#we must go DEEPER. we must RETURN TO THE SOURCE.

[blujayonthewing]

given that my two favorite christmas movies are both adaptations of A Christmas Carol one of these years I should really sit down and read the book and then watch as many A Christmas Carols as I can, which will make me deeply insufferable but otherwise accomplish nothing

#I don't know that this even sounds fun to me but I like having Strong Opinions On Things #right now I only have strong opinions on the way my two favorite movies about the same thing compare to one another #scrooge is more fun and has a more lovable bob cratchett (I know I KNOW I'm sorry kermit but it's true) #but a muppet christmas carol is-- weirdly-- darker and more serious in the third act where it really counts #I suspect that scrooge isn't like... a GOOD adaptation actually but I do love it very much #we must go DEEPER. we must RETURN TO THE SOURCE. #for what it's worth I'm 100% sure I have already read a christmas carol but it was so long ago I can barely remember it #about me

[locklyle1kanij]

I’m gonna make a list of my fav Lockwood and co fics in the hope that someone will see this list then reblog it and say “wow good choices! You should really check out this fic!”

(PLEASE I NEED FICS) (Warning these are basically all mainly Locklyle fics just letting you know)

(okay obviously we need Policy 8 on this list!)

“Policy 8” written by by: The_Biscuit_Agreement

Ongoing

Plot Summary :

Policy 8 was established in the hope of encouraging the birth of increasingly powerful agents. All agents 18 and over must accept the marriages DEPRAC assigns them. Agents between the ages of 16-18 can volunteer to enter the programme or else be forced into it due to minor illegal behaviour.
Lucy Carlyle volunteered. Anthony Lockwood was forced. In an effort to protect the two teenagers from being turned into pawns in the games of the rich and powerful, Barnes ensures Lucy and Lockwood are married. But just because they aren't stuck as pawns, doesn't mean the teenagers aren't forced into the same dangerous games.

“As London Burns” written by: ScienceFantasy93

Ongoing

Plot Summary:

An AU About locklyle in the middle of world war two with Lockwood fighting as a RAF pilot and with Lucy as a news reporter. (very angsty) (idk what else to say about it tbh… BUT I LOVE THIS FIC!)

“The bones of our past written” by: moon2pluto

Finished (but has a sequel that’s ongoing)

Plot Summary:

Just a few months after the destruction of the bone mirror, the team of Lockwood & Co. has another big case to tackle:
When Lucy gets a letter from her little sister, begging her to come back and help her with a haunting doomed to kill them, she doesn't need long to make a decision, and neither George nor Lockwood are going to let her face this alone. To not get any unwanted attention in her hometown, Lucy and Lockwood agree to take a closer look disguised as a couple while George is busy researching. But when the haunting turns out to run much deeper and wilder than any of them thought, and other players enter the game, one question arises: Will Lockwood & Co. also make it out of this case unscathed?

(This one’s my all time favourite)

“The hidden archive” written by: BrooklynBooks

Ongoing

Plot Summary:

Ghost possession doesn't happen often, but fatality rates are high. Even if an agent does survive, there are the aftereffects to worry about. After surviving a possession, Lucy Carlyle struggles with recovery, delving ever deeper into the memories of Visitors and, in the process, stumbling into the world of blackmarket Sources. Meanwhile, George Karim races to learn the truth behind ghost possession in order to protect Lucy and save future agents. And Anthony Lockwood must face his own past with the London underworld if he wants to save his friends and himself.

“Connections” written by: The_Biscuit_Agreement (I’m sorry i’m so obsessed with their fics lol)

Ongoing

Plot Summary:

Lockwood forms a psychic link with a dead young agent and the group try to use it to work out how the agent died with disastrous consequences.

“Crushed” written by: itripandfallalot, Salvoirfaire

Ongoing

Plot Summary:

A bad case and broken leg leave Lucy no choice but to return to Portland Row until she recovers. Lockwood is definitely not using this as an opportunity to persuade her to come back for good, because that would be unfair. And he never plays dirty.

“Because everything is the same until, very suddenly, it isn’t” written by: Netflixcapricorn

Finished

Plot Summary:

What happens when the only way out of this mess is a fake marriage?

(Here’s a warning, extremely angsty)

“Lucy takes the long way home” written by: agents_cxrter

Finished

Plot Summary:

Lucy might have left Lockwood and Co, but she can't get Lockwood out of her system.

(So many annoying emotions in this one like WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!!?!)

“This is going to end badly” written by: The_Biscuit_Agreement

Ongoing

Plot Summary:

When Fittes Agent Lucy Carlyle is cornered by relic-men alone in the woods, she is rescued by an unlikely source: Anthony Lockwood, run-away and relic-man. When Fittes gets tasked with trying to track the young man down, Lucy finds herself in an interesting position.

“Perfectly Incandescently Happy” written by: OceanSpray5

Finished

Plot Summary:

After the death of her best friend, Ms Lucy Carlyle is given the opportunity to be sponsored for the 1815 London season by Norrie's aunt. Instantly compared to the Diamond due to their astonishingly similar looks, she befriends Lord Lockwood quite unexpectedly yet is left wondering if she was a fool for believing he'd look twice at a mere country girl.

(This fic is literally the cutest thing to exist… if you exclude the angst lollll)

“No One Cares About The Nightwatch” Written by: Nomolosk

Ongoing

Plot Summary:

Lucy Carlyle is a Listener, a failed agent, a runaway, and now works the nightwatch in London. One might think her life a failure from start to last- but Lucy has goals. She will get a grade four certificate, and reapply to all the best agencies, and her life will get immeasurably better.

However, firsthand experience of the treatment most people give the nightwatch, and a chance encounter with Lockwood and Co. have her reevaluating those goals... maybe she can do some good before she moves on...

“The Injury of Finally Knowing You” written by: booknerds_unite

Ongoing

Plot Summary:

Anthony Lockwood, the only surviving male monarch from the Lockwood line, has six months to find a wife or Parliament will make a case to keep him from the throne. Lucy Carlyle has just arrived at the palace to work as a maid and to escape her horrific mother. They were never supposed to meet.
On the night of Lockwood's birthday celebration, their paths cross and nothing will ever be the same.

“What lies between the lines” written by: The_Biscuit_Agreement

Ongoing

Plot Summary

When she arrived in London, Lucy Carlyle took up a job at the British Archives, spending her days determining which love letters, suicide notes and other collected paperwork could one day produce a visitor. It's a taxing job, made easier by king archivists and the presence of young agents doing research nearby. As Lucy becomes close with some of these young agents, she starts to receive love letters herself and finds herself using her under-utilised talents to try to work out who might be behind the notes.

(at this point just go through all of The_Biscuit_Agreement fics tbh… There all perfection)

(okay i’ve read a ton more really good Lockwood and Co fics but i feel lazy now so maybe i’ll post a part two of fic recs later)

#lockwood and co #fic recs #locklyle #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #save lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and lucy #george cubbins #george karim #ao3 #part 2 soon? #please give me recs!! #i hope this helps someone

[snailor-bee]

Nami x M!Reader / NSFW  / 1.1k Summary: Nami decides to use you to blow off a little steam. Notes: This was written for the @op-xreader-zine!

Nami grins down at you kneeling between her feet, her long legs spread wide. You look a treat, naked and twitching, desire shimmering in your eyes as you stare up at her. But you're doing well and don’t move, wanting to be her good boy.

“Keep your hands still,” she says, and you nod, palms flat on your thighs, fingers digging into the flesh as if to keep them from touching her. With her bare foot, she drags her toes against your shaft and delights in the shiver that wracks through you. “So hard already and we haven’t even started ,” Nami teases and you whimper pathetically.

But really, that’s just how Nami likes her men. Lifting her leg, she props the calf on your shoulder. “Alright, go on then.” She leans back against the couch in the aquarium room, getting herself comfortable.

The rest of the Strawhat crew have already left to enjoy the island they just pulled into, and Nami plans on doing the same.

Except first she wants to blow off a little steam.

Which is where you come in.

You start by placing kisses on her knee before moving up her thigh. Nami leans against her palm, elbow propped up on the couch back, making her lower half slide down just a little closer to you.

Her skirt is loose enough that with her other hand, she lifts it out of the way as you continue trailing kisses upward. She’d already removed her underwear in preparation for this and you press a delicate kiss against her naked core before lapping between her folds.

Your tongue is warm and wet and oh so good. Nami fights down the urge to moan, not wanting to give you the satisfaction so quickly. Still, she must have moved a little because without wasting more time, you buried your tongue deep into her.

She hisses and you take that as encouragement, alternating between sucking and pistoning your tongue inside of her. The pressure feels heavenly, her cunt quickly growing wet under your ministrations, making squelching sounds as you continue eating her out to your heart's content.

When your lips close around her clit and suck lightly, she rolls her head back with a heady moan. “That’s good, more,” she demands, hand grabbing onto your hair and tugging you closer.

Your tongue dances between her folds, rubbing deliciously against her clit before circling back down to thrust into her core. Nami arches her back at the feeling and says your name, making you moan, the sound muffled against her flesh.

“Finger me,” she commands and quickly you lift a hand to join where your mouth is pressed against her. One finger easily slips inside her before another joins it, the stretch of only encouraging the heat that’s been gathering in the pit of her stomach to burn even hotter.

It feels amazing , the way you suck her clit just right and the way your fingers move in and out of her without pause. Nami can feel her orgasm building and she grabs onto your wrist.

You know what that means, and you double your attention on her clit, tongue rubbing over it as you start to finger her faster. Her toes curl, clenching on air. “Deeper, deeper,” Nami chants, tightening her grip over your wrist, and you curl your fingers until it hits that spot inside her that has her seeing stars. She moans loudly, her orgasm crashing over her.

Immediately afterwards, Nami relaxes back into the couch with a sigh of relief. You return to pressing little kisses against the skin of her inner thighs, your hands wrapped around her shaking calves.

You’d moved them without permission, Nami notes distantly. She’ll have to punish you for that later, but for now, she's feeling just a tad generous.

“You can masturbate now,” she says airily. 

You groan with relief as your hand immediately wraps around your cock, the head a bright red and your precum leaking down the shaft your only source of lube. Nami smirks as you start thrusting, your moans filling up the room. “Lean back, make it a show.” Your eyebrows furrow as you whine but you put your other hand behind you, leaning your body back so it makes a lovely arch, putting yourself on display for her.

All the while, your hand never stops moving on your cock. You’re trembling now, and Nami knows you’re close. “Such a good boy,” she coos. “Does he want to come?”

“Yes!” you all but shout, hips thrusting up to meet the jerking motion you’re making with your fist. “Please, Nami, pleaseeee.”

She snickers. Nami loves seeing you like this, a pleading and desperate mess. “Go ahead then, baby. Come for me.”

At her permission, your body locks up as you start to cum all over yourself, coating your chest in ribbons of hot cum. You collapse to your ass, wrung out and panting hard as Nami stands, skirt falling back into place. She puts a hand on her hip and waits for your gaze to sharpen back into awareness as you come down from your high.

You follow the lines up her body, eyes drinking her in the way that she just adores. When they finally meet her own, Nami smiles, pleased with the devotion she sees within them. 

“Get dressed.” She throws a washcloth at your chest, straight into the middle of your mess. “You touched me without permission, that deserves a punishment.” You sigh in disappointment as you start to wipe off the come. Nami’s eyes sharpen. “Buttt, I’m in a good mood.” She laughs when you perk up.

“Let’s see what you get first, a reward or a punishment,” she says walking towards the exit.

“Uh, Nami?” your voice stops her at the door and she turns back to where you’re grabbing at the bundle of your clothes. “Your underwear?” You lift up the pair of pink panties she’d slid off at the beginning.

She licks her lips and watches the way your eyes drop to watch the movement. “I don’t need them. Keep them for me, won’t you? Hurry up, you need to carry my bags.” Then, just because she can, she adds, “It’s pretty windy today you know.” 

Nami opens the door, and she hears you let out a yelp and it sounds like you drop your bundle of clothes. She giggles as she closes the door behind herself, waiting a few seconds before starting to make her way to the docks. She'd never say so, but she was going slowly so you had time to catch up. She needs her man to pay for her lunch and carry all her things after all! 

Along the way, she'll think of an appropriate punishment and reward. Nami smirks as a door slams open, your voice yelling her name drifting down to where she's waiting for you. 

#one piece #one piece x reader #bee writes #bee writing #nami x reader #male reader

[megyulmi]

Getou Suguru and Monkeys seen through the lens of Buddhism.

[year by year, the monkey’s mask reveals the monkey. - bashō]

➠ how Suguru became what he told himself he hated the most:

Depending on the Buddhist school, Monkeys can have various symbolisms. Here I am going to look at them as a metaphor for an Unenlightened Mind. ‘Monkey Reaching for the Moon’s Reflection’ is a common theme in Zen paintings. It derives from a Buddhist story in which five hundred monkeys hold onto each other’s tails and attempt to seize the reflection of a moon in a well (or a lake). They fail when the branch from which they are hanging breaks and they fall into the water, breaking the surface and along with it the moon’s reflection. In this tale, the monkeys stand for unenlightened people who cannot distinguish between reality and illusion, mistaking the reflection of the object for the thing itself and grasping at what in reality is not there. They represent an ignorant one who has yet not found Enlightenment.

Monkeys from Suguru’s perspective are no different. He uses the word to refer to non-sorcerers, who are ignorant of the world of sorcery and what sorcerers go through to ensure their safety. In that sense, Monkeys to Suguru are what Monkeys represent in the above-mentioned Buddhist tale. They do not see the reality the sorcerers live and if they do recognise the existence of sorcerers instead of acknowledging the sacrifices sorcerers make for them, to reference Suguru himself, under the concept of the gods they have created, the non-sorcerers bring harm upon the sorcerers.

However, Suguru’s hate of Monkeys and his actions to eradicate them make him no different from the Monkeys he loathes in the end.

There is a Buddhist concept called ‘Monkey mind’ or ‘Mind monkey’. It is used to describe a state of restlessness, capriciousness, and lack of control in one’s thoughts. The term comes from a Buddhist story where a man receives a magical monkey from a master that can fulfill any task. Thrilled, the man asks the monkey to do numerous helpful things, but soon finds himself overwhelmed by the constant requests as the monkey finishes each task in no time and asks him for more work day and night. Seeking help, the man returns to the master, who gives him a single curly hair and tells him to have the monkey make it straight. The man does so and the monkey sits down, fully focused on the little hair. He pulls it straight, it bounces back, again and again. Despite the monkey’s efforts, the hair always springs back, allowing the man to finally find relief and rest.

This story shows how one can never find peace so long as one continues to obsess over the ideals (or tasks) of the material world, like the Monkey, who would endlessly try to pull the hair straight, failing to recognise its true nature. How can one find freedom then? For one to achieve Enlightenment, one must start by freeing oneself from the ‘Monkey mind’, or the ideals one obsesses over. Buddhists do it through meditation and practising the Three Jewels of Buddhism (Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha are primary acts of the Buddhist faith that create the learning journey towards nirvana).

What about Suguru? Does he ever find freedom from the ideal he has dedicated his life to?

As we know, Suguru doesn’t let go of his hatred of Monkeys even in his final moments. He holds onto it and in that same sense, he holds himself from attaining liberation (from the indefinitely repeated cycles of birth, misery, and death caused by karma, i.e. samsara), as to find Enlightenment is to escape the three fires, or poisons, of anger (or hatred), greed, and delusion. In Buddhism, hate is a source of dukkha and brings suffering to the person who does the hating. Emotions like hatred, fear and jealousy create karmic prisons for a being and drive them deeper into the illusion of ego. Suguru chooses not to let go of his hatred and in the eyes of Buddhism, remains as ignorant as the Monkeys in the tales and subsequently, the Monkeys he hates.

[Disclaimer: This is only a personal perspective as just another reader and not a claim that this is how Akutami intended to depict him. This particular choice of word has always made me think of these tales, however. Additionally, English is not my native language and I have never read JJK in English, so certain terminologies I use may not be the correct equivalent of the English language.]

#yes. he is neither in hell nor heaven. no one is letting him cross the river to the other side until he lets go of his hatred of monkeys. #geto suguru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #jjk suguru

[jinxquickfoot]

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: "You said you would let them go" Find the fic on Ao3

"You said you would let him go.”

Peter squeezes his eyes shut—the only part of his body he can move—at the sound of Tony’s voice. He’s lost track of how long it’s been since he’d woken strapped to this table, the scents of chemicals and ocean heavy in the air.

“That’s when I thought I was ransoming an intern,” Osborn replies, running a finger down the side of Peter’s cheek. Peter manages to glare at him—the most he can do when he’s unable to pull away. “But he’s more than that, isn’t he, Stark?”

“Whatever narrative you’re trying to spin to wring more cash out of me, save it. You have the money you asked for. Now let him go, or I’m going to stop being civil about this.”

“Civil?” Osborn muses. Even from this end, Peter can hear the distortion from the tech Osborn is using to disguise his voice. “Civil would be returning what’s yours, Stark. Which was the plan before I realized that you stole this specimen first.”

“He’s a high-schooler. Only thing he’s been stolen from is gym class.”

Osborn bends his finger, causing the nail to catch on Peter’s skin. “A high-schooler, yet you gave him access to your personal labs. He must be very special.”

“Rumours, and half-baked ones at that. Get better sources.”

“Don’t lie to me, Stark. It wasn’t hard to run some blood work. This kid isn’t human, not by a long shot, so the price just tripled. Have the money in the same account by midnight, or I’m putting him on the black market in pieces.”

“Or,” Tony counters. “I figure out who you are, come pick the kid up myself, and you can face me head on. How does that sound?”

“Is that an UN-approved mission, Stark? Heard you’re on a tight leash these days. Good luck getting a rescue mission signed off in time to save the kid.” Osborn grins down at Peter, the expression all teeth. “Either way, I get paid for him. How much pain he goes through during the interim is entirely up to you.”

“Listen, you do not want to—”

But Osborn has already hung up. “So, Peter. Looks like we have a few more hours together. How do you want to spend them, huh? Shall we have a little more fun while your dashing hero decides if you’re worth paying for?”

Not being able to throw quips at bad guys sucks. Peter tries to move his tongue, but it’s as immovable as the rest of him. When he’d first woken up, he’d been terrified that the paralysis might be permanent. But he regains feeling every couple of hours or so, just enough to strain his limbs against the restraints, which is exactly when Osborn gives him another dose of whatever drug is keeping him immobilized.

“I’ve got all the blood I need,” Osborn is saying, moving over to the table that Peter is trying very hard not to look at. “But if we have time, why don’t we go a little deeper?”

If he could move, Peter would flinch at the sudden whir of what sounds horribly like a bone saw starting up. He might not be able to move his body, but the past few hours have certainly proved that he can feel it.

“Aw,” Osborn coos at him, the sound of the saw growing closer. “Don’t be scared, kiddo. You heal quickly enough. And after all, I’m only taking back what was mine in the first place—” He breaks off, turning to a bank of monitors that Peter can just see out of the corner of his eye. There’s a green dot traveling towards them at breakneck speed. “Well, would you look at that? I guess Stark isn’t as stupid as that goatee makes him look.”

A breath punches out of Peter as the saw switches off, hoping Osborn’s words mean the one thing he’s been praying for since he first woke up here. Tony’s coming.

Osborn sweeps Peter’s hair off his forehead in a mock gentle gesture. “Looks like I’m about to have an unexpected visitor, which means I’m going to have to put you away for a while.”

Peter narrows his eyes at him, trying to look as intimidating as possible while unable to move on a surgical table.

Osborn just laughs. “I see. You think he’s going to find you. Ah, Peter—where I’m about to put you? No one will even think to look.”

Somehow, getting cut open with a bone saw might have been preferable to this.

It’s freezing. If Peter’s body was cooperating, he knows he’d be shivering violently right about now. It’s pitch black, the oppressive darkness making him want to scream. And none of that compares to the overwhelming claustrophobia of being chained to an anchor deep, deep underwater.

Peter’s not sure a normal human would have survived the plunge into the ocean’s depths, even with the diving suit Osborn had stuffed him into. He can breathe, at least, but he’d caught a glimpse of the oxygen tank before Osborn had tipped him overboard. It had already been half-empty.

He’s tried to slow his breathing, to make whatever air he has last, fighting the instinct to panic and attempt to strain against the chains. Logically, he knows it’s no use. He’s still paralyzed. Even if the drug wears off, he’s not going to be strong enough to swim to the surface. He’s down here until Osborn pulls him up or until Tony finds him. If Tony finds him.

“Wow,” Osborn’s voice crackles in his ear. The earbud had been jammed in before Osborn had secured the diving mask purely, Peter knows, so that Osborn could keep taunting him. “He got here fast, little spider. Guess he really cares about you. Too bad he’s not going to find you, though.”

Peter closes his eyes, even though it doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference to what he can see. If anyone can figure out where Osborn’s hidden him, it’s Tony Stark.

It’s the thought he holds onto as he hears the distant roar of thrusters, right before Osborn whispers over the comms, “Show time.”

A stomp of boots and the crack of a door being kicked open. “Where is he?”

“Stark. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Osborn. That line about a stolen specimen? I know you have him.”

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about. And I’ll have you know that there are security cameras all over this boat. It would be a shame if the UN saw the Accords’ greatest defender attacking without so much as a warrant.”

“I don’t need a warrant if I have probable cause of harm.”

A surprised laugh. “Probable cause of harm? I am merely out here alone, enjoying a little me time.”

“Uh-huh. So you won’t mind if I search your toy boat, then?”

“Go ahead.” Osborn is all confidence. “Search away.”

More sounds—footsteps, mostly. The sounds of doors opening. The noise of a search.

Please, Peter sends up to the boat, as though if he projects through sheer force of will Tony’ll hear him. Please think to look down here, Tony. Please.

“I have to say,” Osborn speaks up, and Peter wants to punch him for the undisguised glee in his voice. “You must have lost something very important to go to all this trouble.”

“Don’t play the ignorant card, Osborn. It’s not a cute look on you.”

“Simply making an observation.”

“And you know what I observe? The room you have hidden below the ship.”

Peter’s heart skips. That has to be the room he had woken up in, where the surgical equipment, where Peter’s blood is.

“Not hidden,” Osborn corrects him. “The door is simply an aesthetic design, I assure you. I’d be more than happy for you to take a look.”

A sudden ocean current sweeps past Peter, knocking him hard against the anchor. It steals the wind from him, and there are a few terrifying moments where he can’t catch his breath, he can’t breathe, he can’t—

“Interesting space you’ve got in here. Very… clean.”

Peter latches onto the sound of Tony’s voice, using it as a much kinder anchor than the one he’s bound to. He doesn’t know how much oxygen he just wasted. He doesn’t know how much he has left, either. It belatedly occurs to him that if Tony can’t find him, then the more time his mentor spends searching, the longer Peter’s going to be stuck down here.

“I hardly use this space,” Osborn says. “The previous owners used it for fishing equipment, so I had it scrubbed to get rid of the smell and have barely touched it since. And I believe you’ve now seen the whole boat. Satisfied?”

I’m not on the boat, Peter thinks desperately. I’m below the boat.

“Not really,” Tony answers. “So, he’s not here. You’ve got him somewhere else.”

No, no, no, I’m here, come on Tony, please figure this out.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Stark.”

There's an ugly pause before Tony says, “Don’t make me make you tell me, Osborn. You won’t enjoy that.”

“Go ahead,” Osborn challenges him. “Threaten an innocent man on camera. Let’s see how that holds up under the Sokovia Accords.”

Peter’s breath catches. At first, he thinks it’s just the tension burrowing its way under his skin from the dark, the cold, the oppressive weight of the water. Then he takes another slow breath. And another.

He’s not imagining it. The air feels a little lighter than before. As though he’s already scraping the bottom of the oxygen tank.

“I paid what you asked for,” Tony snaps at him. “Tell me where he is, Osborn. Now.”

Peter slows his breathing, trying desperately to make whatever is left in the tank last as long as possible.

“How many times do I have to say it? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not leaving here until you tell me. I’ve got all night.”

Barely an hour ago, those words would have been music to Peter’s ears. Now, they’re a death sentence.

“All night, huh?” Amusement radiates from Osborn’s words. “Sure, I’m not busy. Can I offer you a drink?”

“I’m taking a second look around the ship.”

“Please, be my guest. Take all the time you need.”

Peter’s next breath rattles in his lungs. He’s definitely on dregs, and it’s not as though Osborn can pull him up while Tony’s still there. Osborn doesn’t need him alive, either. He’s made it clear that Peter’s body parts will sell just fine.

Peter listens helplessly as Tony continues to search, refusing to leave without answers that Osborn isn’t giving him. This is it. Peter’s going to die down here.

“Sure I can’t get you that drink, Stark? You did come all this way.”

Even over the comms, Peter can pick up Tony’s frustrated sigh. “This isn’t done with, Osborn.”

No, be done with it, Peter pleads with him. Go, Tony. Please just leave.

“I’m not sure what this even is,” Osborn replies, his tone all congeniality. “Of course, you did just invade my private property, which I will have to report. We all have to do our bit to keep the community safe.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Another sound of frustration, and then Peter hears the joyous sound of an Iron Man suit starting up. Tony’s going to leave. Osborn is going to pull him up.

And then cut him to pieces and sell him.

Peter barely has time to register that last thought before he tries to take his next breath, and finds that he can’t.

“Goodbye, Stark,” Osborn is saying. “Hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Peter forces himself not to panic—to preserve the last molecules of oxygen he has left.

“Oh believe me, Norman. I will.”

Just go just go just go just go just go—

There’s silence for far too long before Peter hears Osborn speak again. “Just making sure he’s out of sight, kiddo. Can’t take any chances.”

Peter’s lungs are on fire. Instinct finally kicks in and he jerks in the chains, the paralytic drug wearing off far too late. A very different kind of darkness from the undersea depths is creeping in around him, and he can’t hear Osborn anymore, and the anchor isn’t moving, he’s going to die down here and he doesn’t want to die he doesn’t—

The last thing Peter’s aware of before he passes are strong arms on his, and the sensation of rising, rising, rising…

“Peter? Come on, kid, don’t do this to me.”

When Peter’s eyes open, he doesn’t see darkness. He’s not strapped to a table either. He experimentally shifts his arms and legs, breathing a sigh of relief as they move, only to realize that they’re shaking beyond his control.

“That’s it, Pete. Hey, look at me. Peter.”

The blurry shapes around him finally coalesce into the face of one very worried-looking Tony. “Oh, hey Mr Stark.”

“I need to stop pulling you out of freezing waters, kid.”

“S-sorry.” Peter can hear his teeth chattering, trying to wrap his arms around himself, only to realize that they’re oddly heavy. He peers down at himself, realizing he’s encased in red and gold metal. “Woah, that’s so cool.”

“Don’t get too excited, the suit’s a loan. Just getting you warm.”

Peter frowns. “Don’t feel warm.”

Tony’s brow creases. “We’ll get there. Don’t want to shoot your temperature up too quickly with your funky thermoregulation. Once you’re good I’ll fly us home.”

“Home sounds good. Away from…” Peter suddenly tries to sit bolt upright. It’s more of a half-sit-up before he collapses back with a groan.

“Woah, kid, take it easy.”

“Osborn, he’s here, he’s—”

“I got him. You’re safe, kid. I promise.”

Peter stills. “Really?”

“Really really.” Tony places a hand on Peter’s forehead, and Peter sighs at the warmth. “Sorry, kid. This one’s on me.”

“But you found me.”

“Yeah, that was one of my better brainwaves. Still, I don’t need villains kidnapping my intern because they think it’s an easy payday. We’ll work on it.”

Peter’s beginning to feel something other than completely frozen, the violent shivers abating a little. He pulls in a full breath, savoring it. “Yeah, that sucked.”

“Agreed.” Tony checks his forehead again. “I think we’re okay to turn it up a bit, FRIDAY.”

Heat suddenly bursts from the Iron Man suit’s interior, and Peter sighs in relief. “Thanks.”

“Any time, kid.” Tony lays his hand on Peter’s arm, finally seeming to relax as Peter’s temperature climbs. “Any time.”

#irondad #tony stark #peter parker #hurt peter parker #protective tony stark #kidnapping #hostage situatons #tw: claustrophobia #bthb card #bad things happen bingo

[ironcladrhett]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Hemlock Ridge, Seven Peaks SUMMARY: Ophelia is set on a dark, familiar path. This is the final chapter! CONTENT WARNINGS: Parental death

—

“Mamá? I brought breakfast!” The young hesperide bounded up to her mother’s home, a wide smile plastered across her face. A woven bag of berries bounced in her hand, and another had a few pastries from old Timber’s little bakery stand down on the ground level of the aos sí—ovens didn’t fare well this high up in the trees. “Hey, have you been out yet? I was trying to find Reginald to get some of his fresh juice for us, but no one’s seen him since yesterday—”

She pushed through the mossy door covering, her gaze sweeping across the living area of the home and finding it empty. “¡Mamá! ¿Dónde estás?” Moving deeper into the home, the girl noted the two mugs still left on the small table in the sitting area, smirking to herself. She went to the kitchen, setting her bags down on the table and putting her hands on her hips, glancing around the space. There was still some mess from the night before left over—that was unusual. Mom must have been… distracted. The thought made her heartbeat kick up a notch, fluttering hopefully in her chest as she continued to search the house. Maybe he hadn’t gone back to his own cabin last night? Maybe they’d gone out? Unfortunately, her mother never saw the point of having a phone, and Rhett’s was deader than dead, so she had no way of contacting either of them. As much as she hoped they’d rekindled whatever kind of affection for one another that they could muster last night, she also felt a twinge of annoyance at being left in the dark. 

“Mom,” she called a bit more sternly, “If you guys ditched me today I’m gonna be so mad.” They were nowhere to be found in the home, and the last place to look was the bedroom. Ophelia sighed, now regretting her hopefulness a little bit. This was not something she wanted to be aware of, thanks very much. Keeping her eyes averted, she rapped her knuckles on the wall beside the entrance to the bedroom. “Hey! Wake up, sleepyhead! Time to rattle yer dags!” 

Silence.

Now fully shifting to annoyed, Ophelia let out a huff and pushed through the hanging moss to step into the room. “Mom! Did you seriously leave without—” 

There was something in the bed. Someone. A dark, winged figure, splayed out in twisted bedding like a Renaissance painting. Ophelia’s words caught in her throat and she brought a hand up to cover her mouth, her eyes going wide. Her mother, she wasn’t asleep, she was—she was—

A frantic scream was wrenched from the young nymph’s lungs, her glamour dropping and bathing the room in a blinding light, illuminating the horrific scene. Her mother had been stabbed multiple times, and old blood covered her torso and stained the bedding a dark reddish black. There was more blood, a trail of it, leading out the way she’d come. She hadn’t noticed it before, but now it was as clear as day. “¡Mamá!” The girl wailed, grabbing her mother by the shoulders and shaking her, as if that would help. “No! No, wake up!” 

Her screams attracted the attention of their closest neighbor, Avery, a sylph. The older nymph came hurrying into the home, heading right for the source of the sound and letting out their own mournful whimper as they gathered Ophelia in their arms, pulling her away from the corpse on the bed. They tried to calm her, but it was no use, she was inconsolable. When the hesperide fought them off, returning to her mother’s side, Avery let out a wavering sigh and wiped the tears from their eyes, looking around the room to see if they could make any sense of what had happened. 

They noticed a folded bit of paper left on the nightstand, and reached for it. Flipping it open, there was a hastily written note inside. It read, ‘We’ve taken him to a place where he will answer for all the terrors he’s committed against fae. He never should have been brought here, he put us all in danger. Mariela tried to stop us, but we couldn’t let the needs of the many outweigh the wants of the one.’

Fuck. They looked at Ophelia sobbing over her mother’s body, then back to the note, wondering if it was even worth giving to her. Was it better for her to believe her father had done this? Yes, there’d been fae in the aos sí that were vocal about their dislike of the warden’s presence, and while Avery had never felt very certain about it either, they had trusted Mariela’s judgment.

The choice was taken from them when Ophelia noticed the bit of paper in their shaking hand, snatching it away from them and devouring the words inside. 

“What… what? Fae did this?” She choked back another sob, getting to her feet and crumpling up the note, throwing it across the room. “Did you know about this?!” she accused Avery, who held up their hands in gentle defense.

“No, Ophelia, of course I didn’t—” The young nymph screamed again, this time in anger, shoving past the sylph and out of the room. Her wings fluttered and buzzed behind her as she ran out onto the walkway, Avery hurrying after her. “Wait! Where are you going?!” they called. 

“To go find my dad,” she snarled, taking to the air. “And kill whoever did this.”

—

Rhett sat against a tree, his breathing labored. His hands were slick with blood, the bodies of a half-dozen fae surrounding him in the snow, growing colder only a little faster than he was. His cane, the hidden knife unsheathed, was dropped in the snow near him, blade glistening. A massive wound in his gut was oozing blood faster than he could staunch it, so he just tried to enjoy the minutes of quiet peace he had left, staring up at the treetops. 

“I’m sorry,” he said to the sky, his voice barely a whisper.

#. thread ; #. solo ; #. icarus ; pt. iv

[queen-scribbles]

Sanctuary

Art trade fic for @vexa-legacy! I wrote ssome Toe Beans circa War for Iokath, ~2000 words

---

The meadow was easy to visit.

Its distance from the Jedi temple was no more than an invigorating hike, the solace he found there always more than worth the effort. And it was his. A place where the troubles of the galaxy couldn't reach him, serene, unspoiled. Birdsong and babbling brook a soothing backdrop when he wanted to meditate and cleanse his thoughts.

Pristine.

Quiet.

Paradise.

Through all his training, all his adventures, it was a ready sanctuary when he needed the space to breathe. And he visited it often as he could. After defeating Bengel Morr, after dealing with Darth Angral and mourning Master Orgus, when he was freed from the Emperor's control. Always alone, with only his thoughts and the Force for company--except for the one very special time he shared it with Kira.

It was even easier to reach now--a memory no more than a thought away when he needed to retreat, to breathe, thanks to the Empire's assault on Tython so long ago.

He had needed it a lot. Fighting Arcann was draining, the demands and decisions hung on his shoulders with the mantle of commander a weight to carry, no matter how willingly he assumed the role. Fighting Vaylin was even more arduous--her flame may have burned out faster than her brother's, but it had burned hotter as well, claiming lives with the reckless and voracious hunger of wildfire. And even now, the lull between storms, as his feet tread Odessen's wilderness paths, his mind was in a far-off hideaway on Tython.

Centering himself on the babble of a remembered stream as he passed between trees. Hearing the faint birdsong as his steps finally slowed. Almost able to smell the long-lost flowers as he settled himself on a large boulder.

The picture of it was crystal clear in his mind as he slipped deeper into meditation. The Force whispered around him and made it all the more vivd. He wasn't sure how long he'd been there, aware of the wildlife around him while also visiting the secret place he would never again see in person, before his comm beeped. A couple hours, at least, judging by the sun.

He let the idyllic slip from his mind, returning to reality as he unclipped his comm and answered it. "Yes, Lana, go ahead."

"We've received some information that should be discussed, Commander." The connection feathered static on the edges of her accent. "Information regarding Iokath. How soon do you think you can return?"

He sighed, straightening his legs and pushing off the rocky seat. "Give me an hour, I suppose. Is it really that important?"

"Let's say I believe it should be acted on as quickly as possible, and leave the rest for when you're back."

If she was being this evasive on a private comm channel on the Alliance's own planet, it must be serious. "Of course, I'll be there soon."

Corrus started walking, leaving wilderness real and remembered behind.

---

Lana's news was indeed big--an anonymous tip giving rough coordinates of a superweapon on Iokath. Something you might want to investigate, the source added vaguely.

"Not a lot of detail," Theron muttered, and Corrus had to agree. It sounded almost like a trap; just enough information to catch their attention and make it seem they couldn't pass it up, without specifics to make it more solid.

"Do you think it's credible?" he asked Lana.

"Credible enough to investigate," Lana said with a firm nod. She pulled up a holo of the planet, a small orange marker hovering over a location. "It's rough coordinates, not exact, but if such a weapon truly exists, I don't think we can afford to leave it unclaimed."

She had a point, and both men nodded. Given their previous experience with Iokath technology, a superweapon from there was not the sort of thing to just leave figuratively lying around.

"And the radiation has receded to safe levels," Lana continued. "If we send a small team to investigate, I don't see any real danger." She keyed up the planet's stats and the levels, sure enough, had just dropped below dangerous.

"Alright," Corrus said with a nod. He studied the planetary information still scrolling across the holo. "Who do we send?"

"Oh, I can handle it," Lana said briskly, hands clasped behind her back. "You have quite enough on your plate, Commander."

She wasn't wrong there, either. The saying might be "No rest for the wicked", but the good didn't seem to catch any more of a break.

"Awfully quick to volunteer," Theron drawled in a tone of friendly prodding, leaning back against a console with arms crossed. "Feeling cooped up, Beniko?"

"Perhaps," Lana said, faint smile pulling her lips. "Perhaps I'm curious to see this mysterious superweapon myself."

"Whatever the case may be, I think you can handle it," Corrus said wryly. "Go ahead. I'll want status reports."

"Of course." She nodded, already heading for the exit. "We'll work out how frequent once we see what's waiting for us."

---

What was waiting for them, in the long run, was a clusterfuck. The Republic and Empire had received the same tip, the planet was still rife with homicidally protective droids, and the superweapon was--as Theron so eloquently put it--more akin to the apocalypse than a mere weapon.

"No one should have this," Corrus said grimly, and then set about making it so, even if the Republic's backing in the endeavor was more to keep the Empire from getting it rather than agreeing.

Still, he and Theron fought more droids than Imps as they worked their way across the planet. Scouring droids, like they'd faced on their last (unwanted) visit, caretakers, remotes, they all seemed to still regard any organic life as an infection to cleanse. That would weight less on his conscience than human life, at least.

He wondered what Kira would think of this place--all metal and angles and apocalypse weapons. There'd be some deadpan commentary for sure and he wished she was here to give it. He closed his eyes briefly as the tram whisked along and the image of her face lingered, followed by his meadow; natural beauty in sharp contrast to the mechanical austerity that surrounded him.

He only had a moment to dwell on the person and place he missed most before the tram lurched as it came to a stop and it was time to deal with reality.

"Theron, I've reached the superweapon command..."

Determination and Jedi focus carried him through the initial rush of energy as the throne controls reacted to his presence. Through his confrontation with the machine god Tyth and the revelation of a traitor in the Alliance. But the rush of power unleashed as Tyth's rage boiled over under the Fleet's bombardment proved too much and the world went white.

---

It shouldn't have been a surprised where his mind went when overwhelmed.

He supposed it wasn't.

The meadow, of course, looked exactly the same as the last time he'd visited in meditation. And the time before that, and the time before that. The same as it always would.

"Hey, handsome."

He spun at the familiar voice, heart leaping in his chest. "Kira."

She pushed away from the outcropping she'd been leaning against. "First things first, you know this is a dream, right?"

"Considering this place" --he trailed his fingers gently over flower heads--"is no more than a crater now?" He sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I know." He walked closer, leaning in with a smile to kiss her forehead. "But it's a good one, so let me enjoy it, huh?"

"Oh, fine," Kira(but not really Kira) grinned. "I suppose heroes are allowed occasional breaks. Though it really shouldn't take getting shocked unconscious for you to let yourself have one, you big dummy."

"Hey, that's hardly my preference, either," he protested. "You know how it goes; dangerous business being a hero, and there's only so much I can do to fight an electrical surge," he said with affectionate teasing.

"Yeah, well, do a little better will you?" Kira arched a brow and tugged on the collar of his armor until he bent toward her. "I need you healthy, Toe Beans." She kissed his nose and he laughed.

"You know, no one's called me that in months," Closer to a year, maybe, "Guess they all think it would be too informal a way to address the Commander. Or they just don't know about it."

"All the more reason to have me around," Kira joked, though her tone was just as wistful as it was playful as she traced her fingertips along his markings. "I'd fix both of those in a jiff."

This laugh was a little sad. "I'm working on it. Awful big galaxy to be looking for one person. But I will find you, Kira."

She grinned and winked. "Not if I find you first. Can't expect you to do all the work, handsome."

"Whatever gets us together faster," he said glibly. "I'm happy to let you win that race."

"Aw, come on, Cor, its not fun without a little competition," Kira teased. She let her fingers trail down his jaw as she let him go and turned to survey the meadow. "Y'know, I miss this place a surprising amount for only visiting it once. Can't imagine how it feels for you."

"Why do you think I'm here now? I've accepted the real thing is gone, but the memories are still there to visit when... when I need to."

She cocked her head. "You're not the type to run away."

"Not running away." He tugged her in, back to his chest, his arm loosely around her shoulders. "Call it a strategic retreat. A sanctuary to clear my head and better process my thoughts so I can plan. A lot of people depend on my plans, y'know."

Kira snorted a laugh at the exaggerated gravitas. "I do know, Battlemaster. Speaking of people depending on you..." She reached up and squeezed his arm before stepping away and turning to face him. "Shouldn't you be getting back? If I know the sort of trouble you like getting yourself into, the fun's just starting."

He hummed almost-a-laugh. "I should. Though you don't need to make it sound like I go looking for trouble. It just always finds me."

"You don't hide from it very well, though, love." She traced her fingers down his jaw once more, before putting more space between them.

"Once we're together, I will," he promised, then smirked. "At least for a little bit. Then we'll go find trouble and kick its ass."

Kira grinned. "You do know how to make a girl feel special. I'll hold you to it." She winked, blew him a kiss, and stepped out of sight around the outcropping.

"Kira-" He followed, but she was gone when he swung around the rocks. He should've expected it; he could feel reality imposing itself over his retreat.

He still looked, even as the sun flared brighter, soft beams that had lit the space now dazzlingly harsh, until it was overwhelming--harsh and clinical and washing away the meadow.

---

He was barely given time to miss Kira or the meadow when he woke, barely given time to adjust from almost dying. Pulled into conversation about what happened, who betrayed you, what should we do now? with a headache still banging behind his eyes. He was used to it. Sometimes you had to just keep moving forward to maintain your momentum, deal with problems before they spiraled out of control.

Once they settled things for Iokath and he had a moment for himself, Corrus found himself dwelling on the long lost meadow and Kira's smile in almost equal measure. One was lost forever, but that only increased his determination to see the other again. I'll find you, Kira. Somehow, in all this mess. I will.

He'd almost swear he heard her chuckle. Not if I find you first.

He could find sanctuary enough in that smile. Deal.

#queens fic #toe beans #art trade #he was v fun to write #enjoy!! #swtor #swtor fic

[broadcastbabe]

His Take • Part 3

I dry your tears and promise it won’t be the last mutual orgasm we have today. You are too delicious to resist and so willing to pass the time gratifying each other while waiting for roadside assistance to arrive. It’s been over an hour, and we’ve made the most of it, despite a sudden downpour that drove us inside our rental car. Your gloved hands barely conceals your ruby throbbing lips, oozing with my excitement from moments ago. Yet we still want more. I must beg for mercy and recovery time from the thunder storm of our own making. I free your pert little breasts from your front-clasping bra as another incentive and I comment on how they seem good enough to eat. I realize you are caressing your sensitivity below and the gloves are glistening. You gaze into my eyes, and bring the fingertips to your lips to suck on them, provocatively, then thirstily, going back for second helpings. I’m mesmerized by your increased arousal as you taste our mixed flavors. A heady musk surrounds us in the enclosed space and I’m compelled to kiss you for this seductive display. I taste us on your lips and deepen my kiss. As I succumb to the allure, your drenched fingers gather more nectar to encircle your taut ruby nipples. I watch, hypnotized, as you react to the self-stimulus, as you frost them for my consumption. My thirst has grown for this bodily concoction, and I nibble to clean them as you gasp in response to the sting of my over-zealous feasting. My fingers have joined yours to gather from the abundance and I trace your trembling lips to coat them like a pale lipstick for my further kisses. Your moans are an urgent encouragement to return my fingers below while I kiss you deeply, all exploring tongue and groans of my own. I tug at your lips with my teeth while easing my fingers deeper past your swollen folds to enter your juiciness with every intention of making you cum. The animal sounds are feral between us, however my thirst is not quenched. I offer my dripping fingers to your own thirsting lips and you latch on to nurse them like an all day lollipop. I slide down to seek the addictive flavors at their source and my first tongue thrust is so profound it knocks you breathless. I use its squirming inside to resuscitate your ragged breaths into deep guttural satisfaction. I am consuming gulp after gulp of my own load with a gusto I couldn’t have imagined. The circumstances of this new delicacy will make an indelible mark on my sexual appetites going forward. I can sense the force of your approaching orgasm in your quivering and the distinctive tastes I’m consuming. Your wet gloves grasp my head and play with my burning ears as you acquiesce to my every worming probe. There is a moment before you let go, that can be likened to the eye of a hurricane. Still, eerily quiet, content in its stasis as the stealthy forces find their way from the periphery to deliver the havoc and chaos. Deep inside, I deftly wag the tip of my tongue to open a significant threshold and my mouth is flooded with your cumming, ferocious and unrelenting in its cascades. I suction and swallow as much as I can as I withdraw to witness your glorious vibrating reactions. I kiss you again in my delight to share your own flavors from my recent inhabitation. Another aftershock ripples through your dainty frame and I feel a vibration in my front pants pocket announcing another delay from AAA.

#polka dots #dark stockings #lace gloves #automobile

[onenettvchannel]

NEW DEVELOPMENTS: The 4th new season of Wakfu still currently in production [#OneNETnewsEXCLUSIVE]

PARIS, FRANCE -- After a successful Kickstarter campaign, the creators of the show have announced last Friday (March 3rd, 2023 -- France local time), with some exciting updates about the upcoming 4th season.

A Kickstarter post update reveals that the team has been working hard, with production of Wakfu: Season 4 are well underway. Wakfunian fans can look forward to see new adventures with returning characters, as well as new villains to spice up their plot. According to Anthony Roux, who is responsible for Wakfu, the aforementioned upcoming season will have a serious darker tone, and will explore deeper themes in fantasy violence than the previous ones, making it a must-watch for fans who want to delve deeper into the story.

In addition, the latest Kickstarter update offers previews of some concepting arts and animation that fans can really expect to see when the season comes out sooner than before. Digital images are stunning and demonstrate the level of dedication and attention to detail in the animated production process. Fans of the series are already eagerly anticipating the release of Wakfu: Season 4, and this latest update was only added to the excitement.

Although, there is probably a new special episode from a French public broadcaster France Televisions that is linked before or after the 4th season of Wakfu during the funded Kickstarter period: "After a destructive battle against Oropo and their own demons, Yugo the Eliatrope and his friends find themselves at the gates of the Ingloriom, the realm of the gods. The Tofu Brotherhood has no time to wonder what fate the 12 Divinities have in store for them for this sacrilege: the territory is devastated! What is happening? Is there a connection between their victory and this chaos? Are they responsible for the situation, or is it something much worse? How far will our heroes have to go this time around?", said in translated French dialect.

With the show promising to push the boundaries of storytelling and animation, it is sure to be a hit. The 4th season of Wakfu is still in the works as we embark on a thrilling new journey with your favourite characters (including our Ankama News correspondents named Yugo the Eliatrope & Amalia Sheram Sharm).

Animation Digital Network (ADN) secures streaming rights in France, while Netflix still going to stream the episodes in selected countries worldwide, for those if you're new, or to relive your favorite moments of this French animated cartoon show.

The new season of Wakfu in Season 4 is STILL coming soon -- on-air, online at France.tv, and on the France TV & Okoo APP. The aforesaid new season is definitely worth the wait.

ART PHOTO COURTESY: Ankama via Kickstarter PHOTO BACKGROUND PROVIDED BY: Tegna

SOURCE: *https://issuu.com/francetelevisions/docs/mifa-dp2022_ftv [The Exclusive Press Release from France Télévisions on a Programming Line-Up for 2022-2023 + Show Synopsis and Information Reference for Wakfu S4 on page41] *https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/ankamaanimations/wakfu-the-animated-series-season-4/posts/3747696 [Referenced Kickstarter Post via Ankama Animations] *https://twitter.com/Totankama/status/1635372970234482689 [Referenced Twitter Post via Totankama] *https://fr.linkedin.com/company/animation-digital-network and *https://twitter.com/ADNanime/status/1636691543888125953 [Referenced Twitter Post from Animation Digital Network]

HONEST DISCLAIMER: The views and opinions expressed from a developing news report, are not necessarily those from Ankama Animations, Frankas Productions & Pictanovo. Furthermore, the assumptions of this D.N.R. will NOT state, intervene or reflect those of our Radyo Bandera Patrol reporters. The show, the station, the management, interwebs and the network. Thanks for reading and Stay safe. Later!

-- OneNETnews Team

#entertainment news #paris #france #wakfu #season 4 #saison 4 #cartoon #developments #new developments #ankama #France Televisions #progress #exclusive #first and exclusive #OneNETnews

[zyzix]

it’s been this long since the release of NEO and what happens to Neku is still like. the Hardest thing to swallow in the story. it’s so bad from both a character writing and thematic point of view

the first thing people think about when they meet Neku again is that he is seriously OOC, but it’s not that simple. it goes deeper than that. It seems like he’s behaving this way for a reason but the reason That seems to be is ALSO an alarming turn for his character with no apparent explanation. What i mean:

Stage One is thinking Neku is OOC because he gets along with everyone pretty easily and isn’t grumpy and doesn’t seem to have a lot of thoughts about being stuck in the ruins of a dead city for three years straight

Stage Two is realizing that we don’t see Neku’s internal monologue in this game except a SINGLE exception in Another Day. Suddenly, he seems like Neku again. So on top of the character development we can know and assume he has had, he’d probably sound really normal to us in his head. Things like his characteristic snark, his internal logic for doing things, and his feelings about being isolated from everything he cares about for three years must simply be hidden away from us and the other characters.

Stage Three is remembering how much disdain Neku originally had for insincerity or fake-ness.

That brings us back to just... how much our current Neku exists and bends to suit the story of NEO, as opposed to being an extension of his previous self. Before, Neku hated how people would pretend, and pretend to be friendly (though he’d conflate the two.) Now I have to assume that Neku is pretending himself. There was supposed to be middle ground here related to opening up, I thought.

Now is it possible for someone to do a 180 like that? Certainly! But it’s another form of development we can’t actually look at the source for, in NEO. We don’t have the evidence to know Neku is this way through any natural, watsonian means. We only have the doylist side, the things we can see. We can only feel the author’s hand, and it pushes us towards trying to write Neku’s actual character ourselves. Do the work to make it make sense ourselves. If you’re still around, that’s what you’re doing.

Because no one understands NEO. This extends beyond Neku, but it’s really severe with him because sometimes when you see a characterization mishap like this you can at least interrogate the story for what good it did. If you do that for Neku in NEO there’s not much to come back with. What’s one of the themes of NEO? Oh, like being proactive, and self determination, and thinking for yourself and that stuff right? Then surely it makes sense for our beloved previous protagonist who we dragged back into this story to return to a life he actually had no active part in building for years. He’s been written for NEO’s convenience, not NEO’s good.

Maybe the worst part is that even when acknowledging that we can only put bandaids onto this situation, none of them can really be satisfying. Sure, I can try to make this cohere with Neku’s existing character arc, but the answers that make the most sense are always going to be the ones that suck. You take what we have for Neku and all you get for working with it is like. Fret’s arc about bein real? Minus the narrative resolution, minus the foundations in the narrative for resolution, plus more narrative baggage. Or a story where Neku feels more at home in the UG than the RG. Or a story about coping with the nitty gritty unreality of reality rewriting, or imposter syndrome, or trying to make up for a time in your youth you can never really get back.

I’m rambling at this point but it makes it really painful to look back at where og TWEWY left off, doesn’t it? Enough that i lost count of how many times i thought about writing a post like this. It’s the kind of thing that’ll bum you out no matter how interestingly you spin it.

#twewy #ntwewy #ntwewy spoilers #neo the world ends with you #the world ends with you #neku sakuraba #Subarashiki Kono Sekai #subaseka #scabby.txt

[amaranthhiding]

Dean’s Angel Kink and Sam’s Witch Kink (Part 1)

You can find part 2 here.

Supernatural really went and gave Dean a canonical angel (and demon?) kink, and Sam a canonical witch (and demon?) kink…

I'm going insane over this because the groundwork for all of it was laid in the earliest seasons, and the meaning reaches so much deeper than just some stripper fantasies.

The image above is Dean's reaction to seeing only the girl dressed as devil in episode 5x13 The Song Remains the Same. This whole scene is a dream inside of Dean's mind, by the way.

Then a second girl dressed as angel enters the stage, and this is what Dean's face does.

Then Anna (the real one) walks into his dream, right onto the stage, and Dean's face gives things away again.

If we compare this to the insides of Sam’s mind, we have his hallucination in episode 10x19 The Werther Project.

Of course this hallucination features Rowena specifically, so this doesn’t really prove a general witch kink. But let’s go all the way back to episode 3x09 Malleus Maleficarum.

The brothers are investigating a crime scene, and while Dean talks to the witnesses, Sam finds a hex bag in the bathroom.

Dean is clearly digusted by the contents of the hex bag, and Sam seemingly agrees on how gross this is. He then proceeds to tell Dean, in detail, what the hex bag is made of.

He must have examined those bones thoroughly enough to actually identify the species of animal they stem from.

The disgusted frown on Dean’s face is not at all mirrored by Sam’s face. Instead, he seems interested, maybe even fascinated.

This isn’t disgusted Sam, this is full-nerd-mode-engaged Sam.

The way he’s holding the bag is almost reverent, cradling it in both hands like a valuable trophy after Dean can’t get it out of his own hands fast enough and returns it to him.

Sam doesn’t sound disgusted or hateful as he says this.

He sounds impressed.

Dean hates witches.

This is Sam’s face of brotherly agreement.

(No, it’s not.)

(Sorry, I had to.)

Sam says “Pretty much” in a quiet voice, with a thoughtful stare to who-knows-where... which, for me, pretty much means that he doesn’t agree with his older brother at all, he just isn’t telling Dean what he really thinks.

Then they find out in this same episode that Ruby is, in fact, a witch.

Sam’s reaction is... interesting.

(Especially given the fact that he’s currently pinned to a wall by magic and really should have things to worry about other than Ruby’s status as a witch.)

Once he knows, it seems like Sam can’t stop staring at Ruby.

Dean seriously has to push Sam out of the room backwards because he simply won’t quit staring.

Well, we all know which particular road that attraction to Ruby followed. I just never actually realized before that the witch thing may have been a big contributor.

Sam is such a nerd (affectionate).

(The following pictures are from 4x09 I Know What You Did Last Summer.)

Suddenly, the expression on Sam’s face when he reads about Rowena on a website in episode 10x07 Girls, Girls, Girls before their very first meeting makes so much more sense to me.

Or his speechless, heavy swallow when she says this:

Poor guy had to wait for 7 seasons to get his Old World black magic!

If one thing is certain, it’s that this witch is the real deal.

Rowena isn’t a borrower witch like Ruby who gained her powers from a demon.

No, she’s a natural called the most powerful witch alive by multiple sources.

So you’ll have to excuse Sam if his mouth is running a little dry at the thought that everything he thought he knew about magic so far was nothing but child’s play and that he’s about to gain insights into the good stuff.

The moment where Dean throws Rowena’s hex bag at Sam in 13x12 Various & Sundry Villains is even funnier to me now than ever before:

Ahem, anyway, let‘s return to Dean’s... divine fascination and take a closer look at both Dean and Sam in episode 2x13 Houses of the Holy (and it will actually tie back to Sam’s witch kink in the end as well).

I might have to move that second half of my musings into a separate Tumblr post, though, because I’m afraid I will reach the maximum number of allowed images per post in this one here soon.

#amaranthmeta #samwena #samwitch #sam x rowena #destiel #deancas #dean x castiel #sam winchester #dean winchester #rowena macleod #rowena #supernatural #spn #5x13 #10x19 #3x09 #4x09 #10x07 #13x12 #spn meta #sam x ruby

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

The Truth of Survivor. [End of Arc]

Alright...So, I assume all of you are ready?

Yep...Though I can’t promise I’ll actually understand anything you tell me.

It’s ok. You’ll have time to dwell on it it. I plan on telling you the truth and the whole truth.

But first of all...I would like to apologize...

What for?

Remember when Hina and Boss were chasing down Uchui? And they got attacked and knocked out before they could grab him?

The person who attacked you...it was me.

Wait, WHAT!?

Why would you do that?

In order to make this plan work, we needed Uchui to evade capture. And the reason he was even in the area that day was because I planned to meet him.

I couldn’t have the Future Foundation get in the way, so I took drastic measures. Boss already knows the truth of this, of course.

*Everyone looks towards Makoto.

So, you knew the truth the whole time?

When I came to, I found that Kuripa had left a note in my pocket. He explained his actions and his reasons for what he did, and told me to buy him some time while he sorted things out.

So...I did. I’m sorry that I kept it from you. I trusted him. And I still do. I can only hope that he tells me the full truth now, since I don’t know it.

On that note, there’s another thing I need to apologize for keeping from you. About me and Rantaro...

The Katagiri incident back in the US...It was not our first meeting.

Huh!?

When had you met before?

Uchui introduced us personally. He’s been working with our group for a short while now, and has had connections way back when, even before the Future Foundation’s fall.

It was sometime after Kuripa returned from the campsite where my old friends were presiding.

What do you mean, “your old friends?”

I don’t know if we’ve ever actually openly admitted this to everyone yet...But Rantaro is from our world. 

He’s another participant in the Danganronpa V3 Killing Game.

W-Woah...

That must have been shortly before we all decided to disband and go our separate ways. Did Uchui tell you what he had done by then?

Selling out secrets, locations, maps, and everything Zetsubou would need to launch an attack on the Future Foundation? Yes, he told me.

You knew Kamukura had betrayed us all this time and you didn’t tell us!?

He had his reasons. We all did. It was all part of the big plan.

What “big plan?”

The plan to destroy Organization Zetsubou, once and for all.

Destroy them?

I don’t get it though! You still basically fucked us over! What was even the point!?

True, and I apologize for that, but it was integral.

In order to make this work, I needed to gain Zetsubou’s trust to the point where I would be allowed to preside in their secret base.

I needed to get Shirogane’s attention, and I figured that was a good way to do so. Lo and behold, it worked.

Now, because of my status and intellect, Shirogane is making good enough use of me. I wouldn’t exactly call our relationship “trust” but still, it’s good enough for me.

So...What you’re basically saying is...

Uchui never ACTUALLY betrayed us?

Take it how you will, but it was kind of a “to trick your enemies, you’ve first got to trick your allies” deal.

Yes, quite so. Uchui did indeed sell the Future Foundation’s secrets to Organization Zetsubou.

But he did so to get into Shirogane’s pocket, and then sell Organization Zetsubou’s secrets BACK to the Future Foundation.

Wait, what!? We haven’t heard any secrets though!

Is that really true? 

Wait...You mean the information we received...!?

What is it Taichi?

We got information about the Zetsubou lab...or rather the FF lab that Kaede was trapped in for a while, from an anonymous source. When we dug deeper, that’s when we found it.

Could that anonymous source have been-!?

Uchui?

Most likely. No, DEFINITELY. After all, Uchui already became aware of Kanata Inori’s situation, and how Zetsubou were blackmailing her with her father’s life.

Now that Doctor Ando is free, there’s no problem.

...The more I think on this, the more things seem to make sense.

It’s been bugging me for a long time now, but there’s something that I just couldn’t wrap my head around...Based on the information Rantaro was receiving, Uchui must have known about our movements, even after the Future Foundation’s fall.

You mean he knew where we were all going after we split up?

Yes, that would be true. In order to make this strategy work, I needed the Future Foundation to gradually trust the members of ERR0RM3SS4GE. Zen Katagiri seemed like a good way to do that.

But how would you have even known about the Katagiri situation? You were already at Zetsubou base by then and was dealing with your own problems.

Yeah, you couldn’t have kept track of all of it so easily. How’d you pull it off?

In order to do this, I needed information on all three major factions that the Foundation had been split into. Those who remained at the Foundation, those who went to the UK, and those who went to the US to hide.

I could keep track of things at the Foundation myself, so it was the other two groups I needed tabs on. Which is why I told two other people about my plan beforehand, and roped them in on it.

You hired your own spies to report?

Yes. As you might have guessed, one of these; the one reporting from the US; was Kuripa...

And the other...

Was me.

Kibin!?

Hatsudoki was keeping tabs on the group in London. She’s the one who told me of Shuichi, Kaede and Mii-Yu’s coming. Had anything drastic happened over in the UK, she would have reported it to me.

That’s it...Kibin was also summoned from the UK. We just happened to intercept her message.

So she was in on this the whole time...

Heh. I offer no apologies.

You guys make one hell of a trio. You’re kind of like your own Kyoko/Byakuya/Makoto...

I’d ask which one’s which, but we don’t have time for that.

Agreed. In any case, we know how Uchui pulled it off.

What we don’t know is the why and the what. Why Uchui felt like he had to go to such measures, and what exactly he gained from it.

Yes...While I accept that Uchui likely went this far with the intention of helping us and destroying Zetsubou from the inside, we’ve taken far too many losses because of his actions and too few gains.

I still hold out with the hope that he’ll come around, but surely there must have been some easier way to achieve this without having to sacrifice so much.

Think about what it is we’ve lost because of you! We’ve lost our home and some of our friends are DEAD! What could POSSIBLY be so important that you find that acceptable!

I DON’T find it acceptable! I’ve committed the gravest sins imaginable on the Future Foundation, and I will have you know this...

I have a mission to complete...But once I’m done...

I will take responsibility...and kill myself for it...

...the fuck...!?

A-Ain’t that a little bit much!?

Death is the only punishment I deserve...No one will accept me after all of this. And to top it all off, my motives for going this far are purely selfish.

Let me guess...It has to do with the serum, correct?

Serum?

The Hope Serum. The concoction that granted both Ayumu Fujimori and myself infinite power and Talents.

In truth, Uchui is the last surviving descendant of the Kamukura bloodline. His father was also the lead researcher of the Kamukura Project; his research in which the serum was created for.

What the hell!? You’re a Kamukura!?

Regrettably, yes...A fact that the nightmares and hallucinations remind me of every single day...

But if I do this...This may be my chance to get rid of them, once and for all. I have to get my hands on the serum...! I HAVE to!

Meeting your family’s expectations, even if it means kicking others down and betraying them...

Can’t say I agree with that ideology.

It’s what my family lived for...But you know what?

I agree...

Eh?

Wait, what do you mean? I thought you-

I wanted to use the serum to experiment on people and achieve my goal of reaching other possibilities? Half true...

The second half is indeed my goal in life, one that I don’t hope I will ever complete but the first half? I’m a better man than to use human experimentation, like my father and grandfathers before me.

Then what the hell is the goal?

The truth is...Uchui doesn’t want to make use of the serum. He lied about that.

He wants to get his hands on the serum...

So he can completely destroy it.

*There is stunned silence.

So, he took it upon himself to erase the serum from history?

Why did he not just come forward and ask for help?

Oh, what a good idea!

Why wouldn’t you come forward, admit you’re a descendant of a line of psychos and murderers, and ask for help to combat something that you’re responsible for in the first place!?

True...It would have been impossible to just dump that on us. Especially if he held it in for so long.

Makoto, wasn’t Uchui a student at Hope’s Peak post-tragedy? Surely he must have files on him, right?

Uchui was accepted into Hope’s Peak as Uchui Porosen. His uncle was his legal guardian at the time, and he had also taken in the same surname. There was no record of his parents or his lineage past that.

When did YOU find out, Kuripa?

Shortly after we became friends. He trusted me and I helped him deal with a lot of his family’s issues.

We can save that for another time though.

Indeed. The other thing you asked, Kyoko, is what he discovered.

Yes...Has he sent you any new information in regards to Zetsubou’s plan?

...

...

Wh-What’s up? Why did you both just go super quiet?

Come on, spill. What’s Shirogane planning?

I...I uncovered the truth...

Of Shirogane’s Killing Game...Danganronpa Survivor.

The truth? But...we already know the truth. She wants to hold a Killing Game with the Survivor’s of the previous Killing Game’s, right?

...

*Uchui shakes his head.

Well, what is it then!?

The fact about the Survivor’s being the participants is indeed true, but it’s not so simple...Let me ask you this.

Where do you think the setting for Danganronpa Survivor will be?

The setting?

So like how the First Killing Game was a school, and the second was an island...

Is it not this factory? I thought that’s why we were being held here?

No...The truth is, the setting of Danganronpa Survivor is...

The ENTIRE world...

Wh-WHAT!?

I’m sorry...!? 

This is all that Shirogane has been working towards for a long time...The military power, the reason why she wants an Ultimate Hope army! She plans to use this world as her stage, but to do that...

She needs to remove what’s already here...

...Oh my god...!

What!?

*Fuyuhiko turns towards everyone with a snarl.

She’s gonna wipe out all of humanity for the sake of her god damn egotistical DEATH GAME!

!!!??

!!!??

!!!??

That...That can’t be...!?

Why not? Shirogane is a delirious bitch, you really think she wouldn’t go this far.

And the fact that she’s already gathering the Survivor’s now means she must be close. 

Hold on though...Wh-What does wiping out humankind achieve!?

According to Uchui, Shirogane’s plot goes like this.

The 16 Killing Game survivors will wake up with no memories of their previous lives, only remembering that they are Ultimate’s with talents, and attended Hope’s Peak Academy.

They will be told through some anonymous source that the planet is dying, and that humankind has escaped to other pastures through space travel. The only remaining people on the planet are themselves, and the other 15 survivors.

They will be given an ultimatum. They will be granted salvation, but only under one condition.

They must find the other survivors...and kill them, correct?

And the last remaining survivor is the winner?

Good guess. It’s not exactly your typical Killing Game rules, but it’s not like they’ve not been broken before.

You see now why I couldn’t let you take Uchui in!?

Sure, he’s done us a lot of bad, all for the sake of this plan of his, but now he is the ONLY person standing in between us and ARMAGEDDON!

!!!??

Do you...really think she can DO it?

Maybe not at once...But with the Hope Serum and the sheer military power she’s built up over the last 8 years or so, I think she might have a shot.

Tsumugi is putting everything on the line for this Killing Game. She’ll either make it happen, or die trying.

Either way, lots of people are going to get killed because of her. We can’t let her do this.

It looks like there was more to the title of “Survivor” than just being the survivor of a previous killing game.

Yes...It appears the participants will also be the only surviving members of humanity besides her and her Zetsubou goons.

Hold on a sec though! That doesn’t make ANY sense!

What doesn't!?

Shirogane has an ego the length of Cambodia. She isn’t throwing a Killing Game for the sake of casual enjoyment. 

She wants people to SEE it. If she wipes out all of mankind, WHO will be her audience!?

...

Kaede’s right...! No matter how you look at it, it goes against everything she believes!

How can you be sure this is even true?

Well...That’s the thing that Uchui told me most recently when I got a chance to meet him.

It turns out that Shirogane has actually been looking into his research...And for a while now.

...

...!

!!!???

I see our lovely lady detective has already figured out where we’re going with this...

What is it Kyoko!?

Uchui Kamukura is the Ultimate Theoretical Physicist...After his exposure, I looked into some of my research himself...

As we know, he’s proven that it’s possible to bring people from other universes into your own, but he ALSO documented another study he made years ago...

The power to send out and receive broadcasted footage across dimensions using science...

...You don’t mean-!?

Shirogane is going to...!?

Broadcast this game across the MULTIVERSE!?

In the very least, I know she plans to broadcast it to the world that I brought her from...

But knowing her, she’s not going to stop at one. She will make as many people as possible watch her despair-inducing game, and no one will be able to stop it.

All kinds of people, young and old, across multiple realities, will be forced to bare witness to this horrifying game...!

So you see, those who will die and be forced to play part in this game will not be the only victims. She’ll bring her despair to EVERY OTHER WORLD in the multiverse if she can...

And She CAN...

I know that we all have our differences, and I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but this can’t continue!

Because if we don’t stop Shirogane...

NO ONE WILL BE SAFE...!

[END OF ARC]

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #danganronpa 1 #dr1 #danganronpa 2 #dr2 #oc #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #rise and shine arc #kuripa kurafto #uchui porosen #rantaro amami #kaede akamatsu #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #kazuichi soda #yasuhiro hagakure #makoto naegi #kyoko kirigiri #sayaka maizono #aoi asahina #byakuya togami #taichi fujisaki #shuichi saihara

[pistachi0art]

Werewolf of White Forest

Here’s part of an unfinished werewolf Barney fanfic I wrote last year in October.

(Mind that it’s not super cleaned up, and I almost forgot that it existed. I took out some incomplete parts, which I’ll add more to later if I feel like it.)

Tw: There’s a handful of graphic stuff described as well of a mention of gore.

======================================

“Wha-“ Barney only managed to say before getting hit by a wave of electricity from behind. Before he could even comprehend what had happened, a baton came down again. This time hitting right at his neck, the buzzing so loud he could hear it clearly next to his ear. He fully fell to the ground, feeling a click from the mask he was wearing. His vision slightly cleared as it was removed, he caught a glance of 3 or more pairs of legs moving in.

He groaned as he tried to move his head for a better view before being kicked sharply in the stomach.

“It’s your lucky day” one of the blurred blue eyes said,“you’re getting a promotion”

He woke up to a cold metal ground. His eyes slowly shifted to his surroundings. He pushed himself slightly off the ground, using his arm to prop himself up. Taking it in, he didn’t recognize where he was. The walls were a blank gray, and the same cold metal as the ground. He looked down and realized he was no longer wearing a shirt. In fact, the only thing he was wearing were CP’s provided uniform pants. No boots, no shirt, and no weapons. No wonder he was cold. He continued to get up as a sharp pain was felt in his neck, something that wasn’t there before. At first he thought it was the aftermath of the shock but this was directly on the back of his neck. He raised his hand and placed it at the source. It jolted back feeling something unfamiliar. Panic insued as he returned his hand to his neck. It felt like a small box. Sharp needle like claws held it in place, but it felt like it was deeper in his neck then it seemed.

The moment he tried to tug at it was all the confirmation he needed.

“I wouldn’t do that. You could severe your nerves if you keep pulling at it.” A voice popped in. He looked around. “It’s surgically embedded into your spine, you’re not going to remove it anytime soon.”

A small unnoticed speaker high in the left uppermost corner of the wall buzzed.

“-We found your DNA file fascinating.” The voice piped in again, “We never thought that the rumored “last werewolf” was right under our noses. You're quite the rare find.”

He frowned nervously.

“In fact, The combine found you so interesting that they insisted we must find out how you work.”

“Your lycanthropy is only triggered when the full moon is present, correct? We tracked all your alleged sighting to a full cycle and they all fall within those dates, just like the old myths read.”

“That device on your neck should allow us and the combine to meet that part of you whenever it suits us best.”

“Are you ready for a test run?”

Barney looked around confused taking a step back before he heard a small beep front the device. He screamed as it felt like shockwaves were sent throughout his body. He bent over groaning.

“We’ve taken months in preparation for this, it was all a matter of finding out if it actually works.”

Barney felt his body contort. Normally, on the nights of a full moon there was this mindset of preparation and to that, the slow blackout where he no longer felt the pain. Now it felt like someone was molding his body, like clay and wood. Bones shifted and twisted.

He felt fur painfully push itself out of his arms and legs. Body and limbs elongated and his teeth sharpened. His face swelled forward changing shape into a muzzle, his skull reshaping. A dark furry tail protruded out at the base of his spine. Claws arrupted from under his nail beds, painfully pushing the old nails away. He screamed, with the sound quickly becoming inhuman.

Eventually it did stop. Barney collapsed, panting heavily from the impromptu transformation. His body ached more than normal from this unnatural occurrence. Worst of all, he was fully conscious unlike the nights of a full moon where he never really remembered what had happened.

His ear flicked as he felt he was being observed and studied.

He eventually adjusted himself up, on all fours as it better balanced his form. His claws scraping against the floor.

An attempt was made to talk, but it hurt trying to push out some sort of coherent sentence. Instead, he whined with his ears back, defensive to everything around him.

====================================

They kept him in that form for months. Unlike the one night once a month, from when the sun rose to when it set, he was still an animal. From the bleak empty room he was kept in to the “tests” the combine forced, there was a sense he was losing himself.

They began feeding him less and less each day, rations and water became minimal tacking onto the madness.

No outside interaction, the only contact he was given was from that of the soldiers to the voice from the speaker. He could hear them taunt him, anytime he tried scratching the iron door to make them shut up he would be sent a shock. They then would cackle horribly in response.

He wasn’t sure about the time either, he would sleep at random, there wasn’t a clock, nor were there windows in the room he was in. Sometimes he could assume the time from when he got hungry, but that quickly became meaningless as feeding times became inconsistent with smaller portions each time.

They caged and treated him like an animal.

The hunger was driving a hole in his stomach and in his head. A primal urge was building and wasn’t slowing.

The door opened as combine soldiers piled in, Barney immediately being remotely shocked as they grabbed onto him. One clamped something around his muzzle as he was forced out. The voice buzzed in.

“Hello. We’ve discovered a small group of rebels hiding within the city! How silly is that? We felt it was best to send a warning and test how you’ve been holding in by showing your skills out on the field.”

It was the afternoon. The sun was still in the sky, he could feel it’s warmth on his fur. However the moment couldn’t be enjoyed as he was directed to the rebel hiding spot. An old warehouse. He lashed back attempting to turn around, run away, something, but was ultimately stopped by a shock.

Pushed in he watched the rebels fight back, a part of him wanted to help somehow but another part was ordered to attack them. That primal urge kicked back up. He felt another shock as someone yelled at him to attack. The clamp around his muzzle fell off and he ran forward. He barreled into 2, knocking them back with a snarl. He turned to see the another behind him. He ran without second thought and pounced onto them. The next part he doesn’t remember all that well-

He clawed too deep into their chest. A dark crimson. A hunger.

His mouth tasted of copper and something raw when he came too, he was back in his cell, the voice on the speaker only retorting in a disgusting chipper manner,

“Good to know you were properly motivated!”

It wasn’t long before Barney started to lose himself even more. Blackouts. He would usually wake up with his mouth soaked in blood with an uncomfortable fullness in his stomach. He knew what it had to be, but never found himself thinking about it too much. It was an awful new norm. He couldn’t wash his face and it wasn’t like the combine wanted him to. Dried blood stayed between his paws and mouth. Out of cleanliness or hunger he simply attempted to lick the waste off. It wasn’t very affective nor did it help.

One night after getting back from another raid, he came too with an arm in his mouth. He quickly dropped it, with wide eyes. He pushed back into a corner where and cried out a mix of howling and inhuman sobs. He felt a long shock before collapsing.

#small big things #fanfic #half life #hl #barney calhoun #werewolf barney #calhound

[beyonddarkness]

This is going to take a while to unravel, so bear with me. Everything is so intertwined, it is difficult to split into sections. This sequence will be in two or more parts.

Galadriel’s arc in season one revolves around her task.

"[Sauron] sees Galadriel, and knows that what she needs more than anything else is to find the evil that has plagued her for so long, and save Middle-earth." JD Payne, The Rings of Power Podcast 1×08

Remember that according to Patrick, “character after character in the show” tells Galadriel that her obsession is not a good thing. One thing we know with certainty: Vengeance cannot satisfy it.

Her task is directly associated with two things: 1) the dagger, and 2) the mark that Sauron carved into Finrod’s flesh.

While it makes sense on the surface (or to someone like me, who had not read the books before watching the show), there is much more than meets the eye. From Galadriel’s perspective, the dagger is special because it was Finrod’s, and (it is assumed) she views it as a symbol of his task—now hers. However, on The Boat, we see a peculiar attachment as she struggles to let go.

The reason behind this is simple. “The most important truths often are,” says Finrod, but we must learn to discern them for ourselves; JD and Patrick will not always be there to speak them to us.

First, we trace this back to the source.

In response to this, Sauron poses excellent questions, with which we may begin. He most certainly knows the answers to every single one by this point, which means each question is rhetorical. It would not be the first time he interrogates in this manner. But what is he trying to accomplish in the workshop conversation, specifically?

He is trying to make her think.

Referring to the season finale, Charlie Vickers reveals that Sauron wanted Galadriel to figure out who he was.

Do you think he wanted Galadriel to figure it out? "Yes. He’s ready for her to see him for who he is, and he thinks she’s ready to know it." Charlie Vickers, The New York Times

We will return to this idea later. Now that we have established that every question is rhetorical, let us thoroughly answer each one:

“What do you know of darkness?”

Galadriel first touched the darkness as she mourned over her dead brother; but for her, ‘touching the darkness’ was more than figurative.

Yes, Sauron could have seen (or perceived) this memory as it flashes through her mind, but he somehow knew about this moment before. He triggered this memory for a purpose: to make her stop galloping, and give herself a moment to think.

He is trying to tell her something, while giving her room to figure it out, herself.

“And there, in the darkness … “

” … his vow … “

” … became mine.”

Next question. It is no wonder that Sauron knows who the dagger belonged to, but to mention it as a follow-up seems like an answer, in and of itself. It is as if to say: “This is what you know of darkness.”

“Whose dagger was it, Galadriel? Who is it you lost?”

Answer: Her brother, Finrod Felagund, who was the High King of the Elves at the time of his death.

“What happened to him?”

Wow. We have suddenly been asked an extremely loaded question. Galadriel gives the short answer:

“He was killed in a place of darkness and despair, by servants of Sauron.”

This is a wonderful summary, but even Galadriel asks, “Is that enough for you?” She knows (as well as we), how long it would take to explain.

… But Sauron asked for it.

We must make an attempt. This is one of the most crucial pieces of information. A gander in The Silmarillion answers this question more fully; (and oh boy, is it a long one). We shall delve deeper into the story of Beren and Lúthien.

WHAT HAPPENED TO FINROD?

There is so much to cover, but we will dissect as much as we possibly can. Let us begin a bit before Beren’s arrival in Nargothrond, for a little background (taken from The Silmarillion: Of Beren and Lúthien).

King Thingol loved and cherished his daughter, Lúthien, above all things. When she brought Beren before him, he said “in scorn and anger”:

‘Who are you, that come hither as a thief, and unbidden dare to approach my throne?’

Insults were exchanged, lives were threatened, and at length, Thingol said to Beren:

‘Bring to me in your hand a Silmaril from Morgoth’s crown; and then, if she will, Lúthien may set her hand in yours. Then you shall have my jewel; and though the fate of Arda lie within the Silmarils, yet you shall hold me generous.‘

To which Beren laughed and responded:

‘For little price do Elven-kings sell their daughters: for gems, and things made by craft. But if this be your will, Thingol, I will perform it. And when we meet again my hand shall hold a Silmaril from the Iron Crown; for you have not looked the last upon Beren son of Barahir.‘

Thus, Beren undertook a daunting task, indeed. A while after his departure, he saw Nargothrond afar off, and “being destitute, without hope or counsel, he turned his feet thither.” The Elves of Nargothrond were aware of Beren as he traveled through.

But knowing his danger he held ever aloft the ring of Felagund; and though he saw no living thing, because of the stealth of the hunters, he felt that he was watched, and cried often aloud: ‘I am Beren son of Barahir, friend of Felagund. Take me to the King!’

The Elves surrounded him, but spared his life, and bowed to him upon seeing this ring. They led him by night “lest their paths should be revealed […] to the dark gates of their hidden halls.”

The stage has been set, and we switch gears momentarily. Galadriel explains what she thinks is Finrod’s vow in the beginning of episode one:

“My brother vowed to seek [Sauron] out and destroy him.” Galadriel

Considering that Galadriel has a habit of assuming things, and jumping to conclusions in the first half of season one, it is understandable that this is not Finrod’s true vow. [Sauron also has a habit relevant to this, which will be discussed later.]

Finrod did make a vow, though, and it came “upon him for his death”; just not for the reason that Galadriel thought. She had to have gotten her belief from somewhere (there are some possibilities, but let us not get sidetracked). This part of the story was not changed for the show; there is a purpose for this. [I do not believe the Tolkien Estate would have allowed something like this for no reason. You will see why.]

First, we must go back to Dagor Bragollach: The Battle of Sudden Flame.

[…] King Finrod Felagund, hastening from the south, was cut off from his people and surrounded with small company in the Fen of Serech; and he would have been slain or taken […]

[…] but Barahir came up with the bravest of his men and rescued him, and made a wall of spears about him; and they cut their way out of the battle with great loss. Thus Felagund escaped, and returned to his deep fortress of Nargothrond; but he swore an oath of abiding friendship and aid in every need to Barahir and all his kin, and in token of his vow he gave to Barahir his ring.

The Silmarillion: Of the Ruin of Beleriand

What was Finrod’s true oath? It was one of “abiding friendship and aid in every need to Barahir and all his kin.” What is the token of his oath? Not the dagger. It is his ring, which he gives to Barahir. It is eventually passed down to Aragorn.

Knowing Finrod’s true oath, let us return to Beren’s arrival in Nargothrond (again, taken from Of Beren and Lúthien).

Thus Beren came before King Finrod Felagund; and Felagund knew him, needing no ring to remind him of the kin of Bëor and of Barahir. Behind closed doors they sat, and Beren told of the death of Barahir, and of all that had befallen him in Doriath; and he wept, recalling Lúthien and their joy together. But Felagund heard his tale in wonder and disquiet; and he knew that the oath he had sworn was come upon him for his death, as long before he had foretold to Galadriel.

“But you must learn to discern them for yourself. I won’t always be here to speak them to you.”

“You won’t?”

Ow.

“Behind closed doors they sat,” it says. A crucial detail. Finrod’s conversation with Beren was in secret.

Beren, being the son of Barahir, fell under the ‘kin’ category in Finrod’s oath. Finrod had to help Beren with this task (which was to retrieve a Silmaril from the Iron Crown of Morgoth, and bring it to Thingol), and knew that it would spell his own death.

He spoke then to Beren in heaviness of heart. ‘It is plain that Thingol desires your death; but it seems that this doom goes beyond his purpose, and that the Oath of Fëanor is again at work. For the Silmarils are cursed with an oath of hatred, and he that even names them in desire moves a great power from slumber; and the sons of Fëanor would lay all the Elf-kingdoms in ruin rather than suffer any other than themselves to win or possess a Silmaril, for the Oath drives them. And now Celegorm and Curufin are dwelling in my halls; and though I, Finarfin’s son, am King, they have won a strong power in the realm, and lead many of their own people.’

This next statement is the key.

‘They have shown friendship to me in every need, but I fear that they will show neither love nor mercy to you, if your quest be told. Yet my own oath holds; and thus we are all ensnared.’

Finrod basically said: “If we tell anyone about your task, your life is in jeopardy. If your life is in jeopardy, I must protect you. Thus, revealing the details of your quest would start a war.”

It is interesting that this scene cuts from Finrod’s statement straight to this:

Then King Felagund spoke before his people, recalling the deeds of Barahir, and his vow; and he declared that it was laid upon him to aid the son of Barahir in his need, and he sought the help of his chieftains.

Finrod did not say what Beren’s specific need was. Yet, Celegorm still repeats the oath of his father (because a ‘great power’ was moved ‘from slumber,’ by Thingol simply mentioning the Silmarils in desire). The following statement shows that if the details of their mission were revealed, the outcome of Finrod’s announcement would have been far worse.

Then Celegorm arose amid the throng, and drawing his sword he cried: ‘Be he friend or foe, whether demon of Morgoth, or Elf, or child of Men, or any other living thing in Arda, neither law, nor love, nor league of hell, nor might of the Valar, nor any power of wizardry, shall defend him from the pursuing hate of Fëanor’s sons, if he take or find a Silmaril and keep it. For the Silmarils we alone claim, until the world ends.’

Proof of the threat of war:

And after Celegorm Curufin spoke, more softly but with no less power, conjuring in the minds of the Elves a vision of war and the ruin of Nargothrond.

Then, their land was darkened, and the sons of Fëanor (having their hearts darkened) wanted to usurp the throne from Finrod.

What does all of this entail? It means that there was room for rumors to be spread, and assumptions to be made, as to why Finrod helped Beren, and what the task was. Finrod’s was an oath of friendship; why did Galadriel say something that was rooted in vengeance?

Threat of treason did not sway Finrod from fulfilling his oath. “I must hold my bond,” he says. He and Beren, with ten (very) loyal companions set out. They came upon a company of Orcs, slew them, and by the arts of Finrod, thoroughly disguised themselves as Orcs. They came “far upon their northward road, and ventured into the western pass, between Ered Wethrin and the highlands of Taur-nu-Fuin.”

But Sauron in his tower was ware of them, and doubt took him; for they went in haste, and stayed not to report their deeds, as was commanded to all the servants of Morgoth that passed that way. Therefore he sent to waylay them, and bring them before him.

In other words, Sauron noticed some suspicious activity from these twelve supposed Orcs, and had them brought to him. Thus, the contest of the songs of power took place between Finrod and Sauron, and “the King was very great; but Sauron had the mastery.” Finrod lost, Sauron stripped them of their disguises, and “they stood before him naked and afraid.”

The question: ‘What happened to Finrod?’ will be answered in a few moments. As you read the following, ask yourself why he died.

But though their kinds were revealed, Sauron could not discover their names or their purposes.

He cast them therefore into a deep pit, dark and silent, and threatened to slay them cruelly, unless one would betray the truth to him. From time to time they saw two eyes kindled in the dark, and a werewolf devoured one of the companions; but none betrayed their lord.

Sauron obviously knew of the existence of Finrod. However, he clearly did not know that this particular Elf was the High King.

One might say that Finrod’s task is one of the most important things in the show, considering Sauron tortured and killed to know it (along with his identity). Even though he never found out, he still sees things, and therefore perceived something.

In the pits of Sauron Beren and Felagund lay, and all their companions were now dead; but Sauron purposed to keep Felagund to the last, for he perceived that he was a Noldo of great might and wisdom, and he deemed that in him lay the secret of their errand.

Unfortunately for Sauron, saving Finrod for last meant that Beren would have to go first. This brings us to Finrod’s end. Why did he die? Because his task (and identity) were kept secret, and he was bound by an oath.

In answer to your question, Sauron …

“What happened to him?”

Here is the long answer.

But when the wolf came for Beren, Felagund put forth all his power, and burst his bonds; and he wrestled with the werewolf, and slew it with his hands and teeth; yet he himself was wounded to the death. Then he spoke to Beren, saying: ‘I go now to my long rest in the timeless halls beyond the seas and the Mountains of Aman. It will be long ere I am seen among the Noldor again; and it may be that we shall not meet a second time in death or life, for the fates of our kindreds are apart. Farewell!’ He died then in the dark, in Tol-in-Gaurhoth, whose great tower he himself had built. Thus King Finrod Felagund, fairest and most beloved of the house of Finwë, redeemed his oath; but Beren mourned beside him in despair.

[To be continued … ]

#the rings of power #finrod #sauron #galadriel #the silmarillion #rings of power #jd payne #charlie vickers #blog post #blog #chapter 2 #trop meta

[goddessofroyalty]

Prompt for your Zaun family fic (I'm really loving it!): Viktor ends up pregnant by Jayce accidentally, and Jayce and Viktor have to break the news to a very angry Silco. Also, I imagine Viktor would have put off telling his dads about his relationship with Jayce because he doesn't want to deal with any blowups. So the reveal is kind of out of nowhere.

Once again what to Jayce is a different language is just heavy code-switching dialect.

Tags: mpreg

---------------

You do not have to do this with me,” Viktor says because he must be able to fell how clammy Jayce’s hand is holding his as they walk towards the Zaun Representative’s office. How tight Jayce’s grip is to try and stop his hand from shaking. “I can talk to Silco first.”

Viktor can maybe talk Silco down from how mad he’s going to be at the news.

“No. We’re doing this together right?” How is Jayce meant to be staying at Viktor’s side for the whole pregnancy if he can’t even be there to tell Viktor’s parents that they are going to be grandparents? Just – are you sure we can’t tell Vander first?”

“Dad will just tell him,” Viktor says which is kind of the point – avoid the conversation altogether. “And Silco will be unhappy that we did not tell him ourselves.”

“Right. You’re right.” Jayce knows Silco already thinks he’s a coward. Not owning up to his role in the situation is only going to solidify that opinion.

“Jayce I am fine with talking to him first,” Viktor says, now they are stopped outside the door to Silco’s office. The last opportunity Jayce has to back out if he’s going to. “This is not something I need you for.”

“I want to do this.” Jayce wants to be there for all of it. Has wanted to be by Viktor’s side for everything for a while now. And maybe this would be a little less terrifying if they had promoted that fact a little more. “Just, if he kills me for this make sure they know I loved them.”

“He will not kill you,” Viktor assures. “Threaten yes, and, ah, maybe maim a little. But not kill.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring Vik,” Jayce says as he pulls Viktor into a hug.

He feels calmer with Viktor in his arms. Both from Viktor’s warmth and scent. A reminder that they are in this together. That this is just another part of the future they are building together.

Viktor lets out a huff of breath against Jayce’s shoulder but leans into him, his eyes shutting as he breathes deeper to take in Jayce’s scent.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Jayce says, pressing a kiss to Viktor’s forehead before pulling away and squaring himself.

Viktor doesn’t say anything. Just knocks on the door and calls out in the language he and Silco share. Opening it when Silco calls out that they can enter.

Silco takes one look at Jayce and his expression immediately hardens.

“What have you done now?”

Jayce bites his tongue to stop himself from pointing out that every time there has been trouble in relation to him and his work one of Silco’s children have been the actual source of it. As cold as Silco is his children are the one area where he will allow no threat perceived or real to target. And Jayce does not want him any angrier than he is going to be.

“Jayce and I have news we wanted to tell you before we told anyone else,” Viktor says. Silco’s gaze immediately switching to his son, his good eye running over him as if he expects him to be injured.

“You’ve agreed to marry him,” Silco says after his eyes settle on his son’s face.

Jayce wishes it was that even with how unimpressed Silco’s tone is about it.

“Not yet,” Viktor says. “Although I think that will be not far off.”

Because that’s what Jayce should have done first. Even if they hadn’t intended to skip that step before starting a family together, Jayce knows he should make it right.

“Then what?” Silco asks before the realization clearly settles on him and his gaze returns to Jayce. This time filled with more anger and hate than Jayce has ever seen on him. “No.”

Jayce manages to stand firm despite every instinct of his screaming to run. Or at least hide behind Viktor because he knows Silco would never hurt one of his children.

“I’m pregnant,” Viktor confirms. And for a moment Silco glances at his son, his expression almost soft, before he is right back glaring at Jayce. “Jayce is the father.”

“How?”

“I did not think I would have to explain that to you,” Viktor says.

When Silco glares at Viktor Jayce immediately revises him plan to include grabbing his partner before fleeing the room.

“You assured me your relationship with him was only professional,” Silco says and Jayce does feel guilty agreeing with Viktor that they would hold off telling people about their relationship. He shouldn’t have encouraged Viktor to lie to his parents just to avoid their reaction.

“It has not been, ah, purely professional for a while now,” Viktor says with a shrug. “I lied.”

Jayce doesn’t need to understand the words to know that an argument breaks out between the two. The angry tone of the words more than enough to get that point across.

As much as he wants to defend Viktor he knows better than to interrupt.

“Don’t,” Viktor says, his tone suddenly harsh and firm. His hand gripping his cane tight to the point Jayce thinks he can see it shake and there is an almost wet edge to the words that immediately has Jayce worried. Silco might have a soft spot for his kids but that doesn’t mean he can’t be cruel in his words even to them.

Jayce reaches out to Viktor’s hand. Running his thumb over the knuckles of it.

When Viktor glances back at him Jayce tries to communicate his support with expression alone. Checking in if Viktor needs him to get involved. Because Jayce will if Viktor needs him to no matter how much meaner Silco is to him.

Viktor softly shakes his head so Jayce leaves it.

Silco’s anger seems to have calmed with it. Viktor’s dad looking more tired than mad as he pours himself a drink and leans back in his chair.

“I remember you once thought even just kissing to be disgusting and swore you would never be interested in it,” Silco says, downing the whole glass in single drink. “What happened to that?”

“I grew up,” Viktor says and Silco’s mouth curls into something that almost resembles a smile at it.

“You did,” Silco says, putting the empty glass down before getting up and coming over. Jayce has to remind himself that he knows Silco would never intentional hurt his children to prevent himself from grabbing Viktor and running. “And now you are going to be a parent with a child of your own.”

“I am,” Viktor says and Silco reaches out almost tentatively to cup Viktor’s cheek. As if he is afraid of hurting his son, or perhaps that Viktor will shun his touch.

The fact Viktor leans into it has Silco’s expression softening.

At least until he glances over at Jayce.

“I assume you are not going anywhere?”

“Of course not.” Even if the child was not his Jayce would still be there to support Viktor however he would allow him to.

Silco’s expression twists into something Jayce can’t read.

“He will be a good dad,” Viktor says.

Jayce doesn’t know what to say to it. He wants to be a good dad. The best dad. But he will admit that he is kind of terrified of it. But the kind of terror like when he is waiting to see if one of his experiments will work or collapse. Just this is one he can’t afford to mess up the first time.

“He certainly has the energy to keep up with any child,” Silco says and Jayce takes it as the closest he’s going to get to acceptance from him.

Now he just has to survive telling Viktor’s siblings.  

#Zaun Family #Jayvik #Arcane mpreg #mpreg #Arcane #Jayce Arcane #Viktor Arcane #Silco Arcane #Anon Prompt #Prompt Fill #Prompt Fic

[primordialpaper]

Fairy Tail Avengers AU Random WIPs and Snippets, #1

<Wendy thought she was in for a quiet night, idling in the Compound's infirmary after her Captain had returned that morning with an unconscious man with a metal arm.>

Wendy was pulled, quite abruptly, from her book at the sound of something viciously striking against metal. The force of it was so great, it nearly rattled the walls around her.

The sound came again, and again, before she cast her book aside, leaping to her feet as she hastened to investigate, disquiet already building in her stomach.

No one disturbed her as she rushed through the labs, owing to the fact that all the staff had long since departed by this hour. That thought was something of a comfort, if her hunch on the source of the noises was correct. Under normal circumstances, there shouldn’t have been anyone else there to make any noise. It would’ve been easy to dismiss some distant crash as the result of an unfortunate conflict between gravity and a poorly balanced chair. Under normal circumstances, the medical ward would’ve been empty except for her.

Such was not the case tonight.

The banging carried on, growing louder and harsher as Wendy drew near, until she reached the hall that held one of the medical ward’s lesser used exits. It lead directly from the Compound’s hanger, to be used as a shortcut for heavily injured personnel after flying in, kept separate by a thick metal door and keypad lock to ensure the ward wasn’t accessible to just anyone capable of reaching the hanger. 

Grimly, Wendy noted that those measures must be effective, as the man Natsu brought in that morning had been reduced to simply pounding against the door in vain with his fist.

His metal fist.

This was her first time seeing him awake. The man. The man Natsu and Cobra had recovered just this morning after nearly two years of fruitless searching. Her Captain’s oldest friend, thought long-dead only to be revealed as not only alive, but the victim of decades of brainwashing at the hands of Hydra. An assassin of unparalleled skill, wanted in several countries, with a list of kills that went back to before Wendy’s birth.

Gajeel Redfox.

“Mr. Redfox!” she yelped thoughtlessly, well aware that she hadn’t a clue what to do after announcing herself. 

Immediately, he stopped his banging, whipping around towards the sound of her voice. The look on his face when he turned to her made something go tight in her chest.

To someone without Wendy’s sense of perception, Gajeel would only appear to be darkly furious. His expression was severe, brows drawn sharply in a scowl, stance large and imposing. But Wendy, trained from birth to spot the signs of someone in pain or distress, could see further, deeper. Decades of pain and fear swam behind those crimson eyes, to say nothing of the maelstrom of terror and panic she could sense raging within his mind. Wendy didn’t think she’d ever encountered someone as drenched in darkness as the man before her.

“Where the hell am I?” he demanded lowly, taking a few steps towards her. “Who do you work for?”

“You’re in the Avenger’s Compound, in upstate New York.” Wendy blurted. She didn’t retreat, nor did she dare reach for her powers, lest this man judge her a threat. “I- I work for them. The Avengers. I am one.”

She couldn't say she was surprised when Gajeel didn’t seem inclined to believe her rambling explanation. Instead of responding with derision, though, he looked at her with something closer to dismay from this shorter distance away.

<skip>

It was then that Wendy noticed the ring of harshly abraded skin at his right wrist, slowly beading blood down to his fingertips. Clearly, the end result of Gajeel’s haste to be rid of the cuffs meant to confine him to his bed. “You’re hurt.” she murmured, speaking to him like she would an injured, frightened animal. “I can help with that. We can go back to medical, and-”

At the mention of the word ‘medical’, Wendy abruptly found Natsu's friend leveling a gun at her chest. 

To date, Wendy was fairly certain she had never been sighted down the barrel of a gun up close before. She’d dodged shots from energy weapons, and scurried around machine gun fire, but somehow this felt different. Wendy found she was struck dumb in spite of herself, in spite of her powers, in spite of her knowledge that the man across from her was far more afraid than she could possibly be at the moment.

The weapon was lowered again, though, before she could do more than tense, and now Gajeel’s face was twisted in anguish. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he croaked out, seizing his wrist with his metal hand when it looked like it wanted to twitch upwards. “I don’t wanna- not anymore. I- I don’t-”

“It’s okay.” almost nothing about this situation was okay, but Wendy was desperate to thwart the downward spiral she could sense Gajeel rapidly approaching. “We don’t have to go anywhere. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to.”

The option was there, of course, to send out a piece of her power to quiet his mind, lull him into a perfectly peaceful sleep until Natsu arrived to tend to him. But Wendy found there were multiple factors at play that ultimately stayed her hand. She wasn’t certain she could manage to bewitch him before he caught on to her attempt (her eyes would most certainly give her away, what with their insistent red glow). She had no guarantee her magic would even take hold, were she to try (she was out of practice, delving into people’s heads, and had been more than content to remain that way before tonight). But, more than that, the thought of poking around in this man’s mind, with what little she knew of how brutally he’d been abused in a not dissimilar manner for decades... every fiber of her being balked at the idea of committing such a transgression.

<skip>

“You think I haven’t killed girls like you?” the remark was a dark warning, reminding her of the monster the man before her had been twisted into.

Wendy knew a thing or two about monsters, about twisting. She’d been at the mercy of monsters before, done a good deal of twisting to the fabric of the world on their orders. (She’d been twisted herself, too, her love for one man used to nearly bring about the apocalypse.)

He hadn’t had much of a choice (he’d had no choice in what was done to him), but if he was laying all his cards on the table, then the least she could do for him was to respond in kind.

Raising her hand, Wendy cast her power outwards, settling it around the mangled door where it began to assume its former, unbroken shape. She probably could’ve chosen an easier way to demonstrate her abilities, having only recently started training to manipulate the form of things rather than just granting them attributes, but she didn’t let the effort show on her face.

“You’ve never killed a girl like me.” she informed Gajeel succinctly.

#fairy tail #wendy marvell #gajeel redfox #primordial post #marvel #mcu #FT+MCU AU #my writing