Dead Fandoms, Part 3

Read Part One of Dead Fandoms here. 

Read Part Two of Dead Fandoms here. 

Before we continue, I want to add the usual caveat that I actually don’t want to be right about these fandoms being dead. I like enthusiasm and energy and it’s a shame to see it vanish.

Mists of Avalon

Remember that period of time of about 15 years, where absolutely everybody read this book and was obsessed with it? It could not have been bigger, and the fandom was Anne Rice huge, overlapping for several years with USENET and the early World Wide Web…but it’s since petered out. 

Mists of Avalon’s popularity may be due to the most excellent case of hitting a demographic sweet spot ever. The book was a feminist retelling of the Arthurian Mythos where Morgan Le Fay is the main character, a pagan from matriarchal goddess religions who is fighting against encroaching Christianity and patriarchal forms of society coming in with it. Also, it made Lancelot bisexual and his conflict is how torn he is about his attraction to both Arthur and Guinevere.

Remember, this novel came out in 1983 – talk about being ahead of your time! If it came out today, the reaction from a certain corner would be something like “it is with a heavy heart that I inform you that tumblr is at it again.”

Man, demographically speaking, that’s called “nailing it.” It used to be one of the favorite books of the kind of person who’s bookshelf is dominated by fantasy novels about outspoken, fiery-tongued redheaded women, who dream of someday moving to Scotland, who love Enya music and Kate Bush, who sell homemade needlepoint stuff on etsy, who consider their religious beliefs neo-pagan or wicca, and who have like 15 cats, three of which are named Isis, Hypatia, and Morrigan.

This type of person is still with us, so why did this novel fade in popularity? There’s actually a single hideous reason: after her death around 2001, facts came out that Marion Zimmer Bradley abused her daughters sexually. Even when she was alive, she was known for defending and enabling a known child abuser, her husband, Walter Breen. To say people see your work differently after something like this is an understatement – especially if your identity is built around being a progressive and feminist author.


I try to break up my sections on dead fandoms into three parts: first, I explain the property, then explain why it found a devoted audience, and finally, I explain why that fan devotion and community went away. Well, in the case of Robotech, I can do all three with a single sentence: it was the first boy pilot/giant robot Japanimation series that shot for an older, teenage audience to be widely released in the West. Robotech found an audience when it was the only true anime to be widely available, and lost it when became just another import anime show. In the days of Crunchyroll, it’s really hard to explain what made Robotech so special, because it means describing a different world.

Try to imagine what it was like in 1986 for Japanime fans: there were barely any video imports, and if you wanted a series, you usually had to trade tapes at your local basement club (they were so precious they couldn’t even be sold, only traded). If you were lucky, you were given a script to translate what you were watching. Robotech though, was on every day, usually after school. You want an action figure? Well, you could buy a Robotech Valkyrie or a Minmei figure at your local corner FAO Schwartz. 

However, the very strategy that led to it getting syndicated is the very reason it was later vilified by the purists who emerged when anime became a widespread cultural force: strictly speaking, there actually is no show called “Robotech.” Since Japanese shows tend to be short run, say, 50-60 episodes, it fell well under the 80-100 episode mark needed for syndication in the US. The producer of Harmony Gold, Carl Macek, had a solution: he’d cut three unrelated but similar looking series together into one, called “Robotech.” The shows looked very similar, had similar love triangles, used similar tropes, and even had little references to each other, so the fit was natural. It led to Robotech becoming a weekday afternoon staple with a strong fandom who called themselves “Protoculture Addicts.” There were conventions entirely devoted to Robotech. The supposed shower scene where Minmei was bare-breasted was the barely whispered stuff of pervert legend in pre-internet days. And the tie in novels, written with the entirely western/Harmony Gold conception of the series and which continued the story, were actually surprisingly readable.

The final nail in the coffin of Robotech fandom was the rise of Sailor Moon, Toonami, Dragonball, and yes, Pokemon (like MC Hammer’s role in popularizing hip hop, Pokemon is often written out of its role in creating an audience for the next wave of cartoon imports out of insecurity). Anime popularity in the West can be defined as not a continuing unbroken chain like scifi book fandom is, but as an unrelated series of waves, like multiple ancient ruins buried on top of each other (Robotech was the vanguard of the third wave, as Anime historians reckon); Robotech’s wave was subsumed by the next, which had different priorities and different “core texts.” Pikachu did what the Zentraedi and Invid couldn’t do: they destroyed the SDF-1.

Legion of Super-Heroes

Legion of Superheroes was comic set in the distant future that combined superheroes with space opera, with a visual aesthetic that can best be described as “Star Trek: the Motion Picture, if it was set in a disco.” 

I’ve heard wrestling described as “a soap opera for men.” If that’s the case, then Legion of Super-Heroes was a soap opera for nerds. The book is about attractive 20-somethings who seem to hook up all the time. As a result, it had a large female fanbase, which, I cannot stress enough, is incredibly unusual for this era in comics history. And if you have female fans, you get a lot of shipping and slashfic, and lots of speculation over which of the boy characters in the series is gay. The fanon answer is Element Lad, because he wore magenta-pink and never had a girlfriend. (Can’t argue with bulletproof logic like that.) In other words, it was a 1970s-80s fandom that felt much more “modern” than the more right-brained, bloodless, often anal scifi fandoms that existed around the same time, where letters pages were just nitpicking science errors by model train and elevator enthusiasts.

Legion Headquarters seemed to be a rabbit fuck den built around a supercomputer and Danger Room. Cosmic Boy dressed like Tim Curry in Rocky Horror. There’s one member, Duo Damsel, who can turn into two people, a power that, in the words of Legion writer Jim Shooter, was “useful for weird sex…and not much else.”

LSH was popular because the fans were insanely horny. This is, beyond the shadow of a doubt, the thirstiest fandom of all time.  You might think I’m overselling this, but I really think that’s an under-analyzed part of how some kinds of fiction build a devoted fanbase.  

For example, a big reason for the success of Mass Effect is that everyone has a favorite girl or boy, and you have the option to romance them. Likewise, everyone who was a fan of Legion remembers having a crush. Sardonic Ultra Boy for some reason was a favorite among gay male nerds (aka the Robert Conrad Effect). Tall, blonde, amazonian telepath Saturn Girl, maybe the first female team leader in comics history, is for the guys with backbone who prefer Veronica over Betty. Shrinking Violet was a cute Audrey Hepburn type. And don’t forget Shadow Lass, who was a blue skinned alien babe with pointed ears and is heavily implied to have an accent (she was Aayla Secura before Aayla Secura was Aayla Secura). Light Lass was commonly believed to be “coded lesbian” because of a short haircut and her relationships with men didn’t work out. The point is, it’s one thing to read about the adventures of a superteam, and it implies a totally different level of mental and emotional involvement to read the adventures of your imaginary girlfriend/boyfriend.  

Now, I should point out that of all the fandoms I’ve examined here, LSH was maybe the smallest. Legion was never a top seller, but it was a favorite of the most devoted of fans who kept it alive all through the seventies and eighties with an energy and intensity disproportionate to their actual numbers. My gosh, were LSH fans devoted! Interlac and Legion Outpost were two Legion fanzines that are some of the most famous fanzines in comics history.

If nerd culture fandoms were drugs, Star Wars would be alcohol, Doctor Who would be weed, but Legion of Super-Heroes would be injecting heroin directly into your eyeballs. Maybe it is because the Legionnaires were nerdy, too: they played Dungeons and Dragons in their off time (an escape, no doubt, from their humdrum, mundane lives as galaxy-rescuing superheroes). There were sometimes call outs to Monty Python. Basically, the whole thing had a feel like the dorkily earnest skits or filk-singing at a con. Legion felt like it’s own fan series, guest starring Patton Oswalt and Felicia Day.

It helped that the boundary between fandom and professional was incredibly porous. For instance, pro-artist Dave Cockrum did covers for Legion fanzines. Former Legion APA members Todd and Mary Biernbaum got a chance to actually write Legion, where, with the gusto of former slashfic writers given the keys to canon, their major contribution was a subplot that explicitly made Element Lad gay. Mike Grell, a professional artist who got paid to work on the series, did vaguely porno-ish fan art. Again, it’s hard to tell where the pros started and the fandom ended; the inmates were running the asylum.

Mostly, Legion earned this devotion because it could reward it in a way no other comic could. Because Legion was not a wide market comic but was bought by a core audience, after a point, there were no self-contained one-and-done Legion stories. In fact, there weren’t even really arcs as we know it, which is why Legion always has problems getting reprinted in trade form. Legion was plotted like a daytime soap opera: there were always five different stories going on in every issue, and a comic involved cutting between them. Sure, like daytime soap operas, there’s never a beginning, just endless middles, so it was totally impossible for a newbie to jump on board…but soap operas know what they are doing: long term storytelling rewards a long term reader.

This brings me to today, where Legion is no longer being published by DC. There is no discussion about a movie or TV revival. This is amazing. Comics are a world where the tiniest nerd groups get pandered to: Micronauts, Weirdworld, Seeker 3000, and Rom have had revival series, for pete’s sake. It’s incredible there’s no discussion of a film or TV treatment, either; friggin Cyborg from New Teen Titans is getting a solo movie. 

Why did Legion stop being such a big deal? Where did the fandom that supported it dissolve to? One word: X-Men. Legion was incredibly ahead of its time. In the 60s and 70s, there were barely any “fan” comics, since superhero comics were like animation is today: mostly aimed at kids, with a minority of discerning adult/teen fans, and it was success among kids, not fans, that led to something being a top seller (hence, “fan favorites” in the 1970s, as surprising as it is to us today, often did not get a lot of work, like Don MacGregor or Barry Smith). But as newsstands started to push comics out, the fan audience started to get bigger and more important…everyone else started to catch up to the things that made Legion unique: most comics started to have attractive people who paired up into couples and/or love triangles, and featured extremely byzantine long term storytelling. If Legion of Super-Heroes is going to be remembered for anything, it’s for being the smaller scale “John the Baptist” to the phenomenon of X-Men, the ultimate “fan” comic.

The other thing that killed Legion, apart from Marvel’s Merry Mutants, that is, was the r-word: reboots. A reboot only works for some properties, but not others. You reboot something when you want to find something for a mass audience to respond to, like with Zorro, Batman, or Godzilla.

Legion, though, was not a comic for everybody, it was a fanboy/girl comic beloved by a niche who read it for continuing stories and minutiae (and to jack off, and in some cases, jill off). Rebooting a comic like that is a bad idea. You do not reboot something where the main way you engage with the property, the greatest strength, is the accumulated lore and history. Rebooting a property like that means losing the reason people like it, and unless it’s something with a wide audience, you only lose fans and won’t get anything in return for it. So for something like Legion (small fandom obsessed with long form plots and details, but unlike Trek, no name recognition) a reboot is the ultimate Achilles heel that shatters everything, a self-destruct button they kept hitting over and over and over until there was nothing at all left.

E. E. Smith’s Lensman Novels

The Lensman series is like Gil Evans’s jazz: it’s your grandparents’ favorite thing that you’ve never heard of. 

I mean, have you ever wondered exactly what scifi fandom talked about before the rise of the major core texts and cultural objects (Star Trek, Asimov, etc)? Well, it was this. Lensmen was the subject of fanfiction mailed in manilla envelopes during the 30s, 40s, and 50s (some of which are still around). If you’re from Boston, you might recognize that the two biggest and oldest scifi cons there going back to the 1940s, Boskone (Boscon, get it?) and Arisia, are references to the Lensman series. This series not only created space opera as we know it, but contributed two of the biggest visuals in scifi, the interstellar police drawn from different alien species, and space marines in power armor.

My favorite sign of how big this series was and how fans responded to it, was a great wedding held at Worldcon that duplicated Kimball Kinnison and Clarissa’s wedding on Klovia. This is adorable:

The basic story is pure good vs. evil: galactic civilization faces a crime and piracy wave of unprecedented proportions from technologically advanced pirates (the memory of Prohibition, where criminals had superior firearms and faster cars than the cops, was strong by the mid-1930s). A young officer, Kimball Kinnison (who speaks in a Stan Lee esque style of dialogue known as “mid-century American wiseass”), graduates the academy and is granted a Lens, an object from an ancient mystery civilization, who’s true purpose is unknown.

Lensman Kinnison discovers that the “crime wave” is actually a hostile invasion and assault by a totally alien culture that is based on hierarchy, intolerant of failure, and at the highest level, is ruled by horrifying nightmare things that breathe freezing poison gases. Along the way, he picks up allies, like van Buskirk, a variant human space marine from a heavy gravity planet who can do a standing jump of 20 feet in full space armor, Worsel, a telepathic dragon warrior scientist with the technical improvisation skills of MacGyver (who reads like the most sadistically minmaxed munchkinized RPG character of all time), and Nandreck, a psychologist from a Pluto-like planet of selfish cowards.

The scale of the conflict starts small, just skirmishes with pirates, but explodes to near apocalyptic dimensions. This series has space battles with millions of starships emerging from hyperspacial tubes to attack the ultragood Arisians, homeworld of the first intelligent race in the cosmos. By the end of the fourth book, there are mind battles where the reflected and parried mental beams leave hundreds of innocent bystanders dead. In the meantime we get evil Black Lensmen, the Hell Hole in Space, and superweapons like the Negasphere and the Sunbeam, where an entire solar system was turned into a vacuum tube.

It’s not hard to understand why Lensmen faded in importance. While the alien Lensmen had lively psychologies, Lensman Kimball Kinnison was not an interesting person, and that’s a problem when scifi starts to become more about characterization. The Lensman books, with their love of police and their sexism (it is an explicit plot point that the Lens is incompatible with female minds – in canon there are no female Lensmen) led to it being judged harshly by the New Wave writers of the 1960s, who viewed it all as borderline fascist military-scifi establishment hokum, and the reputation of the series never recovered from the spirit of that decade.

Prisoner of Zenda

Prisoner of Zenda is a novel about a roguish con-man who visits a postage-stamp, charmingly picturesque Central European kingdom with storybook castles, where he finds he looks just like the local king and is forced to pose as him in palace intrigues. It’s a swashbuckling story about mistaken identity, swordfighting, and intrigue, one part swashbuckler and one part dark political thriller.

The popularity of this book predates organized fandom as we know it, so I wonder if “fandom” is even the right word to use. All the same, it inspired fanatical dedication from readers. There was such a popular hunger for it that an entire library could be filled with nothing but rip-offs of Prisoner of Zenda. If you have a favorite writer who was active between 1900-1950, I guarantee he probably wrote at least one Prisoner of Zenda rip-off (which is nearly always the least-read book in his oeuvre). The only novel in the 20th Century that inspired more imitators was Sherlock Holmes. Robert Heinlein and Edmond “Planet Smasher” Hamilton wrote scifi updates of Prisoner of Zenda. Doctor Who lifted the plot wholesale for the Tom Baker era episode, “Androids of Tara,” Futurama did this exact plot too, and even Marvel Comics has its own copy of Ruritania, Doctor Doom’s Kingdom of Latveria. Even as late as the 1980s, every kids’ cartoon did a “Prisoner of Zenda” episode, one of the stock plots alongside “everyone gets hit by a shrink ray” and the Christmas Carol episode.

Prisoner of Zenda imitators were so numerous, that they even have their own Library of Congress sub-heading, of “Ruritanian Romance.” 

One major reason that Prisoner of Zenda fandom died off is that, between World War I and World War II, there was a brutal lack of sympathy for anything that seemed slightly German, and it seems the incredibly Central European Prisoner of Zenda was a casualty of this. Far and away, the largest immigrant group in the United States through the entire 19th Century were Germans, who were more numerous than Irish or Italians. There were entire cities in the Midwest that were two-thirds German-born or German-descent, who met in Biergartens and German community centers that now no longer exist.

Kurt Vonnegut wrote a lot about how the German-American world he grew up in vanished because of the prejudice of the World Wars, and that disappearance was so extensive that it was retroactive, like someone did a DC comic-style continuity reboot where it all never happened: Germans, despite being the largest immigrant group in US history, are left out of the immigrant story. The “Little Bohemias” and “Little Berlins” that were once everywhere no longer exist. There is no holiday dedicated to people of German ancestry in the US, the way the Irish have St. Patrick’s Day or Italians have Columbus Day (there is Von Steuben’s Day, dedicated to a general who fought with George Washington, but it’s a strictly Midwest thing most people outside the region have never heard of, like Sweetest Day). If you’re reading this and you’re an academic, and you’re not sure what to do your dissertation on, try writing about the German-American immigrant world of the 19th and 20th Centuries, because it’s a criminally under-researched topic.

A. Merritt

Pop quiz: who was the most popular and influential fantasy author during the 1930s and 40s? 

If you answered Tolkien or Robert E. Howard, you’re wrong - it was actually Abraham Merritt. He was the most popular writer of his age of the kind of fiction he did, and he’s since been mostly forgotten. Gary Gygax, creator of Dungeons and Dragons, has said that A. Merritt was his favorite fantasy and horror novelist.

Why did A. Merritt and his fandom go away, when at one point, he was THE fantasy author? Well, obviously one big answer was the 1960s counterculture, which brought different writers like Tolkien and Lovecraft to the forefront (by modern standards Lovecraft isn’t a fantasy author, but he was produced by the same early century genre-fluid effluvium that produced Merritt and the rest). The other answer is that A. Merritt was so totally a product of the weird occult speculation of his age that it’s hard to even imagine him clicking with audiences in other eras. His work is based on fringe weirdness that appealed to early 20th Century spiritualism and made sense at the time: reincarnation, racial memory, an obsession with lost race stories and the stone age, and weirdness like the 1920s belief that the Polar Arctic is the ancestral home of the Caucasian race. In other words, it’s impossible to explain Merritt without a ton of sentences that start with “well, people in the 1920s thought that…” That’s not a good sign when it comes to his universality. 

That’s it for now. Do you have any suggestions on a dead fandom, or do you keep one of these “dead” fandoms alive in your heart?


Prompt: Fairy Tale AU for @marvelous-fvcks ‘s 3k followers writing challenge, congratulations love!! (also I’m so so sorry that this was late!)

Summary: Working in the royal castle leaves no time to yourself, but at the castle’s busiest time, you meet someone in the market who, despite his charming mannerisms, hides things that you wish you could find out. Then suddenly, your worlds collide in a way you would’ve never expected. 

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 6128 words (woah this is the longest fic I’ve posted oops, but it’s prob one of my cutest)

Warnings: slight angst, too much fluff

Notes: Thank you to @buckys-fossil and @whyisbuckyso for beta-ing this fic, you guys rule <3 

Originally posted by kingsebastian

Keep reading

Poll: What’s your favorite hair color on a man?

(Disclaimer: Credits to all original artists)

Funky Fantastic

Lovely, Wonderstruck, Blondes

Mystical, Otherworldly, Silver Fox

Fiery, Sensuous, Redheads

Tall ,Dark, Handsome and Classic

anonymous asked:

no one has any idea why this fiery redhead has suddenly appeared, not to mention he's following the student council member, really popular kageyama ritsu. all they know is that he's really loud and he's made ritsu seem more human and lowkey happiest he's ever been.

mezato is working hard to figure out whats going on, but all the mysterious smurf boy does is talk about memes

Little Vixen (Cheryl x Reader)

Prompt: Hi I was wondering if you could write something where the reader (female reader) is a river vixen and has a crush on Cheryl and somehow tricks her into thinking she needs help learning some moves for cheerleading just so she can spend more time with her? Maybe some fluff and/or smut? It’s totally up to you, though. Thanks. :)

A/N: I changed it a bit but hopefully you still like it!! I used “Touch” by Little Mix in this! xxx


Little Vixen (Cheryl x Reader)

You joined the Vixens for one reason. Cheryl Blossom in a short skirt.

Everyone knew the fiery redhead had your attention. And Boy, did she have your attention.

You were known for flirting with everyone and loved to make out with anyone willingly.

But no one came close to Cheryl and her cherry stained lips. God, You wanted to take a bite of her.

“(Y/n)?” fingers snap your mildly inappropriate thoughts away.

You turn and see Veronica Lodge grinning at you. “Staring at her isn’t going to help anything.” Her smug voice making you sigh. You were pretty hopeless.

“I just need to get her alone but that’s impossible.” You groan as Betty joins the conversation.

“Just ask her to help you out with some moves. God knows you don’t actually pay attention during practice.” Betty shrugs.

“I can’t just do that. Plus she’d probably make Tina or Ginger help me.” Veronica rolls her eyes and calls the redhead over.

“What are you three hens gossiping about?” She places her perfectly manicured hands on her hips.

“About how (Y/n) needs to work on her moves. Betty and I think you should help her instead of us as you are so much better.” Veronica links arms with you and gives you a wink.

Cheryl stares at you for a moment before nodding. “Alright. We can stay after practice is finished.” She flips her hair and walks off.

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

“Now you just have to pull your sexy moves on her. Show her that you’re a little Vixen.” V gives you a smirk and walks off with Betty.

Show her that you’re a little Vixen.

Keep reading

Okay but haunted house AU anyone?

When Robert and Maryse Lightwood tell their kids they’re moving from their bustling Brooklyn lifestyle to a small town by the sea due to their father’s job being relocated, they’re less than thrilled. Promising the kids a new adventure, they find themselves moving into a manor that could more accurately ​be described as a miniature castle. But the kids aren’t sure what has them more curious: the old house, or the residents living inside it.

Magnus Bane, the owner of the house, welcomes the Lightwoods into his home, and happens to catch their eldest son’s eye. Alec isn’t sure what’s drawing him to Magnus - other than the fact that he’s gorgeous and the two can’t seem to stop flirting - but Alec knows there’s something more. He swears he’s caught Magnus doing things that aren’t physically possible; making things appear and disappear with the wave of his hand, bright lights emanating from his palms. He hears Magnus speaking in languages behind closed doors he’s never heard, jumping from room to room almost if by magic. And Alec knows there has to be a logical explanation for the old books on the shelves that look like spell books, and the Pentagram on the floor, and the potions brewing away he accidentally stumbled upon, right?


Until Alec learns the truth: that Magnus is a warlock who’s been alive for centuries. But to Alec, it doesn’t matter; the attraction he feels for Magnus is stronger than any possible love potion in the world.

Meanwhile, Jace finds himself constantly bored, wanting more than anything to go back home and be away from this place. Until he meets Simon, a boy living down the hall, and finds himself falling for his nerdy charm and nervous stuttering. But Jace knows there’s more to Simon than meets the eye; like why he never eats around anyone, and always tries to hide his smile, and why there’s packs of blood with Simon’s name written on them stowed in the fridge down in the basement. Until Jace finds out the truth: Simon is a vampire who, by some miracle, can walk in daylight. And when Jace first sees Simon smile, it’s like a stake right to his own heart.

Isabelle finds herself drawn to the beautiful paintings hanging all over the manor, meeting the two responsible for them: Jocelyn and Clary Fray, two fiery redheads with a great gift for art. Along with Jocelyn’s detective husband, Luke, the three seem like any typical family. But Isabelle swears she can hear howling at night, and worse, finds strange creatures walking all over the house. She thinks she’s dreaming, until she finds a room that seems more like a cage in the basement, with claw marks all over the wall. And then Isabelle learns the truth: Luke is a werewolf, and Clary and Jocelyn can make their drawings come to life.

Promising to keep the secrets of the house, the Lightwood siblings find themselves thrown into the adventure their parents promised. What they never expected to find in the end, though, is love.

Kuroshitsuji & their favorite Disney movies

Sebastian Michaelis: The Hunchback of Notre Dame

- Disney’s darkest film based on Victor Hugo’s novel of the same name. It deals with hellfire and damnation and boy, does Sebastian think it’s funny. (His favorite song of all time is actually from this movie. It’s Judge Frollo’s ‘Hellfire’ sequence.)

Ciel Phantomhive: The Lion King

- Based on Shakespeare’s Hamlet, it’s the story of reclaiming power and confronting one’s past. Ciel finds some sort of macabre enjoyment in watching this.

Elizabeth Midford: WALL-E

- Come on. It’s got Hello, Dolly!, Louis Armstrong, and is probably the animated, avant garde, futuristic version of a Charlie Chaplin film. How could Lizzy not love it?

Undertaker: Up

- Two words: opening montage.

Vincent Phantomhive: The Emperor’s New Groove

- Tbh, he finds that he can relate to pretty much every single character in this movie. But Diedrich is definitely Pacha. Definitely.  

Madam Red: Frozen 

- A woman can build. A woman can rule. And c’mon, family trumps any two-bit sideburn prince.

Grell Sutcliff: The Little Mermaid

- Fiery redhead princess? Check. Super catchy songs that helped revitalize Disney Studios? Check. Extremely good looking prince who Grell can pretend is William? Check, check, and check.

William T. Spears: Fantasia

- It’s one of Disney’s least known films but damn, is this a classic—and Walt Disney’s pride and joy.

Ronald Knox: Zootopia  

- It’s like L.A. Confidential made kid friendly. Ronald loves the snappy dialogue and references to Breaking Bad. 

Lau: Alice in Wonderland

- Psychedelic dreams and angry queens—this is pretty much how Lau views Victorian England.

Sieglinde Sullivan: Brave

- Hell yes. Sieglinde can relate to Princess Merida on so many levels. (Plus, Merida kinda reminds Sieglinde of Lizzy—so it’s a win-win.)

Baldroy: Ratatouille 

- Charming, food-filled, and set in Paris. It’s Bard’s culinary dreams come true.

Finny: Toy Story

- Let’s face it, Finny is the personification of Toy Story.

Mey-Rin: Kung Fu Panda

- Clumsy, bumbling panda who (through hard work and dumplings) becomes a kung fu master and saves all of China? Yes, Mey-Rin loves this movie. 

Experiment 13067 (Bucky Barnes)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2457

Summary: The Avengers go on a mission to take down another Hydra base when they find their new, latest experiment.

Author’s note: This is my first Bucky fic being posted on this blog, I’m so excited. I hope you enjoy and please leave feedback!

Warnings: fighting, enhanced!reader

Tags: @sebstanwassup, @stay-wokke

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

“What is so urgent that I had to be interrupted from my shower, Tony?” Natasha asked, her voice veiled thick with annoyance as the tips of her wet hair dripped water on the floor.

Tony Stark didn’t react much to her tone, as he was used to the quips of the sassy assassin when things didn’t go her way. Though she was the only one who asked, it wasn’t hard to tell how everyone at the long table felt the same as the fiery redhead.

“Fury has just informed me of a new discovery from our friends at Hydra of one of their largest bases yet; one of our undercover S.H.E.I.L.D agents just got transferred to a Hydra base in Northern Russia,” Tony explained, showing the team a series of photos and maps and documents projected by a few simple swipes on Tony’s wrist piece. Bucky’s jaw clenched at the mention of Hydra and the photographs of their faces, causing Steve’s hand to land on his shoulder sympathetically. Tony, meanwhile, continued debriefing the others.

“I’ll explain more on the quinjet, but we leave in twenty minutes. Our agents have some more discoveries that are sort of unsettling.” Tony squashed the hologram and with that, excused the meeting. Everyone stood quickly and rushed to their rooms to get dressed as Steve stopped Bucky outside the meeting room.


“Steve.” They said at almost the same time. Bucky continued. “You’ve said it yourself: the best revenge on Hydra is shutting it down. I’m going on this mission.”

Steve pursed his lips in a thin line, searching his friend’s eyes for any hesitance. He found none. Captain America took a deep breath and nodded, telling the Winter Soldier to make sure to tell him if he wasn’t comfortable with anything. An exasperated Yes, Steve sent the blonde super soldier on his way to get ready.

On the jet approximately fifteen minutes later, Bucky was the last person to arrive. Already sat and buckled were Steve, Natasha, Clint, Sam, and Wanda. Tony stood in the center with his arms crossed, causing Bucky to seat himself quickly beside Wanda, the youngest of the Avengers.

“Jarvis, commence autopilot. Pull us up as quickly as possible,” Tony instructed, grabbing onto a bar instinctively as Jarvis began flying the Quinjet, the door to the jet shutting simultaneously.

“Now that everyone is here, we can continue with the briefing,” Tony said with a deep breath, appearing more stressed than usual. As silence took over the jet, Tony pulled up more holograms, this time being an x-ray of someone.

“This is Experiment 13076. Female, aged twenty-something, but no one really knows. They’ve had her for quite a few years now, trying new experiments on her until one worked about a year and a half ago. Since then, they’ve been training her and creating new serums to enhance her even more. If you look at her right arm, along her forearm is this thin wire. This wire is controlled by her mind, coming out at will at the base of her palm as a whip. Even with only a year of training she also has been abducted by Hydra for the majority of her life, which means she most likely has more combat training than we can imagine.”

At the mention of this girl’s past being trained as a weapon, both Natasha and Bucky blinked, trying to keep their faces composed.

“Our mission is to extract Experiment 13076, in addition to destroying the base and taking a few of their serums and documents. Just grab anything that looks like scientific research. And, if I forgot to mention,” Tony added, “No survivors.”

Against the furthest wall of a pitch black room, lay a woman dressed in thin clothes that did next to nothing to protect her from the bone-chilling temperature of the room. The fact that the entire room was made of metal (excluding the raggedy mattress that she laid on) did nothing but worsen the coldness. At times the serums injected in her every few weeks would cause her to not feel it, a side effect that she wished hadn’t faded a few days ago. She found that when the serum’s side effects stopped working, sleeping was the best thing to do to distract herself.

The loud screech of the old metal door working against the rusted hinges brought her out of her light slumber. The woman rolled off her side and sat on the edge of the bare bed smoothly, squinting her eyes at the harsh light being let in. The Hydra agent reached his hand for something outside the door outside of her room and the woman closed her eyes to brace for the light. A single light source from the tall ceiling illuminated her room in white light as the agent shut the heavy door. When he turned back around and quickly walked towards her, she noticed the thick needle filled with a light green liquid in his hand. Instinctively, she smoothed down her hair and moved it to one side of her neck, where countless injections had entered the skin where her neck and shoulder met.

Be quiet, Soldier,” the agent instructed in a Russian whisper. She kept still and clenched her jaw to prevent herself from making a noise as the large needle entered her neck. She felt the serum run through her veins slowly, burning her body beneath her skin. It felt like ants were crawling inside her, her skin setting ablaze as the serum worked almost immediately.

Soldier,” the man said again.

Ready to comply,” the girl said in fluent Russian, sitting before the Hydra agent. His eyebrows furrowed together in worry, contrary to the girl’s stone cold expression.

This serum prevents you from feeling pain. The Enemy has found us. Kill them. Do not let them take you. Hail Hydra,” the man said, grinning as his tongue pulled a tooth from the front of his mouth and chewed it, cyanide from the fake bone killing him fairly quickly.

The woman watched the agent fall to the floor and foam drip out of his mouth emotionlessly. She stared into the cold brown eyes of the dead man before she stepped over him, leisurely making her way to the door and swinging open the heavy metal with much less struggle than the dead man on the floor had had.

The woman looked around herself and saw the alarm lights on, a quiet hum of the alarm bell ringing in time with the lights flashing on and off. The orange lights turned the tan walls a different color, the halls’ normal blinding white light much dimmer due to the emergency situation.

The Enemy has found us, she pondered. Had it been over ten years ago when she was abducted, she would have thought Hydra to be the enemy; now, brainwashed with the words Hail Hydra, she knew it was anyone and everyone against Hydra that was her enemy.

With these thoughts in mind, Experiment 13076 felt her hands open slightly, ready to bare her whip when she found the Enemy. She wondered if she would finally come face to face with one of Hydra’s most notorious enemies, Captain America. The second she would come face to face with that man she would toss her whip right across his face, destroying his pompous smirk. America’s Golden Boy would return to the States as an ugly corpse, just as the rest of his Avengers team. At the mere thought of honoring her Creators so greatly, her hands burned in anticipation.

Captain America and the Winter Soldier knew they were getting close. The further into the heart of the maze-like building they went, the more agents they encountered. Agent Romanoff and Clint had already found their serums in a lab and were in the process of getting all of them to the jet as carefully as possible; Steve and Bucky, on the other hand, were on the hunt for a tortured and dangerous woman.

As they went deeper into the halls, they peered into each metal door they passed. Small rectangular windows with bright, nearly blinding lights illuminated empty rooms and dead bodies of Hydra agents. They stopped when they found a door larger, more suspicious than the rest.

This door was open, much more dimly lit on the inside. Steve noticed there was no window on the door, and the room was much smaller and vacant. Bucky’s eyes were trained on the dead Hydra soldier on the floor, still drooling foam and spit as if he had had a seizure. Steve, however, knew better. He had killed himself, but for why?

“This was probably her room,” Steve told Bucky. “One bed, dim lights, lights from the outside; Hydra wouldn’t treat its agents like that. Their experiments, however… She must be close, he just recently died.”

“This is spooky, Steve,” Bucky commented, feeling chills on the back of his neck. Small hairs rose in time with the alarm bell ringing dully, his ears not picking up on the light footsteps down the hall from him and around the corner. What he and Steve did hear was the cracking sound of a whip come down on Bucky’s leg.

Bucky screamed as he was pulled from under himself and dragged, his right ankle burning and pulsing all the way up his leg. The rough cement floor burned against his exposed forearms and palms as he was dragged, clawing onto the floor to get some type of leverage.

“Bucky!” Steve called out, running back into the hall to watch his friend get dragged roughly. His eyes followed the whip wrapped around his friend’s leg up to a small hand at the end of the hallway. Steve angled his shield and focused on aiming, tossing it like a frisbee through the air and hitting the person’s wrist. The whip retreated back into the hand, leaving Steve wide-eyed at the end of the hallway. He caught his shield and watched the person reveal themselves. Bucky sprinted back to Steve and ignored the sharp pain in his ankle, staring at the person at the end of the hall.

“Guess this Experiment 13076,” Steve said in shock. Bucky’s lips parted, mirroring the Captain’s expression.

The woman at the end of the hall recognized her name and tilted her head creepily. She stared down the pair, laughing dryly.

“I will have much fun playing with you two,” she teased. Slowly, she took four steps forward, doing little to close the space between the three.

“The rogue traitor,” she hissed the last word towards Bucky, “and America’s Golden Boy. Captain. Soldat.”

She pretended to grab the ends of a dress and bowed. She stood back up straight and her eyes glowed bright green, a color identical to the serum in her veins. She smirked, showing off her imperfect teeth.

“If only my weak Creators could see me slay you. But, I will be just as satisfied with or without an audience.” She spoke in perfect English, despite her thick Russian accent.

She licked her lips and smirked again, her arms bending towards her body before flicking back out again, thick metal wires exiting her skin at the bottom of her palms. Experiment 13076 lost her evil smirk and her head tilted down as her eyes focused solely on the two super soldiers standing only feet away from her.

“I cannot express how long I’ve dreamed of this,” she said quietly, barely audible under the constant hum of the alarm tone.

“Did you dream of this?” Bucky said abruptly, “or did they put it into your head that you needed to?”

The woman’s fingers wrapped around her whips. “They saved me,” she said, almost sounding like she was trying to convince herself.

“No.” Bucky shook his head. “They killed you.”

The Experiment’s lip twitched in anger before the soldiers charged at her. She threw her whips out with both arms, hitting Bucky’s human bicep but being deflected by Captain America’s shield before it could hit Steve himself. Steve wrapped his hand around your metal whip and yanked it forward, half expecting her to cry out in pain but she only reacted by pulling back to keep upright. In an effort to pull her left arm’s whip out of the blonde’s grip, she pulled a few inches of her whip back inside her arms and spin around, out of reach and too quick for both of her enemies to catch her.

As she finished spinning on her heels, she threw her right arm out and hit Bucky’s shins, causing him to collapse under himself. He grunted in surprise while the Experiment wrapped her whips around both of Captain America’s legs and pulled him forward until he was on the ground in front of her. She dropped to her knees over his body, straddling the much larger man. She grunted as she threw her body into her punches to make them stronger; after about six punches the serum caused her to fail to notice her knuckles breaking after hitting the man repeatedly. As she raised her left hand for another punch, she was tackled off Captain America and pinned down by the one she hated most.

Bucky Barnes’ knees held down the girl’s wrists, causing her whips to fall limply to the floor before retracting back into her palms. She grunted and yelled at the ex-assassin to get off her but her attempts were futile. Under her screaming, Bucky and Captain spoke into their comms and told the team they had Experiment 13067. Natasha, already with the rest of the team on the quinjet, read a few notable things off the Experiment’s file, including her real name. In the midst of her screaming, Bucky looked down at the girl he had pinned under his legs and looked at her calmly.

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. Upon hearing the name, the girl pinned beneath him froze.

“What did you just call me?” she asked.

“Y/N. Is that your name?” Bucky repeated. He watched as her whips slowly eased out of her skin. As her arms wiggled more, Bucky leaned down and held her hands in his, immediately feeling her whips wrap around his wrists.

“Don’t you ever call me that!” she roared, screaming out in pain as her whips tossed the heavy Winter Soldier in the air, Captain America’s fast reflexes letting him rush over to Bucky and catch him before he hit the ground. By the time the Winter Soldier and Captain America looked up, Experiment 13067, or Y/N as Natasha had told them over the comms from her files, was gone.

Ready or Not [James March x Reader]

Request: “Can you please do an imagine where you are married to James and you see a girl flirting with him so you get jealous and kill her. Thanks love 😊”

Warnings: RATED R, SPOILERS, Murder, mentions of rape, prostitution, jealous!reader, torture, possibly more

Word Count: 1168

A/N: So I got bored and figured out how to make gifs & watermark them! I seriously need a holy water bath after this one… Especially that rape/James being ??? I originally had this super fucked idea but figured it was way too dark for LG.

The girl laughs dramatically, throwing her arm onto his. He smiles and looks over at you, some emotion wild in his eyes.

Muttering under your breath, you wave Liz down. “I don’t care what you give me, just make it strong.” You grimace, shrugging in the direction of James and the redhead. Liz smiles sadly.

“You’ve been with James for, what… A hundred years?” She laughs. “He’d never do that to you.”

“Ninety-one.” You say quietly. “We’ve been married for ninety-one years. Known each other for… ninety-five. We met when women could vote, some time in the ‘20′s.” Liz hands you a glass, leaning over on the bar. It was obvious she wanted to hear more. “He was in the process of planning this hotel. I helped him with everything he found mundane, or everything that didn’t involve murder or sex.” 

“You designed all of this?” She says, slightly shocked. You nod as you take a sip of whatever drink she handed you, seeing her look around.

“It took two years to plan and build. By that time, he had mastered killing, and started expressing an interest in me doing so. And you know, I never had an issue with whatever disgusting things he did to them after their demise. I turned the other cheek, pretended like it wasn’t happening.” 

The memories came back to you at once, a mixture of happiness and hatred filling you, plus whatever the alcohol added. One memory stood prominent, though. The first time you found out exactly what James had done to the woman, who you later found out was Margarita Michael, a local prostitute who often used the hotel for her work. It disgusted you, and your husband found out quickly.

After luring her to one of his rooms, he had tied her to the bed, put a gag in her mouth, and fucked her. As he thrust into her, the blade of his knife slit across her throat, lightly. Enough to make her bleed, but not enough to kill her. He kept pumping in and out of her panicked body, his knife slashing her over, and over, and over, until there was simply nothing left but a bloody mess. 

When asked to justify his actions, he told you that it was incomparable. The feeling of her hot cunt around his cock, her hips rocking up and down, and the way she twitched on his length with every stroke of the blade on her torso. You promptly slapped your husband, disgust and envy rushing through you. 

He stayed still, letting you scream and shout at him, which was a rare thing. James knew it was wrong, he knew that he should run upstairs and fuck his very much alive wife… What he didn’t know, though, was how to react, what to say, whether to defend himself or not. He just didn’t know what to do. James stopped after you got angry, though. It became even rarer than him letting you become the dominant one in the relationship. He absolutely hated seeing you upset, even more so when he caused it. 

Back to the present. Liz was engrossed in your stories about the roaring twenties, the depression, the second world war, and the other decades. You tried to leave out as much about your husband and his hobbies, but they never left your mind. Especially on this night, because of the fiery redhead who was sitting with your James.

As the night continued, your mind continued to cook up schemes on what you’d do to the woman. Your first thought were the walls- you’d wall her up like James did to the Valentino couple. Then your mind wandered off to the acid pit, watching her flesh sizzle off of her bones while she screams. Next came the idea of just tossing her down one of the chutes alive, listening to her as she came to and realized what was going on around her until she eventually starved. Finally, you just wanted her dead, and it didn’t much matter how creative you got.

First, you’d somehow get her to a room. Maybe you’d pile on the charm, seduce her. That was really the only good option you could think of in the few minutes. Then, you’d knock her out. Hit her over the head with a lamp, punch her in the throat… That’d be a bit rough though, because it could probably kill her. You wanted to play with her a bit first. Last was the kill. You’d force James from his hidey-hole and make him come into the room. He’d watch you torture this woman and he’d enjoy it (which would be easy for him, he loved watching you paint the walls with blood).

The plan was mildly successful, and the girl, Haley, willingly came up to the room and let you tie her up, nude. You felt a tiny bit of remorse, but the excitement of what was soon to happen made it better. Tightening her restraints, you left the room.

“James!” You shouted, dancing through a hallway of the Cortez. “Jamesie! Lovely husband?!” 

“Dearest?” You hear the wonderful transatlantic accent at the end of the hall. He smirks, walking what felt painstakingly slowly to you. “What’s wrong?”

“I have a surprise for you.” Grinning, you slide open the door of room 43, immediately seeing the girl squirming and fighting for her freedom. 

You could see his eyes light up when he saw her, the sinful intentions almost clear. He steps forward, gripping the foot board. He’s clearly at a loss of words from your  “Simply… Darling.” 

“Take a seat.” You smile, gesturing for him to sit in the plush chair next to you. “We have so much to discuss, and even more to plan.” Picking up the small, sharp, spinning wheel, you trace it firmly against her collarbone. The device leaves small pricks on her skin as she writhes under your touch. “What attracted you to Haley here?”

James was quick to answer. “She’s gorgeous. Reminds me of you in the Golden Age.” You nod. 

“Why? Why did you entertain her when you were clearly going nowhere?”

The redhead is eager to reply, and you were eager to shush her. “He-” 

“Ah, hush it. You’ve no say in these matters!” You shove a rag in her mouth, effectively rendering her incapable of speaking.

After what felt like hours of questioning and torturing, you grew bored. Quickly grabbing the long blade from the tray, you jab it in her heart, close to about ten times. Probably more. 

“Ah, you’ve spoiled the fun.” James smirks from the corner of the room. Waving for you to come over, you sit on his lap. “Now, what else might be nice?”

His lips crash onto yours but you pull away, fighting against the arm around your hips. “You’re not getting anything until you make this up to me!” 

He groans, releasing you. You leave the room with a smirk. “Hazel, dear, I have a chore!”

Being Cheryl Blossom’s Bestfriend Would Include...

Hey! Could you do a “being Cheryl Blossom’s bestfriend/girlfriend would include” list? I’m in love with your Riverdale imagines, really.

I may not personally like Cheryl, I admire the fire in her character. I’m sorry it’s not good or too short, I’m swamped with Request.

Originally posted by lindsemorgans

  • As soon as you moved to Riverdale, Cheryl instantly found you interesting.
  • At lunch, where you were sitting alone, the girl appeared and invited you to sit with her and her friends.
  • You had heard the whispers about the only living Blossom twin, but you were never one to listen to that gossip.
  • From there, your friendship…well…it Blossomed. *sly wink*
  • You would do each others makeup before games or cheerleading matches
  • “Which shade says, ‘Look at me and only me’?”
  • You would scold, yet marvel, in her wicked, mischievous manipulation of people.
  • “Cheryl, that wasn’t very nice.”
  • “Y/N, Honey, I’m anything but.”
  • She’s super nice to you though, yet somehow remains brutally honest.
  • You knew she was acting out and causing drama because of everything with her brother.
  • Whenever she needed you, you were there to be her rock, her shoulder to cry on, or anything she needed at the time.
  • Cheryl would help you make more friends at Riverdale High.
  • The fiery redhead also has a knack for Biology and always helps you out on your homework.
  • You become one another’s cheerleaders, always encouraging the other to chase after their dreams.
  • “Good luck on that test Y/N!”
  • Fashion advice galore!
  • “Cheryl, that outfit is amazing!”
  • “We should go shopping sometime! I’ll teach you everything I know!”
  • You both shop till ya’ drop like, she buys stuff for you.
  • “This is totally your color!”
  • And boy oh boy, if anyone talks bad about you…
  • She attacks them like a vicious shark.
  • She makes them pay.
  • You learn that despite all the negativity around her, Cheryl handles it like a pro.
  • “You’re my best friend, Y/N.”
  • “I know, you tell me everyday.”
  • She does, like a day never goes by without her staying how thankful she is to have you as a friend.
  • So beneath that stone-cold, unwavering, snarky shell, Cheryl is a very loving human being.
  • And she makes a bomb-ass best friend. 

People with a lot of fire in their charts are exactly that, fiery. Almost like a redhead. Those with lots of influence from Aries, Leo, or Sagittarius are passionate beings. When they find something they are passionate about… which there are generally many things they are passionate about, they channel almost all of their energy towards those passions. They usually have a short temper and aren’t afraid to show when they are pissed off. Sometimes their energy and passion can be so great that when you are near them you will feel more energized. They may act like they are too great for emotions but that is not true. In fact they have really strong emotions… It’s just that they tend to channel these emotions in a positive way due to these people having a tendency to be optimistic. When they feel affectionate towards someone they are extremely showing of it. They take pride in themselves and thus often take initiative in situations. Overall people with these influences have a lot of positive energy and good vibes.


Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Warning(s): mentions of abuse

Word Count: 2027

Author’s Note: love me some biker!bucky

Greaser Tag List: @magellan-88 @bexboo616 @smol-flower-kiddo

Permanent Tag List: @palaiasaurus64 @oh-shjt (let me know if you want to be added to either list here!)

Drabble • Smut • Fic Oneshot

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Just a thing

Not totally comfortable tossing up the formatting as I have it- but I don’t feel like writing it properly either so- sorry but, enjoy anyway? Just a random thing I wrote on the fly to my mate for kicks.

Anna: “I always get my wife to shut up.”

Kristoff: “That doesn’t sound very healthy- shouldn’t you be better than that? I mean, you love her don’t you??”

Elsa walks into the room.

Anna: “Of course I love her!”

Elsa: “What’s going on…? Anna did you break something. Again.”

Kristoff is laughing.

Anna: “I resent that.”

Elsa: “Truth hurts, Snowflake.”

Anna’s red though it’s not fully clear if it’s from embarrassment or quiet anger, Kristoff laughs more.

Elsa: “So what did you break this time? Just because we are royalty doesn’t mean things don’t cost. This comes out of the people’s pockets after all.”

Anna: “I know that! I didn’t break anything this time. I SWEA- hmm… yeah. Wait! Uh. No. Okay. YEAH! I’d didn’t break anything this time. You judge too quickly; so much for the patience of a good queen.”

Elsa: “The very fact you had to second guess your own claims refutes your whole argument.”

Kristoff: “And the ice queen just burned you, Feisty.”

Anna: “I didn’t want to lie! I gave it serious thought.”

Elsa: “I commend your honest effort. But it doesn’t change the fact your argument is weak.”

Anna: “You’re definitely a queen.”

Elsa: “Oh? My ability to quickly discern the outcome of a conversation and defuse an argument before it can even begin?”

Anna: “No. Just the overwhelming fact that you are without a doubt a Royal Pain In The Ass.”

Kristoff: “And the fiery redhead scores. An even match. Who will win?”

Anna: “Shut up Kristoff.”

Kristoff: “I thought this whole thing was about how you could always get your doting wife to sh-”

Anna: “Tu-tu-tu-tu! Kristoff. I swear to god- finish that sentence and I will end you while Sven watches.”

Kristoff: “….Now that’s just awfully cold of you.”

Anna: “Don’t test me Reindeer Boy.”

Elsa: “What exactly did you prevent dear Kristoff from saying? Sweet. Heart.”

Anna: “….”

Elsa: “Anna.”

Anna: “Guy stuff. Nothing you’d care about.”

Elsa: “You’re a woman.”

Anna: “How anti-progressive of you.”

Elsa: “Anna!”

Anna: “Hear that Kristoff?”

Kristoff: “Is there anyone in the kingdom who HASN’T heard Elsa shout your name?”

Anna: “… That could be taken in so many ways.”

Kristoff: “It was meant to be.”

Elsa: “We are losing focus.”

Anna: “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Elsa: “I will freeze both of your nipples OFF if someone doesn’t talk straight with me right this instant.”

Kristoff and Anna share a look. Elsa sighs.

Elsa: “No smart ass comments to that. Seriously. What’s the big secret?”

Anna and Kristoff have a silent argument with their faces- growing more and more animalistic with the noises they start tossing out- limbs flying everywhere as Elsa stares partly annoyed. Elsa starts slowly growing more fascinated and confused by this, unheard of, primitive type of conversation.

Elsa: “Do.. Do you two actually understand what you’re saying to each other..?”

Anna and Kristoff acknowledge her with a quick wave before hopping up and down, grunting and making more animal sounds, slapping hands, their faces contorted.

Elsa: “… Just real quick- are either of you having a seizure? I will fetch Kai.”

Kristoff turns to his queen, opening his mouth before Anna tackles him, his head now locked in her arms as he tries to reach behind him- pulling on her pigtail. Anna bites his hand when it nears her mouth and he yelps.

Elsa: “Guys… Someone needs to say something here.”

Anna squeaks when Kristoff licks her arm. Quickly letting go in favor of rubbing it on his shirt, Kristoff rolls over onto his knees and pushes Anna off, she falling onto her back.

Kristoff: “She was saying how she can-”

Anna: “Not today Christopher!”

And she slams her foot into his jaw. Being a rough and tumble guy, he is barely fazed- though he does indeed get a mouthful of grass and dirt. Elsa is tapping her foot now.

Elsa: “I don’t have time for this you two. And this is no way for a Princess and our official ROYAL Ice harvester to behave. As your queen I demand you answer me at once and stop this foolishness.”

Anna is straddling Kristoff back again, her hands holding his straw colored hair as she fights to make him eat more dirt while tickling his sides and neck to weaken him.

Anna: “Give me liberty or give me death!”

Elsa furrows her brows.

Elsa: “Uh. Excuse me?”

Anna: “I will never surrender.”

Kristoff is laughing hard enough it has him in tears, Anna’s tickling certainly doing its job in subduing the larger man. Elsa has had it.

Elsa: “Anna, if you don’t get off that poor man and talk to me like the adult you are I swear- I will feign being ill and force you to take MY half of the duties, including the more excruciating, dull, repetitive parts, for a MONTH.”

Anna jumps to her feet, poor Kristoff sprawled on the ground, his life force all be drained. Had he a flag, he would wave it. But. He was a strong man, and he too would die fighting.

Kristoff: “Anna said she can make you shut up whenever she wants!”

Anna stomps her foot as Elsa’s face grows dark.

Anna: “I said make her shut up– ah. Wait.”

Elsa: “So you thought to disrespect your WIFE. And you thought you would get away with it? Your little ‘guys talk’?”

Anna pales.

Anna: “Wait Sweetie. You’re largely misunderstanding.”

Elsa: “Am I now? Why not tell me to shut up. Seems you have that power.”

Anna: “I worded it badly! You’re misunderstanding it!”

Elsa: “What am I misunderstanding!? You had a goal with that line?”

Anna: “Erm. Well I- it’s not what you think. Honest.”

Elsa: “No. No go ahead. Prove it. Show me what you meant.”

Anna: “Elsa…”

Elsa walks up to get into Anna’s face.

Elsa: “Go ahead. Tell me. Let me hear it. Plead your case to your sovereign. To your sister. Your best friend. Your WIFE.”

Anna looks around.

Anna: “Elsa you don’t-”

Elsa: “Anna you have until I count to te-”

Anna presses her lips harder into Elsa’s. Elsa goes to protest the sudden kiss but Anna merely slips a hand behind Elsa’s head, tangling her fingers into the thick, blonde braid. The ice queens eyes grow large as Anna unabashedly presses their bodies together, Anna’s tongue slipping through the moment she could, teasing. Elsa’s fight leaves her as Anna grows more feverish, hands roaming, kneading. Seconds pass by, the two woman making out in the middle of the courtyard, Kristoff retrieving his beanie only to turn around and gawk, slowly lowering his hat and holding it before his crotch. Anna finally pulls away from the heated kiss. Backing away enough to start a staring contest with Elsa, they all remain silent. It remains quiet for a bit before Anna says, her voice just a tiny bit lower than normal.

Anna: “There. I proved my point to both of you.”

Both blondes stare at Anna. Anna’s gaze flicks between both of them, her brow arching at she notices Kristoff holding and not wearing his hat.

Anna: “Kristoff, why are you-”

Kristoff: “Mind Your Own Business!!”

He is flushed red. Anna peeks up at her sister. Elsa is thinking hard enough for steam to roll out her ears. Anna smiles and tucks some hair behind her ear.

Anna: “See? I told you. I can make you shut up whenever I want.”

Elsa stiffens, red, and turns around and awkwardly marches straight back to the castle without a word. Anna puffs her chest out with pride and pats Kristoff’s shoulder- who flinches and quickly begins walking in another direction.

Anna: “Where are you going?”

Kristoff: “Probably to a similar place as our Queen.”

Anna tilts her head.

Kristoff: “Anywhere away from you… and with a cold shower.”

thats-what-makes-you-you  asked:

I have a prompt for one of my hopes for season 2. I hope it makes some sense... But, I want Sabrina to become friends with Jug (not too close of friends, but enough to cause some suspicions from Bughead's friend group) and Betty becomes super insecure/jealous/distant. ONLY to find out Sabrina is interested in Cheryl. A girl can dream... You're amazing! xoxoxo Mallory


Betty couldn’t stop the light flutter in her chest as Jughead’s name appeared on her phone screen.


That was all the text said but it was enough. Betty bit her lip as she clutched her phone tightly against her, giddy at the prospect of getting to spend some time with her newly removed boyfriend.

It had been tough, tougher than she’d expected. But she wasn’t one known for giving up - hardly, if ever, and she was willing to do everything in her power to stick to that.

Betty had been sceptical about Jughead’s motorcycle at first. A generous gift, he’d told her. She couldn’t help but notice that he’d been getting quite a few gifts recently and the thought sat uneasily in her stomach. Where the Serpent’s were involved, gifts came wrapped up with less than pretty strings attached. The last thing she wanted was for Jughead to be tethered to something with no room for escape. However, the trips he was managing to make over during their aligning lunch periods some days made her warm to the vehicle somewhat.

There were many stolen moments where possible, their frequency ranging from not quite enough to frustratingly few. Betty tried not to complain, though, taking anything she could get if it meant that she got to feel his hands caressing her cheeks, his cool lips brushing against hers. One look into his impossibly blue eyes could instantly lay all her insecurities to rest.

When she pushed the door open, eyes searching for that all too familiar beanie, her heart stopped. Betty’s brow furrowed as she walked slowly towards the booth he occupied - that he was not sitting alone at. Opposite him was the prettiest, petite blonde with short platinum hair, leather jacket draped over her fragile shoulders and ripped purple tights peeking out from beneath the table. Betty approached the pair, eyes darting from the mystery girl to Jughead as he turned, feeling her presence besides him.

“Hey, Betty,” he greeted enthusiastically, lifting his arm in an invitation for her to slide into his embrace. She did so hastily, settling herself against his side, fingers coming up to play with the lapel of his jacket in a move she hoped wasn’t too noticeably possessive.

“Hi, Juggie,” she murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. He smiled into the action, pulling back to gaze down at her with unbridled affection. “Who’s this?” she asked, addressing not so much the elephant in the room but the bombshell at the table. The girl smiled, dimples appearing on either cheek.

“This is Sabrina, she goes to Southside High,” Jughead introduced. “Sabrina, this is…”

“The infamous Betty Cooper. I’ve heard so much about you, seriously Jughead won’t shut up about you,” Sabrina teased, throwing a smirk his way. Jughead blushed, ducking his head in embarrassment but not before sending her a threatening glare. Betty can’t suppress the smile that creeps across her features at this admission, burrowing even further into Jughead’s warm hold. The uneasiness still lingers, however.

“We were just discussing which Quentin Tarantino film is the best,” Jughead said, quickly turning the conversation away from they way he gushes about his girlfriend when she’s not around. Betty stilled.

Discussion isn’t exactly the word I’d use,” Sabrina replied, narrowing her eyes at him. “I believe I was successfully arguing my case for Pulp Fiction while you were floundering somewhere behind with your attempts to let Inglorious Basterds secure the top spot.” Jughead scoffed, clearly disagreeing with her assessment of their conversation.

Betty has gone quiet beside them. When she mentioned how few Tarantino films she’d seen in her life, Jughead had grandly informed her that it would be his mission to make sure she had the best complete viewing experience under his knowledgeable guise. Cuddled together beneath blankets, in the dark, sharing slices of pizza while watching Tarantino movies in FP’s trailer had become their thing. She knew is was irrational but hearing Jug even discuss them with someone else - let alone someone so beautiful and outgoing - just rubbed her the wrong way.

Sabrina seemed to be a perfect match for Jughead, a role that she used to think belonged wholeheartedly to her.

“Betts?” his voice pulled her from her reverie. She blinked, looking up at him. He raised an eyebrow, thumb rubbing against her shoulder. “You good?” She nodded, not trusting her voice and hoping that her smile wasn’t too watery.

“Bughead. Stranger.” Cheryl’s voice cut through the air as she suddenly appeared at the edge of the booth. Jughead sighed, turning his eyes to her. The grimace he usually saved for Hurricane Blossom - as he liked to call her - had been mysteriously absent in recent weeks. Betty liked to think that Jughead related a little bit more to the fiery redhead than he first realised.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Cheryl,” Jughead asked dryly. Cheryl smiled affectionately.

“I’m glad you’re finally acknowledging the importance of my presence,” she said, placing one hand dramatically over her heart. Jughead huffed out a laugh, shaking his head but not making a move to argue. “I’m here for Betty. Don’t forget, we have a pep rally after school tomorrow. If you’re even a second late because of secret Southside smooches with Lord Byron over here you’ll be doing so many high kicks you’ll begin to think your leg belongs up there, capiche?” Betty nodded, knowing it was futile to even address Cheryl’s domineering, somewhat impolite, manner.

“A joy, as always,” Jughead muttered after she’d spun on her heel and stalked away, long hair flying behind her. Betty poked him in the side, pressing her lips together against a smile, his eyes glistening mischievously.

“Okay, who was that?” Sabrina asked, leaning forward over the table, eyes wide.

“Surely you’ve heard of the Blossoms?” Jughead began to explain.


Betty checked her phone one last time before sighing and chucking it in her bag, knowing that if she wasted any more time waiting for Jughead’s reply Cheryl would have her by the neck. He said he’d try and come by to see her cheer, adding a less than clean remark about how he loved to watch her spin in her cheerleading uniform, but he wasn’t making any promises.

Betty trudged dejectedly towards the rest of the Vixens, getting ready to take her position in the first number.

A flash of black from the edge of the stands caught her eye, heart leaping into her throat as his handsome face came into view, emerging from the shadows. The feeling turned sour when another body stepped out from behind him, Sabrina standing with her arms folded over her chest and a feline expression across her features.

“Who’s that with Jughead?” Veronica asked, suddenly appearing at her shoulder.

“Sabrina,” Betty replied, acid permeating her usually sunny tone. Veronica blanched, looking at her best friend in concern.

“Is she…?” she asked, trailing off, not really sure where to go. Surely, Jughead would never…

“Looks like it,” Betty supplied bitterly, wrenching her eyes from the Southside couple. Veronica looked after her pitifully.

Betty stumbled her way through the routine, not caring that she would probably be getting it in the neck from Cheryl the moment they finished. What was she doing here? Why would he bring her? Tears stung her eyes as they threatened to spill down her cheeks with every passing second.

Finally free of the first number, Betty stalked towards her bag, purposefully ignoring Jughead. His brow furrowed, a look of adorable confusion crossing his face as he slowly walked towards her.

“Betty?” he asked, stopping a few feet from her.

“Jughead,“ she replied, busying herself with doing absolutely nothing, fiddling aimlessly with the contents of her bag.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. Betty just shrugged, lips pressed together tightly.

“Yeah, everything is fine. Are you having a good time with your new friend?” she asked, eyes flicking briefly towards Sabrina before turning back to avoiding his gaze.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused by her frosty demeanour.

“Look, I get it, Jug. She’s more your type anyway. She’s seen all of Tarantino’s movies, and she goes to the same school as you, and doesn’t ask you to come to stupid pep rallies that she knows you hate anyway, and she’s beautiful and-” Betty is cut off by the rough press of his lips to hers. She squeaked, surprised by his actions before she can’t help but melt into the kiss, hands fisting in the material of his tshirt under his jacket. “What was that for?” she asked breathlessly, once they’ve parted.

“A twisted part of me likes how jealously looks on you,” Jughead smirked, rubbing his thumbs across her reddened cheeks. She swatted him playfully before looking up at him with wide, sad eyes.

“I’m serious, Jughead,” she whispered, all of the fight leaving her beneath his hands. Jughead’s face turned serious, his eyes burning as he holds her gaze firmly.

“There’s only ever been you, Betty. There only ever will be. No girl holds even a candle to how beautiful you are, inside and out. I like that I get to show you Tarantino for the first time, and that I can watch you prance around in this ridiculously short skirt,” he mumbled appreciatively and Betty let out a shaky laugh. “And part of me even likes that we’re apart because it makes it all the more worth while when we are together.” He pressed one more kiss to her soft lips, tender yet bruising. Her hands fiddled nervously with the fabric between her fingers.

“I’m sorry, I’m just used to having you all to myself,” she murmured, feeling silly for her outburst. “And who can blame me? You’re a catch, Jughead Jones,” she said, looking up at him from beneath thick lashes. Jughead rolled his eyes in response.

“Count yourself lucky,” he quipped, relishing in her resounding laugh.

“What is Sabrina doing here, though?” Betty couldn’t help but ask. Jughead shook his head, smile dancing across his lips.

“Seems like she took a shining to Cheryl when they met at the diner,” he told her around a smirk. “Wanted to come and watch the show.” Betty bursts out laughing, suddenly noticing the direction of Sabrina’s prowling gaze. They’d make a cute couple…