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@fanofiction
And it's not like Merlin doesn't have better things to do. There are always evil plots afoot, scheming to be done, enemies to be vanquished. He's got a busy schedule.
“Set the needle on its path...” by chaletian.
Fluff: +++
Angst: +++
Smut: +
Subjective Overall Rating: +++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/609222
picture credit to syllirium
It hurts.
You want to toss it behind you, forget it like yesterday’s news, like yesterday’s fucking trash, but all you can think of as you touch him is the weakening beat of his heart- one sixteenth one eighth one fourth slower slower slower- the wash of his blood over your hands as you pressed them to his chest, and the cold steel against your fingers as you tried to keep him alive. It had been pointless then, and it’s pointless now, though for different reasons. Now, he’s alive, uninjured, and here, and before, he’d already been gone by the time your knees had hit the pavement; his blood had stained your pants, your skin, your memory, and even the steady tick of time hadn’t been enough to wash any of it away.
Fanfic Rec: “I Don't Give A Damn About My Reputation- I'm Gonna Cry All Night Anyways,” by Newtavore.
Fluff: +
Angst: ++++
Smut: +
Overall Subjective Rating: ++++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3240497
picture credit to unknown artist
Green was for Loki. Green was for everything he represented, everything he had done. True it was the blue spear whose power had ripped through him, but it was Loki who had done it to him, Loki whose voice still whispered in what was either his nightmares or his sweetest dreams. He had lost the ability to tell a while ago. Clint stared hard at that green light and when it turned red, when it tried to tell him he could go no further, could only go the way of the green, Clint grinned and ran the red light.
He zoomed down the road, pressing the accelerator to the floor and half closed his eyes enjoying the wind in his face, its harsh wake up call. Clint saw the next set of lights up ahead, glowing green. Clint slowed.
You have heart.
‘Damn right’ Clint thought. The light changed and Clint floored the pedal and ran the red light.
‘And it ain’t yours.’
Fanfic Rec: “Run Them Red Lights.” by Thousandsmiles.
Fluff: +
Angst: +++
Smut: +
Overall Subjective Rating: +++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6862264
picture credit to David Aja
At that moment a server came and England took the wine glass with fervor, knocking back the contents in a single, fell go before handing the glass back and giving the man a short, "Another please." The server looked baffled but set down America's glass and dashed off to do as he was told. America was staring at him as though he had three heads. "What?" England said, perhaps just a touch too defensively. "You have a problem, Arthur..." America said, but it wasn't a jab. It was as though the other nation were admitting it aloud as his own personal confession. "I'm an old man..." He said dryly. "Can I not drink?" America just shook his head and took his own glass in hand, sipping the contents for a moment before putting the glass down. There was a dull, dark look in those eyes and they reminded him slightly of less peaceful times. "You're going to get drunk tonight, aren't you?" America said slowly, looking up at him. "Why?" England retorted. "Do you intend to stop me?" "No..." America shook his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "Let me drink with you."
Fanfic Rec: “The Silken Rose,” by snowyfoxpaws.
Fluff: ++++
Angst: +++
Smut: ++++
Overall Subjective Rating: ++++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1559756
picture credit to unknown artist
What he had, once had, with Thrall was different. Vol'jin honestly didn't consider himself capable of romantic love, not the kind that all of the songs spoke of. What he shared with Thrall was brotherhood and companionship, was long years and long nights and the laughing pleasure after a victory well earned and the grasping comfort after a loss. It was sex and battle plans and herbed pipes and the drowsy comfort of a friendship quite unlike anything else he'd experienced and he didn't want to give that up, didn't want to lose the one steady source of affection in his life.
But Thrall had Aggra. And orc women didn't share.
Fanfic Rec: “Share and Share Alike,” by Saesama.
Fluff: ++
Angst: ++
Smut: +++
Overall Subjective Rating: +++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2857553
picture credit to unknown artist
They had been walking for at least an hour, and Napoleon's eyes had still not adjusted to the oppressive blackness of his surroundings. He trailed one hand along the wall, simultaneously searching for doors and keeping himself going in a straight line. The texture under his fingertips had changed from the tacky feel of old paint to the irregular roughness of unhewn stone. At one point, their footsteps had been so quiet that he had reached out to touch Illya's shoulder, fearing irrationally that his partner had disappeared in the gloom. His fingers had barely grazed what felt like soft hair before grasping at air, and he'd given up.
"I don't understand it." Illya's voice seemed very loud in the darkness, echoing off the walls. "Why build a room in a cave? Why go to all the trouble of dumping us in it?"
"Why not?" Napoleon's voice came back to him sounding hollow and stretched. He winced, and tried whispering. "I think Sosostris wasn't telling us everything--" But the whispers seemed to multiply, filling his ears with a dull roar that grew louder as he spoke.
Fanfic Rec: “The Pomegranate Affair,” by Kleenexwoman.
Fluff: +
Angst: ++++
Smut: ++
Overall Subjective Rating: +++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/304604
picture credit to gassadaarts
It’s here, you get the feeling that you aren’t alone. You get chills running up and down your spine and a sense that something is wrong, that you need to run, hide, get away, but your feet are rooted to the floor and you can’t seem to move. You’re frozen in place by fear, and your heart’s beating so hard in your chest you think you can hear it thumping in the silence of the room.
“…Eridan?” you whisper, and force yourself to turn around.
Of course, of course, he’s behind you, rising from the smooth surface of the floor like a nightmare given shape, form bleeding together from shadow, and his very appearance makes you tremble. He’s black as pitch and pale as the sun, not a trace of color on him except the pale lavender where his irises should be, hardly standing out in the sea of white.
Emerging from his back and splattered with violet are two heavy, broad wings, the exact size and shape of the angels’.
“What have you done?”
Fanfic Rec: “The Power the Dark Lord Knows Not,” by Newtavore.
Fluff: +
Angst: ++++
Smut: ++
Overall Subjective Rating: ++++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2399816
picture credit to teleport teapot
But the truth of the matter is Steve spent most of it awake.
He could remember the crash, the plane hitting the snow and ice hard enough to knock him out of the pilot's seat. He remembered hitting his head and blacking out for what could have been a second or a minute or longer, and when he shook himself back to awareness the world around him was white.
Fanfic rec: “Snowfall,” by Katsuko.
Fluff: +
Angst: ++++
Smut: +
Overall Subjective Rating: +++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/451459
picture credit to Adam Hughes
"Mrs. Hudson?"
"At home."
"Lestrade?"
"Also at home - suspended on full pay." As Sherlock's mouth twisted in annoyance, Mycroft forestalled the forthcoming criticism. "An investigation is inevitable, Sherlock. However, my people are in control of it; Lestrade and the other officers you worked with will be cleared of any wrong doing, and Chief Superintendent Stanton will look more of a fool than ever. After all, he was well aware of that press conference at which the great Sherlock Holmes was publically thanked by the Yard. Joining in the witch hunt and cries of fraud was hardly a clever move." Mycroft smirked. "His superiors are quite annoyed with him."
Fanfic rec: “Unravelling,” by Arnie.
Fluff: ++
Angst: +++
Smut: +
Overall Subjective Rating: +++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/324008
picture credit to arkarti
He didn’t notice Eleven until he tapped his shoulder, and then the younger-faced Time Lord was right beside him. Grinning, of course. Only, instead of the usual tweed affair, Ten noticed, Eleven was donning a far more appropriate outfit: a white tie suit, complete with a silk scarf and of course, a white bowtie. And a top hat, of all things! Ten suddenly felt rather underdressed in his standard black-bowtie-and-converse ensemble.
“Doctor,” he greeted, partly to cover up his embarrassment. “Did we really decide to crash the same party twice in one night?”
“You may have crashed it, but I am here by invitation,” retorted Eleven, bumping shoulders with his past incarnation. “From the princess herself.”
“Really?” Ten tilted his head. “What for?”
“Spoilers,” laughed Eleven. “Anyway, she never finds out that I’ve already gone to the party. But, the more of me, the merrier, right?” Eleven glanced down at Ten’s apparel and nodded approvingly. “Love the bowtie, by the way.”
Ten rolled his eyes. “Oh, you would. I look like a waiter.”
“5 times Eleven Kissed Ten,” by persephoneggsy.
Fluff: ++++
Angst: ++
Smut: +++
Overall Subjective Rating: ++++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3678288
“You can’t tell me you’re surprised. I mean, the siren was a guy for you. Why wouldn’t your car be a guy?”
“Shut up, Sam.”
“I’m not judging. I’m just saying.”
Dean glances over at the table, where the guy — the guy who’s his car — is leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the table surface, toying with a seam in his leather pants. His shirt is thin and tight enough to show off what Dean’s brain has already unhelpfully begun thinking of as hot Detroit muscle. His jewelry — a couple of rings, a bracelet, some piercings in his ears — shine like chrome.
The Impala notices Dean’s attention immediately and winks at him. Dean swallows and shoves his hands further into his pockets in an effort to conceal what is definitely the weirdest hard-on he’s had since middle school.
Fanfic rec: “Auto-eroticism Does Not Mean Having Sex With Your Car,” by dorkilysoulless.
Fluff: ++++
Angst: +++
Smut: ++++
Overall Subjective Rating: ++++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1989693
picture credit to thebloggerbloggerfun
“I don’t blame you for not trusting me,” he says once, self-deprecatingly. “I wouldn’t trust me either.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” she says, and it’s not what she means to say. She always says exactly what she means to say; it’s part of who she is. Nothing is unplanned. This is what he does to her.
“That’s not really true, is it?” says Banner. “It’s OK. I’ll pretend if you will.” He looks – sad – and Natasha’s read his file from before, and she wishes this had never had to happen to him. The sentimentality of this thought annoys her.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she says again, more assured this time, and he nods and turns away, and they both pretend that it’s true.
Fanfic rec: “the space between Natasha and Bruce is a neutral zone armed with mistrust and cynicism,” by chaletian. The developing relationship between Agent Romanov and Dr. Banner.
Fluff: +++
Angst: +++
Smut: +
Overall Subjective Rating: ++++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/18743
picture credit to unknown artist
"You're sure there's no trick to these?" asked John, twisting his wrist and making the handcuff chain clink against the metal floor.
"No, there's no 'trick' to escaping from standard-issue police handcuffs," Lestrade said. "Nor the yards of gaffer tape. Nor the empty disused walk-in freezer somewhere in a twenty minute radius of Piccadilly Circus."
"East," John said.
"What?"
"We're East of Piccadilly."
"Are you Sherlock now? How d'you know that?"
John shrugged. "You were out cold but I was conscious for most of the trip. They didn't say anything, but the van went east, or north-east, I'm fairly certain. Angle of the light from the windscreen."
"Fantastic," Lestrade said wryly. "I'll just hop on my mobile and shout up the Yard, tell them we're somewhere between Shacklewell and Stepney then. Oh, wait..."
"No need to be sarcastic," John muttered.
"Sarcasm's about all I have. Certainly the sharpest thing I have at the moment." Lestrade wriggled. "I can't believe we're trussed up with gaffer tape in a bloody walk-in freezer somewhere outside of Islington!"
Fanfic Rec: “Unexpected Thaw,” by CaffieneKitty.
Fluff: +++
Angst: ++++
Smut: ++
Overall Subjective Rating: ++++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1014975
picture credit to arkarti
An hour later, there’s no sign of anything that’ll get them any closer to Pierce, or figuring out what happened to him.
“Well, what’s our next step?” Dean pokes at Pierce’s leather coat. It’s one of the few things that’s still in its right place, hanging from the coat tree.
“No idea. Maybe call Cas? See whether he’s found anything out?”
Dean rifles the pockets more out of curiosity than anything else. A minute later he’s up half a roll of Lifesavers, five bucks, and…oh hell yes.
He holds Pierce’s Texas Ranger badge up where Sam can see. “Hey, check it out. I’m Chuck Norris!”
Sam shakes his head. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Dean shoves the badge in his pocket.
Fanfic Rec: “For Purposes Of Deception,” by dorkilysoulless (custodian).
Fluff: ++++
Angst: ++
Smut: ++++
Overall Subjective Rating: +++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2176041
picture credit to littlemorrison
"What do you mean, she's sick?" the Queen heard the telltale yelling of her island nation through the chamber doors, "She can't be sick! She's the bloody queen!"
"Mister Kirkland-" one of the ladies tried to soothe him, herding him away from the door.
"Don't Mister Kirkland me Miss! I'm damn well near a few centuries older than you I will not hear it!" he shouted, scaring the poor servant girl, "We don't live in the primitive time of the past and I expect you to come up with a cure!"
Fanfic Rec: “An Honourable Passtime,” by Thecattygrl.
Fluff: ++
Angst: ++++
Smut: ++
Overall Subjective Rating: +++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1329313
picture credit to ctcsherry
y’know, i think cronus would easily self-identify as “incel,” but would eridan?
eridan seems to have the same romantic/sexual troubles, especially getting people into quadrants, but eridan’s also showed a willingness to change more than just superficially if it means connecting with someone on a deeper level. he clearly wants to connect to feferi and is devastated when the pale relationship fizzles and when the red relationship he wants never manifests himself. he’s so desperate to connect with other people that he’ll stay in an abusive relationship with vriska and take her bullshit. i think eridan is desperate to find out what’s wrong with himself so he can change, into a person who will earn the admiration, respect, and adoration/hatred of others. people who are “incel” generally don’t put that kind of work into themselves and instead expect everyone else to change. also, eridan as we see him is a thirteen-year-old confused child. no wonder he loves and hurts so easily–he wears his emotions on his sleeve.
meanwhile, cronus thinks he’s nice, sensitive guy, and anyone who doesn’t want to sleep with him is plainly wrong. the only person who could introduce him to real-world consequences is meenah, in a caste above him, and he clearly doesn’t respect her discomfort enough to stop harassing her with sexual-innuendo songs. he has no standards for his relationships. he takes advantage of disabled people, and those younger than him, to get into a relationship, and still gets rejected by them–and still paints it as all their fault. he’s significantly older than eridan, nineteen years old (approximately) by the time he died and probably substantially older than that because of his time in the bubbles, and yet he still sees everything as everyone else’s problem. i see frustration from him a lot, but i don’t see the depth and range of emotion from him that i see from eridan. i don’t see him accepting rejection, at all, or accepting that anything was caused by his own behavior.
i can just see cronus pulling an elliott rodger, that’s all i’m sayin’.
I’d say that Cronus’s toxic behavior goes even a step further than that, and he’s not even seeing anyone around him as real people. And I think that’s something that’s REALLY reflected in the incel community. People don’t reject him because they have their own wants and needs, they reject him because they’re Mean People who have no goal in interacting with him other than to hurt him. He doesn’t see them as independent people with their own autonomy, he sees them as flat caricatures, with no real existence outside of how they relate to him.
Honestly, his meenahquest transcripts reads to me like someone playing an rpg and working the dialogue options to see if he’s got any entry point to exciting new content (sex). That kind of thing reminds me a lot of pickup artist philosophy, which isn’t quite the same as the incel community, but I’ve seen a decent amount of overlap between the two. Like, look at this transition. Meenah asserts her boundaries with regards to the humankin stuff, and Cronus says:
(052) Cronus: Forget I said anything. I wouldn’t want to compromise our friendship, not even to speak of the potential for us to develop into something more than just friends # by which I mean two people who freely engage in sexual intercourse
(053) Cronus: Oh, RIGHT. You asked me how my music was going these days, didn’t you?
That’s not a proper conversation at all. It might be a decent transition away from an uncomfortable subject if it was worded differently. Something like ‘Oh hey, I’m still working on my music these days,’ would be okay. But he frames it so that he’s graciously showing Meenah these things, because she asked, you know? He’s doing her a favor. And he immediately uses it to proposition her and ignore her repeated attempts to shut down the uncomfortable sexual situation. He’s not treating her like a real person with real feelings. He knows she’s saying no, he just ignores it.
(056) Cronus: Here, listen to this track. I wrote it in anticipation of your arrival.
(057) Cronus: <punkin cravings (bubstep mix)>
(058) Meenah: Not clicking that.
(059) Cronus: Um, I see. Then, what about…
(060) Cronus: <punkin party in sea hipsters water apocalypse>
(061) Meenah: Nah.
(062) Cronus: <lunar lust>, <aquasex renegade>, <less pale more pail>
(063) Meenah: Ew. # creep
(064) Cronus: Wait… I probably shouldn’t have shown you those. Ok, hold on. I know I have something here you’ll dig.
(065) Cronus: <give him another look>, <under your fins all along>, <we put the us in royals flushed>
And that’s apart from how he treats Mituna. That whole set of dialogue is just too toxic to dig into in real depth, but I just want to call your attention to the part where EVERYTHING is about Cronus and romance sex. Even Mituna’s existence. Cronus’s failure to hook up with Meenah (despite her asserting her boundaries and turning him down multiple times) isn’t about Cronus. It isn’t about bad luck, even (she’d left by the time Cronus tried to go hit on her). No, it’s all Mituna’s fault.
(122) Wait… where’d she go? Dang it. Looks like she ditched you again. # story of your life # this is probably CAPTAIN HELMET’S fault # you should go grill him
(123) Cronus: HEY! I thought I told you to stay put.
(124) Mituna: What?
(125) Cronus: I told you to stay here in exactly this spot.
(126) Mituna: I did.
(127) Cronus: Well, she was gone. SOMEONE must have frightened her away.
(128) Cronus: You must have spaced out and wandered into view briefly. She probably got one look at you and couldn’t split fast enough.
(129) Mituna: No, I stayed here like you said.
(130) Cronus: Wonderful. This is exactly what I needed, what with all my frayed emotions lately. Thanks a lot, “buddy.”
(131) Mituna: I’m sorry.
(132) Cronus: No you’re not. You’re lying.
So that’s bad enough. And the dialogue leading into this was Mituna being really nice and friendly to Cronus, even though Cronus is treating him like shit. And oh hey, look at this manipulative strategy Cronus uses below. Like I said, really not seeing other people as people.
(133) Cronus: Your whole bifurcated demeanor is such an act. Half the time you are noxious and incomprehensible, and the other half you are mild and contrite? Sure, “PAL.”
(134) Cronus: As if I’m not SO on to you. You only pretend to say you’re sorry to get girls to like you more. Sure seems like Pyrope’s a sucker for the ruse. Like I’m not familiar with THOSE tactics. Who do you think wrote the book on that?
Eridan, on the other hand, even when he’s talking shit about his friends, he still respects that they’re allowed to turn him down. He’s upset when things don’t work out, and he’ll hit on just about anyone, it seems, but he doesn’t try to say that they’re OBLIGATED to hook up with him. To me, that’s the biggest difference between incel and not-incel. Eridan respects other people’s autonomy, even when he’s hurt by rejection. Cronus just gets angry and says he wishes he’d been born in a universe where he was allowed to kill a TBI’d guy (who got that TBI saving his life) without consequences :T
Cronus’s dialogue is a bit limited (I do wish there was more canon time to spend on the dancestors), but I see a lot of his supporters saying that ‘oh, if only someone had given him a CHANCE–’ That skeeves me out even more than most of his canon actions. You see people saying that kind of thing for like, the girl who turned down a guy who asked her to prom, and he killed her. That same idea that someone is OBLIGATED to at least try dating someone they don’t want to, how on earth is than an appropriate sentiment to express? I’m aware that it isn’t canonical Cronus, but it fits right in like with his whole ‘let me ignore those last couple of ‘no’s and try propositioning you again’ shtick. I haven’t seen anything from him that’s out of line with incel philosophy, and there’s a whole lot that suggests he’d be a part of that whole crowd. So yeah, I’m on board with this analysis.
“Am I right in thinking I’m addressing the Signless, also known, however problematically, as the Sufferer?”
His expression gets even harder to read. “So they tell me.”
“Excellent,” you say, because it is excellent that you have this opportunity, and it would be a failure of you as a leader and as an activist to let it slip away. “I’m delighted for this opportunity to engage in dialogue with you. As you may know, you have become a figure of reverence for many people, both in your iteration of the revised universe as well as those of my cohort in the pre-Scratch one. As such, I feel that you have a responsibility to your ‘followers,’ if you will, to examine your methodology in greater depth, with an eye towards the, well, I don't like to use the term ‘problematic’ lightly, and while I quite respect and even agree with your goals of peace, equality, and a truly spectrablind society, it seems to me that you might wish to consider whether the effects of some of your tactics not only reinforced the, ah, very power structure that you, at least on the face of it, were attempting to subvert, but also, perhaps contradictorily, and I by no means mean to imply that this was your intention, by your very, ah, so-called ‘Last Sermon,’ may have actually reinforced the very violence, both, ah, verbal as well of course as the unfortunate physical, tactics which are so often used to reinforce privilege in both of our universes.”
He stares at you for a long moment, and you would take advantage of this listening pause to continue your lecture, but you find yourself unaccountably lost for words, unable to remember clearly the narrative arc of the argument, despite all your past brainstorming on the topic. “Kid,” he says, finally, “who the fuck are you talking to?”
Fanfic Rec: “Pr96lematics,” by gaudior.
Fluff: ++
Angst: ++++
Smut: +
Overall Subjective Rating: ++++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1106525
picture credit to toastyhat
