too. Now talk.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but you smiled. This really was him – demanding but not inflexible, and certainly giving you more than you expected.

So, you did talk, just as you had been really starting to the more he had brought you around to spend the time with him these last weeks. However, there was no getting around that this was more intimate. No others around, no distractions, no functionality of a thing you were doing together, only the two of you.

His line of inquiry was genuine, and he listened intently.

Almost too intently.

You were his singular fixation, and you knew he was thinking of nothing but you as you spoke.

And his fingers brushed idly over your thigh as you conversed.

The soft, repetitive motion wasn’t distracting at first, but it wasn’t long before it was an overwhelming tease of what wasn’t happening.

The physical touch you hadn’t experienced at his hand in weeks.

He was asking questions about how some of the new members of your kitchen staff were integrating, and all you wanted him to do was glide that hand down between your thighs.

You sipped at your drink, and as you continued to talk, you let your other hand drift to rest on his arm still draped over the back of the couch, and your fingers traced along a vein on his forearm. Although it was difficult not to let your eyes drop to his bare chest, you kept his gaze. If he was going to continue talking like this proximity and the lack of clothing between you both wasn’t affecting him, you were determined to match him.

Finally, he moved his hand from your thigh, but it went straight to your waist to curl just above your hip. “Kiss me,” he said.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips hungrily to his without hesitation. He set his drink to the side, then grabbed yours to do the same. With both your hands free, neither of you wasted another moment. Your hands went to his neck while one of his hands traveled slowly up your spine, the other holding your face. As impatient as you were for him, both of you kissed to savor, but there was no rush to it. His lips moved against yours, your tongues explored together, tracing, memorizing, exploring. It wasn’t enough, the tenor moving from savoring to consuming, and you shifted, moving into his lap.

He broke off the kiss briefly, turning his head to the side, but his left hand remained firmly against your back, keeping you close, and you rested your forehead against his temple. His other hand reached to the side table, and he plucked one of the slices of lemon and some mint from your drink. Curious, you lifted your head away. He brought the mint leaf to your mouth first, pressing it along your bottom lip. Then he pinched the fruit against your lip. The mint played with the acid of the citrus deliciously as he kissed you again, this time each of you nipping and licking intermittently through the kisses. Your hands explored the broad planes of his chest now, and his hands raked up and down your sides, thumbs skimming over the side swells of your breasts.

Keen for more, you pressed your body closer to him, pushing your core directly against the hardness of his cock. Rocking your hips, you drew a debauched moan from him that made you swell with pride and made your pussy ache even more for him. You needed him, each moment driving that need exponentially now.

The thick arms and broad chest you were getting to explore freely for the first time held only some of the rippling muscles that made it seemingly easy to push up off the couch while still holding you close with one arm, and it made a broken whine escape the back of your throat. You wrapped your legs around his torso, and his other hand squeezed and held your ass against him as he moved you from the seating area across the room to the bed. He tossed you down on the mattress, then pushed the silky robe – which was naturally already askew – off your body and flung it away. You pushed yourself back a bit more on the bed, and he was only a half second behind crawling up after you.

He pushed your legs wide open, and dove immediately for your dripping cunt. You laughed, a little flushed, but also more than ready for him to bury his face between your thighs. You let your head fall back against the soft bedding, closing your eyes. Then you yelped as there was a sharp slap to your pussy instead of his lips on your folds. You jerked up to look at him, and the devilish grin on his face, the darkening of his eyes made your heart stutter.

“Don’t laugh, Chef, I told you I was hungry for you. Keep your eyes on me,” he said.

You took a deep breath, leaned back on your elbows, and gave him a solemn nod.

He pressed kisses slowly along your inner thigh, his deep blue eyes locked on yours. The fluttering in your stomach rose steadily, your pussy desperate for his attention. When he planted his lips in the crease of your thigh, he left his mouth there. A broken whimper leapt from your throat, and you pushed your hips up.

He pushed your hips back down with one of his large hands and moved his mouth the opposite direction and bit at the tender flesh of your inner thigh, making you yelp.

“Please,” you murmured.

“Eager for me?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation.

“Good.”

And then he worshiped your cunt, kissing it with as much fervor as he had kissed your mouth, and you moaned openly, no worries over anyone but him hearing you here. You didn’t look away, completely captivated because this was also a new level of intimacy that you felt both ready and unprepared for. Receiving oral sex from other partners had never felt so purposeful. This man in this moment was so avid in the way he was pleasing you, making you watch him, you brain was having a hard time recalling if sex with anyone before him had ever been so intense. You didn’t think it had – that first night when he’d demanded it from you in the kitchen, the next time he’d coaxed you into a few moments of pleasure in the dining room, and now inviting you here to have you without restraint – each encounter had been unlike anything before.

The pleasure was overwhelming as his lips and tongue licked, sucked, flicked your clit, delved into your folds, and he kept a keen eye on your every reaction. You began to feel lightheaded with the mounting waves of bliss, your toes curling, breaths coming in short gasps until your head fell back because you simply couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t do anything but feel, ready to fall over the edge because of him again.

But then he pulled his face away, jerking you back from that edge of ecstasy and you would have whined, but he was already manhandling your hips to flip you over. One of his rough palms smoothed slowly and firmly up your spine, applying delicious pressure, but you still felt the lack from the orgasm he’d dangled then withdrawn. “James,” you moaned. “James, please.”

He drew his palm slowly back down your spine. “You’ll have me, Chef, don’t doubt that.”

You whined again, but he pushed your thighs apart and slotted himself again between them, holding you splayed open for him with his broad shoulders. It was a little uncomfortable, stretching your legs, but you settled and breathed through it anticipating what was coming next.

His tongue teased at your clit for a moment, then slowly licked up and between your folds to dive into your cunt, lapping inside, and you shivered. But then one of his hands pushed at your ass cheek and his tongue continued moving up, and you gasped and tried to move away when the tip of his tongue teased your tight, puckered hole.

“Easy,” he said softly but firmly, his other hand moving beneath you and hooking at the juncture of your thigh to pull your hips back flush against him. He pressed a kiss to your round ass cheek.

“I’ve never,” you admitted enough, he knew what you meant. He kissed the same spot on your ass cheek, but then he shifted, and you felt him moving up over your back, his body pressing lightly against you until he was up at your shoulder. He pressed a kiss there, and then looked at you.

“Then I won’t give you more than my tongue tonight, but you know I’ll make you feel good, don’t you?”

You nodded.

He smiled, then left the ghost of a kiss to your temple and slipped back down behind you.

Resuming his exact same positioning, his left hand curling under to anchor at the juncture of your leg, his right pressing you open to expose your ass, you pressed your cheek into the pillow and took a deep breath. You reached your left hand down to meet his, and he twined his fingers reassuringly with yours as they sought him. Then his mouth pressed in, and his tongue darted out, swiping over the tight ring of muscle.

“Just relax and feel,” he instructed.

You concentrated on breathing and then the new sensation. Unexpected. Then a different kind of pressure, then pleasure. It wasn’t awful as had always been insinuated. It was debauched more than anything else, and he soon had you moaning and panting and wriggling back against his tongue which alternated between lapping at the hole and teasing in and out. It was when you pushed hard back against him that he pressed a kiss again there and pulled back.

“I know what you like.”

It wasn’t a brag; it was a statement of possession that sent a shiver through your body. Because he was right, and you couldn’t deny that.

“Now come here,” he said, pulling you by your hips up to kneel, presenting for him. “Such a pretty folds.” His fingers circled your clit, then slipped briefly inside your cunt, drawing a happy gasp from you.

He grabbed his thick member and brushed the tip up and down over your sensitive parts a few times as you pushed up on your elbows, your back arched in a beautiful bow for him. When you looked over your shoulder at him, he finally sunk his cock into you. His hips pushed forward against you slowly until he was completely buried inside you, filling you, pressing so intimately into you. Fully sheathed, he stayed there for a moment, and he ran his hands over your hips and your lower back, caressing, relishing in the fill. He pulled back slowly, but only a couple of inches, then pushed back in, clearly wanting to relish in this for a moment. You had no desire to rush him either.

When his hands gripped your hips, you dropped your forehead to rest your forearm on the mattress, and then he began to fuck you, building a steady rhythm. He built up bit by bit, and you both let words and sounds fall out of your mouths as the physical feelings increased in intensity. Having been so close twice, when he finally moved a hand to rub expert circles into your throbbing clit, your body quickly responded in releasing your orgasm, and your spasming walls pulled him right along with you, and he came with a shout over your moans, a stuttered thrust, and then he continued a few more pushes, his hot spend coating your walls.

He wrapped an arm around your stomach and pressed kisses into your back, and you curled up into him with a hum of contentment.

When he pulled out, he reached over to the bedside table to retrieve a waiting damp hand towel – you shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d prepared to this detail – and then cleaned you up and then him before tossing it away. He stroked your back once more, then scooped you to your side, and pulled your naked and spent body to him so he could spoon up against you. You put your arm over his, and he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“Stay?” he murmured simply into your ear.

This you didn’t answer immediately. You let your chest fill and empty with a few breaths, weighing your answer between your head and your heart. But neither of them fought to leave.

“Okay,” you finally breathed.

He settled in even closer, then reached for the sheets to pull up over the both of you. “I told you that first night that you would warm my bed.”

“Don’t be smug,” you protested.

“I’m not,” he insisted, and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, “I’m only pleased I’ve finally got you here.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #mob boss!bucky barnes x reader #mob au #bucky barnes x you #devour au #aspen wrote something #bbb2023 #buckybarnesbingo2023 #female reader

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verycharismaticdragon · 7 months

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Okay, I promised a writeup of Luo Binghe voter fraud meme, and as Luo Binghe is currently in the finals of the poll this happened on, I figure now's a good time.

So! It all started when Luo Binghe, our beloved half-demon child, was submitted to @/hybrid-battle tournament - or rather, as it was called at the time, @half-being-battle. He won his first poll easily enough, but round 2 was a close battle where he and his opponent, Shantae from eponymous game, took the lead from one another a few times.

In the last ~12 hours, Binghe was losing slightly after a popular blog rb'd the poll with a call to vote for Shantae. However, SVSSS fandom caught this in time and passed the poll around some more. The poll ended with Luo Binghe winning with 51% of votes - or, as simple calculation will reveal, 14 votes lead.

We breathed out a collective sigh of relief, but too soon - as half a day later, someone sent this ask:

(x)

Initially the pollrunner wasn't intending to do anything about it, but then someone suggested a teamup option, and the poll for the option was made (x). It was rb'd by some SVSSS fans with the general sentiment of 'free our boy he did nothing wrong', but didn't gain real traction until:

@gaywarcriminals reblogged it with a small rant in Binghe's defense

@piosplayhouse rb'd said rant with addition of the image from vol.3 cover, of Shen Qingqiu holding Luo Binghe's hand, edited to look like SQQ is the one saying the text above.

This version of the post was circulated in fandom overnight, leading to 'Luo Binghe moves on alone' option winning by a large margin - and, ofc, to the birth of "Luo Binghe voter fraud" meme.

Though aside from this particular post being funny, there was another factor contributing to the meme catching on: how damn in-character it all was. The following sentiments were all repeated more than once in the post's notes:

Luo Binghe getting accused of crimes he didn't commit? Omg just like in canon!

Shen Yuan would absolutely buy bots to get his most beloved blorbo to win an internet poll.

It's just Luo Binghe's protagonist halo!

All of which made the situation fucking hilarious.

Then, the next day, tumblr user verycharismaticdragon (whoever they might be 😉) made some fanart about it, which possibly aided the spread of the meme too.

Also, SVSSS fandom surprised the mod with our chillness 😅

(x)

Since then, Binghe has been going strong in that poll - and now, he's in the finals! So make sure to vote for him; as we all know now, the real voter fraud is the friends we made along the way. And I do recommend checking Luo Binghe's tag on the poll for some fun propaganda we've been making, including a family tree by Pio and some more art by yours truly <3

But wait! There was also another layer to the voter fraud iceberg. The tl;dr:

At about the same time Luo Binghe vs Shantae ended, Hua Cheng was losing in round 1 of @/the-ghost-bracket, with something like 39% of votes to his name. In a desperate move, I linked his poll under my bingqiu voter fraud art, which gave him a boost to get close to a tie, but didnt flip the poll. The next day, I was explaining the LBH voter fraud meme to my friends, and mentioned Hua Cheng's poll too - which was when inspiration struck me, resulting in...

this post. [ID: art of Xie Lian with a wooden board which reads "Puqi shrine accepting donations in the form of votes for Hua Cheng in the ghost bracket", captioned "please help dianxia, he doesn't have the money for voter fraud"] Which gave the poll enough visibility for Hua Cheng to win with over 62% of votes in the end. (The link in the post is currently changed to round 2 poll, which HC was also initially losing. Srsly besties we gotta follow the tourneys to get our babygirls to win!)

So: LBH voter fraud meme had even helped little bro Huahua out.

And thats about it! Since then, the scum villain fandom has been joking about voter fraud on all of our polls 😂

(Aaaand the last reminder to vote Bingbing in the finals. His opponent has been gaining lately and I think we shouldn't leave it to the protagonist halo this time.)

#if i missed some important Moment lmk #luo binghe #svsss #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain's self-saving system

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zepskies · 5 months

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Why We Love the Boys

As promised, here is my review of Supes Ain’t Always Heroes. I actually used to write book reviews in my high school journalism days, so here we go!

What this book is: A masterful deep dive. A study on character psychology, the source of the comic and show’s inspiration, and the narrative themes illustrated in The Boys that parallel American culture and our real lives.

It includes interviews from one of the comic’s creators, Darick Robertson, The Krip himself (Eric Kripke), and actors Jim Beaver (Robert Singer), Aya Cash (Stormfront), Chace Crawford (The Deep), Jessie T. Usher (A-Train), Nathan Mitchell (Black Noir), and of course, Jensen Ackles (Soldier Boy).

It also includes a small but significant ode to the creativity of fans and fandom (with a mention of fanfic writers)!

I’ll admit, I felt seen. 😊

Who wrote it: Psychologists Lynn S. Zubernis and Matthew Snyder. Zubernis is a self-proclaimed fangirl of not only this show, but Supernatural and Eric Kripke in general. (That aspect definitely comes through in her writing.)

She is also editor of Family Don’t End with Blood: Cast and Fans on How Supernatural Changes Lives and There’ll Be Peace When you Are Done: Actors and Fans Celebrate the Legacy of Supernatural. Both of which I now want to read.

Several other authors also contributed to this book, as their expertise and backgrounds lend to the subjects they’re covering, such as racism, sexism, the entertainment industry, the comic’s inception, and more.

Who wants to read this book: Anyone who enjoys learning about what makes characters tick. What drives their choices, their sense of morality and justice, and their trauma and strife that lead them to do heinous things. This book will help you better understand your favorite characters (and how to write about them).

Perhaps most importantly, this book is for anyone who wants to read it put into words, why many of us love The Boys, as well as Supernatural.

In a way, the latter is more escapism entertainment than The Boys. Because in this show, there isn’t much, if any escape.

Despite this being a “superhero show,” as we all know, it’s so much more than that. It’s a mirror held directly into our own faces: about why we enjoy heroes and antiheroes, and excuse the “bad behavior” of the ones we like.

About mental health, grief and loss, nature and nurture, coping mechanisms and the importance of choice in dealing with trauma; of racism, sexism, misogyny, weaponized social media, politics, corporate greed, and the power (and cruelty) of good marketing.

This book explores the true villain of the story (and it ain’t Homelander).

I’m going to get into my favorite aspects of this book—as well as an amazing chapter on Soldier Boy’s character study (and why we love him, perhaps too much).

Though in my opinion, it was missing one small, but key thing…

The Mirror of The Boys on Screen

This world is a gritty, bloody, and at times all-too realistic take on how superheroes would be if they lived in our world.

They are the worst of celebrities, professional athletes, and politicians all rolled into one. They are the shiny products of a company and are marketed as such. And they often buy into their own hype.

Some of my favorite quotes on this topic:

“The Boys often reflects darkness in our real world that is uncomfortable to watch. While we go through the tedium of our daily lives, trying to get by and using television or comics as an escape, it can feel difficult and overwhelming to confront the very real and insidious sources of authoritarianism, nationalism, and corporatism that are not just part of a story. “This show holds up a mirror and forces us to catch a glimpse of things we need to question, and asks us why we so easily believe the talking points of systems with marketing departments and press flacks behind them that carefully massage every word in order to get us to feel enamored with their product or policy.” (p. 227-228)

“The Boys works to reveal the nonaltruistic, sociopathic nature of contemporary US corporate culture. In a sense, The Boys uses the behavior of its characters to diagnose not an individual, but a culture.” (255)

In studying narrative I’ve learned that the best fiction and art serve to reflect the human experience. In this case, it’s something The Boys does expertly, even though it’s packaged in extreme, shocking, and often uncomfortable ways. But also in brutal, hilarious satire that’s fun to watch.

It “exposes real-world abuses, revealing many” of our own frustrations in American culture and in life in general (267).

Major Themes & Questions Explored

Several Boys themes are explored from a psychological, cultural, and narrative point of view, as I mentioned earlier. These are some of my favorite segments:

Toxic Masculinity & Narcissism

A whopper in The Boys, and the main theme of season 3. This book defines clearly what both of these words actually mean from a psychological point of view.

It also takes the bad taste out of your mouth that you might get from just hearing the words “toxic masculinity,” as it’s a phrase that can be carelessly thrown around to describe men and character traits that aren’t truly toxic.

How being emotionally available to your loved ones and not repressive of your feelings doesn’t make you weak, or less of a man. And how “being strong” doesn’t mean being physically violent and domineering. (AKA: the Big Swinging Dick™️ in the room.)

Narcissism is explored in a very interesting way. The book gives a diagram of different aspects of narcissists and how each character (Soldier Boy, Homelander, Butcher, and the Deep) falls into them.

Soldier Boy, for example, is classified as a “Classic Narcissist,” while Homelander a “Malignant Narcissist.” <- This will play into SB’s character study, and the main difference between SB and Homelander.

Butcher, however, displays narcissistic tendencies but is not, in fact, a narcissist. (More of an antisocial sociopath. Yay for him.)

Misogyny & Sexism

The classic superhero world of comics dates back to the 1930s and ‘40s. It has been, and in many respects still is a (White) male-dominated industry, where in narrative, female superheroes typically work under a male leading the team, as in Justice League, Teen Titans, and the Avengers.

As much as I love DC and Marvel comics, female characters have also been drawn wildly sexual for male readers and the male gaze, and non-supe characters have been written primarily as love interests and damsels for the hero to save. (Think Lois Lane, Lana Lang, and Mary Jane.)

Modern adaptions have given female characters more agency, but their foundations were rooted in underlying sexism and the mythic hero—an Odysseus-type with certain characteristics of male strength and heroism. And that goes all the way back to classic literature, like The Odyssey, Beowulf, and the Epic of Gilgamesh.

In The Boys, the female supes go through the same issues as their comic counterparts. And they are treated how women are treated in the real world—marketable as sexual objects. (Starlight’s forced costume change is a prime example.)

Author Danielle Turchiano argues in the book that the women in power at Vought (Madelyn Stillwell, later Ashley) are given only so much power as men like Stan Edgar and Homelander give to them.

Stillwell, Ashley, and even Stormfront “drink the Kool Aid” of the misogynistic infrastructure of Vought, but they’re not truly “powerful” in and of themselves. (112)

And I would add that the only female characters that have or find true agency are Grace Mallory, Annie January/Starlight, and Maggie Shaw/Queen Maeve. Even Victoria Neuman is trying to work the political schematic and Vought by operating “within the system” Vought has created.

Mental Health, Trauma & Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

This is a huge section, and rightly so. It kind of spans throughout the book, really, because all of these characters have traumas that inform who they are as adults making the (often grotesque) choices they make.

For many of these characters, it stems from their upbringing and fraught relationships with their parents, whether explicitly or implicitly explored in the show.

Butcher: Is an antisocial sociopath with narcissistic tendencies. Arrogant, emotionally manipulative, violent, and obsessive. He was also physically and emotionally abused by his father, led to use drinking and violence as a means to cope and express himself. His rage is so deep under his skin—he loathes himself for it (and his father), but struggles immensely to escape it.

Homelander: A malignant narcissist, the height of arrogance, and emotionally manipulative. He lacks empathy for others' pain, and in fact enjoys inflicting it. Yet he was a sensitive, gentle child who only wanted connection and love. Vogelbaum raised him like a lab rat and fostered him in a cold, detached cell. He was raised to be entitled and to believe he was an all-powerful god, the lord of his own kingdom within his mind, excused from the responsibility of his actions.

Soldier Boy: Also a narcissist; violent, arrogant, misogynistic, and often indifferent to the damage he causes, emotional or physical. Yet he was also emotionally abused by his father, who set impossible standards for what it meant to be a man. It drives Ben to try and prove his worth to his father, though he’s never able to. It fosters the lack of self-worth he feels as he seeks validation through fame and what he believes power to be.

These three characters have many similarities, but also notable differences that set them apart from one another. And both Butcher and Soldier Boy use substances like drugs and alcohol to cope with their traumas—ones that their forced stoicism and sense of manhood won’t allow them to easily express.

“We see Soldier Boy use substances almost continuously in season three to deal with his PTSD from the childhood emotional abuse he received from his father, the betrayal and assault from his team, and the torture he endured from the Russian scientists.

“In the short term, the use of drugs and alcohol to avoid thoughts and feelings about traumatic experiences can be felt as helpful, but in the long term, it hinders one’s ability to process emotions and can cause a deeper depression from the guilt and shame of both avoidance and substance abuse.” (27)

Heroes, Antiheroes & Villains

This book explores two key questions that the show encourages you to think about:

Who the hell is the hero of this story?

And who is the villain?

The surface-level answer is that Homelander and other supes like him are the villains, and Butcher and his band of bros are the heroes (or antiheroes). But they commit just as questionable, sketchy, and downright murderous acts as the supes they’re trying to take down.

“Butcher is not really a good guy. He’s manipulative and self-centered. His reasons for wanting to take down Homelander are utterly personal. That it serves the greater good is almost a coincidence.” (9)

And if Butcher is not a hero, but a vengeful vigilante, then why do we root for him so much?

Well, we see his incredible flaws. But I sympathize with his struggle in losing his wife and the life he could've continued to have with her. I root for the underdog going against the hydra head of Vought and the psychopathic Homelander.

And I see in Butcher, as I also do with Homelander and Soldier Boy, their traumas and their internal conflicts, their deep-rooted self-loathing, and a desire, deep, deep down…to be loved.

(And to foster connection with others, even if they’re unable to sustain them.)

On the flipside, we have antagonists in this show who do truly heinous things. What makes them compelling and even sympathetic, yet again, are their painful upbringings that have shaped them to be who they are. The supes of this show are byproducts of being treated like products.

Like the saying goes: Villains aren’t born, they’re made.

That’s why the real villain of this story is Vought International. It’s an allegory, and an indictment of the ruthless corporate greed that pervades American culture—and much of the world.

It’s why Stan Edgar is sometimes scarier to me than even Homelander (and was the true villain of my story, Break Me Down), if far more insidious.

Speaking of BMD, let’s get to it, shall we?

Here’s a (lot) bit about the Soldier Boy section of the book.

Soldier Boy: Why We Can’t Hate Him

I had to laugh out loud at the title of Soldier Boy’s chapter:

Loving the Villain: The Confusing Case of Soldier Boy

I’m not gonna lie. I felt called out. 😂

It is a confusing dichotomy. Soldier Boy is an absolute asshole. Misogynistic, narcissistic, arrogant, callous, violent…

But also deeply traumatized, a man-out-of-time, emotionally abused, byproduct of the historically and culturally different time he was raised in, a man who just doesn’t get it…

And also charming, adorably grumpy, and undoubtedly attractive.

It’s hard to indict “Ben” as an unredeemable villain in the same way I do Homelander, the psychologist-labelled Malignant Narcissist.

Therein lies the main difference between Soldier Boy and Homelander: Soldier Boy doesn’t take joy in harming others the way Homelander does. But he still harms people, whether he means to or not.

Zubernis confirms many of my own conclusions and ideas about Soldier Boy, and why I still rooted for him to be better, and didn’t want him to die at the end of season 3.

As Zubernis rightly exclaimed during her own watch of the finale: “Noooo, don’t kill the Danger Grandpa Baby Murder Kitten!” (175)

Because Jensen did what he does best in his roles: He made us feel Ben’s pain.

“What’s funny is, in regard to Jensen playing Soldier Boy, you know he’s fucking fantastic, he’s just so good at bringing the audience, and it’s almost like—what I laugh about is, he was probably a little too good at his job!” Kripke said. (180)

And he continues, “In part it’s because of the fandom. So many people took his side in the finale, they’re like, Were’s on his side, fuck everyone! And you’re like, but he’s the bad guy and he’s trying to kill a ten-year-old.”

Were there fans who held this viewpoint? I’m sure. There are some radicals who don’t give a fuck and will side with their favorite character, come whatever. But while I can’t speak for others, that’s not how I interpreted that moment in the season 3 finale.

Yes, I think Soldier Boy was (wrongfully) willing to fight Ryan. Do I think he would’ve killed him? I’m not sure. I think he would’ve done what he had to do to get Ryan out of his way in his fight with Homelander. Maybe he would’ve been more violent than he intended, in the callous collateral damage he’d shown throughout the season, or maybe he would’ve gone that far, if provoked.

It’s a tough call, as I think this character can go one way or the other in terms of his “villain” nature. We just haven’t seen enough of him in the series yet for me to make that conclusion on the canon-version of Soldier Boy. (In fanfic, I’ve explored my own interpretation.)

But overall, I think The Krip once again underestimated the power of Jensen’s acting.

…And the ardent nature of his mostly female fanbase. 😂

Why We Love Soldier Boy

The author cites multiple reasons for why we love Ben more than we probably should:

It’s Jensen Ackles. Fair enough. His talent speaks for itself.

Soldier Boy’s backstory: He was emotionally abused by his father and as a result, he has a complex regarding his self-worth, “something to prove,” and a secret need for attention, validation, and praise.

He has trauma and PTSD: He is displaced from what is familiar to him and confused when the boys find him, and that is the least of it. He’s been tortured for 40 years. Can you even conceive of that?

He’s charming: in a sexy grandpa, adorably grumpy, lovable asshole kind of way.

We’re drawn to danger: dangerous “edgy” types are fun, especially when you’re physically attracted to the character.

He has his moments of vulnerability: Jensen’s ability to play the nuance in the character is the ultimate draw. I felt his pain, could see his torture, and his resulting PTSD. He longs for a family, even if his ability to bring up those children is questionable at best. 😅

But I think the one aspect the author doesn’t consider is the character’s capacity for change.

Soldier Boy’s Potential

Again, I don’t think you can write off Soldier Boy’s potential for positive character development the same way you can Homelander, or even Butcher.

For one thing, we just haven’t spent enough time with the character. A lot of his collateral damage after he escapes imprisonment has been accidental, or PTSD-induced. Though we can’t discount how he murdered M.M.’s grandfather via collateral damage (and was callous about it).

I think this is what drew me to write about Soldier Boy. “For all his arrogance, his chauvinism, his massive ego and general bastardry, there’s still humanity in Ben.”

In the book, Nathan Mitchell also says something amazing about his own character (Black Noir) that resonated with me about Soldier Boy as well:

"One of the ingredients of a compelling character is contradiction. How does one aspect of our personality contradict with one another? [...] Who is he underneath? How might his true nature contrast with the demands of his job?"

Or coded for Soldier Boy/Ben: The pressures he puts on himself to be the type of man he thought his father wanted him to be.

Again, his sexist, misogynistic ideals are shaped by the time he was raised in, by being a product of Vought, and of his father’s emotionally abusive upbringing. Does this excuse or justify all of his behavior? Of course not.

But I think those 40 years in captivity changed him from the careless alpha dog we saw in 1984 Nicaragua…

He admits to Crimson Countess, with tears in his eyes, that he’d loved her. That he waited for her and his team—arguably the only social system he has in his life—to save him. He’s gutted to realize that not only did she and the rest of the team never love him, they hated him. They traded him for nothing. Just to get him out of their lives.

For all he claims to be afraid of nothing, tough as shit, he is afraid when he goes to face Mindstorm. He knows what the supe is capable of, and he visibly takes a shaky breath and tries to steel himself.

For a moment, he drops the “Soldier Boy” persona that he wears like a fine tailored suit. And he tells Butcher that the backstory Vought created for him was a lie; he grew up a rich kid who got sent to boarding school, but flunked out, because "he was a fuck up." And his father couldn’t be bothered to discipline him, implying he didn’t care enough about his own son to even lay a hand on him.

He is reluctant to kill Homelander when he finds out he’s Ben’s son (sort of). He even claims that he would’ve been willing to share the spotlight “with his own son.” — Something I doubt even Homelander would do.

Ben even seems to be fighting tears when he levies the same vitriol at Homelander that his own father did at him:

Homelander: “Weak? I’m you.”

Soldier Boy: “I know. You’re a fucking disappointment.”

Let me be clear. I don’t think it’s up to someone to change him (like a love interest). I don’t subscribe to that thinking, that a woman can “change” a man.

For example: In season 2, Butcher tells Becca, “Who was I before you? Nothing.”

And yet, she tells him that he put her on an unrealistic and unsustainable pedestal, in which she felt like she wasn’t allowed to fully be herself, unable to keep him from flying off the handle in rage. That kind of relationship (where one is dependent on the other to “keep them in check”) doesn’t work as a lasting, satisfying redemption arc, and it doesn’t work in real life either.

I do think, however, that a person is capable of change if they’re broken down enough (pun intended), and if they themselves have a desire to change. Someone they encounter can inspire them to be better, like Butcher with Hughie. That person can help support the other.

At the end of the day, however, it’s Ben that has to want to change.

If he wants love and connection, he’ll have to somehow want it, and try (and sometimes fail) to get it, thereby giving him agency and a redemptive character arc.

Now, obviously, it’s up to The Krip where Ben goes from here. He seems to have a more indicting vision of the character than I do (at least, so far). But we’ll see! The fan demand to bring back the character has already had Kripke confirming that Soldier Boy will be back.

Maybe it will encourage him to give the character a more satisfying ending than Dean Winchester got in Supernatural. Though granted, that one wasn’t his doing, apparently he was in favor of the ending the writers came up with.

Comparing Dean & Ben

In his interview segment, Jensen talks about what, if any, are the comparisons between Dean Winchester and Soldier Boy. AKA: Wanting a father’s approval, and an undercurrent of “John Wayne”-esque masculinity in John Winchester that Dean sought to emulate.

Jensen also talks about where he drew from to not only embody the character of Soldier Boy, but bring nuance to him—and show the peeks of vulnerability under the bravado and stoicism.

“He’s so fragile and his ego is fragile. Just like Homelander. These bigger-than-life powerful heroes really have a glass jaw… “And everyone walks on eggshells around him [Soldier Boy], and they tell him that they love him, and it’s the same with Homelander. Then when all of a sudden he faces his old team and Crimson Countess says we never loved you, we hated you—that’s a gut punch for him. Because even though on some level he may have known that, he never thought he would hear it. “And he probably propped himself up around trying to believe otherwise, because how can you walk around knowing everyone you’ve ever cared about hates you? It’s too painful.” (191)

It really is. And I inherently felt this about Soldier Boy/Ben when I watched season 3 for the first time. That’s exactly what I got from his performance and thought, there’s more to this guy than the toxic masculinity he represents.

This guy just wants to be loved, like everyone else. He wants to feel important, and even after his father’s dead, “show him” that Ben is the man his father wanted him to be. And so, he bought into the illusion Vought painstakingly crafted for him.

Whether he can come back from that remains to be seen. But I choose to be optimistic until evidence points to the contrary. 😅 (We’ll see in season 4!)

So that’s my personal take on Soldier Boy and this awesome book. 💚 Thank you again @kaleldobrev for recommending it to me! I hope you all enjoyed my long-winded review and want to check this out.

And if you do read it, I hope to read your thoughts as well!

Tagging people who said they wanted to read my review on this book: @venus-haze @jessjad @kristophalis @sl33pylilbunny

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wishingmyhairred · 1 year

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Loockwood Fandom: PLAN OF ATTACK!!!

I have been a part of 2 major campaigns to save my favorite shows plus contribute to some minor ones. It took years for us to save the shows which was only possible because they were animated. Everything we are doing now was also done back then. But Lockwood is live action with aging actors/actresses; it has to be save sooner. We won our battle back then but this one will be harder. However, we have one golden opportunity that other campaigns did not have.

Let me lay the field down for you. If you google Netflix cancellations you will see dozen of articles written over the years and you would basically be reading the same article over and over: Despite high viewership and reviews Netflix cancels another show, does not advertise/promote enough, does not want to pay residuals for shows past 3rd seasons, Fans/subscribers not happy, and criticism about Netflix playbook and questioning it’s wisdom. Not to mention that Damn quote “we have never cancelled a successful series”. You can also find articles of Fandoms efforts trying to save the show just like us. But it’s become the Same article over and over. We need something new to be reported on.

You know what is also being reported? The WGA strike. With the strike going in to it’s 3rd week most of the basic reporting is done and now it’s just repeat of picket lines. But we can change the narrative. We can give the news something new and different to report on.

There is a WGA strike fund you can donate to support the strikers but more importantly you can tribute your donation to someone. Someone named Lockwood & Co.

It doesn’t have to be a large donation. Let’s say we get 400 fans to donate $5 (+transaction fee) in tribute to Lockwood. That’s $2000 US and 400 tributes. Now let’s say those same fans do this 4 days in a row. That’s $8000 in funds plus 1600 tributes. This might gain attention by the WGA and strikers. They might feel compel to comment on it. They might want to say something about it as they stand protesting in front of Netflix. And there’s your new Headline.

Entertainment blogs will report how the growing frustration of Netflix cancellations has now lead to donations to WGA. The movement will hopefully gain traction and more news will be written. Other fandoms might join in for revenge of their cancellations. If we are successful a news broadcast is done showing the picket line but also showing clips of the show. That will get the show attention it’s never been given before. Attention that will hopefully get it back on the Top Ten. That would be another headline and even more attention.

You can click here to make the donation. But don’t forget to Tribute to Lockwood & Co.

Edit to add the lowest donation you can make is $5.

Make any size donation you want (don’t forget the transaction fee). Make a one time small donation. Make a large donation. Make multiple small donations.

It would really help if other people can blast this idea on other social media platforms. Make Memes, videos, TikTocks, Instagram posts, etc.

A lot of people are hurt by Netflix cancellations but Netflix has never cared no matter how many angry letters, comments and posts are made. It's the same old song and dance. But now We actually have a chance to hurt Netflix back in a way it never has been. Let the cancellation of Lockwood & Co be the straw that broke the camels back. Lets be reckless enough.

#save lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co fandom #lockwood netflix #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #locklyle #just reckless enough

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vellichorom · 4 months

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ok this is the year we retire the old template & start using new ones hello

( & SO, this template credit to @ necromosss on twt! (( date edited slightly by me, in case you're confused )) )

WHAT a year, am I right?

2023 opened the door to a lot more experiences, events, fandoms, people, & all KINDS of hectic craziness for me, but it was REALLY fun, & while I don't think I really made HEFTY leaps & bounds in terms of doing something different with my art, every day - with every small change & improvement, I come to love my art all the more.

& that, I will contribute some to YOU! yes, YOU - reading this right now! to casual viewers, to those who have been with me since the premiere of this blog, to those who've come around in 2023 for one thing or another; to those of you of whom I've never spoken with, to those who have made me something or complemented my work, to those who've become my friends, my gratitude is IMMEASURABLE.

this last year, while its had its bumpier moments - I will confess, it's been truly incredible, & I thank you, every single one of you, who's had even the slightest hand to make it so. you are all TOO KIND, & I appreciate you sticking by & enjoying what I do.

hopefully, I can continue to make things that grab your attention, AWE & AMAZE YOU, & beyond anything, make you smile, if only to repay you some for all the joy you provide me.

HERE'S TO 2024! with hopes & prayers & wishes aplenty that we'll be better people in better situations before it's over!

2023: JAN / FEB / MAR / APR / MAY / JUN / JUL / AUG / SEP / OCT / NOV / DEC + BONUS PIECE.

#uwu art #& MY HAPPY ASS GOT AN ANIMATIC DONE FOR ONCE I MADE LAST YEAR'S RESOLUTION HAPPEN LET'S GOOOOO #I couldn't NOT include it no matter what #ALSO interestingly - this is the first year in which i've begun to transition to using sai paint almost entirely over ms paint #WHICH IS KIND OF A SHAME REALLY #i'm getting rusty at ms i don't wanna be rusty at ms #oughta do something with it again soon.... hmmmmmm...#ANYWAY god it was a lot of tsp this year ( to nobody's surprise )#& shoutout to wordgirl for always making it into my summary for the past. what- 3 years #TOUGH CHOICES FOR BEST CANDIDATES THIS YEAR THOUGH I WILL SAY #can you believe i hardly posted anything in july because i can't #i was SOOOO tempted to make the face of march just that one image that started the tsp salad thread #my magnum opus #but nooo.... no.... i'll save that for march

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circlejourneyart · 8 months

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Maybe it'll turn out better this time: A love letter to all the joy and sorrow that this story has given me

(Art by @blogofyolo)

Here's the first of two tracks I had on Land of Fans and Music 5 Act 2, which came out two days ago! I'm dedicating this one to @utopianparadoxist, who wrote the post that made this track appear in my mind in such blinding clarity I couldn't stop making until it was done.

I also have some extended commentary about this one--it's more important to me than I give it credit for.

When I finished reading Homestuck, I was...disappointed. That disappointment morphed gradually into disgust as I watched schisms violently open in the fandom following the Epilogues and Homestuck^2, and in the process I felt like I'd lost something.

I kept thinking that maybe, if I just read the comic again, it would turn out different. Maybe it'd be the story I'd once loved and it would fill me with breathless wonder again. Maybe it'd be better.

But earlier this year, a post by uP crossed my dash after he'd disappeared from my periphery for well over a year. He was outlining his plans surrounding Pumpkin Path, a story he's writing that runs adjacent to the Epilogues and (eventually though not yet?) gives these characters the futures they've earned.

And I realised...the way I'd been thinking about it, that's not how it works, y'know? It's not the story that has changed: it's my heart, my relationship with it. And the best thing I could do was take what this once-beloved story gave me and make something new with it. And that's what many people have done in the wake of Homestuck's end: we've all gone off and made new stories, for which this long-beloved comic was an undeniable progenitor.

It reminded me of a certain recurring motif in the comic itself. Every time the universe resulted in a corrupt or barren session, the players...well, they rebooted it. They left the old universe behind, and started a new one, billions of years all over again just to see where it would go this time.

There was no use in searching for the story that used to be, because it was me that had changed.

You may as well leave that old universe behind and start a new one from scratch.

This is the idea that seeded the above track, and it caught me off guard, because it was the first Homestuck music I had made in more than two years--after I thought I'd sworn it off for good. And then, two days later, Maybe it'll turn out better this time was done. (Two days is, by the way, a very short time for a track to emerge.) It was a small, silly, wonderful little thing, a sapling in the ashes, that proved to me that things could change.

But beyond my track, the entirety of LOFAM5A2 feels especially so. It's a startling breath of fresh air that emerged from so much genuine joy and excitement. I'm happy I got to contribute even just a little work to it and I really, really hope that the fandom sees it for all that went into it. An UMSPAF manager once said that my music always sounds hopeful, but it was never intentional until this one. Thank you to everyone who's made good art that has inspired others in turn, you create life with your own hands.

#homestuck #homestuck music #lofam #lofam 5 act 2 #my music #Bandcamp

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sisternightroad · 9 months

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I’m glad to announce the resurgence of the Trinity Blood theme day after four years of absence. For those who are new, in 2016 I've started a one-day annual event named “Never Forget” to celebrate Trinity Blood and its small but constant fandom. This feels a good year to bring it back. To bring good fortune the theme this year will be "Rebirth" and as per tradition is open to interpretation:

1. The process of being reincarnated or born again 2. A period of new life, growth, or activity; a revival

Every kind of content is welcome, aesthetics, analysis, music, fanart, fanfiction, gifs, graphics, colorings, edits, headcanons and anything else you can think of, it doesn’t matter how small or short.

I will be the planner and host, and I’ll reblog everything made for the event on my blog on the established day. Participation is free and open to everyone, there are no guidelines to contribute, but:

Tag your content as “tb never forget” so that me and others can find and share your content.

Make sure to submit your content to me if I haven’t reblogged it nor liked it in about 8 hours, a simple link is enough. If you have problems of any sort I am also available for an early submission as explained here.

Check my blog: I don’t expect you to follow me but remember to visit the “tb never forget” tag on my blog to make sure you didn't miss anything.

Welcome back to whoever is still here and welcome to those who have just arrived!

#trinity blood #trinity blood fandom #tb never forget

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sofya-fanfics · 5 months

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Plushies

Fandom : Fairy Tail

Relationship : Gray x Juvia

My Comfortember 2023 contribution for the prompt : Plushies.

I’m sorry for the mistakes, English is not my native language. I hope you like it.

Summary : It had only been a few days since Team Natsu left Magnolia and yet Gray missed Juvia. They spent so much time together that he felt like a part of him was missing when she was not there. He had never felt this for anyone.

Disclaimer : Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima.

@comfortember

AO3 / FF.NET

Gray took his backpack and he sat down on the bed. He opened the bag and rummaged inside. He could hear Natsu and Happy sleeping in the bed next to his. Team Natsu had been hired for a mission that was supposed to last several weeks. They had stopped at a hotel to spend the night. Lucy, Erza, Wendy and Carla shared a room, while he shared one with Natsu and Happy.

It had only been a few days since they left Magnolia and yet he missed Juvia. They spent so much time together that he felt like a part of him was missing when she was not there. He had never felt this for anyone.

He smiled when he found what he was looking for in his backpack. He looked towards Natsu and Happy and he saw that they were still fast asleep. He knew that if they ever woke up, they would not stop making fun of him.

He took a plush out of his bag. It was not very big and fit in the palm of his hand. Gray could not help laughing slightly when he thought back to when Juvia gave him the plush. It was the day before he left for the mission. He was packing his bag when Juvia came to see him.

“Juvia has a surprise for you.”

She handed him a bag and Gray took it. He could see the impatience in Juvia's eyes. He opened the bag and took out a plush. Gray opened his eyes wide, not expecting this kind of gift. It was a small plush bearing the image of Juvia.

“It’s a Juvia plush,” the water mage said with a huge smile. “That way, when you miss Juvia, you can hold her close. Juvia made it small so you can keep it with you at all times. And look.”

She took out of her bag a plush of the same size as the Juvia plush.

“Juvia has a Gray-sama plush. She will keep it with her all the time, until you come back. This way, the two plushies can also be reunited.”

Gray smiled tenderly. It was not the first time Juvia had this kind of attention for him. Even if at first her gifts embarrassed him, he was now touched by all her attentions. He took her hand, drew her to him and kissed her.

“It’s perfect,” he said, pulling away slightly.

Gray lay down on the bed, Juvia plush next to him. Even though he felt a little ridiculous, Juvia was right. In a way, she was with him. He ends up falling asleep, eager to return home and to sleep with Juvia in his arms.

The end

#comfortember #comfortember 2023 #fairy tail #gruvia #gray x juvia #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #gruvia fanfiction #fairy tail fanfiction #fanfiction #my writing

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ghuleh-recs · 6 months

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So many wonderful writers were born this week!! Happy B @mac-and-thefox! I have lovingly gathered some of my favorite mac fics in honor of her special day. She is a total ray of sunshine and you can always count on her to spread positivity and good vibes in the Ghost fandom on top of contributing some wonderful writing. Check these out if you haven't already and leave a comment!

recs under the cut.

Elixir of Life - Phantom x Rain

Phantom had been fascinated by Rain the moment he had stepped out of the summoning circle and set eyes on the water ghoul. Water ghouls were basically non-existant in his circle of Hell. The fact that Rain had elemental power over water, could just summon it and influence it at will, was something Phantom marveled at and still struggled to wrap his mind around. Rain, with his creamy skin, long graceful limbs, dark soft curls, and eyes so strikingly blue it made Phantom's heart ache to look into them. The young quint had longed to...just touch Rain, to twine their tails together and run his claws through Rain's hair. To run his thumbs over his soft, perfect skin. While Rain was perfectly friendly and had welcomed him with open arms into the pack, Phantom had simply been too shy and nervous to do anything about it.

Soft as Silk - Rain x Swiss

His eyes travel upwards, following his other hand as it snakes its way up his body, stopping to skate along the lace covering his chest, fingering the delicate flowers that perfectly match the color of the flush spreading across his cheeks and collarbones. Rain watches his hand travel up towards his neck. His fingers wrap around his throat and he moans as he squeezes his own throat lightly, still fingering himself under the slip with his other hand. His cock grows hard under his soft ministrations, kicking in his hand. He moans again, voice pitching up as he slides a finger tip along his gills, squeezing his own throat again. “Hey Rainbow, I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk with me—Oh…” Swiss stands there, mouth slightly open as he takes in the sight before him. Rain fidgets with the hem of the slip as Swiss slowly approaches him, dropping his coat on the ground and pulling his shirt over his head. Swiss stands behind Rain, settling his hands on his shoulders as he looks the Water ghoul up and down in the mirror. “What…is this?” Swiss asks, words falling slowly, haltingly, out of his mouth.

Lay Down Your Burdens - Dew x Mountain x Swiss

"What's on your mind, Dewbug?" "I'm....worried. About Mount." Swiss nods and hums in reply. He hadnt wanted to admit it, but he too had been noticing how rundown Mountain looked when he thought there was nobody around. As a Multi he too could feel the sluggishness of his earth element with the cold of the season approaching. He couldn't even imagine what Mountain must be feeling as a full earth ghoul. "We need to help him, we need to do something before he burns himself out." Dew swirls the coffee around in his mug as he considers how to word his thoughts. "He does so much for every one and never really rests, I'm worried he's going to hurt himself trying to be everything for everyone all the time." "We need to give him a chance to get away from the abbey and reconnect with his element. With no expectations of having to do anything for anyone." Swiss muses, his tail coming up to his folded hands as he rests his chin on the spade. Dew contemplates Swiss's words. "I think I have an idea."

Listen to the Bees - Mountain x Rain

"Hi Tadpole, I was wondering when you would make it out here to find me this morning," Mountain says contently, eyes still closed. His tail snakes out and wraps around Rain's ankle. "You knew I was coming?" Rain asks bemused, sitting down next to Mountain in the grass and softly stroking the spade of the tail wrapped around his ankle. "They told me you were looking for me, so I thought I'd gather up a few things to have a little breakfast in the field with you." He offers Rain a small container containing mixed berries and some granola with honey. "Mounty...who is 'they'?"

Strong for Somebody Else - Mountain x Dew, Aether x Dew

co-written by the amazing @autumnblooms Terzo is missing, and has been since the band returned from tour. After being dragged off stage at their last show, the ghouls have not seen or heard from their beloved Papa. Aether and Mountain have put in inquiry after inquiry with the Clergy, only to be turned away dismissively. Omega is beside himself. The ghouls are back at the Ministry, and the change can be felt with Terzo's absence. Yes, the man was arrogant, sometimes dangerously impulsive, but the abbey had been bright and full of music under his direction, being the hedonist that he was. Now, it is cold and dark. Siblings scurry along the corridors, heads down and shoulders hunched. The ghouls, where once recieved warmly, are now thrown fearful sideways glances, like the siblings know something that the pack doesn't. It is the transition from fall to winter, the ghoul's elemental powers are lulling, as they tend to wax and wane with the change of the seasons. Mountain, Dew, and Aether huddle together most days for protection and comfort, feeling the changes in their pack and the absence of their Papa. They have each other, they can keep each other safe. But the Winter Solstice is coming. The longest night.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

#hbd mac!!!#my fic recs #the band ghost fic recs #the band ghost fanfiction #dewdrop ghoul #phantom ghoul #rain ghoul #aether ghoul #mountain ghoul #swiss ghoul #nameless ghouls #nameless ghouls fic #fic rec!!#ghost fanfiction #spicy tag #birthday mixtape

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precious-little-scoundrel · 4 months

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Twenty Songs Challenge, written after being so lovingly inducted by the powerhouse that is sweet Mey, @the-ugly-swan . Challenge being to choose twenty favorited songs and write one shots based off of them with any pairing or fandom of my choosing. Being a weirdo and a little burned out in my own created universes beyond the fics already in works, I chose what currently inspired me most, obscure as it is.

Pairing: Henry “Hotspur” Percy and Lady “Kate” Mortimer Percy -early 15th century

Fandom: RPF, Shakespeare? Tom Glynn-Carney’s 5 magnificent minutes of a performance as Hotspur in <The King 2019> the armor alone was amply inspiring. The Hollow Crown fans feel free to imagine whoever, as you like. I love this historical pairing in about any iteration and the plot is drawn from both Shakespeare’s play and real history, the timeline, plot and politics being pretty self explanatory through the incorporated dialogue. NOTE- wordplay ahead with “cur” and “Kerr”, the latter being a Scottish clan holding great enmity with the Percy Family and charged with holding the Scottish side of the border. Also I kept Lady Percy’s name as “Kate” even though it was technically Elizabeth in the records.

Dynamic: a rough northern lord and his too good for him lady -a lady who has, through years of an arranged marriage gone horribly well, come to find his homespun gallantry and blunt ways more than a little intoxicating when knelt before her in amused deference. She could almost find it in herself to be gentle with him -if he hadn’t just started a rebellion whilst away from her at the Capitol.

Dedicated to my wifey @prompted-wordsmith who I did proselytize into the Percy cult one fevered evening with inestimable results, including her contribution of a few choice lines herein.

🕯As it Was ~ Hozier

“There is a roadway, muddy and foxgloved

Never I'd had life enough

My heart is screaming out

And in a few days I would be there, love

Whatever here that's left of me is yours just as it was”

Warnings: 18+ to be safe. a small amount of sexual content, flirtations, a husband and wife touching in public, verbal sparring and talk of making children and use of the word “bred”, swearing, use of the words “cock” and “cunt.”

The sound of hooves in the courtyard rouses Kate from her anxious stupor by the hearth, toilsome grain list forgotten on her lap. The scroll swishes to the floor at her abrupt standing, wafting out of her path as she rushes to the window.

First the clatter of a single, foremost, over-eager rider, followed at a lag by his retinue, skilled riders all and armored as befits the guard of a nobleman. They make such a clatter in the yard when they come in after him. Some petty part of her briefly considers the tactic of staying here in their chambers in protest, a quiet sign of disapproval with his errand, of discontent with his brusque leave taking two weeks agone.

Her Harry would find her anyway, and like it better that she were in their chambers. He would like it well she were so near the bed and like it ill she slighted him in her dutiful welcome -but he would not speak of that. Not one for speaking much, her husband, not on matters that plague her these days, weeks, months. Kate might have it out with him in the old way and slap him about and toss cold quips and get from him little more than the same benign aggravation and good humored laughs between, a couple dozen kisses to her neck and a grapple in the sheets.

That is what talk they would undertake were she to stay up here.

It is that lone, eager, forerunning clatter of his horse that speaks to her, speaks for him. Just as his sword and his reputation and his gruff graciousness has spoken well of him across these northern lands, his eagerness to return to her, to outstrip his men in haste to be back from his fool’s errand and into her embrace -it is all the declaration of devotion she may expect from him. It is the truest form, without jape lacing his tone or tonic of lust clouding his confessions.

Harry Hotspur, as fast to return to his wife as he is to meet a fight.

It is love, of the sort she has grown to be grateful for, and it is that and fear of losing it besides, that rushes her out from their chambers and down the polished steps, out to the great hall and past the giant outer doors, cursing a lousy servant or five and ordering a bath and commissioning supper and refreshments as she goes. The torch flames bend from her flight, a whoosh and a shadow stalking Alnwick Castle’s stone passageways until the gray light of evening pours into her sight from the opened great doors. Squires and stable boys clutter her path but they part as she dashes, nay, only a dignified hasten now, out into the courtyard where nearly all of this fool’s troup have dismounted.

There are doffed helms to the Lady Percy, the jangle of chain mail crinkling with bows and scraps of deference all around them, but she sees only him, with mist dripping on his nose and a face too boyish for the insolence he has returned from discharging.

“Kate.” he utters.

Will ever he say her name lazily? She hopes not, for that alone she will endure the unwarranted cheerfulness with which he greets her on this dire occasion. She has heard it said in anger, in jest and in passion, vows and quips, praise and warning. And now in cheerful pleasure as evening mist soaks her gown and the heavy clunk of her husband's footsteps clang ever near her on the paving stones.

“Lord husband.” she greets, hands folded over her freshly healed womb.

His stride falters and he rocks back on his spurred heels, an arms length away, an embrace so tangible she can see his jaw tick from the watering of his mouth. “Lord husband is it?” he repeats thoughtfully, eyes drifting down to the paving stones for a brief moment as if to recollect some forgotten crime, they flick up soon and in them is jesting scrutiny, “My lady wife rushed all this way, down five corridors and a furlong of Keep only to greet me thus?”

Did her rising breath betray her eagerness? Could he see her in the hall despite his business dismounting?

“Your cheeks are red.” he shows her mercy, some form of it. His form. “But -Lord husband, it is, nevertheless?”

“Unless you would prefer ought else?” she inquires, he had once thought this smile quite chilling, he had admitted after their first babe, now he finds it rousing, he has admitted after their third.

“If it please you.” his shifting stance is noisy, his tabard and sword and still clutched helm a racket of accouterments in the pattering rain.

“I have any number to offer,” she concedes, stepping nearer, a lady’s step, covering one third of the ground between them that he might vanquish in a single stride. Still, he waits. “Knucklehead.” she whispers, her breath a fog and her insult as lost as vapor in the ears of his watching men, her bearing alone must satisfy their curiosity, as must his growing smirk and rising color, “Jackenape.” Another step until each little scar on his face is visible and the little canyons each raindrop make of them. She saw his finger twitching where it grasped his visor “Cur.”

There was the slightest flinch between his brows at that, a furrow that smoothed as his mirthful lips flattened out. “Careful now, lady wife, with words like Kerr* thrown about, my men might think you presumptuous, their lady gone and married to some other, a Scottish laird at that. So sure of my death already, sweet Kate, that you must speak of Kerrs in mine own yard? Ha, ‘pon my word you are qu-“

“Hush!” Her hand, fresh warmed as it was by recent hearthside and rich velvets pressed frimly to his lips, a tingle shooting straight to her toes at touching him at last. He was silent then, only the puff of breath against her fast chilling fingertips. “Tease me not so,” she begged, her own mirth gone out in her eyes, her arch look turned to grief, “not when you are just returned from an errand all but ensuring such an end. It is too cruel, even of you. Handle me kindly, Percy, as you always have, in words this time, if not in embrace.”

He seemed to ponder this before raising that hand not occupied with his helm, clumsy and clad in gauntlet as it was, to her wrist, wrapping the chilled and layered steel round her pale flesh and gently tugging her hand from his lips, only so far as to press it to his cheek instead, their audience of men at arms unheeded. “I betook myself to London,” he enunciated, as if it were their first night all over again and his thick borderland drawl too strong for her courtly ears to decipher, “to remind a king of his debts.”

“And tell me!” she cried fiercely, a choked, barely quieted protest as her hands dug into the wet leather of his jerkin, wrist twisted from the steel grasp, “What errand is that but a fool’s? Have you no fear at all left in this bruised carcass? Do I patch up an animated corpse time and again from your wars only for it never to have soul and feeling and wisdom in it? Do I, Harry? Gone to remind a king? How do you dare such?”

“It is he who has dared too much!” he cried back, loudly where her’s had been choked, a ringing and rebauld defense, worthy of a man who would chastise his monarch in full view of council. “First his debts, and now my son’s land! We did not make children so as to watch like blithe cowards as their birthright is bequeathed out from under our feet -piecemeal!- to a courtly cunt whose only recommendation is his alacrity to pucker and bow.”

Kate glanced about her at the men making show of industry, piddling at harnesses and armaments, walking horses in circles. Her husband's words could be no worse than what he had said to the King’s own face, anyone without stomach to become a rebel would have stayed behind in the Capitol, sensing dissension brewing. Lady Percy could perceive none missing from his number. So, a war it was to be, then.

“So, a new generation of Percys is to play at kingmaking.” she summarized.

“We make no boast of it.” Harry protested in turn.

“No,” said she, “why would you with how poorly your last choice has served you?”

That caused a start from him, a step forward that was neither gallant nor eager but angry as man to man. Kate, still with hands fisted in the crooks of his armor, stepped with him, backwards to his hall. “It is your brother with the better claim.” he showed his plan at last, a slow and conniving admission, one not common for his brash ways and straightforward mind.

Kate gasped at the implication. “Edmund?”

“He was proper heir, all along.”

“Your father-“ she chose her wording carefully, “-did not agree.”

“My father’s preference is not law.”

“It is mistaken for such, often.” Kate smirked in reply. “And Edmund is not suited-“

“-Edmund is not the turd now stealing from his vassals!” her Harry rejoined, his helmet pressed to her chest, “Edmund will do.” he reiterated once more.

Kate stared at his temper, the signs of it in his flaring nose and his wild eyes, the cure was between her thighs but watching mist drops fall from unblinking lashes was sweet prelude indeed. “Edmund,” she replied quietly and in a manner to be heeded, “is not willing or suited, he prefers instead to listen to welsh bards and lay upon the lap of his savage wife.”

Her Harry rolled his eyes at her truth, an admission, or the closest to one, she would ever receive. As if battling some great inner turmoil she watched him purse his lips and heave out a sigh before in a sudden movement the helm was tossed to the ground -much to the scramble and reaction of a half a dozen squires who ran to pick it up from its puddle- and suddenly steel hands were upon her hips, tugging her near to him even as she shied away, her face turned in a pantomime of demureness. “Strange,” he said and his tone suggested he still pondered her report of her brother's amorous preoccupations, “-and her lap so less Devine than mine own wife’s.”

“Then why do you haste from it so often?” she whined, delivering a smack against his belted tabard, right where the lions paraded across his right breast.

“Only a man dying of thirst appreciates that water has a flavor.” he reasoned and Kate allowed the open mouthed kisses that crept down her neck, her face turned stubbornly still to the south wall. The blacksmith's roof will be in need of new thatching soon, before spring. Before war.

She feels stubble against her tender skin, bracketing those pretty lips she once derided him for. No warrior ought to have lips like that, it was not seemly, not when maidens were denied such richness, such fullness, such rosy hue. But there is roughness about his lips and on his jaw as it tucks into the juncture at her shoulder, that show of clavicle her dress allows drawing him in like a siren’s song. He must’ve rode hard the entire way, no inns or refreshment, no shaving or baths, straight to her as from a battlefield. The King’s city is just as loathsome as any field of carnage, but he went to free her brother, to get a ransom, to reclaim their stolen land, to remind a king.

He did it for her, and the babes she gave him.

Kate turns her face from the blacksmith's thatch and raises her hand to his face, tenderly stroking the three days' beard that's grown as he's been on the road, riding hard to get to her. They have backed nearly to the hall’s mouth, the drip of rain off the gutter patters behind her on the threshold, Kate knows he can smell supper and hear the clatter of their children racing to meet him on still chubby legs. How different is the love of home, man to woman, Harry would sooner fight for it and she would cower within. Her thumb swipes at the raindrops making farce of tears upon his cheek.

"Princess," he breathes against her palm as he crushes her into his chest, still half armored and agonized for it as he cannot feel her softness with the cuirass, the leather, the chainmail. There are curves and bosoms and soft flesh he knows too well just on the other side of this awful barrier.

Princess will be her title if his treason succeeds, if her brother wears that cursed crown. “Princess”. It sours her mouth, but it is kind of him to wish it for her.

"You will come back, Harry.” she commands of him, she declares the outcome of this brewing war, “Soaked in the blood of feckless scum, you will come back and put another babe in me. A little prince or princess," she hisses in his ear, and she can tell he freezes at that, her concession to his treason, still as stone in his metal casings.

His eyes are ever so blue as they search hers.

"So I forbid any recklessness, my Lord Husband. Because I want this - " and her hand slips beneath his jerkin and the hem of mail to squeeze his cockstand most assuredly, as assuredly as she was that he would be sporting one for her, gripping it as one might grasp a chalice of wine during a toast "- and the rest of you, in one piece." Harry slumps against her shoulder, panting into the chilled hair and too heavy for her little frame. "Or so help me God." she intones, sharper than any steel he wields. "Swear it, Harry." She gives him another punishing squeeze, and he groans, agonized, as his mouth meets with the softness of her bound bosom, his knees the hardness of the stone cobbles. If she hadn't promised a use for his cock, he'd think she was liable to geld him herself at his presumption to seat and unseat a king, but now that he is out of her grip, for a moment, and looks up at her with such longing he fears his soul has left his chest for hers.

"So help me God." he agrees, it is in providence’s hands, after all, and in Kate’s clasped one’s atop his head.

“Fool.” she says once more as she bends over him, gently pressing a hand to the back of his head, pressing his face to her belly and her chilled fingers to his sopping hair, “It is not my brother these men fight for, nor for me. Not when it is you that calls them to it.”

“For what then?” He mumbles into her womb, hands heavy on her hips, the courtyard’s occupants dispersed into the shadows of the eaves, but a couple dozen peering eyes twinkle towards them in the twilight’s gloom.

“How often have I heard it said here, in this very courtyard.” Kate scoffs, observing the strength knelt so adoringly before her, “Have I dreamed each cry of ‘no prince save he be a Percy?’ Ha, to think they fight for a Mortimer, indeed. Ha!”

Harry staggers to his feet at this poke, it is, as are so many of his Kate’s wounds, half torment, half praise. His blood pounds with the elixir of her acknowledgment of his capability. “It is well then, Kate Mortimer,” he recites, daring now to put his lips very near her own, to nuzzle his strong nose with her hawkish one, to tip a chin and bat an eyelash against her wet cheek, “it is well that you are Percy now yourself, through and through, wed-“ his lips meet hers in a brush she chases after, “-and bred.”

🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

Hope all five of you who read that enjoyed it. 😆 I know it’s a fragment but as I’m nothing but hyper fixated when some interests resurrects in me, I’ll probably be back with more of them. Drop a note below if you’d like to be on a taglist for such developments.

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randomfoggytiger · 8 months

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The X-Files 30th Anniversary

Day 7: 30th Anniversary Extravaganza

Today, I'm thanking The X-Files community for bringing me across a wonderful show-- its amazing cast and writers and fans-- and inspiring me to get back on my own creative hobbyhorse.

My Thanks

Being a part of a collective who want to celebrate this show and others' creative endeavors with heartfelt good wishes has been exciting, fun... and humbling.

My special thanks to the many people who welcomed me with open arms and contribute to this space, even if it's "simply" (but it's never just anything, is it?) answering asks or reblogging or even liking a random post that passed from one blog to another.

There are too many to list, so I'll just chat about my most remembered moments:

@baronessblixen, for being so kind and encouraging that you drew me out of the anon shadows; for liking what I create; for giving me a logical mind to bounce my ideas off of in asks; and for inadvertently teaching me the joy of appreciating animal videos (and convincing me, along with Vavie, to watch Return to Me.)

@dd-is-my-guiltypleasure, for our cherished Duchovny talks; for your heart and your amazingly detailed dedication; for your artbook that I prize dearly; and for your warmth and good humor.

@suitablyaggrieved, for your spectacular and refreshing meta takes; for persevering in your creative works and this fandom; and for sharing the progress pics of your beautiful X-Files themed sweater.

@welsharcher, for being my mini Kermit-loving pool noodle~ (I love brightening your day as much as your messages brighten mine); for your gifs and posts that make my heart soar; and for our shared, priceless sense of humor.

@agent-troi, for being a solidly intelligent third party to the Pre-S1 Mulder Singleton Club; for your hilarious hashtags and great insights; and for your amazing fic output.

@mondfuchs/@annablume, for swapping XF fic recs in my early Tumblr days; and for making my year by drawing my little boopy-tongued tiger in Mulder's arms to celebrate our collective birthday (post here. Still makes me sappy thinking about it~.)

@amplifyme, for returning to Tumblr and giving me a chance to meet you; for sharing your excellent BATB series (in general and Nan Dibble in particular); and for sharing your thoughts as you slowly peel back the psyche of Vincent and the worlds Above and Below.

@demon-fetal-harvest, for being one of the first to die over my Scully Les Miserables amv (it's one of my favorites I love to rewatch; and I think of you every time I do); and for your hilarious reblogs and even more hilarious tags.

@xxsksxxx and @two-microscopes for being the first to reblog and like during a rough time. I'll cherish that moment forever~.

@medicaldoctordana, for being cool and creative and driven; and for hating the mainstream MBTI system as much as I do (and for your philosophy recs-- will get around to them someday.)

@ibringyouasong89, for being my fellow warrior in the trenches. We're new of acquaintance, but I think this will be a beauuuuuuuuuutiful friendship~. ;))))

@writingwell, @enigmaticdrblockhead, and @perpetually-weirdening, @spidey-is-tired, @cyb3rpeach, @scullys-scalpel, @frogsmulder, @teenie-xf, @dreamingofscully, @freckleslikestars, @cecilysass, @slippinmickeys, @gabby-msr, @thatfragilecapricorn30, @television-overload, @pianogirlxf @mollybecameanengineer, and @settle-down-frohike for being mutually supportive and welcoming. The world is both large and small; and I'm glad my path was able to intersect with yours.

And thank you to the silent-but-always-theres who take the time to drop in and give my posts the time of day~: @samucabd, @sonictacocat, @kiivitaja, @freckleslikestars, @nimlurks, @redteekal, @mindibindi, @marinas5099, @chavisory, @sizzlingempathspybat, @enigmaticxbee, @inflappible, @metamayou, @invidiosa, @txcb1013, @dytttt, @borogirl, @agentbluefox, @agentwhalesong, and ALL OF YOU. I can't tag anymore because Tumblr is tapping me out; but I include you-- yes, you-- in this as well.

My Projects

While The X-Files turned 30, my fandom experience turned (a little over) a year old! Wow, time does fly when you're... speed typing out multiple essays worth of fic rec lists, meta analyses, and personality typing posts (or even wrangling a video editor, compressor, and uncooperative Tumblr site to upload an amv.)

My full list of accomplishments can be found here; but these are a few highlights that were standouts to me personally:

My First Fic

randomfoggytiger’s Son of Egypt (Prince of Egypt twist on television-overload's what if: Samantha adopted and raised William.)

Fic Rec Lists

Meet the Mulders

Creepy and Cozy Cabins

Time Travel, Time Loops, and Just Wrong Timing

Car Wrekt

S9 Mulder Stays or Returns While the Mytharc Barrels On

Fics That Deserve More Comments (Part I)

Poll Results Fic: 1st Place- Scully Injured but In-Charge

Poll Results Fic: 2nd Place- Cleaning Out the Vineyard House

Poll Results Fic: 3rd Place-- Tithonus Mother Hen Mulder

The Field Where I Fix-It Fic-ed

Analysis Posts

Arcadia Analysis: Scully Was Enjoying Herself Immensely

Never Again: An Intensive Essay (and its paired twin: Never Again and Fear)

One Son: An Intense, One-Shot Analysis of “You’re Making This Personal”

The Mulder Family In-Depth (Part VI): Talitha Cumi and Tena's Lies

S5 Is a Pretty Dark Time for Mulder

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part VII): Mulder, Maggie, Melissa, and the Snake

Mulder Trauma Responses: Fight, Flight, Freeze, or Fawn?

Scully Trauma Responses: Fight, Flight, Freeze, or Fawn?

Mulder and Dreams

Milagro In-Depth (Part II): Loneliness Is a Choice and Lamps Go Dark

How the Ghosts Stole Christmas In-Depth: Full Analysis

Scully Is the Conduit Conductor and Mulder Is the Dancer

How Scully Taught Mulder to Hug

Mulder and Dreams

CSM Inflicted Insanity On the Syndicate

Fire and False Romance, Ice and Love

All IVF Roads Lead Away from The Unnatural and to Millennium

Jungian Personality Typing Posts

SCULLY, The Enigmatic ISTJ

XF Fanvids/AMVs

Les Miserables AMV: Scully's Solo

The Muppets AMV: Drivin’ Right Along

Fiddler on the Roof AMV: Mulder and Samantha

Bonus Content (Fandom Adjacent)--

React: "Return to Me" from the POV of Someone Averse to RomComs

Personality Typing: Return to Me

HAPPY 30TH ANNIVERSARY, XF!

And cheers to all~!

Enjoy!

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sleepingdeath-light · 11 months

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darling ; 18+

requested by ; an ao3 user (20/06/23)

word count ; 1344

content ; painting as foreplay, praise, sort of sensation play, implied sex

fandom ; welcome home

pairing ; wally darling x female reader