#better to take the time and understand than to lash out incorrectly

[svsss-fanon-exposed]

I find it interesting that the most controversial/widespread posts have been those relating to physical appearance/visual medium. Lbh's hair and body type and sqq's eyes. I wonder what's the underlying cause for this. Maybe because people get attached to designs they feel more protective of them? Just a thought.

Oh, I would say this is absolutely the case. Visual design choices are, after all, often symbolic reflections of parts of individuals' own selves in some way, or of other things that are important to them. Artists will also spend a lot of time and thought on creating their designs-- and in some ways, visual media and written media are also quite different. You don't need the visual contrast so much in a book, but you do need it more when it's pictures, because characters with good contrasts are pleasant to look at together.

I actually think the donghua designs create a sort of contrast too-- both by SQQ's lighter eyes to LBH's, but as well as with the broader silhouettes, where SQQ has flowing robes and hair and LBH's silhouette is tighter. Also in general, the black robes of adult LBH vs the teal & white. Western stylization just focuses more on body type+hair texture silhouette diversity, while eastern stylization is more about the clothing and hair-styling silhouette, in a broad generalization, so it's only natural that when people create their designs, especially for a media that is only written, like SVSSS before the donghua or official cover art came out, that they will draw influence from the background of their own culture in creating these designs, in addition to their own experiences.

It's difficult too in my position, because while I genuinely want to take a neutral look at trends and history and patterns and cultural influence as a scientific sort of examination, there are so many instances of attacks on character designs, which make both the artists and designers and the people who like those designs feel bad and just isn't productive, even if criticisms are genuine. Things should be talked over civily, without bashing, because a space where people are belittled and attacked is not a space where people can learn.

Anyway, everyone has reasons for their designs. Sometimes these may be rooted in stereotyping or westernization, but other times, they're based on personal reasons and don't actually have those roots. It's not my or anyone's place to declare, definitively, that someone is stereotyping (of course, there are some instances when things are very very obvious and that's a different story), I only try to explain what things i can so that people are then able to examine things for themselves. I do think it's everyone's own responsibility to look at their own biases and think about where their portrayal choices are sourced from, especially when engaging with a culture that isn't one's own. But I don't want people to get into a justification loop, because that's not going to help anyone-- just to honestly take a look at the why of things. Sometimes there's subconscious biases, sometimes it isn't about that. I don't know peoples' own experiences, so I'm not going to say what it is or isn't.

In the end, accountability is something that is definitely needed in sensitive areas like westernization or stereotyping. However, accountability is not dogpiling on someone. Instead, it's personally being open to consideration, to change, and to growth-- and we'll never have that in a hostile environment. People need to focus more on holding themselves accountable, and less on holding others accountable-- we all have unconscious biases. It's part of existing in any culture or environment, and it's a life-long process of examining them and growing in experience and knowledge. And I hope to contribute that knowledge wherever I can, and use what platform I have to foster that sort of gentler environment, where it's not about making people who genuinely didn't know things feel bad, but where it's okay to be wrong, and to learn and grow.

It's up to an individual to examine themselves when they hear new information. That doesn't mean everyone needs to change their designs to conform with Chinese beauty standards-- which have plenty of issues of their own, and shouldn't be taken as more "morally correct!" It's just so that as many people as possible can have as much information as possible, so they can make the best and most informed judgments and decisions they can about their own viewpoints and thought processes.

But yes, even saying all this, I can perfectly acknowledge that fan-designs of beloved characters hold a bit of their creator's heart. While creators can be imperfect, the experiences and emotions and care that these designs stem from is still genuine, and should be treated with gentleness and understanding.

No matter if someone's viewpoint is erroneous or just different from yours, it's important to remember that every person on the internet is a real, human person. Fandom culture can be so notoriously toxic-- and it's high time that people remember each other's humanity, and treat one another with compassion and understanding. That's the only way to create a better fandom space-- and ultimately, a better world.

#answered #psa #this got very very long #i was actually going to make a whole post of my own on this #there are a lot of important things to consider #but most importantly we are all people #all enjoying something together #all existing on this planet and in the end we want to be happy and live and be treated fairly #and when getting caught up in fandom wank or anything else really #this can get forgotten #there's a place for anger and a place for calling things out #but if a gentler option can be just as effective there's no reason not to use that #better to take the time and understand than to lash out incorrectly #long post

[isa-beenme]

Hello!! Do you think you could right a sort of enemies to lovers relationship with Azriel? Maybe where he and the reader get into a heated argument, and the bond snaps when the tension hits its peak? If this doesn’t inspire you, please don’t feel as though you have to accept my request! This is my first attempt at making a request, so I apologize if I did it incorrectly. Also, I wanted to note that your writing style is one of my favorites, and I hope you are proud of your work! That’s all, thank you for your time!!

THE SOOOOOOOOOONG

Listen to it please thank you

Loved your request, darling, it's actually much better when you send the whole story, I usually struggle when I try to think of a whole story alone (I swear I'm creative but it's hard to get things in your head out of nothing)

I try to be proud of my work as much as I can, thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

THIS WORK was sooooooo fun to do, I swear at some moment while I was writing this I laughed at my own story, super cool

I thought: "I'm gonna make this super serious" amd ended up with this, which is much better

This Is Love

Your family always meant everything to you. Being Rhysand's cousin meant you would be inserted in everything he did. Being his second in command meant you would be involved in every plan. And being all of that meant you would be part of his Inner Circle, which automatically involved you in everything they did together. From training, to family dinner and trips around the Courts for the meetings, you did all together. And you loved it. Again, your family meant everything to you, and spending time with them was on your top list of favorite things to do. I mean, when a certain Shadowsinger wasn't completely involved.

Working with Azriel was always fine, perfectly fine, actually. Rhysand often paired you up together to work because everything fell into place with the two of you. Your mind always seemed to think like one. But that teamwork only made itself present when the topic was your position towards the court and your job. Outside that, you both were a mess. Training with him was a dread, from him pinpointing each - non-existent - mistake, to you lashing yourself on him each time he made you angry, it's been more than 250 years of both of you trying to win one another in the training. It never happened.

Family dinner was also horrible since both of you had very different visions in every single topic someone started, not just that, somehow, no matter how many times you and Azriel changed seats with someone, it doesn't take a week until you find yourselves seated next to each other again. On top of that, you and he possess the ability to winnow, yet, Rhysand always thought it was necessary for you to winnow together. No matter how many times you said it wasn't necessary, Rhys only ignored you, the necessity of traveling with him making you hate your life just a little bit more.

But if spending time with your family was on your top favorite things to do, game night with Azriel was on your top things to make yourself miserable. It was a common scene for the rest of the Inner Circle to see you and him screaming at each other at some point. Sometimes one of you thought the other was cheating. Sometimes you started saying the other was winning too many times and should be taken out of the game. Sometimes it was the complete opposite, "if you lose so much, maybe you should step back and stop occupying space". Tonight it wasn't different, your favorite fight was ready to start as Azriel explained the rules to the new game.

Besides the usual crackling tension between you and Azriel, this night seemed to be at its worst peak. For weeks now, both of you seemed to be on the edge with one another, even in work, your usual camaraderie was replaced with sharp remarks and piercing glares. Everyone around the table exchanged puzzled looks, uncertain of what exactly had caused this escalating feud.

Azriel couldn't understand why every word from you grated on his nerves, nor could you fathom why Azriel's mere presence felt suffocating. The build-up of unresolved emotions and unspoken desires had been simmering for days, and now, it was about to reach its boiling point.

The Night Court's game night had started off innocently enough with your usual truth or drink game, something to light up tension (or build it, in your and Azriel's case), but as the evening wore on, the tension between you and Azriel became palpable as the Shadowsinger tried to introduce a new idea to the table. It began with a harmless disagreement over the rules of a card game, but it quickly escalated into a heated argument once the match started.

Azriel's patience was wearing thin as you challenged every decision he made during the game, the cards he dropped and the ones he chose, everything seemed horrible in your eyes. The other way around too, your matches weren't valid, you couldn't pick certain cards and no, it wasn't your turn yet. His usually calm demeanor was now strained, and he couldn't help but feel irritated by your persistent need to question him.

-I don't understand why you always have to question everything I do - Azriel snapped at some point, his shadows flickering around him as a testament to his growing frustration.

-Maybe if you didn't act like you knew everything, I wouldn't have to. "Boo, I'm Azriel and I don't let people play the game because I invented it and none of you understand how to play it" - You quickly shot back, their voice laced with sarcasm

The room fell silent, and your friends exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the mounting tension between the two of you. But there was no going back now; the floodgates had opened, and all the pent-up emotions were rushing to the surface.

-I don't act like I know everything, and I don't talk like that - Azriel retorted, his voice tight with anger - I just wish you'd stop acting like you have all the answers! Sometimes it is okay to listen to help because, guess what? I indeed invented the game and there's no way of you learning how to play it, if you don't listen to the rules!

-Well, forgive me for not blindly following you like everyone else. I'm not afraid to question things when they don't make sense! - Your eyes narrowed, jaw clenching as you shot back.

-And I'm not afraid to take action instead of endlessly debating every damn decision! - Azriel's temper flared, his wings twitching in agitation.

-I think what you're really good at is fucking my life! - Your family gasped at your words, shocked by the intensity.

-It's just a payback for every headache you give me every time you breathe near me - They quickly turned their heads to Azriel, equally shocked by his response.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, it seemed as if you were both about to explode. Your family exchanged worried glances, unsure of how to intervene in the escalating argument. But just as the situation reached its breaking point, a strange shift occurred. As Azriel locked eyes with you, an unexpected intensity replaced your anger. It was as if the universe itself had decided to step in, forcing you to confront the undeniable truth.

The room seemed to blur around you as you stood there, chests heaving from the heated exchange. The fight had reached its peak, and in that very moment, the mating bond snapped into place. The sudden connection was overwhelming, a rush of emotions and sensations that neither of you could comprehend. Your anger dissolved into confusion and shock as you felt an unexplainable pull towards each other.

Azriel's wings, once tense and defensive, now softened, as if beckoning every step you unknowingly took closer. Your guard came down as well, replaced by a mix of vulnerability and curiosity.

Your friends watched in astonishment as two adversaries stood there, seemingly lost in a world of their own. The room is filled with a charged silence, the kind that accompanies a revelation that changes everything. Even if none of them knew exactly what revelation was going on at that moment.

But as the realization set in, Rhysand and Feyre exchanged knowing smiles. It was no secret for them that you and Azriel had an underlying connection, a bond waiting to be acknowledged. They had witnessed the chemistry and unspoken feelings simmering between the two of you, and now, it seemed the universe had decided to intervene.

Your eyes met Azriel's once again, and this time, there was no irritation or hostility. Instead, there was an undeniable spark of understanding and attraction, a recognition of the emotions that you had been hiding from each other. Neither of you spoke a word, yet you communicated on a deeper level, the mating bond solidifying your connection at each passing second. It was as if all the walls you had built around your heart came crashing down, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to him.

As the reality of the mating bond settled in, your heart raced with confusion and fear. You couldn't understand why fate would choose someone you had built such animosity towards to be your mate. Feeling overwhelmed and unable to face the truth, you turned around and ran, needing time and space to process the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

Azriel, though taken aback and hurt by the sudden rejection, couldn't ignore the pull of the bond drawing him to you. With determination, he chased after your steps, his heart heavy with worry and longing. He caught up to you as you were getting closer to your room. Gently reaching out to touch your shoulder, you recoiled as if his touch burned.

-Please, let's talk - Azriel pleaded, his voice tinged with sadness - I never wanted to hurt you. The fights... They were a defense mechanism, a way to hide my own feelings and protect myself from the pain of loving someone who seemed to hate me. You started this, I just… Thought I should defend myself.

-But why you? Why did it have to be you? - You whispered, voice breaking with emotion. Azriel's eyes softened, and he took a step closer, his hand hovering near your face, yearning for the connection you both feared and desired.

-I wish I had an answer for that. All I know is that the bond doesn't choose who we love, it just binds us to our other half. And for some inexplicable reason, it chose us - He could see the pain in your eyes and knew that he needed to be honest, to show vulnerability despite his fears of rejection - The truth is, the more you fought me, the more I fell for you. Your fire, your strength, everything about you drew me in. But I was terrified of what it meant, so I pushed you away.

-I didn't know what to do with my feelings either - You admitted, opening a place in your heart that you swear to never look at again - I tried to convince myself that I hated you, but it only made things worse. Every fight, every argument, it was just a way to hide how much I… I wanted to be by your side. Everything was simple with them but you? You made me feel things and I didn't want it - Azriel's heart ached at your words, and he took a step closer, finally touching your cheek gently.

-We can figure this out together. I don't want to fight anymore. I want to be here for you, to understand you, and for you to understand me - Tears finally spilled from your eyes, as you looked into Azriel's soulful gaze, feeling the sincerity of his words.

-It won't be easy, but maybe we can try - You gave in, hugging him tightly, filling the void in your soul that you ignored for so long.

You and Azriel knew that you had a journey ahead, to step down from the fights and finally accept the truth that maybe, just maybe, you both were meant to be. Even in disagreement you found a way to each other. Although you would definitely keep your provocations going and Azriel would stay at your feet for anything you did, that was your way of loving and for the first time you were fine knowing what tomorrow would bring.

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

[Post-Credit Scene]

The Inner Circle sat around the table, looking perplexed and bewildered after the explosive game night that had just taken place. None of them could quite wrap their heads around what had unfolded. Nestha glanced at Cassjan, who raised an eyebrow, silently communicating his own confusion. Feyre and Rhysand seemed to be the only ones who understood the situation, but none of them made a move to say something as they kept talking to each other in their minds.

-So, did anyone understand what just happened? I mean, they are usually weird around each other but… This weird? It's worrying - The general scratched his head and finally gathered the courage to say something.

-Beats me. The brute is right. But I have to admit, seeing them argue like that is always quite entertaining. It's the only reason I've been coming for the past centuries, honestly - Amren replied with a snarl, eyes rolling as she threw her cards on the table.

-Oh, for sure! It was like watching a drama unfold right in front of us every week. But I can't believe they just bolted like that. Do you think they're okay? - Mor inquired, a mix of amusement and worry kicking in.

-If I had to bet I would say they are killing each other - Cassian said, playing with the deck of cards.

-Or fucking - Nestha chimed in with a laugh - I mean, when I didn't accept the mating bond with Cassian I acted exactly like them. If you don't understand the feeling you might as well hurt the person you hold those feelings for - Everyone seemed to agree as the bets started to grow around the table.

-Knowing those two, they probably needed some time alone to sort things out. Maybe it's an understanding finally kicking in - Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his eyes twinkling with mischief - The group exchanged curious glances, trying to understand their High Lord.

-Well, whatever it is, we can't say it was unimportant. That was probably the most explosive family game night we've ever had - Feyre couldn't help but add with a grin.

Just then, the door to the game room creaked open, and you walked in with Azriel by your side, hand in hand, with smiles on your faces. The Inner Circle's jaws dropped in disbelief as they took in the sight in front of them.

-What the...? How did you...? What? - Cassian sputtered, at a loss for words.

-You know, it's funny how things work out sometimes - Azriel looked around at their stunned faces and chuckled.

-Yeah, we had a little heart-to-heart and sorted some things out. Turns out, we had a lot of misunderstandings to clear up - You and Azriel smiled at each other, making the whole Inner Circle shocked.

-So, you two aren't going to be at each other's throats anymore? - Amren raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming.

-Oh, we definitely will - You said when you looked back at them, your head finding its way to Azriel's shoulder.

-Just not today - He said and kissed you head, hearing some gasps from the table.

-Are we witnessing a truce? - Mor whispered to the General, who just shuddered, as confused as her.

-Let's just say we have a newfound understanding of each other - Azriel replied, you and him sharing a knowing look.

-Well, that's a relief! We were starting to wonder if you two were going to start a war right here in the Night Court - Feyre laughed, reaching out for her mate's hand.

-Glad to see you've made up. Just... maybe tone it down during future game nights? - Rhysand smiled after clearly speaking mind to mind with the Shadowsinger.

-Okay, so… the rules of the game? - Nestha questioned, her cards still secured in her hands.

-It doesn't matter right now, you can choose it - Az said, making everyone turn their eyes to him. Shock covered every face in the room. Never, in their lives, do they think Azriel would give up on something. They turned their eyes to you, expecting some remark.

-Yeah, you guys can keep going - A wave of gasps and terrorized looks were exchanged between your family - I think Az might be hungry, aren't you?

-I might be. Will you make me something? - He asked, getting so close to you that your noses almost touched.

-It will be my pleasure - You said before dragging him towards the kitchen, not even noticing the mouths of the Inner Circle opened.

-Uh uh, no. I prefer the war. Tell them to come back and fight again, I don't like the way things worked - Mor leaned back in her chair, disbelief covering her posture.

-You know what? I think this interaction was more scary than the Cauldron - Amren said, finally giving up her cards as she threw them on the table.

-Come on, it can't be that bad, right? - All of the older members looked at Nestha with scared faces, even Rhysand, who knew exactly what happened between the two of you - Okay, apparently it is.

-What do we do now? - Feyre finally asked after silence filled the room.

-We hope that this Court doesn't crumble down - That was all that Rhysand said as he began separating the cards again, a whole new game starting that night.

#spotify #acotar #azriel × reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel/reader #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader

[infinitewarden]

Every day I fight battles for Osiris's honor. Every single time he's a relevant character being his Messy and Brash self people take it personally. Every time I think it'll be different.

Anyways

I really liked Osiris's characterization in Lightfall, it felt more true to how he is as a character than he was in Seraph. However I'm already seeing people being Weird about him. On one hand, I understand he isn't for everyone, not everyone has to like him as he's a very difficult man (which is exactly why I like him.) However there's a difference between just... Disliking a character and egregiously misreading and misinterpreting one.

Two major points I've seen talked about already, ad infinitum, that I feel I have to give you a better perspective of: the urgency of which he acts, and his unhealthy training techniques. (And to a lesser point the claim that he's been over exaggerated which spoilers: he's always been like this.)

His urgency

(or as so many of you claim, that he's yelling at us the entire time.)

I feel like someone having to walk a baby through how to use building blocks it's THIS dire.

THE THEME OF LIGHTFALL IS GRIEF. It's grief and finding a way to accept that grief, not push it down or block it, not fight it every step of the way, but rather let it flow through you and allow it.

Osiris's arc throughout Lightfall is grappling with this: he's not had the TIME to process his grief, both over Sagira and over the loss of his Light. He feels inadequate because there's never been a time where he hasn't been able to act himself.

Osiris outright states in the campaign that he always used his grief as something to push him forward, as a means to fix it, like he did with Saint. But he can't do that now and it frustrates him. He pushes us because it's a reflection of himself, he's beyond frustrated with the fact that he can't do this himself, that he has to rely upon others when he's been self reliant for hundreds of years.

Not only that but he's ALWAYS been a very no-nonsense kind of guy, it used to be that he had Sagira to balance out his social awkwardness, but since she isn't here to often speak For him he's been struggling to interact with others. Sagira acted as a median, now that she's gone he's had to go it alone, you can't blame him for his bluntness.

Now... the yelling scene... I don't know why but everyone seems to be taking this one really really personally despite that fact it's painstakingly clear he's yelling because he's angry with HIMSELF. You're all so focused on the fact he yelled — which, I feel I need to remind you he's in grief and he's going through a very hard change, he's always been calm so seeing him like this really puts into perspective how much he's hurting. No one is talking about his apology afterwards.

He recognizes that he lashed out incorrectly, (and imo he's ALLOWED to after all he's gone through. god forbid grief be expressed in any capacity other than quiet depression.) And then he apologizes. Because that's what he does. He recognizes a misstep and apologizes. This is how he's always been.

Training

And when he's training us, telling us to push beyond our limits, this is a reflection of himself again. This is how he trained. We know this because this is how the Crucible became what it is now.

But I will also take good ideas where I can get them. And Osiris's belief that Guardian minds and bodies can be sharpened as one sharpens a sword is a damn good idea. You've seen the results in the Crucible. Do I really have to say any more?

The Conqueror 2

Osiris has always pushed himself (and in part I think Felwinter added to this) so it only makes sense he'd try to push us in the same manner. The entire point of this is to show it's wrong and Osiris eventually recognizes it as wrong! His perspective was incorrect! And it changes! Because that's how stories work!

Grief

Grief is not always shown with crying messes, it's not always quiet depression, it can manifest by being incredibly volatile and angry and that's how Osiris handles his grief when he can't just power himself through it anymore.

His arc is coming to terms with the fact he can't just wrestle his grief into submission. His arc is that he doesn't have to deal with his grief alone. His arc is that his mortality and inability to act himself isn't a personal failure. His arc is that he lets it flow rather than try to push it down. Like strand, Osiris's grief is a river and he's been trying to build a dam for the past several months.

Osiris is a nuanced character. He has flaws and he's never hid them. If you played the entire campaign with the audio off and subtitles off and you can't grasp the simple fact Osiris is experiencing incredible amounts of grief and trauma that's on you, my friend.

#osiris #destiny osiris #osiris destiny #destiny the game #lightfall spoilers #lore.exe #cyrus.exe

[randomrosewrites]

Dottore with prompt “To say I ‘tolerate you’ is a vast overstatement.”

Ty!

A/n: Anon, how did you know I have a weak spot for Dottore...

Overstepping boundaries

Pairing: Dottore X GN reader.  Word Count: ~830 Warnings: Swearing, mentions of killing, Dottore hates the reader lol. 

Dottore is going to murder someone. 

His fists clench tightly, the squelch of leather loud enough to be heard over the rushing of blood in his head. He’s one of the oldest of the Harbingers, but you assumed that made him more patient, you’d be dead wrong.

He runs his life on a tight schedule. Certain procedures must be done at specific moments, he eats his meals at specific times, his days are meticulously planned so that everything occurs as it should. Tardiness is unacceptable. Every one of his subordinates knows this very well. For those that are a minute late, or who don’t perform to their standards are immediately disposed of.

Her majesty, the Tsaritsa, knows and understands this, and - within certain limits - allows him the freedom to run things his own way. She’s one of the few he respects, one that he’ll gladly bow his head to.

But right now, he wants nothing more than to storm up to her palace and slap some sense into her.

He inhales through his nose, closes his eyes, and counts to ten. When he opens them, he doesn’t feel any better, and the nuisance is still in his lab. 

He’d just returned from a long day out. Per the rules of the Fatui, he was forced to indoctrinate the new recruits that just arrived. Normally he’d leave that up to another Harbinger, but seeing as he was the only one in Mondstadt, (and that air-head Childe was on a boat back to Sheznaya) he’d spent hours in the sun, baking under his suit, supervising wet-eyed recruits. 

The only thing he was looking forward to this day was to go back to his lab, and enjoy a few hours of experimentation, but when he opened the door and stepped through the threshold, that idea was promptly shut down.

You’re perched on top of his desk, reading one of his reports that he had nicely organized. You look up when you hear him enter. “Oh, hello.”

A vein in his head throbs. It’s like he’s the one invading your personal space and not the other way around. 

“Get out of my lab,” he grits through clenched teeth. 

“No ‘hello, how are you’?” you frown. Dottore resists the urge to throttle your neck. 

“Never. You’re not welcome here. Out,” he points to the door. 

You lay the report back on his desk, incorrectly on the left side. “Well, that’ll be a problem. Her majesty has sent me here to help you.” 

“I don’t need any help. Especially not from you.”

You shrug, his harsh words like water off a duck’s back. “Well if you have a problem with it, take it up with her.”

He wants to scream. Ever since you first wormed your way up in the ranks of the Fatui, you’ve been nothing but a thorn in his side. Waltzing into his lab during experiments, not caring what you were disturbing nor the profanities he’d shout at you occasionally, and meddling in his affairs with no care or concern.

The only reason he hasn’t taken you out himself is because you’re a harbinger. And while small spats are fine, the Tsaritsa has a no tolerance policy for harbingers killing other harbingers.  

So, instead of pulling his hair out or calling upon his delusion, he crosses the room and settles into work, trying to ignore you as best as possible. He doesn’t say anything and neither do you, the silence is filled by the mechanical clicks and whirs from his experiment. His work calms him down somewhat. If he doesn’t think too hard, he can almost forget that you’re in the room with him. 

Not even ten minutes go by before you get bored. 

He hears shuffling first, but thinks nothing of it. Then it happens again. Gradually, he feels you coming closer, and sends a sharp glare that stops you in your tracks. He goes back to work. 

Then he feels something touch his earring, swinging it back and forth like a pendulum. 

He whips around, knife in hand, and lashes out. You gracefully jump back, out of his reach. The two of you stare at each other from across the room. There’s a pleased grin on your face. Dottore’s blood is boiling.

“You’re abhorrent,” he snarls. “An insufferable buffoon.” 

“I’d say you tolerate me pretty well.” 

“To say I ‘tolerate you’ is a vast overstatement.” 

Your eyes crinkle in delight. “Is it? Then what do you think of me?”

“Scum.”

“It’s alright, you can say you love me, I won't tell-” you duck just as his knife flies over your head, sinking into the wall with a thunk. “-Childe. Or Scara.” 

“The only time I’ll love you is a thousand years from now when you’re six feet under the ground and buried.” 

Something stirs in your eyes, dark and exciting. It makes Dottore shiver unconsciously. 

“Interesting challenge, doctor,” you hum. “I think I’ll hold you to that.” 

#i havent done requests in a lonnnng time haha #ty anon <3 #i loved this sentence i had to run w/ it #genshin impact #genshin impact dottore #dottore x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines

[fanfictiondreamscape]

To Grab the Gold

Request: Could you maybe do a yurio x reader where the reader is a skater in the girls league at the same level as him. And though she almost always wins gold like her brother victor she’s always hard on herself saying she could do better. Either headcanons of how he would handle it or a Scenario please and thank you!!!!! Love work by the way!!!!!!!

Title: To Grab the Gold 

Genre: fluffy, strays a lil into angst-y territory (but it should be fairly short)

Pairing: Yuri Plisetsky x Fem!reader

Notes: Okay, so thank you for this request! I’ve always wanted to write something about the reader being a sibling of Victor or someone, so this gave me the prime idea! 

Otherwise, I feel as if I can relate to this idea in itself - being hard on yourself. It can literally be seen on this blog. It’s so nice and it makes me so happy to see that people enjoy the work I put out. So, I will thank you for that. 

That said, I went with headcanons. Small warning, though: 

These ideas will stray into territory that can be triggering. I would give it a specific label, but it is simply amplified insecurities, so if you deal with that - please proceed with caution. 

KEY: (Yuri = Plisetsky, Yuuri = Katsuki)

Below the cut! 

we have to cover this before anything else is said:

the figure skating world is brutal.

with that in mind, seeing as you had managed to jump the ranks as quickly as you did, people knew you as a formidable competitor. 

yuri in particular knew how fierce of a competitor you were, seeing as he had trained with you and your brother victor under yakov for as long as he remembers.

so yes, while you two did grow up beside each other, you never really talked to anyone besides yakov, victor, and mila (from time to time) 

in short, you two barely knew each other despite growing beside each other. 

funny occurrence when you consider that he was of the few that knew of your habits when skating.

in similar fashion to your brother, you were almost a natural on the ice, and the way that you moved even off the ice was graceful yet intimidating. 

it frankly shocked the other people competing against you in the senior division in which you debuted.

yuri was beside you the whole way.

literally.

when victor had made the claim that he was going to coach yuuri katsuki, he had suggested that you join him and train under him for the year. 

you reluctantly agreed, though you also avoided saying anything to yakov as you weren’t as straightforward and recklessly fearless as victor is. 

that said, yuri was a little disappointed and jealous.

he knew it was baseless, you were victor’s younger sibling, after all

what right did he have to keep you here?

what really bothered yuri was the fact that victor had made him a promise. 

and he intended to make sure he kept it. 

so when he showed up at the local ice rink out of the blue, you were left jaw-on-the-floor. 

were you really surrounded by people that were purely impulse and nothing else? 

you didn’t let the event prevent you from working on your senior debut pieces, though.

while yuri and yuuri were being coached by victor, it was only when they were done for the day that victor stood by and helped you with your senior debut. 

you already had high expectations, after all - if you couldn’t hold up, what would happen? 

you and yuri are the best new entries, so if either of you couldn’t hold up, what would go down if victor decided to quit coaching for competing in the next season and you had to go back to yakov?

what about if you had failed to grab even silver in your debut?

you knew you could do it, and you wanted the satisfaction that came with the draping of the medal around your neck, standing on the highest pedastal on the winner’s platform.

at least, that’s what you were trying to convince yourself to do. 

you had been trying and failing to do an even more advanced jump than what you usually did.

and you wanted to use it in one of your routines

but the best you could do was the mount. 

your landing was flawed at best, and a wipeout at worst. 

it was starting to get to you.

many things swung around in your head.

‘is it my weight? is it being distributed incorrectly or did you just gain some?’

‘maybe it could be the routine itself. is it good enough to shock a crowd and win the gold?’

‘or, maybe, it’s just the fact that victor wasn’t able to focus and help you when you needed it most?’

the ideals that had been drilled into your head differed greatly from victor’s 

and the fact that you had the expectation to live up to his abilities was starting to get to you for once.

normally, you’d just brush it off, but your competitive nature kicked into full gear and you felt the overwhelming need to avoid disappointing and losing.

you loved the feeling it brought to you. what else was there to say? 

that, and you knew how victor could get when he had expectations. 

just because you’re his family, doesn’t mean that you are exempt from his expectations of nikiforov gold. 

which is why you worked your ass off. 

you lost weight in favor of toning, you made sure to reach the rink before and after the three males entered and left.

more often than not, you would be eating a meal in your designated room in at the hot springs later at night, after your daily workout. 

the new jump that you had been trying to accomplish was barely coming along

your routines were starting to slack.

you didn’t know what was going on, as things like this were normal, but they never reached this extent.

either way, you worked and worked and worked.

eventually, you had begun to skip dinner

you had begun to lose sleep 

you had started to pass out at random times.

despite how much you tried to hide it and play it off as if everything was normal, everyone that saw you could tell that wasn’t the case by any means. 

yuuri was trying to get you to stop and relax, but in your work-induced mindset led to you lashing out at him. no matter what he did, nothing worked. 

yuri and victor had been aiming to get you to relax and stop working as well, but even they knew that you wouldn’t do that unless some more powerful entity forced you to.

that, and the sheer amount of disappointment that had started to rain over your being was starting to transform into anger. 

you were beginning to have outbursts, your were beginning to perform as if you were a simple novice.

you were beginning to look as if you were going to fall apart after a single breath. 

you failed to realize and care about your wellbeing until you wiped out on the ice and couldn’t get back up. 

you were lucky that yuri had stayed back to get something he forgot, otherwise you might’ve been stuck there all night. 

which is why you had to face the music and realize that this wasn’t the way to go about it. 

he had made quick succession in making sure that you were okay as soon as he was exiting the rink and saw you passed out on the ice. 

he panicked, frankly, but he made sure to get you off the ice and on a bench before calling yuuko over to tell her to call victor.

everything was moving fast, and he swore he could feel his heart racing in his ears as he saw you still on surface.

you looked pale, a weird mix of purple-blue and green, and the image left him speechless.

victor and yuuri rushed over to the rink as soon as they could, and when yuuri saw you his jaw fell to the floor

victor, on the other hand, ran to your side and picked you up.

he was able to notice the way you fell limp.

long story short, you looked dead.

it scared him senseless, and yuri could understand the sentiment. 

over the time that he had spent in Japan, he had grown to appreciate the amount of work that you had put forth to succeed.

sadly, even he didn’t know that you would push yourself to this extent.

and he now knew why he became even more drawn to you.

you took pride in your abilities, but he never knew that you pushed yourself this far to achieve whatever goal you had set for yourself.

this event was what forced him to become aware of his feelings for you. 

he could now realize why he always watched you, mesmerized at the way you carried yourself.

and he now understood why he wanted to make you feel safe.

after you were taken to the hot springs and taken care of, victor and yuri stayed by your side as you were still unconscious.

a warm towel was resting on your forehead and you were covered with a blanket. 

for extra measures, they had even kept a small heater beside you to make sure that you didn’t freeze while resting. 

“yuri, can i ask you something?”

“ah- what is it. victor?”

“if she decides to go back to yakov, watch over her for me.”

“...”

“i can tell. she has taken a liking to you, and i know you have taken one to her.”

“...”

“she trusts you, yuri. and after this, i fear that this could happen again, so please. make sure she takes a break.”

“...i promise, victor.”

“...thank you, yuri.”

victor left after that, patting yuri on the back 

(he wondered what he failed to notice, despite his overprotective nature when it came to you.)

yuri sat there, overnight and into the next morning.

yuuri and victor came in to check on you, brought him breakfast, but everything the next day seemed to slow down.

eventually, you woke up, but you were lost. you were even more disappointed than you were before. 

if you needed the cloth on your head changed out, yuri did it.

if you needed the heater turned on, he did it.

if you needed literally anything, he did it or got it for you. 

otherwise, he’d just be silent and act as a safespace for you if you ever needed it.

similarly to how he might handle insecurities that you may have, he would be very careful with the subject.

he’d be a little awkward, though he’d power through for your sake. 

after a few days of just relaxing and stretching, doing some light exercises (and i mean E X T R E M E L Y light exercises), he’d do some slight skating with you to calm you down.

if you wanted to see something from him on the ice, he’d do it for you.

hell, he even did his developing competition piece for you so you could have entertainment in analyzing his technique and ability.

he loved seeing the way your face would light up when you would watch him perform.

eventually, the time passed by.

you came to realize yuri plisetsky as himself completely, aside from just facing the persona that he projected to the media, people he worked aside, and to his fans. 

it made you realize what you had been feeling the whole time. 

you had been put on light work by victor, as he didn’t want to see this happen to you again, so weeks had passed before you went through your intense debut routines. 

it was only on the night that the competition for who victor would coach came up that you were able to go through even a snippet of it. 

yuri, following his loss, was distraught.

he still powered through the night, though. 

when you saw him after the event, you asked him to join you on the ice.

you had a speaker set up on the edge of the rink, playing some lofi music to make sure the mood had stayed calm.

you two just skated around, no real reason as to why except to settle from the day.

“hey, yuri.”

“hmm?”

“you were amazing. as usual, but...”

“...but?”

“...i wanted to thank you.”

he stayed silent to let you continue, but you knew that he was listening. his skating had ceased just the slightest as he had been slightly ahead of you in the rink.

“i...i made a stupid mistake by failing to pay attention to my health, and i wanted to thank you for helping me.”

the silence that followed was comfortable, and as the both of you were very hesitant to say what loomed over your hearts, you were both already aware of what the both of you did meant.

‘i love you.’

the rest of the time in the rink was passed by you and him holding hands and making rounds around the rink 

he even slipped some fancy ballroom moves in, making you flush and laugh. he did the same alongside you.

the next day, there was something melancholy in the air.

and even though you had told him that you wouldn’t be returning to yakov for the season, you did emphasize that you wanted to continue talking to him. 

“hey, yurio!”

“how many times do i- don’t call me yurio!”

“not gonna happen. either way, before you leave, promise me something?”

“what is it?” (it was gentle, and the scene made victor, yuuri, and yuuko gush)

“i better see you on that pedastal kissing that gold medal, plitsetsky.”

“only if i see you up there as well. though you better be careful, or i am going to ignore it.”

“got it, got it. now...promise me?”

“i promise.”

#yuri plisetsky #yuriplisetsky #yuri plisetsky x reader #yuriplisetskyxreader #yurionince #yuri on ice #yurioniceyurio #yuri on ice yurio #yurio x reader #yurioxreader #yurixreader #yuri x reader #plisetsky x reader #plisetskyxreader #yurionicexreader #yuri on ice headcanons #yurioniceheadcanons

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

So in these next few chapters, I’m sorry to say, Reader isn’t very likable. Needless to say she has some things to work out. Please enjoy the oh so fluffy Chapter 6.

Lots of fluff. Some angst.

Small Time Witch (6)

Steve grabbed a few things from his room and checked in with everyone before he went back to your room to help you get home. Everyone looked pretty beat and promised no more drinks. Every time he’s not there and the alcohol flows, someone ends up getting naked. Someone ends up crying. A few of them wrestle. It never ends well.

He got back to your room and Loki was sitting outside. He was deep in thought and looked utterly exhausted. He barely looked up when Steve passed. “She’s fragile, Captain. I have no idea what your intentions are but...be careful.” He stayed in the chair never looking directly at Steve.

“Not that it’s any of your business but I have no intentions. I just want her to be safe.”

“Safe from me you mean?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Steve mumbled

Now Loki was up from his seat getting closer to Steve. The tone of his voice was steady and almost apathetic.

“You think you’re strong enough to defend her from an unseen evil? A soulless foul entity that is controlled by a family hell bent on destroying her? You haven’t the faintest idea what you’re up against.”

He turned his back to walk away not giving Steve a chance to answer but allowing him to roll over and absorb what was said.

Loki turned around and looked back. Steve looked bewildered. “You really can’t even fathom who she is.”

“And I suppose you can?”

“As a matter of fact, I can.”

“Is this what this is about, Loki? Do you have feelings for her?”

“No more than an over protective brother has for his little sister. But I assure you, that love is fierce. I will die protecting her. No matter who it’s from.”

Loki disappeared from the room. Neither of them knew you were listening. Your heart sank a little when Loki called you his sister. What you felt for Steve was new and exciting. You could tell he was very caring. Loving even. You were sure you could have a nice time together.

What you felt for Loki felt so natural. He fit into your life in a way that just seemed to be so right. Almost like you were meant to be family. Perhaps that’s what he was feeling too. You didn’t do much mind being called a little sister. It did sort of hurt that he didn’t feel more.

When you got home Steve got you situated on the couch. He plated your dinner and joined you. “Want to watch a movie?” he excitedly asked.

“Sure. Have anything in mind?”

“Whatever you want. There are a lot of movies that I’ve missed. I’m catching up though! Still haven’t watched ‘Harry Potter’.”

“Seriously?! Let’s rectify that situation right now.”

By the time Ron played the best game of Wizard Chess, the two of you were tangled together on the couch. He absentmindedly stroked your back. Your head rested on his chest. The rise and fall of his breathing lulled you into a trance. His heartbeat was steady and he was giving off a very warm vibe.

“Are you asleep?” He asked knocking you out of your stupor.

“No. Just very relaxed. Are you ready for bed?”

“Uh yeah. I guess.” You hadn’t gotten up yet. You were too comfortable.

“Y/N?” He patted you on the back.

“Hmm?” You nuzzled deeper into him.

“Come on. Let me tuck you in.”

You groaned and finally relented.

You slipped into an old T-shirt and got under your covers. He came back in from the other bedroom in just an undershirt and his boxers.

“Ok, Princess. Let me tuck you in to bed.”

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You smiled and his heart beat a little faster.

He kissed your forehead and pulled the blanket over your shoulder as you rolled over.

Sleep took you quickly. He stayed watching for a few minutes. He moved a few hairs out of your eyes making your lashes flutter. He thought maybe he’d go easy on you in the gym tomorrow.

Your alarm started it’s impatient whining at 3:50. You hit snooze. Nine minutes later it went off again. Snooze. A second later you heard footsteps crossing the threshold of your door. “I know you didn’t hit snooze again.” Steve flipped on your light. At some point in the night you took off your shirt. You must have gotten hot. You were lying on your stomach. Steve’s eyes followed from the side swell of your breast down the length of your spine. The tippy top mound of your ass was just peaking over the blanket. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. What he wouldn’t give to have you draped over his body all warm and soft. He shook his head to knock those thoughts out. No time for these things.

“What if we skipped the gym today?”

“No, ma’am. Be in the kitchen in 5 minutes or I’m coming in to get you. I don’t care if you’re dressed or not this time.”

You scoffed, “You’re so mean.”

“Oh you have no idea, Princess. Four minutes and thirty seconds left.” You jumped out of bed when you heard the door close.

Sam was already in the kitchen when you walked out. Damn if these boys weren’t prompt. “Morning, Sam.”

“Right back at you, Sunshine. Let’s hit it.”

“Where‘s Steve?”

“Went for a run. We’re going to have some fun this morning. Ever toss around a medicine ball?”

You groaned at the thought, “No.”

“Well you’re going to today.”

You and Sam went down to the gym. Steve never joined you. You didn’t want to offend Sam by asking why Steve wasn’t there. You were a little relieved that he wasn’t around to huff and puff when you weren’t doing something right or fast enough.

After you and Sam finished you grabbed a light breakfast then met Nat. The morning seemed to drag. You wondered why Steve left this morning. By lunch he still wasn’t there. Everyone was chatting and carrying on. You faded into the background. It was time for Loki. You really just wanted to head back home.

“Hey, Lok.”

“Afternoon. I thought we’d try some meditation today.”

“Ok.” He noticed you were a little quiet. Perhaps you were a tired. He pressed on guiding you through a meditation that would help you to balance and focus.

“...listen to my voice. Block out all other noise..” Your thoughts were racing. You fidgeted constantly. Your body never relaxed. All you could think about was Steve. All the mixed signals. You knew he liked you. Why did he leave?

“Enough of this, mortal. You aren’t concentrating.”

“Yes, I am. Keep going.”

He rolled his eyes, “What’s on your mind? Let’s hash it out so we can carry on.”

“I’m just not feeling it today. Can we just go home?”

“No. We need to complete this exercise. Come on. Talk to me.” You sat up and chewed your lip. You didn’t want to talk to Loki about boys.

“If you don’t tell me I’ll get it out of you. You know I can.”

“It’s Steve.” Damn it.

“Did something happen last night?” He hoped not.

“Yes. Not really. Kind of.”

“Either it did or it didn’t, pet.”

“Nothing serious. We just cuddled.”

“My he’s so wholesome.” You hit him with your towel.

“Stop. He’s old fashioned.”

“No, mortal, he’s a man.They’re all alike. If nothing really happened why are you feeling so hurt and conflicted?”

“He left this morning without telling me. I know he has other things to tend to but, I thought we connected.”

He immediately regretted what he was about to say. He didn’t want you to like Steve but here you were. It was better if he let it play out. “You did. I know you did because Wanda and I felt it too. Your heart fluttered. You blushed. The butterflies when he kissed you. Felt it all. Maybe he’s trying not to rush you. Or maybe he’s trying to reconcile his feelings. I’ll tell you this much, darling: Any man, human or otherwise, would be a fool not to like you. Let’s get you home. We’re not going to get anything done here.”

You packed up your bag and waited for him by the front door. Bucky passed you and turned back to talk to you. “What are you doing all by yourself?”

“Waiting for Loki. He had to get his stuff.”

“Steve’s not staying with you again?”

“I haven’t heard from Steve all day. I didn’t think him sleeping in my guest room was a permanent thing.”

“Mmk then. You have a good night.” It felt like he didn’t say precisely what he wanted. Like he was stopping himself from spilling a secret.

“What?” He held his hands up, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I swear.” You took his hand and closed your eyes. You weren’t trying to influence him. You were trying to reach out and read his thoughts. Your sister Margot could do it. You should be able to do it now too.

“What are you doing?” he asked tentatively.

“Why didn’t Steve tell me he was leaving this morning?”

“I don’t know. (Because he likes you too much and he isn’t sure if you’re influencing him to like you or if his feelings were real).”

That cut deep. “Why would I force him to like me?”

His eyes got big and he snatched his hand out of yours. “Not cool. Get out of my head, witch” he growled.

“Tell your friend that I’d never meddle in his life like that. And tell him to stay away from me if he’s so scared.”

“Ok so I’m not a messenger. You’re both adults. You should talk to each other. Never read my thoughts again without my permission. Do you understand me?” His face was so close to yours you could smell the mint on his breath. He felt violated. You were embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, Bucky.” He walked away shaking his head.

Loki saw part of the exchange.

“Want to tell me what just happened?”

“I freak Steve out.”

“I don’t care about that. You were testing a power on an unwilling participant. I told you magick can’t always be the answer. That’s no way to get in good with this team.”

“Sorry, daddy. I’ll behave next time.” You pouted at him.

“I’m serious, mortal. They won’t trust you. If they won’t trust you they won’t protect you when it counts. Believe me. I’m all about self preservation but trust is a two way street.”

Now you felt like crap. Your feelings clouded your judgement and made you act on impulse. More than that, you assumed incorrectly that Loki would condone your bad behavior. The god of Mischief has rules and morals after all. You were foolish to believe he’d allow you to run rampant like a spoiled child.

You drove back home in silence. When you got upstairs Loki went to his room to put his things away. You grabbed a bottle of wine and went to bed. You were feeling very sorry for yourself.

He called out for you, “Bedroom” you answered.

“Turning in already?” He sat on the edge of your bed. You pulled the covers back inviting him to lie down with you. He kicked off his shoes and slipped under the covers still fully clothed. You rolled over to lie on his chest. At first he kept his hands behind his head. After a few moments he let one arm fall to hold you.

Neither of you said a word. You traced the knit pattern of his sweater while he played with your hair. He was giving nothing away. You, on the other hand, were confused and hurting. You sulked like a teenager who didn’t get a note in her locker after third period.

Loki didn’t realize feeling you could hurt this much. He didn’t hurt for you, he hurt for himself. You were hurting him. He didn’t want another soul to know that he was jealous of your feelings for the soldier. He wanted to help you through this. You didn’t seem to want to talk though. You were too busy over thinking. He felt your body getting heavier and slack. Before you fell asleep he tried to remove himself.

“Where are you going?”

“To the other room. You’re exhausted.”

“Please stay with me.”

“I shouldn’t. Rest, pet. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Please. I hate being alone.” He couldn’t refuse you.

He changed into something resembling pajama pants. They hung low revealing the sharp plains of his hips. There was a light dusting of hair on his lower belly. You brushed your finger tips through it as you settled around him. Your head rested on his shoulder. A long arm snaked around you holding you close. One leg wrapped around his. You fit together like twins in a womb. Before he closed his eyes he kissed the top of your head. He brought down his walls and let his feelings wash over you like a wave claiming the shoreline. You sighed in your sleep. This is what contentment felt like. This is what it was like to feel safe. This was the first time in centuries Loki felt this way.

#steve rogers fanfic #captain america x reader #mcu x reader #loki x you #loki x reader #loki of asgard #Steve Rogers slow burn #marvel witches #mcu witches #witches

[cblgblog]

I'm curious about your take on Wakanda being wronged hard in FaTWS, and by Bucky specifically? I haven't seen many people talk about it, but I'm just angry and confused as to why Bucky was to careless and rude towards Ayo and the Dora Milaje, acting as if their anger about Zemo was an overreaction. Hell, Walker got more respect from him in the end than the Dora did

I'm looking at the writers' perspective here, it was their decision and I'm wondering why. What was the thought behind it? Why did they make Bucky so insensitive? At first I thought it had to be some arc, but nothing came from it. I'm wondering what made them look at this series and think "Yes, let's make Bucky screw over the people that helped him".

It wasn't just him wronging Wakanda, it was his behavior towards Sam too, how he was so ignorant during the cop scene, dismissive of Sam's feelings, and obsessed with the shield to a point of lashing out at Sam for things that weren't his fault. Why was this a choice that was made? Bucky didn't have much personality in the other movies, they could've done anything but they chose this, and I think more people should talk about how wrong that is. Not for Bucky, but for the black people in the series who were wronged.

Okay so here’s the deal. One, I’m white, so know that going in, take my take on this for whatever it’s worth accordingly. Two, I haven’t watched the eps since they aired, with the exception of a couple scenes, so my memory—not so much of events but of specific nuances of how Bucky reacted to them—isn’t fresh.

I say that last part specifically because of Bucky and his interactions with Sam, because ultimately they bother me much less than the Wakanda stuff, and here’s why. Bucky is, to varying degrees depending on situation and episode, a dick to Sam about the shield for most of the series. Undoubtedly. But I get that, to a point. He at least explains his feelings in 1x05, why he reacted like that, and admits he fucked up. He had all his feelings for Steve wrapped up, incorrectly, in that shield, so when Sam just tossed it aside (from Bucky’s perspective), it caused him to freak out/lash out. Which was never fair to Sam, but at least culminated in Bucky recognizing that. Sam keeps saying to him that the two of them have not lived the same experience, the shield and its legacy do not mean the same thing to them, and Bucky finally realizes that. He acknowledges that neither he nor Steve grasped the full reality of the situation, and he apologizes. Does that erase what came before? No, but it’s not supposed to. It’s him acknowledging his own ignorance and trying to do better.

So, at least there’s an arc there, which is the other reason his stuff with Sam bugged me less. There was an evolution in his thinking, there was a change from wah wah, you gave up the shield, to oh wait, I kinda get it now. He realizes that his reactions were wrong, even if his feelings were understandable. Which, on a human level, I think they were. It’s a very human thing for Bucky to equate that shield directly to Steve, and take Sam’s rejection of it as a rejection of Steve. It’s understandable how he got there, given the bizarre nature of Steve’s time travel shenanigans, the nearly endless nightmare that Bucky’s life has been since he fell from the train. Losing yet another 5 years when he’s already lost 70+, all the unprocessed guilt and grief that isn’t helped by him having actually the worst therapist ever, oh my God this woman sucks at her job, she’s funny, but she’s awful. His feelings, I believe, were valid, given everything that went down. His reaction to them—the lashing out, whining, refusing to see Sam’s side of it—his reaction was not valid. But at least he gets to a point where he realizes that. At least there’s an arc.

Could they have found a different way to create conflict in the series? Sure, and I’m not gonna argue with anyone who wishes they had. For me personally, I was okay with it. Bucky’s ignorance and misplaced anger made sense to me. Bit of an aside, one of the few scenes I rewatched for this (because Youtube and knowing exactly where it was) was the cop scene, because you referenced. I’m assuming you mean the bit where Sam gets stopped, gets the ‘calm down sir’ treatment. I didn’t think Bucky was a dick in that scene? He seemed aware of what was happening, given his angry, “No he’s not bothering me, do you know who this is?” It’s actually one of a relatively few instances in the first 5 eps where Bucky does seem genuinely aware that he and Sam don’t live in the same world, even when they’re walking the same street, right next to each other. So, as far as illustrating that, and Bucky coming out of his own feelings long enough to pay attention to Sam’s, I thought it was one of the better scenes.

So, Sam and Bucky, I’m less bothered by. Bucky and Wakanda? That’s a hot garbage fire.

Zemo’s whole inclusion here, and nearly everything related to it, was incredibly botched. He’s randomly rich as fuck now, and a Baron, to match his comics counterpart. Which is not only an incredibly lazy retcon, it kills much of what made his character interesting in CW. In that movie, it was one guy, working alone, limited resources, dedicating himself to his cause. If nothing else, you had to admire his tenacity. Now suddenly he’s got a butler and a plane and piles of cash? Where was that in CW? More importantly…why? What purpose did it serve, besides making him more superficially similar to his comic self?

Why did we detour to him at all? None of his plans ultimately affect the larger narrative all that much. He starts out in prison and…ends up back in prison. Why? Why would the Dora just leave him there? Ayo says that they will bring Zemo back to face Wakandan justice…and then they just don’t. They leave him in the hands of the same people who lost him to two random dudes who were able to bust him out of prison on their own, one of those dudes being an entirely human guy, no enhanced powers, no Serum. In CW, okay, T’Challa did a deal with Everett Ross I guess, fine. But once the Americans proved they couldn’t hold him, it made no sense that the Dora would just go, okay, here you go again. They aren’t Batman. They have no reason to keep throwing the baddies in Arkham Asylum to wait ‘til next week when someone breaks out again.

The Zemo stuff had no arc to it. The only worthwhile thing was Bucky proving to Zemo that he can’t be controlled anymore, but that scene could have come about in a million better ways than it did. Ultimately, the weird little team-up with Zemo feels very cliché and contrived. It feels like a trip down a side road that dead ends to nowhere. It feels like filler, which is a particularly terrible crime when there’s only 6 episodes in the damn season.

Bucky’s dickishness towards Ayo and the other Dora really is baffling, especially when the writers went out of their way to give us that flashback, a direct, show don’t tell indication of all the Wakandans did for him. And it’s not his feelings for Steve that have him acting out this way, or at least it shouldn’t be. Steve has nothing to do with this aspect of things. Steve obviously had trust in and respect for T’Challa, and there’s no reason to think that wouldn’t extend to the Dora as well. Strong, badass women who put it all on the line for their country? Yeah, Steve should/would get that. He would have broken Zemo out of prison, if he thought it was the right call to make, but he also would’ve been like yeah, I did that, I understand that I fucked you over, I’m fully prepared to accept the consequences of that once my mission is complete, I’m sorry it went down like this. See the, “I’d like to surrender myself for disciplinary action,” he gives Phillips in First Avenger, after he goes to rescue the 107th. If it’s an authority he respects and acknowledges as having good intentions (Phillips as opposed to the Accords), Steve will ultimately give that respect back, even if he goes off to do his own thing first. He respected T’Challa and Wakanda. Bucky should have respected them even more, given his more direct connection, given the flashback scene in FatWS, given his acknowledgement that Wakanda and it’s people gave him a rare respite, a calm in the shit storm that’s been his life since 1945.

So yeah, it doesn’t make sense that he was so flippant and dismissive towards Ayo and the rest. It makes even less sense that they put up with it. It’s bad writing, that’s all I’ve got. The show is incredibly irritating, in that a lot of the plot-driven stuff is pretty fucking awful, but most of the character study stuff for Sam and Bucky is so good.

#Fatws #falcon and the winter soldier #Bucky Barnes #Sam Wilson

[nightybreeze]

Sound of Fury

Original female character/Billy Hargrove

A/N - I've created it with a Lady Macbeth/Macbeth dynamic in mind. I'm gonna try incorporate that into this fic as we go along. This is gonna be a long series. You could call it a slow burn but in terms of the plot. But I promise I'm pouring my heart and soul into this thing.

Summary: Action takes place in the season 2 of stranger things.

Word count: about 2 200 words

Chapter 1

Smash of the door. The twist of the key. Loud roar of the engine. Sudden rush of adrenaline that made goosebumps rise up on her skin. And then quick and daring take off.

The feeling was nearly invincible each and every time, but in its steadfast nature it never failed to bring a little bit of joy to her heart. As the machine accelerated it felt like taking a shot directly to the veins. And then what came next was just a steady, subtle drift that set her off into the wide blue. Mika in those moments was finally able to relax. Could forget about the sombreness of the reality that sourrounded her. Even if it was just a second, she could finally get a glimpse of how it felt to be truly free. The wind grizzled into the girl's ear and winnowed wildly through her hair to the beats of hard rock music coming from the radio. As the next track blasted out from the speakers, Mika was quick to recognize the piece. The song began with a distinguishable, descending tetrachord in a form of slow tremolo. It repeated itself a couple of times before the second guitar and the drums joined in. Soon enough, the lead vocalist started singing. Mika tightened the grip on the steering wheel and clenched her jaw in response. On paper the song seemed her type: full of energy and spark, quick-paced, with off the chain solos. If it was not for the lyrics, it would surely land on one of her personal cassette tapes. The persona came across as someone with real naive worldview and it was enough to struck her nerve. It didn't take a minute before she was speeding up.

𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘫𝘰𝘣

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘴

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭

'𝘊𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰

𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘬 '𝘯 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭 

She pushed the gas pedal even harder placing her well beyond the speed limit. As the song was reaching an end, she pushed the brake and sharply turned the wheel. The car smoothly slid across the street, making a one-eighty, and with a screech of the tires came to a halt. Mika didn't bother to move it closer to the pavement, it was good enough. She turned off the radio, released the keys and heedlessly slammed the door after leaving the vehicle. The girl entered the liquor store. She didn't seem out of place. She's been here many times before and it was like she had had every right to it. She was confident that nothing would ever jeopardise the purpose of her being there. Mika grabbed a standard-sized bottle of cheap tequila and went over to the counter. She noticed that the man behind it wasn't someone she recognized. She quickly then grabbed the ID from her pocket and casually flashed it at the shopkeeper while handing him her drink. The salesman glanced at it.

𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘢 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘯

𝘔𝘢𝘺 13𝘵𝘩 1962

Soon enough she was settling up the bill and on her way out of the store until suddenly a police officer entered the shop. He scanned the place with his eyes before giving Mika a suspecting glare. The girl tried to manoeuvre around him but the cop didn't let her.

- Woah, woah, woaaah there young lady. Not so quick - he said stopping her in her tracks - Is it your car outside the building?

It took her a second before collecting herself.

- Yes, sir, is there a problem? - she said calmly while fluttering her lashes and giving him the world's fakest smile.

The officer didn't seem to notice, she was a true pro.

- It's parked incorrectly. It's disturbing the traffic.

Mika looked above his shoulder. There was no traffic outside.

- I'm terribly sorry, I was just about to leave! It won't happen again, sir - she sighed dramatically.

She tried to take a step forward but the officer held her back.

- I'm afraid I'll be forced to check your ID

Mika's heart sped up a beat. She knew she could be busted. On the other hand her calm demeanour seemed unbothered. She glanced at him, smiled and quietly passed him the card. She took a peek at cop's badge and then noticed a couple of thick, white hair strands on his uniform. Just as the officer was about to get a closer look, Mika chimed in.

- Oh gosh, you've got a dog, Mr. Brown? - the girl asked cheerily, trying not to tip off her immense frustration.

- Am I that obvious? - the man chuckled while trying to examine the ID

- You struck me as the type - she said smiling innocently and after a short pause added - It's nice to meet a fellow dog person.

That was of course a plain, ugly lie -  the best card she could play at that very moment. She figured the best way to distract a man is to have him start talking about himself.

- So what's his name? - she asked but she couldn't care less

- Her - Officer Brown corrected - Becky. A pitbull. Loyal little beastie.

Of course, she thought, what else could have she expected than a national pride that is a fighting ring dog.

- I sure hope she is.

The cop seemed like he was about ask something, but he was then quickly interrupted by another male voice coming from behind the girl.

- Jerryyy!! What's good, is your wife alright?

Jerry Brown looked up and Micheala turned around to see another man who freshly left the back.

- Old Nick! Yeah the migraines finally stopped and she's better now.

- Say, what brings you here today? - Nick said while eyeing the girl up with concern

- Nothing much, just duty, sir.

- Duty, ey? - shopkeeper gave Mika a knowing look - Did the girl do something?

- I think she's too young to be buying stuff here. And besides, her car isn't nowhere near the sidewalk.

- Awh you know how women are, their parking is horrible, they shouldn't be driving in the first place

Mika furrowed her eyebrows at Nick but the man just gave her a sheepish grin in response.

- Tell that to Sarah! - Jerry laughed, clearly entertained - She's insisting on getting a driver's license. Can you imagine?!

The two men burst out laughing in unison. After a couple of seconds they stopped and then carried on with their conversation for another good minute or two. Mika stepped to the side, clearly bored. She was considering running off to her car and just driving away.However she didn't want to get in trouble with the police again and besides, Jerry still held her ID captive. Nick saw that and that was his cue to finally get to the point.

- So whatcha gonna do about... - he paused focusing his eyes at Mika

- The girl? I don't know man. What if she's underage? - the cop Jerry raised the card with his hand, recalling that he still hasn't properly inspected it yet.

- I assure ye, she's not. Mika's my loyal customer since she hit 21! She wasn't showin' her ass here before.

The police officer looked at the ground lost in thought. Then glanced to the side at Mika and back again at Nick and sighed.

- You'd vouch for her?

Nick hesitated for a second but after that a wide grin crept onto his face.

- Yeah, I would.

And that was enough for the officer Jerry to resign from his witch hunt. He moved aside to stand in front of the girl and finally handed the ID back to her.

- Here you go Miss, sorry for the inconvenience.

He left the store and called out from the outside.

- Practice your parking!!

Mika was so done with this whole situation but she managed to put on a one last smile.

- Sure thing, officer!

And with that it was over.

She wasn't this close from being caught by the police since her late evening trip to the pub near the centre - a foolish decision on her part. This wasn't New York. Not only was she the only woman at the bar, she was the only young woman at the bar. She managed to talk her way out of it of course, but the encounter still left a sour taste in her mouth. "Cops" she thought. "Always acting like they're noble and benevolent. Like they don't have anything better to do than meddle with somebody else's fucking business instead of doing something that is actually important".

Micheala stood there seconds longer, following Jerry with her eyes. After a while she grunted at Nick.

- You should've let us be.

She had it under control, she didn't need his help.

- You're welcome? - the man raised an eyebrow at her visibly amazed.

- I had it handled! - the girl scoffed.

- Like shit you had! I've saved your sorry ass, some words of appreciation would be nice.

Mika looked at him with hateful eyes, her pride hurt.

- Didn't ask for your help - she murmured quietly under her nose as she turned around and pushed the door open.

She walked outside but Old Nick quickly rushed after her.

- Hey, hey, Mika don't be like that - Nick closed off on her, undeliberately catching the girl's attention - I know you don't do well with that kind of talk, I'm sorry, okay? I just wanted you to be safe. Wasn't too keen on getting in trouble for selling booze to a minor either. You understand that, right? - he looked at her with pleading eyes.

She did, yes. It was his store after all. Mika was a little mad at herself for snapping like that. She just really hated being given favours though. She sighed.

- Yeah.

     Thanks Nick.

***

The girl arrived back home - a shithole that was looking same as always. Except at the house on the opposite side of the street were parked two cars. Which wouldn't be anything worth noting, but the 5280 Cherry Street stood empty since Mika came back from college a couple of months ago. At least it's what she recalled. So yeah. A bunch of new shitty neighbours. If her mother made her bring them a "welcome pie" she swore she was going to murder someone. Or she'll just end up throwing it in the dumpster as a big ol' "Fuck you". Or eating the thing herself. She's not decided which out of those three ideas appealed to her most.

Mika leaned against the trunk and lit up a cigarette. She spied some figures moving behind the window curtains.| "Please, don't borrow any fucking sugar". On a further inspection she noticed that one of the cars parked outside, the blue one, was a Camaro. "Right, another pathetic male playing macho" Suddenly a front door swung open. A boy came out of the house. He strot in a hurry. Mika took a nice, long drag of her cigarette. The boy was young, approximately her age. Pleasantly looking. She stared intently at him as he made his way to the blue Camaro. "Of course" - she thought as a slight grin crept onto her face. The boy wore the most generic bad boy hairstyle, a pair of tight, midwash jeans and a black crew neck. He seemed irritated, quite over the edge. But then again, maybe it was just his bad boy facade.

She let out a big puff of smoke.

Okay, yeah, he was handsome. He looked like taken out of a goddamn TV screen. The Boy was gorgeous. So gorgeous, Mika started wondering when was the last time she's seen a man so damn pretty? Ah, yes. 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘠𝘰𝘳𝘬.

What was he doing in Hawkins? He really must have been new. Was he there unpacking when she went out to that store? Guess she couldn't care less to notice.

No no, she would've seen him.

Probably...

The unnamed Boy took a large box out of the back of his car. He held it with his one hand while he slammed the boot door shut with the other. And then, unexpectedly, as Mika was about to take another blow out of her cig, the Boy's and hers eyes met. They held each others gaze for a split second. She breathed in the smoke and he adjusted his seemingly heavy pack. And then Boy disappeared behind the same door he so quickly came from.

Mika stood there, finishing her smoke. She threw the burnt bud on the ground and crushed it with her shoe.

Alright so maybe she wouldn't be so mad if 𝙝𝙚 was the one to ask for that bag of sugar. The girl decided she must make herself acquainted with this handsome newcomer. Yes, she was planning to get to know him real 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺.

She grabbed the tequilla out of her car along with the cherry coke that was laying there on the floor. She wrapped the liquor in paper and wandered off into the nearby woods.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove/oc #billy hargrove/reader #billy hargrove/fem oc #is that all? #xdd

[the-darklings]

—𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈;

pairing: quentin beck x f!reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: "I’m whatever you want me to be Mr Beck."

warnings: manipulation (of other people), love/hate-rivals relationship, swearing.

notes: Oh man, here we go again!! So this fic is set pre-FFH so no spoilers for the plot of that movie, except Quentin’s past occupation/characterisation. 

“unbecoming” mini-series: . . | 02 |

Life was a monopoly of good luck and bad luck. 

Which side you landed on depended entirely on you. 

That was the first thing he taught you. 

And the last thing you taught him. 

. . .

“Are you nervous?”

“No.”

Your new supervisor—a man in his late forties, already balding, and clearly cheating on his wife if the way he was keenly eyeing the female employees was any indication—looked up at you with something close to surprise. 

“Confident, huh?” he guessed—incorrectly, but you weren’t rude enough to correct him and first impressions matter—rubbing his chin, and grunting under the weight of the safety manuals he was carrying. You had offered to help but pride stopped him from accepting. “Mr Stark mentioned something about that.”

Oh, you bet he did. 

“May I ask a question, sir?” you wondered quietly, your words gentle, placid. 

The man straightened, and you had to bite back a disgusted grimace at the way he peered at you openly, affected by the mild speech pattern. Too easy. 

“Of course, of course,” he said immediately, expression open, “It’s your first day after all. Mr Stark said to give you a full tour.”

“I feel so terrible even asking. But why this division?” you questioned with a well practised awkward laugh, fiddling with your fingers. “I was under the impression that I will be working directly under Mr Stark?”

“Ah, well,” the man began, clearing his throat and you watched him closely from under your lashes. Awkward, fumbling for words—likely for an explanation that would not offend. Hmm. “The Visionary program is the one Mr Stark personally oversees. Teams of the brightest people on this side of the continent gather to build something amazing together. Each year there’s a demo presentation, and Mr Stark picks the next lead project himself. It’s a huge honour and every engineer and developer hopes to end up getting the lead project one day. Of course, it’s something highly coveted due to the scale of attention and funding the lead project gets.”

And that was that. 

Idiot. But maybe smarter than you first gave him credit for. It was harder to answer a question without giving a proper answer than it seemed. Your eyes shifted to the man, confused, lost, and he faltered upon seeing your expression. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you told him politely, nibbling on your lip. “I don’t think I really understand what that has to do with me? I’m sorry if I’m being somehow rude—”

“Nonsense,” he cut you off hurriedly, and you took another left, moving deeper and deeper into the building. “It’s just...the team you will be working on shows a lot of potential, but it’s a rather, ah, challenging project to work on, shall we say? Mr Stark believes that placing you with this team for your trial period will give you invaluable experience. Experience that—one day soon—you may even use to run your own team.” 

A challenging project, huh? 

Interesting.  

. . .

You didn’t expect a team of only three people. 

Two males and a female. 

The woman introduced herself first. Victoria, but call me Vic for short; stern-faced and polite, sporting a pair of guarded eyes and stiff shoulders. The man to introduce himself next was the exact opposite, overly cheerful and open. The type that people liked because he reminded them of golden retrievers with their too friendly, too good nature. His name was Daniel—Dan for short, please; and wasn’t that just adorable? 

The last man—the man behind the project and the invention—was called Quentin Beck.

He, unlike the other two, didn’t introduce himself, his eyes glued to the tablet in his hands as he frowned minutely at the screen. He sat hunched over it, seemingly in another world, and from the dim light of the room you couldn’t see more than his profile. 

The supervisor called him by name once, twice, making even your two new colleagues exchange looks before Beck finally tore his gaze away, standing to his feet at last.

He moved oddly—smooth, practised—but something from the moment he stood up, to the moment he came to stand before you made something inside you spring to attention. 

Most humans walked; hunched, straight, that didn’t matter. 

Others strutted; arrogant, conceited, believing that they were the gravity holding everything together whenever they moved. 

Many shuffled: awkward, misplaced, seeking comfort in a world that wasn’t going to provide them with any. 

Quentin Beck did none of those things. 

Quentin Beck prowled like a storm, a dangerous thing, across the room, his gaze a chasm. 

Oh, something hummed inside you. 

Hello.

. . .

Few things became apparent quickly. 

One, Daniel liked to overshare to a startling, almost worrying, degree. 

Within the first hour of knowing him, you already had far too much information on him that you still tucked away inside your mind. It was little pieces that make the big picture, and getting the little details mattered. 

Daniel was indeed a golden retriever. He lived by himself, loved basketball, Mexican food, reading and taking hikes. He even had a dog, and—admittedly—it was very hard to control your laughter at that one. He sounded like a bad dating website ad but you weren’t going to tell him that. 

Two, Victoria was quieter, more observative, though Daniel still managed to let it slip how she lived with her girlfriend and a cat not too far from the Stark Industries. 

“A cat and a dog person,” Daniel said with a cheery laugh and a dimpled smile, “As you can imagine, we get on brilliantly.”

Victoria rolled her eyes and you laughed too, adding just the right amount of warmth into your voice. 

“I sure can.”

However, the one person you wanted to learn more about—the whole point of this tedious process, according to your supervisor—was mostly quiet.

Sure, he made a comment or two now and again, adding only the bare minimum to the conversation, as well as an occasional hum of agreement or disagreement when a point was raised. But his mind and gaze never wandered far from the tablet in his hand. His entire focus was on it and whatever he was working on. 

If anything, the slight downward slant of his mouth and the rigidness of his shoulders told you he was more annoyed about wasting time on this exchange of pleasantries. The dark shirt he wore made him blend into the darkness of the lab, and from this angle, he appeared both taller and gaunter. Ungodly.

“Maybe we can get started?” you wondered, keeping your voice neutral, “I would hate to take up any more of Mr Beck’s valuable time with our chatter. I think we’re boring him.”  

His eyes locked with yours, and the glow of multiple computer screens surrounding him made them glow, accenting the rich blue of his irises. His mouth curled into a smile—a charming, polite thing that he had surely used a thousand times to offset the hard, glacial look in his eyes. 

Assessing. Demanding. Judging. 

You had a hard time controlling your knowing smirk. 

. . .

“Holographic illusions,” you stated slowly, dryly. “When the old man said a challenging project, I didn’t now that what he really meant was a dead project.”

Daniel fell silent mid explanation, and even Victoria’s eyes flew to you like what you said was the most horrifying thing she had ever heard.  

“Care to elaborate?”

His voice was calm; low, and perpetually pleasant to listen to. You imagined all the times he must have used it to his advantage—surely many, only a fool won’t. 

You stood next to the whiteboard delineating the invention proposal, calculations, technological advancements as well as details of the first two prototypes. Predictably both failures. It wouldn’t be presumptuous to assume that prototype number 3 was hardly faring any better. 

“Human brain is perceptive,” you told him with equal calm in your voice, meeting his blank stare. “It adapts with startling efficiency. The five senses alone are difficult to fool. Once the mind is exposed to something and deems it unsafe, or in any way unsettling, it rebels. Not to mention that this technology relies far too heavily on sight alone. What if I closed my eyes? How effective will this little light show be then?”

Daniel sucked in an audible breath and Victoria’s almond eyes slowly slid towards the very still Beck. The man observed you shrewdly, silent—and was that a spark of annoyance? Anger?

“Fear,” he stated, a touch colder, rising from his seat behind the table and closing the distance to you. “Wonder. Confusion. Human minds are weak and susceptible to a shift in the natural—safe—order of things. The subject can be aware it’s an illusion, but if the illusion is strong enough to hold them, then the inherent sense of fear will take over. Panic shuts down logic and major motor functions rather quickly. What does that leave us with then, you may ask? Well, it leaves us with a subject that will believe whatever I want them to believe.” 

He halted before you, and your head tilted upwards to meet his stare with a slight, benign smile, “Ah, yes. I’m sure Mr Stark will be willing to invest millions into technology that will traumatize people. After all, if I was him, that’s what I would want my company to be known for.”

Something flashed across his gaze then—something dark, something burning—and he leaned back with an easy grin. It transformed his face, only dialling the handsomeness to something near blinding. 

“That’s why it’s a prototype, honey,” he pointed out simply, a touch mocking before he turned to Daniel and Victoria, waving his hand in a placating gesture. “Don’t worry, you two. By the time we’re done, the technology will be safe and people will be able to use it without side effects. That’s a promise.”

Holding back a snort, you crossed your arms over your chest. “Unlikely,” you insisted quietly, and Beck glanced back at you, still grinning. 

You returned his smile, practically beaming, and it felt like two predators baring their teeth at each other in greeting, in warning.

Hello to you too, the sharpness seemed to whisper.

. . .

The first week was a whirlwind. 

You absorbed all the new surroundings and information around you like a sponge. Through gritted teeth and clenched fists, you greeted everyone you came into contact with. It was a tedious affair, and both emotionally and physically taxing, but you had to be seen—had to be presented in everyone's’ minds as a pragmatic, friendly person. 

Reputation was everything. One had to guard it with their life if they wanted to achieve anything in this world. Being liked, respected, opened all the doors. Or at least, the majority of them. 

Your work kept you busy too. 

Beck gave you two days to get acquainted with all the data collected through the project’s lifespan so far as well as the progress of the new prototype. 

You finished it in under 12 hours. 

He didn’t believe you. 

Every question he asked—examining you like one would a bug under a microscope—was met with a flat, slightly bored answer. 

“Just to be clear,” you told him, straightforward and unblinking, but smile unfading, “I think you’re wasting your time. I’ve read the briefs, I’ve seen what you’ve done with the technology you have. It’s impressive work, and you’re smart. Yet you’re wasting your time on...this. Even if you could get it to work—”

“I know it may be hard for you to understand,” he interrupted, his voice smooth, but his gaze harsh. He blinked once, expression smoothing, and you knew it was only because Daniel slipped back into the lab after lunch, shuffling back to his spot with an awkward grin in your direction. “But this is my life’s work. You don’t make history by doing something just anyone can. You see, life is a monopoly of good luck and bad luck. You choose which side you land on. I intend to land on the good side by doing something no one has done before.”

“Are you trying to tell me that the outcome of your life is a coin flip?” you repeated slowly, disbelief colouring your tone before you let out a sharp bark of laughter. “That’s complete horseshit.”

“Not if you control the flip,” he argued, but he almost—almost—looked amused. “Not if you know exactly how to throw, turn and drop the coin. Not if you control all the variables.”

“So,” you drawled, spinning in your chair, and cutting a sly look his way, “What you’re saying is that you’re a control freak.”

You expected him to get angry—expected him to let that little something lurking behind his carefully constructed charming demeanour crack and force its way through. 

He didn’t.

He only gave you a contemplative, knowing look, “Aren’t we all?”

That, damn him, made you laugh genuinely for the first time that week. 

. . . 

Quentin Beck was most certainly a control freak. 

There was no denying it. 

He didn’t let Daniel or Victoria anywhere near his prototype. He allowed them to run and compile test data but he spent all of his time working on the improvements himself. Calculations, tests adjustments; everything was under his careful consideration. 

Daniel and Victoria were only used as glorified secretaries.  

It was interesting but not surprising to see. You had met both men and women like him before. People who respected and valued their work too much to allow for any mistakes. When it’s your life’s work, you don’t leave anything up to chance. If you make a mistake, then it’s your mistake to make. It was about precaution as much as it was about arrogance. Usually. With Beck though…

“Hey, we’re finished,” Daniel said happily, glancing at his watch and already rising to his feet. “I love you guys, I really do, but I can’t wait to enjoy my weekend. Any plans? Vic? (Name)?” 

“We have a dinner planned tomorrow,” Victoria replied reluctantly, but a small smile twitched her mouth, telling you just how much she was actually looking forward to it. “Salma wants to try that new Thai place on the 46th.”

“I heard pretty good things,” Daniel replied with a nod, his eyes flickered to you and you stretched, leaning back in your seat. “How about you? Any dates you’ll be going on this weekend?”

You shrugged half-heartedly, turning another page between your fingers, “I have a date set with a pound of cocaine.”

Daniel stared at you blankly before bursting out laughing, the loud boom of his sniggering almost making you cringe. 

“Man, you’re too funny.”

Not really. 

You held your thoughts to yourself though. People didn’t like it when you disagreed with them, especially when they were trying to pay you a compliment. It implied that not only you didn’t value their opinion but also shot own their attempt at being nice.  

Victoria too was looking at Daniel like he’d sprouted another head and was having a hard time holding back her own laughter. 

“Well come on then I’ll walk—”

“(Name) is not done yet.”

Ah yes. 

Daniel’s mouth clamped shut, green eyes finally moving towards previously silent Beck. He sat leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, and the faintest glimmer of a challenging smirk across his face. 

If last week had proved anything to you, it was that Quentin Beck didn’t like his authority questioned. Ever. You made your opinion on his project clear from day one and it hadn’t gotten any better since. 

Beck started out with giving you menial tasks like he did with Victoria and Daniel. But suffice to say, he learned very quickly that they weren’t very adequate at keeping you occupied for long. The faster you finished your duties, the more work he had for you—effectively involving you in his project more than he probably wanted. 

Prideful, deceitful man; a man with a thousand faces but none of them genuine.

But he was a clever one too.

Irritatingly so. Conversations with him were as blood boiling as they were mentally stimulating.  

Then again, you refused to let him step over you, meeting him tic-for-tac every step of the way with no intention of letting up. 

It made him angry—someone questioning and picking apart his ideas and proposals, you could tell. Not that it mattered. You were part of this team. That meant you would see it succeed because you needed to succeed—it was as simple as that. If Beck didn’t listen, you would make him listen. Show him that you could contribute to his project. 

“Yes,” you agreed pleasantly, adding a touch of sadness into your slight smile, “I want to finish this tonight. You guys go ahead and have a great weekend. I’ll be seeing you both on Monday. Please give Charlie a kiss for me, will you?”

Victoria nodded—a little stiffly—peering at Beck with a slight frown. 

Clearly, the mention of her cat didn’t do much to ease the situation like you hoped. 

“C’mon, Vic, we better stop taking up valuable time,” Daniel stated, and you smiled wider at him, encouraging, “Don’t overwork yourself, okay?”

He directed those words only at you in such an obvious manner, you almost groaned. Idiot. 

“Sure, thanks, I really appreciate the concern.”

They took their time leaving though, both lingering on different things: Daniel on you, and Victoria on Beck—though unlike Daniel who stared at you warmly—she was giving Beck a cold look. 

The silence their absence left wasn’t awkward. If anything, the room seemed to lighten with neither of you looking at each other. 

“I was wrong,” you hummed at last, thoughtful, your eyes snagging on a ceiling tile and staying there. “That doesn’t happen often.”

You could practically feel Beck debating whether he should rise to the bait or not.

“About?” was his eventual, uninterested response. 

A slow smile stretched your mouth into something devious, “About you, of course.”

And just like that, you felt the weight of his expectant, hard gaze focus on you.

“Oh?” he questioned slowly. “How so?”

Your head turned to him and you stared at each other for a long moment, seizing each other up. It was interesting to be alone with him and see his meticulous construct of charm and control starting to crack.

“I thought it was arrogance,” you offered after another stretch of silence, watching the way his eyebrows drew together briefly. “At first, that is. Now, I know it’s not about your arrogance but rather the fact that you think they’re incompetent.”

His expression remained eerily blank, not giving anything away as he examined you from across the room. 

“You don’t really think I didn’t notice how you never allow them to do much of anything around here, right? Not to say you’re aren’t arrogant—you most certainly are—but you primarily don’t trust them to do their jobs well enough. The reason why this team only has three people—now four, of course—is due to the nature of your project and because you make it impossible for people to perform well. All the credit for the invention will go solely to you. Smart. But you’re also isolating yourself. Less smart.”

“I resent your implication—”

You snorted loudly, cutting him off, and even from this distance you could see the way his jaw clenched tightly, irked, gaze hooded. 

Idly, you wondered how much longer his act was going to last for.  

“I’m sure you do,” you told him flatly, your eyebrows jumping up in amusement. “You do realise that you’re cutting yourself off from valuable sources of information and useful workforce, right? You can get much further in life with a smile on your face than a command. They don’t need to be your friends. In fact, I hope they’re not. Your friends always betray you first because envy comes easily to them. Your enemies though...use them. Pretend if you must. You manage with me, and look how quickly we got through this test data. I read the old reports, it usually takes you a week. We did it in two days.”           

A breath; strained and short, and then, "What are you?"

A slight, sweet smile graced your face as you gazed up at him, "I'm whatever you want me to be Mr Beck."

You rose up without another word, feeling the intent—almost physical—weight that was his regard on you as you gathered up your things. 

“You’re not done yet,” his words were quiet, soft. 

Your steps drew to a halt right outside the door, your hand on the metal handle and you sighed, almost disappointed he hadn’t noticed. 

“Actually, I finished an hour ago,” you told him blandly, pushing on the door. “I just wanted to stay behind for a little chat.”

You glanced over your shoulder—just to see his reaction—and what you saw made you pause. 

Sometimes you run into people and they’re like the sun; shining and blazing brighter than anyone else in the room, warming you with their presence. 

Then, there were people like Quentin Beck. People who had ice running through they veins; people with cold eyes and wicked intentions, no matter how carefully hidden behind a mask of normalcy. 

The thing staring at you now with a sly curl of his mouth was only just human. 

There was no false charm, no carefully measured smiles or stilted compliments, there was just him and you and the empty space between you. 

“Hello, Quentin Beck,” you greeted coolly, knowingly, and watched the way his grin widened dangerously. “Nice to finally meet you.” 

. . .

an: these two are absolutely feral and the only way from here is up ayyy

Truthfully, I wrote Reader this way because I don’t see enough opportunist/cutthroat Reader stories around. I know this may not be everyone’s cup of tea but ahhh I still hope you liked it <33 Buckle up, I have some pretty interesting things planned for this one~~ 

#quentin beck #quentin beck x reader #marvel #mysterio x reader #jake gyllenhaal #marvel imagine #marvel fic #spiderman far from home #spiderman #mysterio #fic: unbecoming series

[january-summers]

NotThatBad Continuation of the #notthatbad prompt fill by @swpromptsandasks Summary: Obi-Wan can take care of himself just fine, he's been doing it for years, during the Clone Wars, a rumour starts up that he doesn't eat or sleep. Obi-Wan and those close to him, begin to realise the rumour has a down side.

-

“Obi-Wan!” Quinlan Vos's voice carried down the Temple hallway, and Obi-Wan had to resist rolling his eyes, he could practically hear the grin in Quinlan's voice.

“Hello Vos,” Obi-Wan said drily as he slowed and turned to the other Jedi. He was right, Quinlan was grinning. The man caught up with Obi-Wan, one hand tucked suspiciously behind his back.

Quinlan's grin eased into a smirk, “is that any way to great someone who brought you a present?”

“Is it legal?” Obi-Wan shot back, having known Quinlan long enough to know better.

“That hurts Obi, cuts me real deep,” the hurt in his voice was fake, betrayed by the grin Quinlan couldn't quite hide. “Not sure you deserve your gift now.”

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed, his suspicion growing, but the mischief in Quinlan's eyes was friendly, a hint of a familiar doting he hadn't seen in so long he'd almost forgotten what it looked like. So Obi-Wan gave a faint pout, and shifted so he could give Quinlan a coy look through his lashes.

“But I'm small and tired and deserve nice things,” Obi-Wan said, a line that was once a frequent occurrence in his vocabulary. One he hadn't said in years, not since Naboo, not since Anakin, not since he and Quinlan had agreed...

Quinlan snorted, his eyes darting over Obi-Wan's form at the memories, but his eyes fixed on Obi's face when he brought out the box he'd been hiding.

Curiosity, recognition, delight.

Who ever said Obi had a perfect sabacc face didn't know him very well.

“Sugared plums?” Obi-Wan took the box carefully, opening the lid to enjoy the sweet aroma of the preserved fruit. “Thank you Quinlan.”

“Nah, was in the neighbourhood, saw them and thought of you,” Quinlan snorted, “of course, with that rumour floating around, a lot of people are thinking of you, and not in the best way.”

Obi-Wan sighed, “I was afraid of that.” Obi-Wan closed the box, his brow furrowing, and he missed Quinlan's heavy frown as Obi-Wan put off eating one of his favourite treats.

“I mean, not that I mind an excuse to dote on you again,” Quinlan said with a shrug, “but I don't like what this rumour is doing for your image.”

Obi-Wan seemed to do a second take, tilting his head as he stared at Quinlan with a contemplative look.

“What?” Quinlan asked, and the air around them took on a weight of seriousness.

“Am I to take it then,” Obi-Wan asked slowly, “that you are not the one to start the rumour?”

Quinlan shook his head, “no, I'm not.”

The air pressed heavier for a moment, like the force was trying to call out in a muffled voice.

“But I'll look into it for you,” Quinlan promised, and the air eased.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said. He opened his mouth to say something else, the first syllable on his lips, when his comm. went of. “Yes?”

“General,” the voice of a clone responded, “the hover car is ready in hangar 3.”

“Thank you Cody, I'll be down shortly, I was... mildly delayed.”

“Yes sir,” the comm. chirped as Commander Cody, turned off his side of the link.

Quinlan felt a twinge of jealousy, and released it quickly into the force. But not fast enough apparently, Obi-Wan caught the frown on his face.

“I thought you liked Cody?”

Quinlan shrugged, “he's alright, for a clone. Very... competent.”

Obi-Wan frowned, then sighed, “I have a meeting at the rotunda, excuse me.”

“Yeah,” Quinlan watched Obi-Wan walk away, the box of sugar plums still closed in his hands. He let the force sink into him, ease the burn of jealousy that threatened to bloom. It wasn't entirely unfounded, Jango Fett had been a very attractive man, and Cody was a very competent commander.

And Obi-Wan liked competent men who could lift him with one arm.

But they'd agreed years ago...

Quinlan growled to himself and shook his head. He had the source of a rumour to track down.

-

Cody didn't particularly like the rotunda, the people changed their appearance so often, and they almost never looked at his brothers like they were people. There were a few who did, who spoke with his vode and tried to remember their names, to varying degrees of success.

Still, there was always a looming feeling that they weren't really welcome there, a sense of discomfort that Cody couldn't quite put his finger on.

The more he got to know his jetii, the more he could see the man felt uncomfortable here too. As they had walked together towards senator Organa's chambers, Kenobi had let out a small hum, the one Cody had come to learn meant 'I've noticed something and I don't like it, but it's not a problem just yet.'

Then Cody had caught the snatches of conversation, the senators and their aides in the halls, whispering and looking at his jetii.

'Don't you think he looks tired?'

It wasn't concern for Kenobi in their voices, it was judgement.

As the pair had approached the door to senator Organa's office, Cody had excused himself, confident in his jetii's ability to defend himself, and confident in the crimson marked vode who patrolled the halls.

“Is everything alright?” Kenobi had asked.

“Yes sir, I just need to check in with some brothers, nothing for you to worry over sir.”

Kenobi gave him a dubious look, but said "alright, I'll comm. you if you aren't back when I'm ready to leave."

“Understood, have fun with your meeting,” beneath his helmet Cody felt heat in his cheeks, but Kenobi had given him a wry grin, pleased by his boldness rather than annoyed. As they'd parted Cody had let himself smile in the safety of his buy-ce.

Kenobi had always welcomed their boldness, their reach for individuality. He hadn't even minded their presumption to feed him, had merely accepted their care, unneeded though it was. Sometimes Cody though his jetii might even understand what his acceptance of their care meant to them.

For them to not only have a jetii, but to have one who understood them...

Cody wasn't going to let a rumour turned foul damage his jetii's reputation, and while Cody didn't have the time to track the source down himself, he knew a vod who could do the job for him.

The door to the security room opened just before he reached it and he marched through, removing his helmet as his vode greeted him. He let a grin flicker across his face as Jun gave Beck a glare.

Beck gestured to the monitors which showed the hallway just outside the room, but Jun scowled.

“Just because you know who's at the door doesn't mean you open it,” Jun huffed before turning to Cody, “sir, what can we do for you?”

“I was looking for Tutti,” Cody said, and the vod in question looked over from his console, a cluster of small star tattoos marking a line under his left eye.

“Sir?”

“Tutti,” Cody's gaze fixed on him, “top scores in splicing and our psychological war fare unit,” Tutti nodded, not sure where the commander was going with this. “I need you to look into something for me.”

-

Palpatine sat back in his chair and watched as the senators before him squabbled. The topic of conversation was the same one that was making its way not only through the rotunda, but the general public: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“We can't trust a man like that with our troops!”

“Yes we can!”

“If he can't even take care of himself-”

“It was a mistake to give so much military power to the Jedi, they can't handle it!”

Palpatine hid a grin behind his steepled fingers, enjoying the negative emotions that littered the air, and taking pleasure from the lost faith that was growing steadily throughout the republic.

He'd never liked Kenobi, or the man's ability to banish the darkness Sheev was trying to cultivate in young Skywalker.

This really had been his most brilliant plan yet, and yet it had been so simple. A word here, a word there, a few leaked pictures of Kenobi at his worst and now the republic he'd fought so hard to hold together would tear him apart.

If he'd been alone, Palpatine would have cackled.

“-Kenobi must be removed from power before he makes a mistake!”

Perhaps it was time for another 'secretarial mistake', another influx of incorrectly assigned paperwork finding its way to Kenobi would be the icing on today's cake.

-

Obi-Wan adjusted his robe as he let Bail's door close behind him, he used the motion to disguise another as he rolled his shoulders to release tension from the muscles. With the war, diplomacy often found itself being thrown out the window in favour of more aggressive tactics, so it was nice to use his training to help Bail with a small negotiation in which the biggest risk was stiff muscles from sitting too long.

“Sir,” Obi-Wan turned to the familiar voice to find Cody marching down the hallway.

“Excellent timing commander, I was just about to comm.” Cody dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Have you finish your business with your brother?”

“Yes sir, all taken care of,” there was a mild tension in Cody's shoulders that told Obi-Wan a different story.

“Good, shall we then?” Obi-Wan gestured down the hall and Cody nodded, falling into step with Obi-Wan as they returned to the car. Their driver for the day – a clone whose name was Blink if Obi-Wan was remembering correctly – was drumming a beat on the dashboard when the arrived.

“Not to bored I hope?” Obi-Wan said, startling the young clone.

“Sirs!” He scrambled out of the vehicle and opened the rear door.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said as he slid into the back seat, moving far enough over for Cody to join him. Cody followed, but only after looking at their driver for a long few seconds. Obi-Wan got the feeling Blink was being scolded, and from the blush on his uncovered face, Blink seemed to feel that way too.

“It's not a short trip back if you want to catch a nap, sir,” Cody said, his voice filtered through his helmet.

“Hm, not a bad idea,” Obi-Wan replied with a small smile, lifting his hood up and over his head, he settled into a more comfortable position. Cody was close to him, his armour hard against Obi-Wan's side, but the man himself was warm, his presence within the force was soothing to Obi-Wan's senses.

'Cody would speak up if he minded,' Obi-Wan thought as he let his head rest on the commander's shoulder.

-

Cody stayed as still as possible, signing for Blink to drive a little slower than necessary on his way back to the Temple.

Blink nodded, and not only drove a little slower, but a little more cautiously, making sure to rock the vehicle as little as possible.

Cody spent the trip resisting the urge to remove his bucket and lay his head against his jetii's. Kenobi was his commanding officer, and his jetii on top of that, he wouldn't appreciate it. Cody would just have to be content with this.

His gaze caught on their reflection in the vehicle's rear view mirror.

'I wish they could see him like this, like we do, they wouldn't doubt him then.' An idea occurred to Cody then, and he used his helmet to capture the image in the mirror.

'Perhaps they can see him as we do.' Moving carefully so that he didn't wake his jetii, Cody tapped out a message for the other commanders. He would speak to the 212th himself, if he could get them on board, that would be half the work done.

#swpromptsandasks #notthatbad #codywan #quiobi #Clone Wars #clone wars fanfiction #the author is very nervous about their first star wars fic

[jinruihokankeikaku]

Can you do an analysis on a Prince of Hope?

I’ll do my best!! I’m a big fan of this Classpect, wwhich has absolutely nothing to do wwith a certain seadwweller from Act 5 lmao. Eridan? On this blog? It’s…likely.

Anywways, here’s my analysis of the…

Title: Prince of Hope

Title Breakdown: One who actively destroys or destroys through [threatens, annihilates, weaponizes, breaks] Hope [faith, belief, positive emotion, force of will]

Role in the Session: Alright, so before I begin the analysis proper, I’ll address the fish in the room. A Prince of Hope is half of the reason Murderstuck is called Murderstuck, and it’s true that as the Active Destruction class Princes will do a lot of… destroying. But! Our canon example of a Prince of Hope, Eridan Ampora, is one who goes through almost no development or realization, and I want to emphasize that a Prince of Hope in a session does not mean “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!”. With proper development, a Prince of Hope could be the deciding factor in favor of a team’s success, wielding the team’s Hope as a beam of light, clearing away obstacles and allowing fantastic creation through destruction (if that makes any sense). While I think dialectical thinking should be applied pretty much universally when it comes to classpecting, it is perhaps more important when it comes to the analysis of Princes than anywhere else. If a Prince of Hope can work past the initial phase of hopelessness, during which they misguidedly ghost Rage and manifest negative emotion in their wake, they can become a sort of Destroying Angel (and that’s a good thing, mostly).

The Prince of Hope, like any other Prince, begins with a deficit of Hope. They are unwilling to say yes, unwilling to embrace the possibility of a bright future. This is not an innate condition, but rather the result of their experiences. Nobody comes into the world hopeless; as a matter of fact, I would go so far as to say that no one is ever truly hopeless. The Prince of Hope, experiencing false Rage, will lash out at their own hopeful thoughts and those of others heedlessly, because they have learned that belief will only earn them more hatred, more rage, more pain. In order to work through this, they must learn Hope anew through their quest – a quest where they must likely confront their own beliefs and Hopes, tear down those that are doing them harm, and establish in their place new beliefs that will enable them to grow as a person. Their quest will be one of rising to power, not through wanton destruction but through careful, precise elimination of those places where their Aspect or its opposite are excessively predominant. In this sense, both the Sylph and the Prince are, at their best, metaphysical surgeons. A Mage of Doom could help the Prince work through their misconceptions regarding the inevitability of a negative outcome; if anyone can persuade a derailed Prince to realign themselves with their Aspect, it’s someone who has that sort of firsthand experience. On the other hand, a Sylph of Time could assist them in “healing” their future, realizing why the timeline is not yet doomed.

Opposite Role: The Sylph of Rage. The Sylph of Rage “passively creates, heals, or repairs negative emotions, denial, and skepticism”. Aside from the obvious personality clash, the main issue here is one typical to Prince-Sylph opposed pairs – the Sylph’s attempts to Heal the Prince become ultimately detrimental, as they’re trying to heal the Aspect that the Prince is (incorrectly) ghosting. The Sylph would unintentionally be stoking the flames of the Prince’s most unhealthy qualities – encouraging them to abandon Hope of a better future. The consequences of this, unsurprisingly, are unlikely to be anywhere near good.

God Tier Powers

Hope is the Culminative-Conclusive-Personal Aspect – its domains include faith and positivity, and generally speaking all that which occurs when a person’s attitudes or beliefs are drawn together into a single conceptual understanding. With that in mind, here are a few ideas regarding the destructive powers that a Prince of Hope might wield…

White Light: The Prince of Doom might imagine a weapon, perhaps a powerful artifact of magicks or sciences, which they wield to combat their own hopelessness. In a particularly climactic or culminative moment, this weapon could manifest a physical form, and be (for better or worse) directed… uhm… directly! Against the Prince’s enemies. Though it could take practically any form, it would likely generate white heat or white light, and be substantially destructive. Because the energy adheres to the Prince’s will, it might flare up at times of intense emotion and die down as the Prince winds down, if ever they do.

Angel of Death: When the Prince is fully committed to their course of action, following what they believe to be true, they’re nearly unstoppable in combat. As long as they keep taking steps in the direction of their belief, their power is magnified severalfold, and the harder they lean into their convictions, whether or not those convictions are true or upheld by others, the mightier the force of their White Light becomes.

Hopelessly Hopeful: The Prince’s ghosted Rage and Hope flow into one another paradoxically; as their conviction falters and they start to break down, the power of Hope swells up within them once more. Because of this, the Prince tends toward explosive confrontations – they rarely, if ever, back down from their course once started, setting in motion a kind of moral(?) inertia. When the Prince lashes out in anger, they are strengthened by righteous conviction that their anger is necessary; but, likewise, should they truly feel that they are in the process of creating something positive, their anger may fuel their creativity without corrupting it. Such is the dialectic of the Prince of Hope.

Personality: The Prince, at first (while mirroring a Rage player), will harbor a great deal of discontentment and violent or destructive thoughts. This may isolate them from others, which will only generate an unfortunate and self-sustaining, painful feedback loop. The Prince needs connection, needs to discuss how they truly feel and what they believe, not because their beliefs are right, but because they’ll only see things as they are and come into their own through personal engagement. A well-developed Prince will conserve their violence for when it’s needed, allowing their Hope to build and to only threaten destruction when it is, itself, threatened. Princes, being Very Active Classes (along with the Witch and the Thief), tend to attempt to confront situations without backup, and this can backfire if a Prince overestimates the influence they have over their Aspect.

Basically, a Prince of Hope’s best-case-scenario is one in which they are able to work past their blind aggression, and see the world as it truly is before choosing their course of action, because they may well be hard to shake from a course once set on it.

Songs: Wwell…

White Heat / White Light by the Velvet Underground. Obvviously.

Autoclave by the Mountain Goats (this is Eridan’s theme in the hypothetical unholy Goats-Homestuck crossover musical that absolutely nobody asked for, or even conceived of, except maybe me)

Give ‘Em Hell, Kid by My Chemical Romance

So yeah!! There’s my shot at analyzing the Prince of Hope; the Personality section ended up being a bit more in-game-focused than I intended, but I hope it’s alright for yr purposes? Thanks for the ask, n thanks for reading!! Princes are always… dynamic players, intimately involved with the success or failure of their session. And with so powerful an Aspect as Hope added to the mix, a great many things could happen.

~ P L U R ~

#Homestuck #anon #ask #classpect #classpect analysis #prince #hope #prince of hope

[iraklismytridis]

Arcturian Group FEBRUARY 23, 2020

Dear readers, we hold a great deal of love and respect for you who have chosen to be on earth during these challenging times.  You chose to enter this incarnation fully aware that it would be a time of energetic shifts and difficulty but you wanted to participate, knowing that your awareness could help others.

If you believe that you only recently woke up from the three dimensional dream, you are wrong. You who align with these messages are not new souls just learning about truth even if it seems that way.  If you had not already attained a high level of awareness in other lifetimes, you would not be in alignment with the higher truths you are now integrating. You are wise, seasoned, and prepared to make the dimensional leap by virtue of having learned through hundreds of lifetimes--some good, some bad, and some just plain horrible.

Having already attained a high level of awareness you knew that these times of dimensional shift would offer you opportunities to bring everything full circle and into third dimensional completion, allowing you to become the whole, compete, wise, and evolved state of consciousness you always sought.

High frequency energy and assistance is available now as never before.  Earth and her inhabitants are being offered the opportunity to shift into higher dimensional awareness if they choose.  No one is or ever can be forced to take advantage of this for all are free will beings.  This is why your Guides can assist you with your decisions, but will never tell you what to do.

It can feel unpleasant when you witness some friendships, health, or even familiar activities fade out of your life.  Remember, everything old is making way for the new on all levels, in the outer scene as well as the inner which can be as ordinary as old equipment breaking down.  However, the dissolution of the old is often simply the first step toward its reappearing in a new and higher form if it is meant to be in your life.

All are physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually feeling the intense frequencies now pouring to earth.  Old energy accumulated from from hundreds of lifetimes and stored in cellular memory is surfacing for everyone in order to be recognized, released, and replaced with higher dimensional frequencies.  Each person is responding to this according to their attained level of awareness.

For some this process is bringing fears that have lain dormant through many lifetimes into conscious awareness causing them to lash out and blame some  person or particular group for their emotional pain and the world's problems. They then attempt to make things better in the only way they understand which is usually through violent actions . This is what lies behind the  violence you are witnessing at this time.

Allow your personal process to unfold without comparing it to another's.  You cannot evolve incorrectly for once you have chosen to embark on a spiritual journey, the "train leaves the station" and the "human" you is no longer running things in the same way it did when you were living fully in third dimensional energy.

Everything is consciousness in vibration-energy.  Consciousness expressing itself as....How each sees and experiences the world  depends upon their attained level of consciousness.  What you believe and hold in consciousness you are in alignment with in the outer scene and can experience.  A rose may represent beauty and love to one, but thorns and allergy to another.

In reality there are no victims, because as God beings everyone is simply drawing to themselves from the collective that with which they are in alignment.  Remember, there is only ONE and that ONE is always seeking to  align with itself-- wholeness.

Both the good and bad pictures of material sense have no law other than belief to hold them in place and will dissolve in the presence of a high resonating state of consciousness that sees them only as mind interpretations of reality. This is how the master Jesus healed.  People brought themselves into his consciousness where disease simply had no reality.

This does not mean that the spiritually evolved never have problems.  Never believe that you have somehow failed if your life suddenly turns upside down but rather learn to see difficulties  as facets of your evolutionary journey indicating that you having attained the spiritual readiness necessary to deal with deeper issues--karmic resolution with some person, place, or thing, the clearing of some ancient experience,  or simply the gaining of new insights into something you have struggled with for your whole life.

Many creations result simply by not paying attention, letting the mind wander and accept whatever comes floating by from the collective.  Be aware of what you allow into your consciousness for you are creators.  Learn to step back from those things that pull you into lower frequencies. Stop occasionally and ask yourself; "What am I creating in this now moment?"  Do not resist what you may discover for resistance only serves to give power to something that has no power of its own.

Consciousness changes and evolves as beliefs based in duality and separation are let go and truth is integrated.  Spiritual growth and evolution has often meant spending whole lifetimes or even more on learning just one thing (example-honesty) which is why it takes so many lifetimes to reach an enlightened state.  Lessons learned and truths integrated become the fabric of individual consciousness which is then further built upon and expanded through each following lifetime until third dimensional lessons are no longer needed.

It is a time of worry, concern, and frustration for many hoping to see the earth restored to her natural perfection. This must eventually manifest because what you see with human eyes is the material concept of a spiritual earth.  Human eyes are  unable to see the spiritual realities that underlie everything just as what you see in the mirror does not reflect the real you. Try not to judge by appearances but rather hold to the truth that God alone is.  Change cannot happen over night in a world of time and space.  Allow the process.

Energy, vibration, and frequencies form the material.  In reality the world is and always has been spiritual for God could not create anything outside of ITSelf as nothing exists outside of ITSelf. However, the world as seen and experienced by most is being interpreted through a collective consciousness conditioned by beliefs in duality and separation.  This is why you must "come out and be separate".

It is a time of worry, concern, and frustration for many who hoped to see the earth restored to her natural perfection. This must eventually manifest because what you see with human eyes is a material concept of a spiritual earth.  Human eyes are  unable to see the spiritual realities that underlie everything just as what you see in the mirror does not reflect the real you. Try not to judge by appearances but rather hold to the truth that God alone is power.  Change cannot happen over night in a world of time and space.  Allow the process.

Everyone is born into this false sense of the world.  Small children often remember the higher dimensions but soon get caught up in the lower frequencies that surround them.  As increasingly more awaken, Light is added to and changing the vibrational pattern of the collective which in turn will allow human minds access to higher ideas.

Each generation enters into the collective consciousness that is in place at that time.  The collective  of 200 years ago was much different than it is today because evolution is an ongoing process that effects all levels--physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual.  The evolutionary opportunities available today are extremely important because they offer an evolutionary path of infinite possibilities for shifting to higher dimensional awareness while remaining in the physical body.

Because increasingly more light is flowing into the collective, many more individuals are starting to re- think their beliefs.  Laws, ideas, and some social norms previously considered acceptable are beginning to be  recognized as untrue.  Those who profit from the ignorance and fear of others are attempting by all means possible to keep the status quo in place.  They do not understand that in spite of their efforts or temporary successes, the evolutionary train has indeed left the station.

Spiritual evolution can never be stopped.  It can be delayed but never stopped because everything and everyone is Divine Consciousness  whether anyone believes it or not.  Those who choose to believe that people are nothing more than flesh, cannot change the reality.

Peace and harmony exist fully present now, held infinitely in place by Divine Law simply awaiting  conscious recognition.

We are the Arcturian Group                                                               2/23/20

[cyyyyanity]

The Legend of the DreamVerse : Part Two - “Parasomnia”

A long long time ago, a being was created. Only a few years after the incident in Dreamtale was another life form being created. It was a skeleton who would soon be named Parasomnia.

The time of Nightmare, now named NightTerror, had begun. But not just the time of him, but also Dream, now named DayDream. NightTerror had quickly begun to take down any universe or dreams that stood in his way, searching for one he used to call his own brother.

DayDream had struggled to keep up with his brother's actions. He was supposed to keep dreams thriving but it seemed every time he helped a new dream, his brother destroyed ten more. He needed a way to keep up with his brother, who was too powerful to stop on his own. He needed help.

One day, DayDream had been losing hope. It seemed this never ending nightmare of his wouldn't, well, ever stop. In desperation, he sat on his knees alone, praying to whatever gods there were. He prayed for help, for someone to help him keep the balance.

He never truly believed that gods existed, but he was willing to try.. And he was heard. His prayers for help were answered by someone, who knows what.

A being was made. Another spirit entity of some sort, one of both dreams and nightmares. It was him, Parasomnia. But something went wrong. During his creation, some files and codes were made incorrectly.

Because of this mistake, his original purpose was changed from another protector of dreams, to the protector of both. This mistake gave him the defect of giving others parasomnia as well. This update was to help him create both nightmares and dreams. He had been changed so that if he thought necessary, he would change a good dream into a nightmare. This was done so that if he thought he was seeing more dreams than usual, that he would balance it out by changing a few dreams to nightmares equally in order to keep this balance.

They also had given him a flaw to make sure he has a weakness, because without one, he wouldn't be able to be stopped from doing what he does from time to time. If he couldn't be stopped, the balance would ultimately tip. To fix this, they gave him minor insomnia. He needs energy in order to do things, and he gets this energy by changing dreams and nightmares, as well as actually eating them. He has to sometimes take dreams and such away so when he does, he feeds on them and gets energy on them. In order to get into these dreams to get energy, he has to be asleep so that is where insomnia comes in. At times he will have minor insomnia which doesn't allow him to sleep for a certain period of time. This prevents him from getting the energy he needs and leaves him more vulnerable.

He was also given a weapon. This weapon was a staff with a crescent blade on the top and an orange-yellow circle at the bottom, mostly to represent the sun. He'd come to use this staff to protect himself, but only when it was needed.

Back to the main story. Parasomnia was created by some being, whether it be an actual god or not is unknown. Only days had gone by before DayDream began to notice something.

He detected the appearance of new dreams combatting the nightmares. He decided to search further into what was going on, thus finding a figure standing alone, staff in hand.

They turned to face DayDream, a smile forming on their face. They didn't know who he was, but he could easily detect their power over dreams. They approached, none too cautiously. They waved to him, attitude staying the same. "Hello there friend! What is your name?" He'd ask DayDream. He held out his hand for him to shake.

DayDream hesitantly shook his hand, soon feeling the nonthreatening aura they seemed to give. "My name is Dre- DayDream." He said, having to correct himself. He smiled at the new being, head tilted in amusement at them. "What is yours?"

Parasomnia suddenly froze where he stood. He soon seemed to be in a deep thought as he thought about that question. What was his name? Why was he there? And in that brief moment, he knew who he was. It was as if something called out to him, shedding new light upon him. "Parasomnia's the name! I'm here to help you and your brother!" He said excitedly.

DayDream's smile soon faded. "Me.. And my brother?" He asked, slight concern in his voice. He thought he was a friend, but maybe not? Or was this all a misunderstanding? "What do you mean by that?" He asked.

Parasomnia finally let his hand go after the handshake. "Well, I'm here to help you protect dreams, but I'm also here to bring nightmares, only if necessary. A guardian to both sides I guess, helping keep the valance between the two!" He answered honestly. He didn't know where those exact words came from, but he knew that was his purpose. "I'm only here because you asked for a way to help stop your brother." He stated.

DayDream stood there in silence, jaw hanging slightly open. He didn't believe this, he didn't believe his call had been answered. Shock and disbelief were what he was feeling. "You mean.. Gods are real? And they answered my plea for help?" He hoped Parasomnia knew the answer.

Parasomnia shrugged, a look of puzzlement on his face. "I don't really know if they exist, but I do know that I was made to help." He smiled.

DayDream nodded in understanding. He would love to stay longer and talk, but he had a job to do. "I'm sorry Parasomnia, but I really do have to go. I hope you'll stay safe, and be careful when handling my brother if you see him." He said, turning around as a bright red-orange-gold portal appeared. He waved goodbye before hopping through, leaving Parasomnia alone.

Parasmonia had waved back, sighing as he saw him leave. Despite the warning, he felt like he needed to see Nightmare. He needed to know the both of them, even if it was risky. He laid down on his back, sockets closing as he inhaled deeply. He let sleep overcome him, glad to be given it right now.

He could see it all in front of him now as he opened his eye sockets, no longer where he was before. He could see all the dreams and nightmares gathered all around. He could see whenever a new one of either appeared. He was in the DreamScape.

He smiled to himself as he saw the different aspects of sleep here together in this peaceful silence. All he needed to do now was wait until there was a disturbance between the two.

It didn't take long before he could sense a disruption. His sockets had long since closed, snapping open as something rippled through him. He looked around until he caught sight of a dream slowly corrupting into a nightmare. He went toward it, reaching his hand out to the newfound nightmare. His fingers only brushed it before he was taken into a dark area.

He glanced around, looking for any signs of anyone. Everything suddenly brightened, but not by much. All he could see was a dimly lit area and someone running away from something from nightmares. A monster with a mask, consuming all light there.

It soon turned back to nothingness as the thing had seen him. What once lay before him was now a skeletal figure covered in black, spiked tentacles swaying behind. Their glowing bluish purple eyelight seemed to look right through him.

It said nothing as Parasomnia stared at it. They gripped their staff tightly, weary of him. "Are you Nightmare?" He asked the thing, wondering if it was the right thing.

It stared at him, a grin forming on its face. It nodded. "Yes... And no.. I am NightTerror..." He said in chilling voice. "Who are you, and why shouldn't I kill you right now?"

Parasomnia shuddered as he spoke. A shiver ran through his spine. The aura was frightening. "I am Parasomnia.. I am here to stop you. You're disrupting the nightmare and dream balance!" He spoke, finding some determination to speak up. "I make sure the balance stays the way it is by creating dreams and destroying your nightmares. And if needed, I will create some nightmares to restore it."

NightTerror laughed unsettlingly. "I see. A friend of my brother then." He hissed, sending a glare toward him. His tentacles straightened up, ready to attack. "Then I'll have no choice but to kill you too!" He yelled, tentacles lashing out.

Parasomnia flinched back, holding his staff up to block them. He could sense the power he held and knew he didn't have the strength just yet to fight him. In desperation, he slashed the crescent blade, striking him across the face.

NightTerror hissed in pain, clawing at his face as it seemed to burn from contact. He stumbled back, hands over his face as he made a portal out of the nightmare realm. That's what this place was. He backed into the portal, disappearing.

Parasomnia watched, terror clear on his face. He hadn't meant this, but it was what was done. He looked around after a moment of terror, noticing the place becoming unstable. He had to get out before the nightmare collapsed.

He woke up suddenly, shooting up, eye sockets snapping open. He looked around to see the familiar surroundings of when he met DayDream. He was unaware of how hard he was breathing until a moment later.

He stood up, glancing around to make sure no one else was there. He sighed as he closed his sockets momentarily to catch his breath.

He stood in silence there, catching himself up. Moments later he knew what was needed, reopening his eye sockets. His eyelights glinted, a determined look on his face. He turned around and looked up slightly. "We will meet again someday, I swear it... And when I do, you better give me your best."

To be continued...

#Legend-Of-The-DreamVerse #UndertaleAU #Parasomnia-Sans #NightTerror-Sans #DayDream-Sans #UndertaleMultiverse

[tru-stim]

(1/3) Not stim, hope you don't mind anonymous venting because I just want to be heard. Recently found out I currently have an active, unmanaged seizure disorder, and have had seizures since I was a child. It was not caught because the 'events' are low level compared to many other patients'. It had been misdiagnosed as psych and treated with heavy medicines that I'm finding out now, probably made my seizures worse and more intense over time. If it had been caught, I wouldn't have been treated

…incorrectly, and a lot might be different now. I’ve lost friends and family over my ‘willfully inappropriate behavior’ - turns out it really wasn’t something I knew how to 'just deal with.’ I suppose I should feel validation, but I feel emptiness and Great Loss too. I also feel way more impressed with myself for not dying, either by my own hand or, say, during the years of me driving before anyone caught how fucking unsafe I was. I thought about making my story end so many fucking times. I thought about making my story end so many fucking times. Getting the answers now… sorta feels worth all the Terrible Dark Times it was earned through. 

To anyone, everyone out there still at home, young, dealing with the Terrible Dark Times: it doesn’t get better. Things are always going to be dark and hard. What actually gets better is You. You get better, you get stronger, you learn to create light, and that MAKES things around you improve. You get stronger and learn how to manage,and the rest Actually Will become easier. Don’t wait for the world or life to suck less. Grab that bitch by the balls and titties and DEMAND a better ending for your story. It won’t happen if you don’t make it happen.

-

As someone who grew up with someone who experienced severe seizures, it’s definitely terrifying to think what could had happened if this continued to go unchecked for you. I am so glad to hear you got the appropriate diagnosis and that some of your past behavior can be explained through that. Kind of imagining it from the other person’s perspective, their reaction is understandable when no one really knows what’s happening. It definitely doesn’t justify them leaving you for something you later learned have no control over, and I do hope now you have some sort of support circle/better group of people in your life.

To some extent I feel the same way about my semi-late clinical depression diagnosis. Learned fairly recently it runs in the family, and if I had gotten the diagnosis earlier I could have been sooner on the path of recovery. It’s terrifying as a child to not fully understand what’s going on, why you’re acting the way you are. As a child I would isolate myself, lash out, have identity crisis almost every day, miss out on so many hours of sleep I can never get back, and so much more. I didn’t know what was going on, and at a certain point I just accepted it as my hellish normal. Kind of morbid but I can look back at it now as growth, but as a child I promised myself I would end my life when I turn 18. I’m 20 now and I had received partial treatment and medication in my junior year of high school, and if I had gotten that any later I’m afraid to say I wouldn’t be here now. With a better understanding of what I was going through I was able to tighten bonds with family, actually create a small circle of friends (friends I still have today), and while I still get to those low lows, I can honestly say I am happier than I’ve ever been.

I totally agree with it doesn’t get better unless you actively work towards bettering it. Life sucks, that’s how it is, but it doesn’t have to if you don’t want it to. Help, no matter the form, is always within arms reach, it is entirely up to you to reach out and grab it. For as many shitty times there are good times, and I’m still learning to do this, but part of recovery is living for those good times.

Thank you anon for sharing your story, and I hope that others can see this and take it as a push towards betterment.

#mod spidey #suicide mention #❌ #answered #not stim #definitely ask me to tag this if needed #I'm just not sure how to #tmi? maybe

[iluvsexyvoltageguys]

The Betrayal ~ Part 2

Leon x Reader

“I’m sorry, WHAT?” Leon turned around slowly. Instinct told him to be careful, but that’s all his instinct ever said when he was not in the heavens. His features schooled themselves into neutral, his heart rate slowed and his attention focused. “We’re done.” You repeated. “Just like that?” He didn’t look convinced. But his pulse was rising. Leon hated that feeling - cold on the outside, hot on the inside. You stood across from him in the kitchen inside of your apartment, hands on your hips accentuating your slender waist. “It’s over.” you said. “Why would you even say such a thing?” He asked. You shook your head, “You’re never here. Always leaving me behind while you go ‘take care of matters’....How many other goddesses have you fucked in that time?”

“What are you talking about?” he hissed. You squared your shoulders. “Before you ask that, think very carefully about how much I already know.” You glared back at him. “Oh ho, someone told you I’m sleeping around? You know better than that. You know how this works, ______.” Leon desperately thought back - who could have seen something? “Apparently I didn’t.” You answered him. You couldn’t stop thinking about Partheno. Except when you were thinking about Leon with another goddess. Did they really look like you? Was that more flattering or insulting? Maybe it was a goddess that always came running to him whenever he made an appearance in the heavens, calling out his name like an invitation. Maybe they did all look like you from behind.

“I can’t do this right now.” he said flatly. Leon would not go into an argument without preparing, he needed to think. “Then you can do it never, because it’s your last chance.” You told him. He stared at you. You were never like this. You’re were happy with him, he knew that. He took good care of you. Maybe he wasn’t loyal every night. He was the Minister of the Wishes Department after all and goddesses were always throwing themselves at him. His prestigious rank could get very stressful and sometimes he needed to take that out on a goddess when you were not around. Now you were threatening to leave?

“Please go to your room and calm down, _____. I’ll be there in a minute and we can discuss this.” Leon turned his back. The corner of your mouth curled into a smirk. You would leave - and go straight to Partheno’s room. And if anything went down anywhere there would be nothing calm about it. “Figures you’d have nothing to say for yourself.” You sighed, your heart feeling heavy. “What. _____. What do you want me to say?” He wheeled around. You wouldn’t be accusing him if you were not sure. How you had heard about it was another issue altogether, but that was for another time. He moved towards you. “A couple of times, ______. I’m sorry. You know I don’t always... handle things well. Sometimes I just...,” he curled his fingers looking for the right word. I don’t always think, I don’t always try, I don’t always care enough about those goddesses to wait until I can get home to you. “I’m sorry. I know it’s wrong.”

The look on your face was pure shock. You had not been sure before, not really. You were hoping Partheno was lying. Saying it was one thing but hearing it as a confession was something else. Leon reached for you. You stepped back. “They do not mean anything to me, you know that. They don’t even - I don’t remember them” Leon couldn’t make it sound like he felt. The words came out all jagged and he could see them cutting you, drawing blood from your soft, perfect skin. Your lip quivered. It reminded him how much he loved kissing you, how he hadn’t been able to do that in days. “Please, _____. Don’t leave, I swear I will not do it again. I can do better. I know....” You whipped around and stormed out of the room. He chased after you, catching your arm. “I love you.”

Your vision blurred with tears. Leon had never said that before. You weren’t sure if he meant it as a flight or fight response but it still went through your heart like an arrow. Your guard dropped and his arms were around you, his beautiful face as close as he could safely get. “_______, I cannot lose you.” Through the million thoughts in your mind, one kept bouncing to the top. It was an angry one. “You keep your personal life so private, but you’ll go and fuck whatever random goddess you feel like?” Leon held you at arm’s length now. He might have done stupid things but that didn’t make him actually stupid. “It’s not anything ______, and it’s over. I promise.” You looked at him, big, unspilled tears caught in your lashes. Leon brushed one free with his thumb. “Can you forgive me?”

You knew that he expected you to say yes. Leon always got what he wanted. “No,” you said quietly. For the first time, Leon really started to panic. He never should have slept around in the heavens but he was a god, he did not fully understand a human’s perspective to such things as monogamous relationships. Leon had enough trouble fitting in here on Earth without acting holier than everyone. It was a weakness and he hated weakness but one Leon had always expected to be able to apologize away. Suddenly that wasn’t working. “________....”

You were ready though, the words on your tongue. “You never take risks for me. You took risks for all those goddesses, big terrible risks that risked me too but you have never once gone out on a limb for me. I’m your dirty little secret, Leon. Not those goddesses...me!” Your eyes didn’t leave his. “Everyone knows about us! Everyone who matters, anyway. Fuck the rest of them. I thought you were with me because you love me, not because you want to show off.” He growled. Fear and fury were getting the best of him. Then you flinched like he’d hit you and Leon was instantly sorry for that last part. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I know you’re not like....”

It was all you needed to hear. You would never feel secure in your place with Leon. You were either a secret or a target. It wasn’t his life that put you in that position. He did it himself. “It’s too late.” you said. “No, it’s not.” Leon pleaded, “Let’s start over again right now.” You swallowed hard and spoke carefully. “I slept with Partheno.”

Leon dropped his hands like you were toxic. “What?” He asked like he heard you incorrectly. “I slept with Partheno.” You repeated slowly. His face changed - one second it was beautiful, then it became ugly and twisted without really moving much at all. The look in his eye said it all. “You whore.” Finally, something you could fight back against. “So it’s fine for you to do it, to fuck whoever you want and I should just shut up and forgive you. But when I do it, I’m a whore.”

Red. That’s all Leon could see. “When?” He asked. “Today.” You said. His fingers balled into fists. You watched them carefully. He had never raised a hand to you, but if ever he might this was the time. “Today. While I was away in the heavens you were with that pervert? While I was away!? Did he - did he stay here?!” Leon jabbed one finger toward the floor. If Partheno had come into my apartment which I shared with Leon and had his girlfriend.... “Today was the first time.” I said. “The ONLY time.” Leon hissed.

You shook your head. “First of many. He promised.” You said with a smirk. Leon grabbed your arm so hard you yelped. He was halfway across the living room before you stopped stumbling and into the bedroom before you could slow down. “Get off of me!” You yelled at him.

Leon pushed you toward the wall and let go, but he was between you and the door. You’re heart raced. You were scared. Leon was really, really strong. His eyes were black with rage. He stepped closer. You stepped back, pressed to the wall. Slowly, he reached out. You batted his hands but that did nothing except make his dick twitch. His fingers slipped into the waistband of your jeans despite your best efforts. You held your breath.

“Did you bring him here?” Leon asked, forcing his voice to be calm though his hands were shaking. “No.” You answered. He thumbed open the button and held the zipper. “Did you like it?” Your eyes dropped. “Yes.” The zipper fired it’s way down toward your crotch. When it ran out, Leon worked his thumbs around the inside to your hips, then gently started pushing your pants off. You wanted to tell him to stop, but you knew he wouldn’t. You could beg, or plead. He wouldn’t stop. There was only one way out of this and you both knew it. You would have to mean it enough to hurt him physically. Leon had one weakness, like Superman and kryptonite. He was testing you.

Leon’s fierce eyes burned into yours, daring you to back up your words with actions. Leon certainly planned to do so. The situation had slipped so far beyond his control he hardly recognized it, or himself. Your pants slipped off, falling away and leaving him with only silk panties beneath his fingertips. “Did you come for him?” Leon said quietly. You’re chest was heaving, throwing your breasts in his face over and over and over again. You closed your eyes. “Yes.” His hand followed the same path Partheno’s had - quickly between your legs. You whimpered. Leon bit his lip - if you thought you were sore from Partheno just wait until he was finished with you.

At your hips, he twisted his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties and ripped them open. You gasped at the fabric raking your skin then falling away. Leon stepped on your pants and pulled each of your legs free in turn. He could have taken you there, standing against the wall half-dressed, but he had a feeling that’s what Partheno had done. So Leon needed to do better. You were clearly not about to protest now.

“Put your hands up,” he ordered. As you lifted your arms, your t-shirt rode up over the flat plane of stomach he loved to explore. Leon whipped the tee off over your head, sending your hair flying. In nothing but your bra, breasts rising out of the flimsy demi-cups, you were as beautiful as any goddess Leon had ever been with. Now you were the price he would pay for them, but not without getting his money’s worth. He cupped your chin and lifted until you had no choice but to look at him.

There was only hate in your eyes. Leon’s cock throbbed hard. He grabbed your long hair and tugged, tipping your head back to expose your throat. Very, very carefully he touched his mouth to the spot where your pulse beat beneath the skin. The tip of his tongue brushed the flesh, leaving a tiny wet spot. He breathed across it as he spoke. “Get on your knees.”

You did as you were told, while Leon unfastened his pants like he was opening a box and presenting you with a ring. His body was a gift in a lot of ways, and you had learned a lot of ways to please it. Part of you wanted to stop, but it was drowned out by the rest of your surging hormonal tide and the dark, twisted notion that you deserved this, and so did Leon. You wanted to leave him with a devastating, visceral memory that was almost good enough to block out the thoughts of you with Partheno.

No one knew Leon like you did. Those goddesses in the heavens probably went to their knees even faster than this. It almost made you laugh. They could work all night but you only needed minutes. If Leon wanted it now, you’d give him your best. You rubbed your palm along the smooth, taut skin of his erection; Leon rocked on his heels at your touch. He was big and heavy in your hand. You looked up to find him watching. He loved to watch. You circled lightly, the raised texture of your tongue catching ever so slightly against his tip, dragging just enough to shiver right down to his base. He groaned quietly.

Leon vowed that he would make you stay. Whatever it took. One brush of your mouth was better than the combined attentions of every other goddess he’d known. If he had to kill Partheno he’d do it for you. It was sick but Leon wanted you now more than ever. He had always loved to win.

You could tell when Leon’s mind wandered. Anything less than his complete focus meant his brain was somewhere else. You hoped it was thinking about you doing this with Partheno. With a deep breath, you leaned forward and pushed Leon’s cock right down your throat.

He growled, snapping back into reality and away from his diabolical plan. His tip pressed the back of your throat then slipped past, just enough to make you gag. He caught you by the hair and held on, making you fight for a second before letting go. A normal girl would back off, but not you. Never you. You dug your fingernails into his ass and went deep again. A drop of salty surrender landed on your tongue as you pulled off the second time, letting his dick slide free with a wet pop. You licked your lips expertly, letting him see.

Three, two....

You landed on your back on the bed with enough practice to roll once and make sure Leon landed next to, not on top, of you. Then you were on top of him. Silly boy, he always thought he was in charge around here. You pressed your hips low, catching his hard-on against the cleft of your body and rolling along that hard length. He was huge - thick, wide, long. You could forgive him for a lot of things because of that cock.

“You’re not gonna find that anywhere else.” Leon said in a low voice, enjoying the sight of your breasts bouncing as you pumped his cock a few times. Your eyes flashed. “Well you’ll know right where to find this.” You rocked forward then pressed back over the tip of his cock. Leon groaned. He would rather have told you to shut up and fuck him but the truth of the event was too much for a few words to express. There was no sliding into you. Every time was like the first time - tight, hot and no matter how wet, Leon still had to take every damned inch from that perfect little body. You swiveled and rocked, your eyes squeezed shut, but it wasn’t until Leon grabbed you and bucked his hips upward that his dick found the last few inches. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying out.

“Fuck,” Leon said to himself. With one push he flipped you onto your back and plowed in again, nailing that same spot that made you yelp. Only this time he caught the cry with his own mouth. All the control Leon had in the heavens went out the door when he got inside you. Your ass bounced off his lap, skin slapping, as he pushed your knees up toward your chest and stroked again. You knew it would never be like this with any other guy. It could be a lot of things Leon didn’t provide, but for the all out ride, Leon was the top pick every time. And if this was the last time, you did not intend to miss a moment. Your fingernails scratched down his back, muscle after muscle standing in perfect definition. You drew your hands back up his sides - directionals slide beneath your thumbs, abs taut and ripped as they worked together. In full flex, half-push up over you, there was no end of places to put your hands. You paid for every inch with one of you own.

“Oh god,” you whispered. Leon shoved his hands under your ass, lifting it off the bed, arching your back. His hand roamed your body, tweaking one nipple then the other, rolling them under his palms. Just as you knew what he liked, Leon knew every one of your secrets. Thinking the same thing, Leon pushed you up the mattress, right off his dick. Time to make you earn some of this. “Roll over,” he said. Your hair whipped and fell forward over one shoulder, landing on your stomach. Leon grabbed your hips and pulled your ass into the air like a target.

“Touch yourself.” One of your hands stayed down to hold you up, the other went obediently toward your hot button. Every part of you was on display for him now. Leon ran his hand over the perfect shape of your ass. You quivered as Leon’s thick fingers dragged along your throbbing slit. You wanted him - more of him, all of him - and hated that he knew it. You hated that he’d take his sweet fucking time just to make sure you knew it. Maybe if you gave in quickly.... “Please,” you said. “Please what?” Leon asked, the smile obvious in his voice. “Please fuck me.”

“Ohhhh no, I don’t think so.” Leon wanted to bury himself in that hole so hard he was faint, but he’d be damned if you got what you wanted so easily. He pushed one long finger into your pussy, and felt it flutter. “Come on, ______. Don’t tell me you come for just one finger now.” He brushed his fingertip over the raised, soft spot that could make you speak in tongues. Your hips bucked. “Or is that all he’s packing, your new boyfriend? Lowering your standards so he can get you off?”

You bit your lip. Any argument would only make this worse. Leon pushed a second finger inside you. It came out glistening alongside the first, so he pumped again. It felt incredible, violating, all the things that made no sense together as Leon fucked you into a trembling mess with nothing more than one hand. He moved in close, right behind you, and your heart raced at the idea of him screwing himself properly back inside. Instead his free hand came around your waist and pushed your own out of the way.

“You’re taking too long.” he said. Your clit was slick beneath his fingers but Leon knew how to fine tune his equipment. He circled against it, setting the rhythm to match his fingers plunging into your pussy. Within seconds you were gasping, so he changed - side to side with his fingers. Your body bucked, twisting at his hand. He switched again, a light tapping motion. Your slit twisted hard against his fingers and you groaned. Almost there. Leon pressed his fingers hard against your clit and just rubbed, deep and slow, in time with his penetration. Your stomach got taut and your thighs wobbled, trying to stay up. He leaned toward your ear. “Was there something you wanted from me?”

You could barely stay upright with your lower body trying to levitate off the bed. The heat of Leon’s breath on your neck was the last straw. You whimpered as your pussy clenched. He slowed, fingers disappearing from your clit. “No,” you gasped. “No what?” He asked. “Don’t stop.” He lost it then, the way you knew he would. He pumped and worked until you were gasping, nearly pleading.

He flipped you onto your back. You obediently spread your legs. You wanted him, even though you hated him, and that was something at least. Leon pulled your thighs around his waist and pushed his cock inch by inch into your core while he kept his eyes on yours, daring you to blink, daring you to miss a moment of the last time you would be together. He hoped you closed your eyes and saw this when you were with Partheno. When he was in to the hilt, Leon thrust hard to make sure he had it all. Your head fell back, exposing your neck. Leon very carefully lowered his face to your skin and kissed the spot where your pulse raced. Then he moved.

You hated that he knew you. You hated that every stroke of his perfect cock was right on one of your many targets, his fingers digging bruises into your hips and shoulders. The sight of him was devastating but to feel him was sensory overload. Leon grunted softly as he worked. It didn’t take long before you were panting. No fighting, no biting, no need for touching or even kissing. Leon fucked you the good old fashioned way and you came, gasping his name, like the little earthquake that would demolish you for good.

Leon waited just that long. The telltale catch of your breath, the way you always reached for his biceps to hold on when you came. A second later he slammed home one more deep stroke and roared. Everything still working in his body stopped for a moment as he burst, pouring into you, slumping over your prone body with the force of his own orgasm. His chest heaved against yours, your breathing matched.

“Don’t go,” he said quietly, really asking for the first time. You heard it in Leon’s voice - the fear of the unknown. It was his only weakness. He couldn’t lose you. Not because you were _____, but because he couldn’t face doing all this again. Meeting someone, getting to know and trust them; it was hard for Leon. Some of that was his title, but a lot of it Leon brought upon himself. His walls were high to keep people out, but they were also keeping him in. That wasn’t good enough for you. “I will not hurt you again.” He said.

You knew you couldn’t trust him. He would be back in the heavens and you would be thinking how stupid you were the first time around. You couldn’t exactly trust yourself now either. “I’ll forget about Partheno.” he added. You were glad Leon couldn’t see your face, because you smiled. Partheno was his own brand of trouble, no doubt. He’d had his way with another man’s girlfriend: even if you didn’t protest, that wasn’t very gallant. But he wanted you, enough to risk all that, and you were thrilled, excited, flattered. Leon had never wanted you like that. “I won’t forget him.” you said.

TBC

#star crossed myth smut #scm smut #leon smut #voltage inc smut #voltage inc fanfiction #star crossed myth #scm #leon

[de-boeldieu]

My Aviation Films List

I know some of you might be wondering why I did this to myself, and the answer is simple; I’m bored and I like movies, and I stumbled across so many films that I felt it was my duty to watch some regardless of quality. Oh boy did this prove to be a challenge.

There were a total of 22 movies on the list. Two films I was unable to watch Journey Together ( 1945 ) (anything on the film seemed to be lost, unfortunately), and a 30 minute Hitchcock French propaganda short called Bon Voyage ( 1944 ) (version I watched was slightly screwed up, and some of the English subtitles were translated incorrectly).

However, I was able to watch every other film on the list! Granted, completing this took a LOT longer than I anticipated.

I’m not quite sure how I should go about writing, but I suppose I will rank each film to my own personal opinions of what they were like, with a brief summary, and any small notes I had whilst watching. If you’d like a more in depth summary or any additional details I had while watching the film, ask me, or look the name up if it interests you.

Also I’d just like to say THANK YOU SO MUCH to anyone who takes the time to read some of these. You’re ace.

In order, from my favorite to least favorite:

1. La Grande Illusion ( 1937 )

Oooh my god you guys, this film made me cry so hard. Trust me, the dramatic music on the title card is there for a reason. A French film set in WWI, where French pilots get captured and sent to German POW camps where they make attempts to escape. It also has low key socialist sentiments. Some parts are a little cheesy because it’s a 30s film, but still amazing.

The only thing I was not terribly fond of was the last half hour or so, just really wasn’t my thing. But overall? Absolutely brilliant.

2. Dark Blue World ( 2001 )

A Czech film about two WWII Czech RAF pilots and their friendship, both loving the same woman. This one will also make you cry. Really beautiful film.

I was super worried that the romance in it was just sort of going to be thrust in there, but it certainly was not. Drama was great and all the characters were super memorable and had their own personalities. Highly recommend this one.

3. Riders In The Sky ( 1968 )

Another Czech film about WWII Czech RAF pilots. About the dynamic between a bomber crew and how they cope with the war, and the Battle of Britain. It’s adorable and I highly recommend this one too.

4. Into The White ( 2010 )

A Norwegian movie based on the story of how an RAF bomber crew and a Luftwaffe bomber crew both get shot down in the middle of Norway, and then had to learn to get along and work together to survive. What a wonderful film. Some parts can be predictable, but as a whole good. An interesting character study. Also it gets bonus points from me because it has a ginger, Scottish RAF Air gunner.

5. Wings ( 1927 )

A VERY long silent film. Takes place during WWI, two American fighter pilots, both in love with the same girl, and another girl is in love (requited) with one of them. About their rivalry and friendship, and how they deal with training and the war. The training scenes were delightful. I was worried I was going to get bored, but it was actually super excellent (and sad too). The camera work was brilliant and the musical score was amazing. It also has the first ever on-screen same-sex kiss. A really great film, even if silent films aren’t your thing, there’s SO much drama in this one. If you already love silent films, you will adore this movie, but I’d recommend it to most anyone.

6. The Dawn Patrol ( 1930 ) & ( 1938 )

About an RFC commander during WWI, who is distraught over casualties, an RFC captain, and his friend. The captain lashes out at the commander over the casualties as well after the death of a friend. Eventually the captain replaces the commander and starts to understand the stress of the job the previous major had, as his friend begins to lash out at him.

I thought it was an interesting take on both the pilots and the authorities in the RFC during the war. Both provided interesting perspectives.

I can tell you right now, unless you’re dedicated like I am, the 1938 version of The Dawn Patrol is MUCH better than the 1930 one. I’d recommend watching that version, if this movie interests you.

7. The One That Got Away ( 1957 )

About the only Luftwaffe pilot to ever escape from British POW camps. Usually I’m very wary of films that have WWII German characters, but this was very well written and remained predominantly neutral through the whole thing. Lots of clever escapes. If you like Luftwaffe pilots, escape films, and / or old movies, you will adore this film.

8. The Dam Busters ( 1955 )

A damn fine film. About the invention of the RAF “bouncing bomb” used to destroy German dams in WWII, and the RAF Squadron that flew the Lancasters to drop them. The writer of the movie was R.C. Sheriff, the original author of the play Journey’s End. Really enjoyed every aspect of the movie, my only complaint is that it was dreadfully long. Overall, a good movie, if this sort of thing interests you.

9. One Of Our Aircraft Is Missing ( 1942 )

Hands down the most intense opening scenes I had watched in any of these movies. About an RAF bomber getting shot down over Nazi occupied Holland, and they have to escape to England without being caught.

I remember being really engaged in this movie and I quite enjoyed the witty British banter. A good movie, if you like old ones.

10. La Grande Vadrouille ( 1966 )

A French WWII war comedy film about two Frenchmen who help a British bomber crew who crashed in France escape to Britain. Very strange? But also funny? But also a little dated but also incredibly hilarious? I was just really intrigued by it honestly. Reminded me of a few Monty Python sketches, despite this film being made years prior. You will either really enjoy it or not at all, but if it interests you, I’d recommend giving it a watch.

11. The Eagle And The Hawk ( 1933 )

Takes place in WWI and is about two American pilots, and various other ones, and how the war affects them, some more than others. I remember this movie surprising me quite a lot, which I think is good for a war film dealing with the sudden deaths of your comrades. Good movie, although not as well executed as The Dawn Patrol.

12. Reach For The Sky ( 1956 )

This one is LONG. About Douglas Bader, pretty much. A cute film though. You will like it if Bader or famous World War aces are your cup of tea.

13. Aces High ( 1976 )

So this movie was based off Journey’s End, except with aeroplanes. It also draws from Sagittarius Rising by Cecil Lewis (a book I’ve been meaning to find and read). If you know the plot of that play (and now more recently a movie), you will know the plot of this movie, except the names are changed. It’s a character study of three RFC pilots during WWI and the life expectancy of “Green pilots” AKA newly trained pilots.

Was a cute movie, not as good as the Journey’s End film from this year however. A lot of awkward silences and I really didn’t understand why? There was also a L’Armée de L’Air Officer who was having NONE of the British banter.

But if you liked Journey’s End and wished there were more pilots then you will enjoy it. The movie might be an interesting watch for those of you who are fans of the original play and / or movie as well.

14. The First Of The Few ( 1942 ), also titled The Spitfire

About the invention of the Spitfire fighter plane. Good if you’re really into aviation. Really liked the witty banter, however.

15. Johnny In The Clouds ( 1945 ), also titled The Way To The Stars

A romance drama. Takes place during WWII in Britain. Initially about two RAF pilots, one married and the other one with a girlfriend that he goes through a serious of hardships with. Then the 8th USAAF come, then it’s about two USAAF pilots and one RAF one, and the widowed wife. One of the USAAF pilots looks and acts like a Tarantino character. Really boring until the Americans come. I’d recommend this to people who like period romances and dramas, but the cultural stuff between the Brits and Americans was pretty good. An alright movie that takes a little bit to get into.

16. Memphis Belle ( 1990 )

REALLY CHEESY. About 8th USAAF in Britain, the bomber crew of the B-17, Memphis Belle. Except it’s not actually the crew, it’s just characters based on them. I remember the dialogue being cheesy, but still somehow better than Flyboys. Also felt pretty entertained the entire thing. A nice detail I liked was that all the bomber crew had their own individually painted A-2 jackets. Characteristic of mostly American bomber crews, and I thought that was a unique touch.

If you like cheesy, feel-good, American WWII movies, you will really like this film.

17. The Red Baron ( 2008 )

About Manfred von Richthofen. Not super accurate, but a decent amount of research done. I remember it being boring, but some of the camera shots were beautiful, looked like paintings. Boring though.

18. Angels One Five ( 1952 )

About an RAF Squadron during the Battle of Britain, except it’s more about the superior officers in that Squadron rather than the pilots. Boring, but the camera work was super high quality for a 50s film? There’s a scene where a Hurricane crashes into a base home. But mostly just officers talking and ordering folks around.

19. Twelve O’Clock High ( 1949 )

Incredibly dull and boring. Nothing but USAAF generals talking, then a bomber scene that was also boring. Flat, bland, and uninspired camerawork. Would not recommend.

20. Flyboys ( 2005 )

I’m sure many of you lads have seen my rant on this film. It’s an ugly, awful, waste of film. I can’t describe the plot of the movie, because there really isn’t one, except that a group of American volunteer pilots, called the Lafayette Escadrille, go to war. That’s it.

I found myself either laughing or yelling at the absolute ridiculousness of this film. It’s dreadful, but depending on your sense of humor, it’s VERY entertaining.

Would recommend watching it drunk, for an even more enhanced experience. I’d also suggest it if bad, horribly inaccurate, and ridiculously American action movies are your thing, you’ll have an absolute blast.

Thank you so much if you took any time to read even just one of these. I super appreciate it, this list was loads of fun and a rollercoaster of emotions. Thank you to those of you who enjoyed hearing my ranting about these bloody things.

#AHHHHH ITS DONE LADS #FINALLY #its been MONTHS im so sorry #what a fantastic journey this has been #i am not a critic these are just my opinions! #anyways i hope this was at least a very interesting read #c’est moi