#it will never be complete and ill be arrogant if i ever think it is

[puppygirlkat]

.

#i can go on like long rants about us history #its been a long time since i like actually studied history #most of my knowledge is of 20th century US history #i need to get back to studying history #ive been a leftist basically since i was a teenager #i dont think i still have the pamphlets that really pushed me into learning about communism #though again i was still learning mostly from the imperial core #so there were some gaps in my knowledge #but even learning from that was enough to be like 'ok this shit fucking sucks ass #idk #my memory is spotty so i dont remember super well #god i remember trying to stand against my dads islamophobia and homophobia #shithead #i dont talk to him anymore #learning history is important #i still need to read a lot of books though because my picture is always feeling incomplete #it will never be complete and ill be arrogant if i ever think it is #but my knowledge still feels woefully inadequate #anyway enough rambling #rat thots

[featherstorm2004]

All For One and the power of context

I tend to drift alongside the BNHA fandom as a somewhat casual enjoyer so I haven't really made much posts about the series even if I do like it. Mostly because the things I want to say have already been stated by someone else so, I never felt a need but with these latest chapters I wanted to mention what I believe is Horikoshi"s biggest strength "context".

What I mean by that is his ability to turn seemingly boring or one note characters into some of the most fascinating by showing how these characters upbringings and living situations made them who they are today. And I believe we can all agree this is shown most strongly with the villains, are most recent example being All For One who has made the transformation from a pure evil one note villain to a complex human being within just a few chapters, even if All For One himself would refuse to admit to such humanity.

This can also be seen with other examples such as Mr Compress, Dabi and Toga with the later being the most demonised by the fandom until recent chapters. But for now I wish to focus on All For One as I find his situation to be the most fascinating because unlike the other villains who desperately want to be seen as human and accepted by the world around them, All For One seems almost afraid to admit his humanity and the cruelty of his circumstances.

Ever since All For One was introduced we have been lead to believe by the narrative and All For One himself that he is simply pure evil, that there is no complex reasoning behind what he dose or why he dose it he was simply "born arrogant". But I don't believe that and I don't think Horikoshi wants you to believe that either, it has been displayed to us multiple times in the series that there is no such thing as people who are born evil. I would argue that nature vs nurture is one of the key themes of BNHA.

One key example of this is Endeavour and Dabi, where in the early arcs of the series we are led to believe Endeavour to be this pure evil abusive monster who tormented his family and whilst he was most certainly an abusive prick, Endeavour can't be simplified so quickly with his atonement arc being a clear sign of that. And then there's Dabi who was hated for not caring about his family or friends because of the way he tried to deflect and hide any emotions that weren't pure anger or disgust, then his complete backstory that wasn't from Endeavour's point of view we see almost immediately after the fire he rushes back home to apologies to his family.

The reason I bring these things up is because it displays seamlessly how the lack of context to Dabi and Endeavour's stories led to them to be demonised and simplified into pure evil characters when that is far from the truth.

And I believe a similar phenomenon has begun to scour with All For One, as with the most recent chapters, where we have been allowed to peel back to mask the demon lord just a little bit to see the real man behind the mask of evil. Now dose this mean I am implying that All For One is simply misunderstood or that he can be redeemed? God no but that's not the point, that''s never been the point.

We aren't meant to like All For One or think that he deserves forgiveness but we are supposed to understand him, to deconstruct the layers of the number one villain and understand how he has gotten to this point. To understand that he was a child born in what was essentially an apocalypse with no parents, no name and no one willing to help him because of his quirk, where him and his brother where hunted by hate groups and the government for simply being born different, where he had to not only find a way for himself to survive but also his sickly twin who couldn't help him much due to his illness.

It is this very important context that allows us to understand how a man like All For One came to be. But we must also understand two very important things and that 1) All For One is a liar and 2) he is very childish. At first I thought it was strange how juvenile he acted during these recent arcs and even stranger when he started de-ageing but now I understand why, because the truth of the situation is that All For One never truly grew up from his days as a young child reading comic books with his brother.

In many ways all of this conflict, pain and destruction is merely an extension of that, he is quite literally a child playing at being the big bad in his favourite story. It also explains why he doesn't understand why his brother wants to stay away from him because it's just a game why are you getting worked up over me breaking a few toys? This also would explain all his tantrums first with All Might and now Hawks because they're ruining his game and his story.

Now that's not to say that I think All For One doesn't understand all the pain he's caused or that what he's doing is wrong. But like early Shigaraki he's distance himself to it, it's a similar phenomenon where people in a video game are more willing to do more messed up stuff like murder or bulling a character because they are distanced from it to a point they feel comfortable acting that way just to see what happens.

That's also why I believe All For One clings to his demon persona so much, because if he is truly a demon if he was simply born evil with no ability to feel love or empathy then that also means that he doesn't have to take accountability for his actions because that was simply how he is.

But it's not just about accountability.

I also think the demon persona is a form of self defence for All For One, a way for him to take back control from a world that denied it to him. Like most victims of trauma he is trying to create a way for him to have agency in a situation he originally had no control in, this can be seen in many children who place themselves in the positions of the hero's in the stories they are exposed to, so they too can feel that sense of power and control in they're own lives.

So, that's simply what All For One did only instead of mimicking the hero he decided to mimic the villain. And I think his reasons for doing so are fascinating, at first he relays to the audience and All Might that it's simply a power thing or his desire to rule the world but it's not that simple.

The real reason is surprisingly more human, All For One wants to be loved, to be relied on and trusted. Essentially, All For One desires a family, a community to call his own after being denied one his entire life and this explains a lot about his earlier actions, hell in one of the first vision's Deku receives about All For One he refers to his minions as his "dear friends" and when he is fighting with All Might one of his biggest grievance is how All Might forced his "dear friends" to go under ground.

He even refers to Aoyama as his nephew and gets him and his family to call him uncle, this man is obsessed with the idea of family. Which in turn explains his absolute rage and hatred to all the barriers of One For All as in his eyes they stole the only family he's had since birth, the only person who loved him unconditionally, until he went too far. It's probably the reason All For One chose to fixate on Tenko so much despite having an army of children who could be his successors as not only did he get his revenge by stealing a family member of one of All For One's holders but he also gets to have a child who appears close enough to him and his brother that he could pretend he is actually family.

However, I don't think All For One can admit this to himself, that he is in fact a human being. A human that desires to be loved and love in return because if he dose admit that to himself then he would shatter and he'd have to face all the emotions and consequences that he's been running from for over a century. It would essentially be an ego death for him as everything he's convinced himself he is and what he was taught to be by the world who fears him would suddenly be a lie and he can't handle that.

So, he lies to himself and to the world desperately trying to convince everyone that he is in fact the demon lord, and not a child who desperately clings to fiction. It's tragic in a way as ultimately I believe Yoichi was correct, if given the right care and upbringing All for one could have been the kindest ability in the world, but alas they were not so lucky.

As, for where his story is going I honestly have no idea, he may be killed, he may De-age into nothingness. But I think it's important to remember this context whenever we discus the story of BNHA with all it's flaws it is ultimately about broken people desperately finding a place in the world.

But that's just my opinion.

#boku no hero academia #bnha 407 #bnha #bnha spoilers #mha #my hero academia #all for one #afo #shigaraki yoichi #bnha meta #character analysis #bnha chapter 408

[snezario]

Sub-Optimal; Ala/stor & Vo/x

based from an idea that @sneezingfetishftw posted. I kind of want to expand on that beginning part with a prequel ficlet of Alastor being sick but idk if I'll actually get around to it... I think this is the longest one-shot I've ever written... somehow this turned out to be 1.7k words?

Alastor leans against the headboard of his bed and takes a sip from his mug, grimacing as the hot liquid travels down his throat. Coffee was probably not the best choice right now. The warmth of it was nice against his sore throat. Of course that wasn’t the only unfortunate telltale symptom of illness he had awoken with a couple days ago.

He had been pretty good at hiding the whole illness thing under wraps for the first half of the day, that is until he had to sneeze. Usually he was good at stifling them into oblivion, but this particular cold seemed hellbent on disrupting his ability to control his faculties. The first unstifled sneeze caused all the lights in the hotel to flicker, which wouldn’t have caught much of anyone else’s attention. It was the second, third, and fourth ones that well, almost destroyed it.

It was after that whole fiasco that he was banished to quarantine in his room because according to Vaggie Who the fuck knows what other chaos his sickness will wreak havoc on the hotel? Normally he’d be holed up in his radio tower, but his quarters within the hotel are not half bad. Hence, him still being in bed to begin with. A sharp prickle in his nose reminds him how miserable being sick makes one feel.

hih'ZZSSHHhue!

He tries to keep it contained, lest he face Vaggie’s wrath. Not that she’s much of a threat to him really. As Alastor recovers, he’s interrupted by a loud BANG! His bedroom door swings open to reveal Vox standing dead center in the door frame. Alastor rolls his eyes at the other Overlord.

“Do you mind?”

Vox ignores Alastor’s question and breezes past the threshold, plopping himself on a red armchair by the fireplace. 

“I was just passing through the area and a little birdy told me you were feeling a bit… under the weather.” He scrolls on his phone as he speaks, although the wide grin on his screen makes it obvious how much he’s relishing this moment. Alastor narrows his eyes, an unlikely story— Vox would never pass up the chance to taunt him, especially in a case like this.

“Well, I’m not quite on my deathbed as you can see. I didn’t realize that you missed little old me so much that you just had to come by and visit. It is flattering that you stopped by, in any case.”

Despite how awful he’s feeling, Alastor flashes Vox a cheeky grin, knowing full well just how to push the other demon’s buttons. The entertainment value of seeing Vox absolutely lose his cool is almost limitless. Although the pesky tickle is urgently becoming more than a mere annoyance. Alastor would much rather listen to Pentious’s Egg Bois spew nonsense to him for hours on end than be seen like this. Vulnerable and weak, in front of Vox no less. But it’s not something he can avoid at the moment.

Vox wasn’t someone who shied away from physical contact. He never denied himself the opportunity to encroach on someone’s personal space when he saw fit, it was mostly a tactic he employed to assert dominance or to emphasize a point. Or in this case, threaten his rival. Leaping off the chair, he’s in the radio demon’s face in a heartbeat, clenching the collar of Alastor’s pajamas in his hand.

“You arrogant prick, you think that I give a flying FUCK where you’ve been—”

Vox pauses when Alastor inhales sharply, no doubt to make a scathing retort. The radio demon raises a fist to his face and angles himself away from the other Overlord.

hhzh—hhh’ZTCHhiew! hih! ihĨ̴̢̛̘̠̪͍̠̣̪̪͗͒̓̃̎̀̓̕͜Z̵̪̝̱̪̘̺̣̗̘̍Z̷̡̜͔̱͖͉̰̭̽̽̎̆̿̉͝͝T̴̨̧̼̫̜̤͈̖̬͈̈́̄̒̓̾̀̎͠͝S̷̨̱̭͚̬̻̬͐̑̐̏͆͝ͅḨ̵̣͍͈͙͈̝̜͑̓͋̉͊͛̀̑̚H̵̤̯͔̱̓̎̈͘̚̕uu!

The space around them crackles with Eldritch energy, tendrils of which encompass the room. Vox’s screen glitches and completely shuts off.

“What the actual fuck?” The lights flicker back on and Vox’s screen illuminates again. He gives in to a full body shudder (not of his own accord though) as the static shock between them fizzles out. He jumps back from Alastor, his eye spiraling intensely. Alastor sniffles into a plain cloth handkerchief.

“Oh dear, pardon me. I’m not quite in control of my faculties at the moment.”

“I hope you fucking choke on your own mucus,” Vox snarls at him before storming out of Alastor’s room.

It’s humiliating but because the hotel has Alastor as its facilities manager, there is very little modern technology at Vox’s disposal. Meaning, he has to walk… out the front door like a common sinner. The hotel is located quite a bit away from the main hubbub of Pentagram City, which is both a blessing and a curse, depending on who you talk to. Vox makes his way to the edge of the city, a chaotic and desolate area and at the first sight of a screen (an old television set sitting in the window of a dilapidated pawn shop), he transforms into electricity and travels back to the Vees’ penthouse.

What kind of weird voodoo magic did the smiling freak do to me? Vox sits alone in his penthouse suite, glaring at nothing in particular as his eye dilates as he fumes about the outcome of his interaction with Alastor. One day, that pompous bastard would find something more than coffee in that stupid mug of his.

He idly rubs a hand down his screen as a fleeting fuzzy sensation runs through the circuitry in his head, almost like an itch he can’t quite reach. He proceeds to take a long sip from his mug, the coffee in it is only lukewarm but it’s the caffeine boost he wants anyways. Vox is feeling more drained from engaging with Alastor than he thought. It’s not entirely out of the question, but it does surprise him a little. Nothing a little caffeine wouldn’t fix. He downs the rest of the drink and settles into the sofa, turning the plasma screen television screen across from him on with a simple thought. The ambient sound immediately soothes him and the incident with Alastor floats into his memory archives to be forgotten.

An hour passes and Vox is sleepily scrolling on his phone. He could nod off right there. That is until a buzzing in his head catches his attention. It almost feels like tiny feathers caressing his internal wiring, not so much caressing as tickling. Similar to before, he can’t seem to reach it and quell the sensation. But unlike before, it’s not just a momentary annoyance. His deliberation is interrupted when his breath hitches once, then twice before he pitches forward.

“ih…ih'DZZSHHH!”

He blinks in confusion. That’s it? He just had to fucking sneeze? Again, he finds his thoughts disrupted by a familiar sensation. Vox tries to rub the tickle away but given his… specifications he realizes he doesn’t even have a nose to—eh'TZZSSHIEW! hih’IZZSHuhh!

What the fuck is happening? He sniffles. Ugh, gross. 

Between the sneezing, the developing tension headache, and the exhaustion it feels like—Vox’s screen lights up as it dawns on him. He fucking has Alastor’s cold. That motherfucker. His blood pressure skyrockets and sparks shoot off his frame, threatening to short out the electronics in the room (of which there are many). Before he knows it, he’s already electro-teleporting across the pentagram to confront the radio demon.

“ALASTOR, you pretentious manipulative fucking son-of-a—”

Although Alastor can’t determine the actual content of Vox’s plethora of insults and cursing, they do steadily increase volume as he approaches Alastor’s room.

“Hmm?” Alastor turns his head as Vox barges into his room for the second time that day. He is sitting in one of the red armchairs by the fireplace, with a book in his grasp. He wears his deceptively inviting smile as always, although it is slightly dulled down by his current illness. Vox breathing is heavy and ragged, his rage undeterred by Alastor’s placid expression actually seems to intensify as he stands face-to-face from his rival.

“YOU… you did this to me!” He jabs a finger in the radio demon’s face, mere centimeters away from stabbing him in the eye. Alastor calmly pushes Vox’s hand down.

“Careful now, unless you want to cause another city-wide blackout.” Alastor teasingly reminds him of their previous on-air encounter.

“Whatever stunt you phhhulled this m-morhhn—” Vox’s voice falters, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He sharply turns away as he succumbs to the persistent itch.

“hh—hHEHh’IZZSH! Fuh—hih…h’KSHHHIiiue! ih’Z̷͖̥̩͕͒́ͅZ̷̩̲̯̠̺̘̟̆̕T̴̛͔͆̒͌̄̚͘Ć̷̘̒̌͐͝͠H̶̥̦͖̰͙͙͙̩̠̋͛ͅH̶͍͕̪̙̦͎́́̋͝uu! ”

The lights pulsate with each sneeze from the television demon. Vox groans, leaning against the wall. That last one hurt like a bitch. 

“Oho! I see the problem. Apologies, old pal. Snf! I thought someone so advanced as yourself would be immune to such trivialities.” Despite his flippant tone, Alastor is genuinely surprised. He wasn’t actually certain the static shock would have affected Vox when he did it. He is, however, quite entertained by the development.

Before Vox can respond, Vaggie throws the bedroom door open.

“Alastor, what the fuck are you even doing? I thought we told you to—” The ex-exorcist jabs her spear in his direction and is about to go off on him when she notices Vox is slumped against the wall. Spinning her spear, she redirects the point towards him. “What’s he doing here?”

“Oh him? He’s no threat, at least not in his current condition,” Alastor makes a dismissive motion with his hand, a mischievous smile on his lips. Vaggie scowls at him, her hands crossed over her chest. Her gaze flits between Alastor and Vox.

“What did you do—Actually, wait I don’t want to know. Just… stop fucking with the lights.” She swiftly turns around and shuts the door behind her. Still smiling, Alastor turns his attention towards Vox, who’s looking quite pathetic. Well, more so than usual.

“You hear that, my dear Vox? Get a hold of yourself. Now if you’ll exhhcuse me I hh-have— (dang it, now it’s his turn) hh’iZTSHHuu! eh’D̴͚̼̊̂̒Z̵̳̥̈́̀̐͊̃̊̄͘̚Z̵̻͓̖̪̤͊͒̄̓͗́̂͑͜͝͝S̵̼̖͌̔̚HHHiew!” Unfortunate timing, but can’t be helped, Alastor thinks. He scrubs a finger under his nose and proceeds to pore over his book.

Vox narrows his eyes, adjusts his bowtie, and stands up. Vox glares daggers at Alastor, who appears to be ignoring him now. As he heads to the door, he feels an unfortunately familiar prickle at the back of his screen. NO! Not aga— heh’DZZSHHuh! Fuck. He catches Alastor smirking in his periphery.

“Gesundheit!” The radio demon calls out after Vox’s retreating figure.

#hazbinhyperfixation #fiendwriting #also new HC unlocked: alastor’s abilities going haywire when he doesn't stifle #barely proofread tbh so apologizes for any issues with grammar and the like #anyways here's so more audiovisual demons #the title is cheesy i'm sorry!!! #i recently realized that all my old fics don't have any titles so they're all like untitled 1 or untitled 6 #here i go just another fucking day where i throw out fics into the abyss #heyheyhey fuck my life #i hope the glitch text shows up okay...

[tadalyme]

whumptober, day 2

There are many things Finnick Odair is good at. He's good at swimming, good at fighting, good at making knots. Good at baking decently tasty bread. He's also very good at pretending.

It's a skill he's honed throughout his whole life, ever since he was a little child. Pretending that he likes his mother's vegetable casserole. Pretending that he's completely fine when his father leads him to Mags’s house, his hand held in a forceful, painful grip, and proclaims in his booming voice that it would be the greatest honour for his son to train for the Games, right, boy? Pretending that he isn't scared to die and to kill.

Pretending that all the things that are done to his body on a regular basis aren't happening to him.

It’s somewhere past three at night and Finnick is sore and extremely dizzy and in the backseat of a car, coming back from his client. He’s in a car, because despite being just a District whore, he's an expensive one. President Snow doesn’t want anyone else to harm his investments. At least, not anyone not paying.

He’s just glad that it was the only appointment for today, because the guy, a flamboyant man in his thirties, a grandson or a nephew or a step-son of one of the influential Gamemakers, wanted to spice things up a bit in his sex life and made him swallow some colourful tablets before the act itself.

Well, it certainly spiced things up for Finnick, though probably not in a way the man intended to. He spent the whole time hearing the colours, and tasting the sounds, and seeing the images from his past and present all mixed up together.

The man was pounding into him and moaning and exclaiming something animated and probably over-the-top sexual in his shrill voice, but all Finnick could think about were the glistening in the sun tridents and spears and knives, and faces of the dead children, and his late father and ill mother and disappointed sister, and, for some reason, the Capitol's latest obnoxious vogue of inserting precious gemstones into their skin.

He desperately wanted to cry, so he laughed frantically, and he wanted to push the man away from him, too overstimulated, so he willed his muscles to relax.

The lights of the never-sleeping party area of Capitol fly by dizzyingly behind the window and Finnick has to lean onto it in an attempt not to puke. It's got a bit better in the past half hour, but the thoughts are still floating around his brain like dozens of little brightly-coloured butterflies. It’s hard to properly grasp any of them in a sticky daze of disorientation, though.

The car stops near the entrance to the Tribute Centre and he staggers out, swaying on his feet and almost ending up on the pavement. His limbs finally rearrange themselves in the correct order after a few moments and he musters a lazy salute with only some of his usual flourish to the back of the driving away car.

Still performing, even now. Gods, what a mess.

He doesn't know how exactly he reaches the elevator, but he does and the numbers swirl a bit in his eyes before settling down properly on the buttons.

He remembers well the first time he was here.

The thing is, he wasn’t even supposed to participate in the Hunger Games that year. That questionable honour was supposed to go to Jacob Maren, not yet eighteen, but the oldest among the trainees.

Instead, Dorothea, their escort, gracefully put her powdered hand with baby-blue nails, that matched her enormous wig, and pulled out his, Finnick's, name. There was a bit of a standstill after that - Jacob locking eyes with him across their separate pens. Should he volunteer, should he not. Finnick was too young yet but still a Career. In the end, Jacob stayed silent.

Just as well, thought Finnick, pushing through the crowds to the stage and already putting on a brilliant wide smile, I've trained for this, I can win, it'll be easy.

He knows now what his dumb, arrogant younger self didn’t understand back then - that even if you manage to become a victor, the only one who ever wins the Games is the Capitol.

Jacob did go the following year and died to a back-stabbing One girl. And Finnick has spent three years cursing that day and all that led to it.

Gods above, it has only been three years, hasn’t it? It feels much longer than that, so far away, so long ago. Almost like ancient history.

He did kind of make history with that one, didn’t he? The youngest Victor ever. A fat lot of good that did for him.

Fourth floor. He practically falls out of the elevator, only managing to catch onto the wall at the last moment.

Mags, curled up on the couch, perks up at the sound of sliding doors. In the dim lighting of the lounge her silver hair looks like a halo above her head. Ironic. It makes him burst out in a fit of hysterical high-pitched laughter. One would have to completely lose their marbles to call the woman an angel. An angel of death, at best. Some forget it, but she also killed in her Games, the same as all of them. And she's led enough kids to their deaths in the following years. He loves Mags with his whole heart, but she's no saint.

Mags always waits for him on appointment nights. He wishes she didn't see him like this, wishes no-one saw him like this and often snaps at her, but she only tuts in disapproval and keeps doing it. Despite his temper tantrums, he's glad she does.

Mags looks him over and frowns and he's sent down the rabbit hole of memories again.

They approach him the next day after he turns sixteen. The two of them look grim and apologetic and he doesn't know what to make of it.

‘I’m sorry, Finnick, I’m so sorry about what's probably going to happen,’ Mags says and lets out a sigh, sorrowful and tired and world-weary, and he, in a rare moment, is reminded of how old Mags really is, ‘Just… Remember that you can always talk to me, no matter what.' She inclines her head a bit, gesturing at her companion, ‘Or to Delia, if you need someone who truly gets it.'

Delia, who is wringing her hands half a step behind Mags, and looks like she’d rather be anywhere else, glances at him and gives him a bleak, perfunctory nod. He doesn’t know why he would need to or want to talk to her, but anyway it’s quite unlikely that he will take her up on this offer.

Finnick knows Delia, of course he does. Delia, a constantly nervous, twitchy Victor in her forties, teaches knife-throwing, and knife-stabbing, and other knife-related skills to the trainees and has never seemed to be a particular fan of long conversations. She's communicated with them mostly with sharp nods and half-aborted, jittery gestures, always looking on edge and shaky.

Her hands have never ever shaken with a blade in them, though.

Then, he gets the summons to the annual post-Victory tour party and President Snow asks to speak with him in his office after. He's told in detail what he's expected to do, now that he's finally sixteen, and what will happen if he doesn't.

Oh.

Oh.

That's what that meant.

His first appointment with a client is the next day and it's the beginning of the end.

His sister screams at him a few months later, when he returns from one of his trips to the Capitol, ‘They don’t care about you, you stupid boy! Why won’t you understand that! Why the Hell do you keep going there?’

But it’s her who doesn’t understand, who could never understand. He can’t tell Carolyn, he can’t, not just because he doesn’t want her to know what he does, but because he’s not allowed to.

President Snow was quite straightforward about what would happen to his ill mother and his sister with her husband and their baby twins, if he were to tell anyone, even them, anything. So he keeps quiet and let them think the worst of him. The same thing that everyone else does.

(Other than his fellow victors, who are all aware of the work he and the ones like him are made to do, the only person who doesn’t look at him with badly concealed disgust, or jealousy, or fake friendliness, or lust in Four is Annie Cresta. Her eyes (also sea-green, though a few tones lighter than his own) only ever look at him with sympathy and pity these days. He would have absolutely hated being looked at like that not long ago, but now it’s just so goddamn refreshing. He used to find her annoying with her righteousness and softness when they trained to be careers together, thought her weak and kind of cowardly, but maybe there is actually nothing wrong with gentleness and timidity, he ponders.

Of course, it’s hopeless, getting used to even such a small thing. Annie Cresta is a Career. She will go into the Games soon. In a couple of years she will likely be dead.)

Mags approaches him slowly, telegraphing all her movements clearly, trying not to spook him. He must look bad, because she checks his temperature with a hand on his forehead. From her pursed lips and scrunched eyebrows he gathers that it’s not very good.

'What, doctor, am i dying yet?' he ironizes.

'Well, you certainly don't look too lively, boy,' she snaps back,'Sit down, I'll be right back.'

She lets him settle on the couch and leaves to fetch her first-aid kit. They’re not allowed to bring any pills to the Tribute centre, so as to not let tributes get anywhere near them, but she has some other basic supplies. Luckily, today they are no flesh wounds to patch up.

She comes back with a thermometer in her hand. And that’s what sends him over the edge and into hysterical tears, the goddamn thermometer. It’s an old-fashioned but trusty mercury thermometer, very common back in Four, but considered obsolete by Capitol standards.

Finnick, having been many times in the local medical over the past year and a half to get patched up after rough encounters with clients, is intimately familiar by now with Capitol’s high-tech, reliably produced in Three.

She waits a bit before his sobs and shaking subside, finally takes his temperature and asks,'You're burning up. What on earth happened to you?'

'He gave me something, I don't know what,' Finnick replies reluctantly and watches her face twist and her arms cross on her chest. She's staring at him pointedly.

'Do we really have to?' he groans,'I'm almost fine by now. You're only wobbling a bit in my eyes.'

'Come on, up you go,' she pulls him up, surprisingly strong for a seventy-year-old, and leads him to his room, to the bathroom. She walks out again and returns with a glass and a closed water bottle.

She fills the glass with tap water and makes him drink it again and again and then throw up, repeating and repeating it until there's nothing left in his stomach at all.

Then she hands him the water bottle, lightly shoves him in the direction of the needlessly overcomplicated shower and exits.

When he finally emerges into his room he's almost feeling like himself again. Mags is still there, leaning on the frame of his bed. He finds some clothes to sleep in and drops next to her. She hums softly and smooths his hair out, running her fingers through his wet curly locks.

She's been much gentler with him since his Games, but she's taken a fancy to him a long time ago.

He was a bit of a troublemaker as a child, like little boys so often are, always sneaking away to the creek to play on the wet rocky shores, or trying to catch fry with his bare hands, or diving from the pier to see how long he could hold his breath, generally making his mother exasperated. He showed up at home in the late afternoon tired but joyful after a day of exploring with a wide toothless grin, seaweed in his hair and damp dirty patches on his knees.

His father didn’t like that much. So at a ripe old age of seven he’s dumped on Mags’s doorstep, who looks at his father weirdly over Finnick’s head and then takes a look at him, slowly lowers down to his eye-level and grasps his tiny hand with her veiny, old-woman one. ‘Well, well, well, what are we going to do with you, little one?’

She's never been cruel to any of the trainees, definitely not, but she wasn't particularly warm-hearted either. She was kind, but also stern and strict, like a proper trainer. He knows that it's because, despite all the preparations, most of them would die in their Games. She didn't really believe that he would win his Games either.

But he survived and she became more willing to show her affection for him after that. And to him, she, the person who practically raised him, instead of his distant mother and constantly angry father, has always felt the most like a real family, even when she acted all grumpy.

He drifts to sleep, relaxing under the silent watch of the only person in the world he fully trusts.

#whumptober2023 #no.2 #thermometer #delirium #“They don’t care about you.” #hunger games #fic #not graphic non-con #forced prostitution #non consensual drug use #other thg-typical warnings #oh gods how do i tag on here #finnick odair #mags flanagan

[oops-all-stephen]

Mm. Every time I have a good thought I would love to write down, the problem always comes down to my inability to articulate it. Over the years I feel like I’ve forgotten all the big, impressive words in my vernacular. For the past 3 days I’ve tried to look for them. I’ve tried to fill my head with the right words to express myself completely but in doing so, I’ve encountered the exact opposite of my first problem. Now I uh, have far too many words swirling around my head and the original good thought that sparked my search has long-since fled almost entirely.

Stephen loves like a dog. Anyone. Everyone. Every person that he has ever loved, he’s loved them to the bone marrow. His love is jugular. It’s all-consuming. It’s never shallow. It’s what I love about him. I wish more people loved him exactly like that. With teeth, y’know? Does that make sense? Domesticity is ill-fitting on Stephen. I think he repels softness or maybe it repels him. Is that anything? I think a lot of people see Stephen as only someone proud and arrogant and selfish…. and mean (for some reason) but I think there isn’t a bad bone in his body. I think vulnerability scares him and that’s why he acts a little mean sometimes, y’know, like a feral dog unused to tenderness backs itself into a corner and bites the hands of the people offering help.

I think Stephen’s heart is very big and very pure but I think he doesn’t know what to do with that… Mm, I think he’s scared to suffocate people with the amount of love he has for them and that’s why he restrains so much of himself and pushes everyone away. But still, I think he clings to the few people that have stuck around and proven themselves trustworthy. And I think he worries about how loveable he’ll be in the eyes of someone if he allows them to really see everything he’s made of. Maybe he thinks that if he’s survived off the scraps of people’s love so far in life, it’s safer to continue on that way instead of taking a chance and being left without so much as a bone….

See? Incomprehensible!!! I don’t know. I just get so angry when I see some of the things people have written about how Stephen loves his partner when they ship him with anyone… And I know my anger is so unnecessary and silly! Because he’s just a fictional character! And people are just having their fun! But sometimes it’s like people are writing a total stranger that just so happens to be wearing Stephen’s face… Agh, it just hurts. Maybe I’m asking for too much? Maybe I love HIM like a dog? I don’t know.

Mm. Anyway. Ask me about my thoughts on anything Stephen related. Please. I have an insatiable need to talk about him… And as of now, I also have an over-abundance of pretty, raw words to use when I do talk about him! Hah.

#stephen strange #doctor strange #my post #my writing #it’s not even writing though like honestly…. #I just really love that man and every part of him #also I don’t hate shipping. it’s my preferred kind of fanfic actually. but it’s so hard to find ones of my taste in this fandom. #nervous to post this absolute mess <3

[writer-darling]

Are You Ever Dreaming of Me?

Chapter 2: Clean | Read Chapter 1: Bad Blood!

I NEVER USE Y/N OR ANYTHING LIKE IT THANK YOU SO MUCH :)

Rating: M - MATURE ((for now, but there WILL BE explicit stuff later sooo (18+ MINORS DNI)

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect, 2018) x F!Reader

Warnings: STRONG WARNING: Voyeurism under threat of violence (not Ezra). Good old enemies-to-lovers trope. age gap (10 years). Nothing super descriptive for Reader but they are described as having hair. Tension, ofc, especially sexual tension out the wahzoo. Adult language. Alotta feelings and things of that nature. Banter. Fighting. Insults, Flirting. It’s E-to-L, you know where this is going. Feral Ezra (he’s about at 75.4% in this chapter). If there are any that I missed, please inbox me to let me know and I will add them in :)

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary!: The morning after your realization about your feelings for the prospector, you decide to take some time to yourself to get your thoughts in order.

A/N: REWRITTEN & REFORMATTED ON: 12/25/23

******

“The water filled my lungs, I screamed so loud

But no one heard a thing…”

The next morning, you’re up earlier than usual. None of the prospectors should be awake. Only a damned fool would be up before the shift starts. Which you suppose, you are right now. Still, you suit up and put on your glass helmet, charging your thrower and checking that your radio signal is working.

Your mind is still reeling from the interaction between you and Ezra last night. And even more so from your realization. You don’t hate Ezra. You like him. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Yet, you can’t deny it. Not after last night.

You leave your tent and take a quick look around to make sure no one’s up and about before you walk away from the campsite, being quick and quiet. The sky above you is still pitch black, the two suns only beginning to kiss the horizon. The cool of the night and quiet of the forest makes for a perfect opportunity to sneak away while your colleagues are still sleeping away in their tents.

You have no idea where you're going, and you don't really care. You just need some time to think. After last night, you're suddenly afraid of what you might say or do if you see Ezra again. So the best decision you can make right now is to just get away. You’re good with hostile confrontations with Ezra, that’s been made clear, but this one you truly are ill-equipped for. You know you feel this way. But is it possible Ezra knows too? You’re honestly not sure and you don’t care. Right now you just need some time to think. 

Alone.

So you make your way through the woods and find a site that’s isolated but still close enough to camp. You don't have to go far to find a small clearing with a sturdy-looking tree. This is a perfect spot, one that will leave you undisturbed. You can already feel a certain level of peace wash over you now that you've put a significant distance between yourself and the others. You lean against the tree, allowing its sturdy bark to provide you with support for your weary body. The silence fills the air around you, calm and peaceful.

You're still not sure why you feel so drawn to Ezra. He's hardly been civil to you. He's arrogant and insulting and… likable. You frown and try to make sense of why you feel so drawn to him when you shouldn’t! You’re not friends, hardly acquaintances. He’s smug and annoying and completely irritating.

But still, you couldn't help but feel something last night when he got close to you. You could feel your pulse race. Something unlike anything you've ever felt before, and it was… good. Even now you can still feel your pulse beating out of control, the blood rushing through your veins from just thinking about it. What is this? You two are enemies. The idea of having feelings for him goes against everything you’ve become comfortable with in all your time as part of this crew. You try to calm your thoughts but it’s not working. You need to get your mind off of all this. You get up and decide to keep walking.

After some minutes, you’re much farther from camp, your preoccupied thoughts carrying you with more haste than you realized. You’re already sweating in your suit, even with how dark it still is out. Even at night, there’s little relief from the heat of this planet. It's almost like a vacuum for it. This environment was notorious for droughts, and even with the cooling apparatus in your suit, the heat and drought have been the worst parts of this expedition so far, absolutely brutal. 

There’s a rock formation you’re approaching and you charge your thrower and aim it carefully in case there’s anything behind it, walking around the formation with great caution. On the other side, you find a pool of water. Freshwater. It’s a natural body, and the dark water is almost like a mirror as you approach it. Using your toxicity meter, you find that it’s pure, without any toxic chemicals. You’re not one for public indecency but this area seems closed off, hidden. 

So, you strip down to your undergarments before you can think twice about it, suddenly desperate for relief from the heat and your racing mind. You dive into the water, the cold of it being just the shock you need to get all your thoughts to stop. As you break through the surface with a quiet gasp, your body instantly contracts as a reaction to the frigid temperature but by the time the initial shock wears off you can already feel it helping clear your head and calm your nerves. You feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, at least for a moment. 

Nothing else seems to matter, and when you open your eyes to look up at the sky, you realize how beautiful this little corner of the forest is. It's a reminder that you've never been anywhere so peaceful. There’s no rush, no danger. You wish you could stay here forever. You let your body float on top of the water as you enjoy this moment of peace and silence. The only sounds are those of forest life and your own heartbeat. It’s such a drastic change from the constant thrum of the prospectors. You find yourself enjoying the solitude. For a few minutes, you really feel completely relaxed.

That is until the sound of something rustling in the bushes behind you fills the silence. Your heart stops in your chest. You turn around carefully, and as you suspected, someone's there. Someone or something. You look for your thrower but of course, it’s back on the grass along with your clothes, piled a few feet away. All of a sudden you feel extremely vulnerable. You can only let your body dip under the water, only keeping your head above it as you tense and prepare to fight with your hands if need be, your eyes fixated on where the sound came from.

Your instinct proves to be correct, and seconds later you see a figure slink out of the darkness.

Your heart jumps into your throat, the fear on your face surely visible to your attacker. But something makes your pulse slow for a second and your eyes suddenly go wide as recognition washes over you. He's right in front of you, and you get a better look at his face through his glass helmet. Ezra. He looks at you calmly, and as he steps closer the expression on his face turns from pensive indifference to one of playful amusement instantly.

“What the hell?” You hiss. “Ezra, what in Kevva’s name are you doing here?” You snap, keeping your body under the water and out of his view as you grow hyper-aware that you’re very underdressed right now. Ezra shrugs his shoulders, his face still betraying no fear or concern whatsoever.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Ezra says as if your sudden profanity is the most normal thing in the world. Which, when it comes to him, it is. He crosses his arms and steps a little closer, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What are you doin’ out here at this time of dawn? Shouldn’t you be sleepin’, just like all our other comrades?”

“It’s almost sunrise, jagoff.” You retort. “Did you get so drunk last night that you’ve lost track of time?” You ask him. “It would certainly explain your weirdo behavior last night.” He obviously wasn’t drunk, but how else to explain how he was acting? Besides, now that you’ve seen the cigarettes, you’ve no doubt that he’s likely got other contraband he shouldn't have somewhere in his tent. Ezra’s smile grows wider, and you swear he’s holding in a laugh. He steps closer, coming within less than a foot of you. Your face is hot and you’ve never felt so exposed and vulnerable.

“Does it look like I was drunk?” he asks, his smile still playing at the corner of his lips. He tilts his head to try and get a better look at you, his gaze lingering on your body for a few seconds. There’s a shift in his eyes as he does so and your body grows burning under his stare, despite the chill of the water. “Not to mention this is hardly normal,” he says, gesturing to your less-than-ideal state of undress. You glower at him, dipping your body even lower under the water keeping your chin just above it, as if that would help at all.

“Well, you could’ve fooled me.” You respond, snark, but it doesn’t have that same bite your responses usually do, as he clearly has you one-upped right now. Ezra's smirk only grows to an infuriating degree.

“Is someone embarrassed?” He asks, his face betraying only a brief glimpse of amusement before he manages to collect himself and go back to the way he was before. You’re trying to be angry but you just can’t help but feel a little bit flattered by a look from Ezra. You shouldn’t feel this way, you know you shouldn’t. You’ve never met someone who speaks and carries themselves so well. As if he were above everyone else. But why do you kind of like that?

“Embarrassed??” You say with a sudden burst of bravado you don’t actually feel. “Why the hell would I be embarrassed around you?” You ask him. Ezra nods and smiles slightly as you put up a more confident front.

“Because you should be embarrassed,” Ezra says bluntly. “You look like you’re about to slip out of your underwear.” He gives you a little wink and a smirk, his voice dripping with an air of confidence. He speaks with a cadence that makes every sentence sound like a flirtatious invitation, a taunt made to make you feel small. And for some reason, it always works on you.

“So what?? What are you, 14??” You ask. “Or have you just never seen a naked woman before?” You ask mockingly. Ezra rolls his eyes now.

“No, I’ve certainly seen women before, but usually in much more… pleasurable circumstances.” He smiles, letting that little add-on at the end linger for a beat before he continues, “Plus, most of them don’t like to be seen naked, especially by someone they barely know,” Ezra says, raising an eyebrow at you. You feel embarrassed as he gives you a knowing look, the corner of his mouth turning up at the corners. It’s clear he’s enjoying his ability to make you feel flustered. But… the feeling you get in return is somehow both infuriating and addictive. You want to slap him. You hate him. 

“Yeah well, you’re not the first prospector to see me naked. And I don’t get intimidated by men who mean nothing to me.” You respond, letting your shoulder rise above the water. “Now, how about you turn back the way you came and let me finish my swim in peace, hm?” Ezra’s smile grows even wider as he takes a step back and raises an eyebrow again. 

“Better yet, how about this, rook? How about I join you?” He asks, the hiss of his helmet releasing its airlock as he removes it from his shoulders interrupting you. You stop and turn around to face him.

“What?? No, this is my watering hole. I was here first!” You protest.

“And so?” He scoffs, already unlacing his boots. “I don’t exactly see your name on it, rook, and even so, nature belongs to no one individual, ain’t that right?” He asks rhetorically with a smug grin that makes you want to slap him. You can’t argue with that, so you don’t, just glaring at him and watching as he strips down to his boxers. This is the barest you've ever seen him, so used to seeing him in his suit or just in lounging clothes on your days off, the few you have out here. He’s actually not bad-looking. Not at all. You don’t realize you’ve been ogling him, but he notices just as he stands upright again. He grins.

“Enjoyin’ the view, rookie?” He teases, walking over to the pool’s edge. You snap out of it and roll your eyes immediately, swimming further away from him, both to make room and also to keep a good distance between you two.

“Please,” You respond. “Like I said, vet, you mean nothing to me, just like those other jerks who took a peek at me.” You mutter back as you turn to face him. He grins and does a smooth dive into the pool, no doubt feeling the same freezing cold you felt. When he rises, he’s closer, but still keeping a good distance from you as he grins.

“Tell me somethin’, rookie.'' He says, his voice dripping with smug arrogance. “I would love to know the names of these men who saw you naked and lived to talk about it,” Ezra says, folding his arms across his chest. 

“Piss off.” You mumble. “They were just a few assholes.” Ezra chuckles.

“Yes, you established that already,” he says sarcastically before laughing to himself. “But let’s make this interestin’. Give me a name or your swimmin’ session is over,” he says, leaning in again and staring into your eyes intently. There’s a new level of intensity in his eyes, a deep hunger that makes you think he might actually follow through with his threat. Why is he pushing this?

“Why do you want a name? What does it matter that one of those other jerks saw me naked, hm?” You ask.

“Oh, it certainly matters,” Ezra says with a low chuckle as he swims a little closer to you, about an arm’s length away. He stays quiet for a long moment as his eyes bore into yours. You almost think he’s not going to elaborate. But then he speaks, “Because I’m a jealous man,” he says slowly, his voice full of power and authority. The way he looks at you right now, the way he needs you right now, fills you with a strange combination of both fear and excitement. “And I don’t like the idea of some nothin’ jerk gettin’ to see you in such a vulnerable state,” he says, almost daring you to argue, even as his voice seems almost… sheepish to say this all.

His words shock you. He’s jealous. And he’s just said it out loud.

Your entire demeanor drops, that irritation and arrogance you feel always flare up around him is now replaced by shock. You can’t even respond to him, completely floored by his admission. Ezra smiles triumphantly, almost reveling in the power he has over you in that moment as his earlier sheepishness fades away. You have never seen him look so… relentless. He’s like a dog with a bone right now.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says slowly, his voice turning soft and sweet as he takes another step closer to you. “Who was he, rookie? What’s his name?” The intensity in his eyes is unnerving, more like the predatorial stare of a lion. This is the most you’ve ever seen him want anything, and right now he needs you to tell him. He’s not gonna let it go.

You sigh and move away from him, swimming to the other end of the pool, letting your upper body come out of the water, your undergarments clinging to your skin. Thankfully, you can stand upright in this shallow pool easily.

“It was a group alright?” You snap, annoyed as you begin to remember. You close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose with your thumb and forefinger. “I had just graduated from the Ephrate, only a few days as a prospector and I was finishing up my basic training at one of the apprentice camps on Central. This group of assholes ambushed me one morning while I was getting dressed for my shift.” You say, frowning and suddenly vulnerable as you open your eyes to glare at the water in front of you.

“They ambushed you?” Ezra asks, raising an eyebrow at you. The look on his face is almost impossible to describe. Part anger, part protectiveness. You’ve never seen him this way before. “What exactly did they do?” Ezra asks, his tone growing dark and demanding as he leans in closer.

You sigh again. “It was really in the morning… I had just gotten up. I was half asleep, my thrower was in its holster… I was just getting out of the refresher. I came out of there naked because I figured maybe I had just forgotten my clothes back in the main space. But when I come out… they’re all just sitting there… a group of about 3. One of them’s got his thrower aimed at me. But they never spoke, never moved. They just… watched.” A ripple of disgust goes through you at the memory. Ezra’s face twists into a snarl.

“Those sick bastards,” he says, and all the playfulness and arrogance is gone from his voice, instead replaced by a dark, grim seriousness that’s new to you. “And you didn’t even have a chance to defend yourself.” He shakes his head. The look on his face is also something you've never seen before. It almost looks like a combination of anger, sadness, and guilt. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and it looks like he's weighing his words very carefully as he looks off into the distance, as if still processing what you’ve told him.

“Did they hurt you?” he asks, his voice full of concern as his eyes meet yours again.

“No.” You respond honestly and there’s clear relief in your voice. “I couldn’t do anything, I just begged them to not hurt me, to not... you know. To please leave. It took…” you take a deep shuddering sigh as your eyes close, a clearly painful memory. “It took a lot of pleading. I was half-convinced they’d kill me. But eventually… they left.”

“Damn bastards,” Ezra snarls, a look of pure hatred on his face. “They’re lucky I wasn’t there,” he says, his voice full of determination. He takes a deep, steadying breath. It’s clear he’s trying very hard to contain himself right now. “Who were they?” he asks, his voice cold and sharp. He looks at you, his eyes full of a mixture of concern and anger. “Tell me. I’ll make sure they never hurt you again.”

“I don’t know.” You say. “I’ve never seen them again after that day. It’s like they just disappeared and it was so dark in the tent, I couldn’t make out their faces.” You add. “Believe me, I’ve committed that morning to memory, if I had gotten a good look at them and seen them out here, they’d be dead.” You say. Ezra nods slowly and you know he believes you, but he’s still stuck on this.

“They may be gone now, but do you remember anythin’ about them?? The way they spoke, the way they looked, anythin’ that would help me track them down?” His eyes are full of determination as if he's not going to rest until he finds these men and makes them pay. You've never seen this side of him before, and it's almost intimidating in its intensity.

“Track them down?” You ask, looking at him. “For what? It was just a few idiots who got a peek at me, it doesn't mean anything.” You say dismissively, though the pain in your eyes is obvious. Ezra scowls.

"'It doesn't mean anythin', my ass. No one gets away with somethin’ like that. Not on my watch." He leans in again, his face inches from yours. He looks almost frightening as he stares you down. You're not sure if he's serious or not, but he seems intent on finding these men. "Tell me anythin’ you remember about them. We'll find them, and I'll make them pay for what they did to you." You glare at him, suddenly angered by his attention to this. He may not mean it, but the way he’s acting, as if what happened was some sort of offense to him is infuriating you. 

“Listen to me, and listen to me good: No one gets to reopen my wound. No one. Not them, not me… and certainly not you.” Your voice is quiet and low, clearly a warning. You’re protecting yourself. You won’t go down that dark spiral again. You’re just barely getting over this incident and you won’t let yourself get pulled under it again. You’ve only just started to feel like you can be around men at all. Barely able to feel like you’ve got some semblance of control over yourself again. Ezra scowls, but he doesn't move. He stares at you angrily for a moment, as if weighing his options. Then, finally, he sighs heavily.

"Fine," he says, folding his arms across his chest. "If that's what you want. But they're still out there. What if they do it to someone else? Can you live with that?"

“You think I haven’t considered that??” You snap, your eyes blazing as you look at him. “That’s one of the many scenarios that keeps me up at night. That haunts me. But what do you want me to do, huh?? Spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder??” You ask, your tone furious. Ezra shakes his head, his expression full of frustration. Then, after a few moments, he softens.

"No… of course not," he says, his voice much calmer and softer. "But those men deserve to be punished. They can't get away with hurtin’ you like that. They just... they can't." His voice sounds almost pleading now as if he's asking you for some kind of favor. Your heart softens a little, despite everything. Even though you’re still angry, you can't help but feel a little bit moved by his concern.

“They already did, Ezra.” You say, feeling defeated. “Besides, you don’t even like me.” You say and begin swimming over to the edge of the pool a few feet away. You lift yourself out of the water and onto the grass, taking a moment to gather yourself. He averts his eyes. After a moment, you stand up and look for your clothing, finding it right where you left it along with your boots. Ezra turns to watch you go in silence. He seems almost sad that this is how the conversation has ended. But then, suddenly, his expression darkens. He follows you out of the pool, letting the water drip off of him as he grabs his clothes, clearly realizing that this interaction is over. But he’s not done with this yet. He’s dressed faster than you and as you turn to leave, he steps forward and blocks your path.

"And who told you I don't like you?" he asks, "I never said anythin’ of the sort." His voice is calm and measured, but there's an intensity behind it that makes your heart race. You're not sure what to make of that.

“Oh blessed mother, Ezra.” You say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You don’t like me, I don’t like you, that’s how this whole thing works.” You say, gesturing between you and him. Ezra sighs loudly, his frustration obvious. 

"So you're just goin’ to walk away, then?" he asks furiously. "After I just tried to help you?" He shakes his head, clearly disgusted by the thought. "I don't understand you sometimes, rookie. You're always so closed off. Why can't you just be honest for once in your life?" He says, almost pleading with you. "Why can't you just let yourself be vulnerable?" 

You whip around to face him. 

“You want me to be vulnerable??” You snap, marching towards him. “Fine. Leave me alone!” You shout. “I don’t owe you any explanation. We’re not friends, we’re not partners, we’re not a damned thing.” You say finally as you glare at him. Ezra stares at you, almost shocked by what you just said. There's a mixture of anger, hurt, and surprise on his face. But there's also a flash of... understanding. He’s clearly struck a nerve, and he isn’t entirely sure how to dig himself out of the hole he’s just dropped himself into. He takes a deep breath and backtracks, speaking calmly and softly.

"You're right, rookie," he says softly, his eyes bittersweet. "We're not friends. And you don't owe me anythin’." He pauses for a moment, staring intently into your eyes. "But that doesn't mean I'm not concerned about you," he says, his voice growing more serious. "And it doesn't mean I'm ready to just give up on you."

“Well, you should.” Is all you can remark back as you put on your helmet last, your voice slightly muffled now but still intelligible. You walk away, rushing back to camp. Ezra scowls, watching you go. He wants to say more, but the words never come to him. And so, he's left standing there, ruminating with anger and frustration.

"That girl... that damn girl," he mutters to himself, unable to refrain from thinking out loud. "Why does she have to be so difficult?" He shakes his head, almost as if trying to clear his thoughts. Then, he lets out a loud sigh. "She makes me want to punch a wall," he declares loudly, almost yelling at the top of his lungs, "but she also makes me want to run to the very ends of the galaxy for her." He shrugs to himself, a small smile on his face as he lowers his voice down to a pensive whisper. "Oh, the life of someone who can't decide whether they worship a girl or despise her."

You hear his yelling but can't make it out from how far away you are now. After a good five-minute walk, you reach the site. You head to the camps and see the prospectors just beginning to wake from slumber, giving you a chance to slip into your tent and get ready for the day without interruption.

Meanwhile, Ezra glares down at the ground, trying to control his temper. He knows it's not good to let his emotions get the better of him. But still, there's something about you that drives him absolutely crazy. How do you make him so angry and so... attracted to you at the same time? He sighs to himself, shaking his head. You really have him wrapped around your finger, and he isn't quite sure how much longer he can take it before he finally just snaps and says something that might disturb the temporary peace you both have.

As you make your way to your tent there’s the smell of rain in the air, and as the sky lightens you notice that it's overcast ahead. Once you’re finally inside, the rain starts slowly. But, by the time you're ready to head out, it begins to pick up. When you're outside, it falls in sheets against your helmet. You sigh, knowing that the mud is going to make today a hard one, but it also feels good to finally have some relief from all the heat. You decide to still take it as a good sign as you join your crew at the digs, steeling yourself for the labor ahead.

******

Can I write just one character without trauma?? No, the answer is no. Sorry. So I was going to wait to upload this until tomorrow but I'm impatient so I just decided to do it now. I figure this is probably going to be a slow burn E-to-L cuz it's just more fun to torture myself (and in turn everyone who reads this muahaha). As I said in the last chapter this is my first E-to-L so I might just suck at it bUT I'm gonna try anyway because I am persistent, damnit. Anyway, that’s it, thanks a million, hope you all enjoyed, and see you in the next one!

Tag List: @pedrocentric @luz-introvertida @castleamc @moralesfish @klara-luise18 @supernaturalgirl89 @december-gal1 @pbeatriz @castleamcc @hillarymurray4 @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20 @sherala007 @littlemisspascal @practicalghost @donnaa @scorpio-marionette @kayleezra @amandanik23 @maxpbxtch97 @mandy-sings @lowlights @shadesofnerdlygrace @harriedandharassed @carefulnowprincess @amneris21 @horton-hears-a-honk @xdaddysprincessxx @trickstersp8 @mswarriorbabe80 @permanentlydizzy @teddy2510 @bitchwitch1981 (hope it’s ok that I’m tagging you all!)  

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Read Chapter 3: Love Story!

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #ezra prospect #prospect 2018 #ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra x female reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra prospect fanfiction #crossposted on ao3 #writer darling #are you ever dreaming of me?

[duncneydivorce]

Super-speed as a cultural framework

Perhaps the most iconic Quicksilver comic panel of all time is that beloved moment with Dr Samson when Pietro reveals to him what it feels like to be ‘living’ at super-speed.

The general consensus among most people seems to be ‘quicksilver is easily agitated, arrogant and abrasive because his constant perception in high speed means he must deal with the world moving slower then him all the time’.

This is almost completely wrong, not at all how his powers work, removed from context and most importantly totally misses the entire point of the character. I’m convinced most of the misunderstandings of the character come down to the misrepresentation of this scene.

So how does quicksilver’s powers work and what does this scene actually mean?

For starters, Pietro is unique among speedsters because he cannot turn his powers ‘on’ or ‘off’ ; that's not how his powers work. He is not connected to an external source nor is he manipulating existing energies to increase his velocity. He just IS speed. The way he lives, breathes, how his heart beats it’s not something he does, it's just how he exists.

Now how is this shown in the story?

Quicksilver’s powers are used to speak to his mental illnesses. Pietro is not ‘Like That’ because his powers isolate him from everyone else. Rather, his powers isolate him from everyone else because he is ‘Like That’.

Quicksilver is not like reverse flash, who is trapped in a constant state of super speed by an external source, which drives him mad. He is not like Rogue who grows distant due to the nature of her abilities. Quicksilver’s powers are not the source of his issues, rather they are merely a manifestation of them. Yes, Pietro’s powers do isolate him from the rest of the world but this is not a constant state he always lives in, nor is it some kind of curse that comes with his powers. They disconnect him from everyone else because HE self isolates from everyone else.

But to truly understand what any of this means you must know who he is.

Pietro’s childhood is defined by the margins of poverty and persecution he is born into. His and Wanda’s origins examine the systemic racism, impoverishment and criminalisation of Romani communities. Since their debut their stories centre how their identities as marginalised immigrants from Eastern Europe affect their place as ‘superheroes’ and day to day individuals in America. The murder of their parents, their involvement with magneto and their alleged delinquency in the brotherhood are a result of this marginalisation, one that must be redeemed to secure their safety in the western world. I have talked about this before in more detail but to reiterate my point; pietro grows increasingly restless and anxious about the tokenism and prejudice they continue to face in adulthood. He carries the unresolved traumas of his childhood and struggles greatly with the culture shock and migratory grief. He is ostracised during his marriage in a classist, prejudice society and by his in-laws. All of this is the source of his more destructive behaviour. Consequently, he deliberately self isolates and over the course of his history he is never able to truly find a home in the avengers.

THIS is the reason why pietro is so distant and aloof. It's the reason why he is so distrustful, so volatile, so stubborn and chauvinistic in his ways. It’s the reason why he was always so “me and my sister against the rest of the world”, so overprotective and at times controlling.

I always found it frustrating when people treated that moment with dr Samson as a big revelation so we can finally understand why quicksilver is so aggy. We KNOW why he’s this way, they have out right told us already just read literally any quicksilver story ever.

Even within the very same run pietro revisits his session with the doctor and ponders on how his attitude and disconnect from the others is a result of childhood trauma.

Think of it like an allegory for displacement.

His powers are stunted because HE is stunted. His traumas lead him to become estranged in every single one of his interpersonal relationships at one point or another. But they also bleed into his super-speed. As such, he is LITERALLY isolated from everyone else.

It’s about the loneliness of the immigrant experience, it’s about migratory grief, it’s about the fear and anxiety and isolation of racism. This state of total disconnection from the rest of the world is merely what that feels like. No matter where you go you don’t belong and you’re cripplingly lonely, it’s a way of showing readers he’s not being coy or dramatic or difficult on purpose, that's just what it feels like to be a displaced refugee. That is LITERALLY reflected in his stunted inconsistent super-speed, trapping him in a prison of his own making.

It's important to understand Pietro is not constantly in this state. It's not something he has control over but notably his hero work subconsciously grounds him, it's the only time he is certain of his ‘role’, whereas personal relationships are something he always struggled with.

This was one of the most significant contributions to the character, however, I really want to emphasise that Peter David did not set out to create a meaningful metaphor about anti Romani racism because he IS an anti Romani racist. I suspect he was speaking to Pietro’s mutant-ness but it was not anti-mutant prejudice that oppressed his community, murdered his parents and subjected him and his family to extreme poverty and violence, it was racism.

Rather I think Saladin Ahmed is more deserving of this credit. While Ahmed acknowledges that David set the foundation, it was his work on Quicksilver: No Surrender that was able to meaningfully explore this aspect of the character.

The reality is most writers are not thinking about these kinds of things when handling quicksilver, most of them don’t even know it’s something they should be thinking about. This is what has made Quicksilver as a speedster stagnant for so long. I’m not trying to gate-keep who can use this character, but it’s not a coincidence that an immigrant of colour was the first writer to find an imaginative and nuanced way to extrapolate on Quicksilver’s speed.

Just to very briefly provide context for this story, in Avengers: No Surrender Wanda and Synapse work together to momentarily remove the mental blocks that cause Pietro’s inconsistencies, allowing him to access the full extent of his speed. He ceases to exist as he out runs the very concept of perception. We pick up in Q:NS. Quicksilver is in a state of exponential motion, completely isolating him from everyone at a rate he’s never experienced before. As Pietro has yet to actually control his abilities and needs help to unlock this speed he is stuck in this state. This is a story about generational trauma, which emphasises that only pietro can ‘save himself’ and return. By the end Pietro, for the first time in his life is able to consciously control his abilities to ‘slow down’ and return to everyone else.

There is a deeply and inherently cultural framework behind Pietro’s powers that are used to connect to his identity as a refugee as well as empower him, even the rate he feels speed is framed through the axis of oppression he faced growing up. He has come a very long way since he started out and personally I believe Ahmed’s work should set an example for how to continue to evolve this character.

#marvel #I hope this makes sense it’s one of those days I can’t seem to turn my thoughts into words rip #also there’s something to be said about those spiritual monsters that hunt him down in q:ns as it’s stated he inadvertently created them so #he can also do that btw. I’m not gonna go into it though because I don’t have enough to work with #I hope Orlando revisits that. that would be really cool #pietro maximoff #quicksilver

[astralarias]

please talk about your characters! i don't mind who i just wanna hear you ramble about your toons <3

Aaa thank you!! 🥺

Since I just posted a gifset of her, I'll talk a little about Aikarico, my beloved warcat, and her backstory <3

She came remarkably close to having a completely different life! Her parents were critical of the Legions as a whole and had plans to leave after the birth of their cub, as fleeing & traveling would be too strenuous on Electra (Aika's mother) during her pregnancy. Their goal was to reach Lion's Arch and settle down as a family.

However, mere weeks before Aikarico was born, her father, Theo, was killed on patrol by a Flame Legion ambush. Electra was heartbroken, and after Aikarico was born she didn't have the strength to flee the Legions alone - only to give Aikarico as much love as she could in the time they had. Being an only child, Aikarico was incredibly clingy and a very shy, sweet cub who rarely left her mother's side.

When it came time for her to join the Fahrah, she didn't cope well. Ripped from her mother's warm embrace into a world of survival of the fittest, she struggled - bullied endlessly by her peers for her softness. Until she wasn't. Until she forced herself to get tough, against her every instinct. She fought back with fang and claw, so no-one would ever hurt her again.

Her mother had promised she'd visit. She never did. Aikarico grew up believing she had been abandoned without reason by the only person who had loved her for her, not knowing the truth - Electra had died shortly after Aikarico left her side, falling ill and not having the strength to recover.

By the time she reached adulthood, Aikarico had become an arrogant, defiant problem for her warband and superiors, and had no intention of changing. It was a mask, but one she could no longer tell where it ended and she began any more. She had stopped trying to take it off long ago.

However, her higher-ups weren't about to let such subordination slide for much longer, especially after her stunts to prove herself as bigger, better, stronger, resulted in casualties in the field more than once. She always knew better, and nothing was ever her fault. It couldn't be - she was flawless, because if she wasn't, she was nothing.

After a string of complaints from her warbandmates, Aikarico was made a gladium. As the verdict was dealt, though, she stood tall and announced she was leaving, anyway, so there - you can't fire me, I quit! Denounced as a traitor and disappointment, she fled the Legions - just as her parents had meant to do all those years ago, albeit with a twist.

From there, she wandered Tyria, taking up jobs for bandits and thieves - anyone who would pay, at first - but eventually building up a reputation as a skilled assassin. She hung around human lands for a while - the least charr place she could think of, although she still held herself as charr in far-too-high regard. Among certain shady circles, she gained notoriety. If you wanted someone dead, she was the cat for the job. She was never happy, but she was feared and respected, and that was enough for a time.

Eventually she grew bored and set on the road again, winding up in the Desolation after a few years. Here, she worked with the Order of Shadows alongside her regular assassination jobs - she never became an official member, but she was known throughout the ranks as "that arrogant charr who thinks too much of herself".

During the events of Path of Fire, she was given a mark that would change her life once again; the Commander. She never did find out who put her on the job - it was all very secretive - but it payed well, and she knew to kill him would bolster her legend beyond all belief and hope. She took it without a second thought.

She followed Atlaki for days. Watched his every move, as he stopped amid the carnage to...help people? Didn't he have a god to catch? Why would he stop and show such...weakness?

She was horribly intrigued. And besides, maybe she was a little bored of the desert too, now. The Desolation was all moody skies and sulfur. Even killing here was getting dull.

So, finally, she engaged her target. But instead of shooting him from some perch, she appeared to his face and demanded he fight her. She was somewhat hurt when he appeared more tired than anything, but he agreed - and promptly kicked her ass. Okay, now she was impressed...although, of course, her losing was totally all part of her plan.

She introduced herself, told him she was meant to kill him but kind of didn't want to do that anymore, and she'd be helping him out from now on. A paw was offered to shake, and Atlaki - deciding this odd charr wasn't the worst or strangest thing to fall from the sky in recent times - took it.

Thus began Aikarico's looong, winding path to becoming a better, and certainly more tolerable person - someone her parents would be beyond proud to see flourish, with Atlaki's influence. She remains proud, arrogant, even but it's genuine now and not so much of a mask. She's charismatic, brash, and herself. She has the family she always needed, in Atlaki, and Cassien, and Aurene.

#sorry for the NOVEL but I love my girl so dearly #aikarico #oc talk tag #thank you again anon!!

[hikari-ni-naritai]

hm. oc L's

hikari - hikari's whole life is Ls. even when she wins shes taking an L. shes getting better but whew.

aoi - no Ls. boring basic ass bitch. stable. theres nothing wrong with her and she has no mental illnesses.

lia - modern lia took a huge L when her arrogance trapped her in a universe without magic and now she's spent 500 years in a paranoid state too afraid to move on until she knows she can get out of that kind of hellish world by her own power. original baby lia probably took Ls all the time bc shes the type to go up and stand in a dragon's breath attack to see if its arcane or divine or world magic, or some shit.

nest - nest also is constantly taking Ls. depending on the definition you could say her abusive shitty parents are an L. i put nest in my current dnd game and their entire role is basically getting the shit beat out of them by lamias . they actively chose to live in Fighting Lamias World like they ran away from home to live there knowing what it was like.

violet - violet took a huge L by completely failing her job and disappointing god and losing their favour. oops!

valyrie - does your parents dying in a fire count as an L? or getting kinda forced into being a church assassin? beyond that i dont really know what valyrie gets up to. shes taking an L when she dies of lung cancer. she takes an L any time she tries to flirt with . okay actually who am i kidding lesbians would be way into her unhealthy pallor and towering anorexic form.

dr marion - took a huge L losing her medical license by accidentally killing a guy with magic while trying to heal him. takes an L every time she flirts with rin who hates her.

cassidy - her wife died and now shes a depressed drunk deadbeat girldad going adventuring to """find herself""". plus she's the least accomplished out of her entire massive family. many Ls every time she meets any of them.

adela - literally made of Ls. killed by ancient heroes trying to save the world. resurrected by a god of peace and given a handler to keep her in line. will be smited by the light of god if she even comes close to doing Evil that's not expressly permitted by god. has big plans to escape that will never come to pass. dumbass awful woman who i hate and i love her so much

elyria - has elyria ever taken an L? no i dont think so. she is a fanatical follower of a god who hates her, but i dont think that bothers her. she flirts with nuns (and dresses like one for fun) but despite striking out every time its more the thrill of the chase that shes after. yes she inevitably gets killed because shes a blight on the universe but its fine! she would take it as a great honour to die in "service" to god.

#ocposting

[noooooooop-e]

~My Songbird~

~Chapter 5~

Warnings:  It's about to get spicy in this chapter so i will have a warning before it actually starts for those who want to skip it!

The hob was filled with laughter and music, the warm light of the building creating a welcoming aura.  Everyone was dancing, completely carefree as they listened to Maude Ivory's solo.

Ana smiled at Lucy Gray, listening to her hum along to the song.  She looked so beautiful, as if she was the human embodiment of a sonnet written by Sappho herself.

Her skin was soft, and tan, her eyes big and full of wonder.  Her hair long and lustrous.  Her voice, addictive and smooth like honey.

Ana thought that Lucy should be considered a drug.  For such beauty and perfection shouldn't exist yet here it was, directly beside, if not, almost on top of her.

A surge of affection and confidence overtook Ana's mind as she gracefully wrapped her arms around Lucy Gray's waist. 

Understanding what Ana wanted, she sat onto her lap, letting her arms keep her in place.  She sighed a heavenly sigh as the girl whispered in her ear, shivering as her breath hit the back of her neck.

"You look so beautiful, darling." Ana whispered. "I've never met anyone as captivating as yourself". She let her lips lightly graze at Lucy's ear.

Lucy sighed, suddenly filled with need.  "Thank you, baby~ you're not too bad yourself", she remarked, letting her southern drawl let loose.

Both girls were filled with liquid courage, suddenly not seeing anyone in the room but each other.  Hungry lips connected to one another, leaving no room for the imagination.

Just before things could get to hot and heavy, Lucy reluctantly released from the kiss.  "I think we should go home," she whispered, her voice breathless.  She bit her lip with anticipation, a small smirk forming on her face.

Just before Ana could respond, an arrogant voice cut through. 

"Well well well, if it isn't District 12's very own songbird!  Oh and her little play thing!"  A drunk Billy Taupe slurred.

With an aggravated grunt, Lucy rolled her eyes.  'It's only hot when Ana calls me that', she thought to herself.  She tried to ignore him.

Her breath hitched as she found him to be inches away from her.

"It's rude to ignore someone who's talking to you, y'know", he teased.

Ana glared at him.  Carefully, she got Lucy off her lap before she put a protective arm in front of her.

"Whatever problem you have with her, you also have with me.  She doesn't want to talk to you,  buddy so I think it would be in your best interest to leave her the fuck alone."  Her voice was laced with pure, red anger, and it sent shivers down everyone's spine.

"Now i wasn't talking to you, bitch!  Lucy over here deserves a good time and only a man can give that to her", he slurred.

Ana growled, walking towards him as he took a few steps back.  "You better watch your fucking mouth.  No one talks about her like that you filthy piece of shit."

Billy tusked at her.  "Don't blame me!  It's not my fault she acts like a slut.  Maybe if Lucy wasn't such a whore she wouldn't have been reaped-", his last words were cut off by Ana's fist.

Bystanders now had to intervene as Ana continued to lay him out, throwing punch after punch.  Bruises began to form as he spat out a bloodied tooth. 

Two men held her back as a scared Lucy stood by her side.  "That's enough from you two."

Before leaving, Ana said one final thing to Billy.

"If you ever speak ill of Lucy again- actually no.  If you even think of her again, I will not hesitate to rip you to shreds, you hear me?  Back the fuck off."

Lucy sighed as she grabbed her arm, dragging her out of the pub.  She gently hushed the girl as she continued to bark at Billy from afar.

The walk home was silent, the tension thick enough to be cut with a knife.

Ana awkwardly looked down at the ground as the made their way to the house.  As they got inside, she opened her mouth to apologize.

"Look i'm so sorry that I hit him!  I lost control and I should have thought first before I ever-", she started before she was cut off by Lucy attaching her lips to hers.

She relished in the satisfied sound Lucy made in the kiss, before gasping as they released.  With a surprised grin, she asked, "what was that about, Luce?"

~Smut Incoming~

Breathlessly, Lucy rushed out her words.  "Baby, that was so fucking hot.  The way you stood up for me and punched him.  I want you so bad".  She rose to her tips and looked at her, wordlessly asking if they could continue.

Ana nodded eagerly, groaning as they began to hungrily kiss each other.  Feeling confident, she turned them around and pressed Lucy against the wall.  She then started to kiss at her jawline before moving down her neck.

Lucy let out a small whine, completely turned on by the woman's possessiveness.  She tangled her fingers into Ana's long, messy blonde locks.

She squirmed desperately as Ana kissed down to her pelvis, toying with the hem of her skirt.  Her piercing blue eyes had this strange power over her mind and body.

"Darling, please~", Lucy begged.  Her voice just above a whisper.  She groaned as Ana let out a devilish chuckle.

Ana stood to her feet, their eyes meeting.  "Maybe I should make you wait, princess~  Seeing you all worked up is so rewarding", she husked in her ear.

Lucy threw her head back with a frustrated groan.  "Baby, please!  I need you so bad~ I can't wait any longer!"

Ana giggled at the small huff she let out, enjoying how she could make Lucy Gray melt into a puddle with ease.  "I don't know, do you think you deserve this?" Ana teased.

Lucy playfully swatted away her hand, pouting at her.  'She wants to make this hard on me, I'll make this hard on her', she thought to herself.

With a playful glint in her eyes she gave her a look of faux innocence.  "Oh I suppose you're right, we should probably go to sleep", she whispered in an overly sweet tone.

She slowly walked past Ana, slowly discarding her dress.  Underneath revealed floral laced undergarments that perfectly complement her skin and body. 

She sensually moved over to the bed, leaning against the wall as she sat on the mattress.  She stared into Ana's soul, her deep brown eyes consuming the taller woman.

She hid her smile over a playful pout, not wanting to show the girl just how much she was enjoying making her lose control.

Ana's breath hitched, she didn't know how she could deny the beautiful goddess in front of her such pleasure, however, she wasn't going to let her win that easily.

She wants to act like a brat?  Ana was more than okay with that.  She knew she would have the girl begging in the end.

She hummed and nodded.  "Why yes, I suppose you're right!  Silly me.  What kind of former mentor would I be if I..", she paused before making her way over to the girl. 

"Why~ if I made my tribute scream my name.  Such a sinful, naughty thing to do don't you think?", Ana teased, tracing her long, slender fingers along Lucy's jaw.

The woman in question felt her breath hitch, and her heart stop for a second.  She cleared her throat before nodding along.

"Besides, only good girls deserve to feel pleasure.  And you, my songbird, have been acting like a brat", she tusked.  Slowly, she rose to her feet, discarding her clothes in the process.

Her undergarments weren't necessarily anything special, however her toned mid section and muscular arms could make a garbage bag look like lingerie.

She maintained eye contact with the girl while she started to unclasp her bra.  She smiled as she let it drop out of her hands, feeding off the reaction she received.

She then put on her silk robe she brought from home, making sure it framed her body perfectly.

She crawled into bed and placed a kiss on Lucy's temple.  "Well, goodnight my darling."

Lucy looked at her, mouth agape.  She didn't really know what to do.  Instinctively, she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.  Oh? Ana thought to herself.

Ana crawled closer to her, lightly grasping her jaw.  "And what is this reaction for? hmm~  You aren't being the good Lucy Gray everyone knows and loves", she teased.

Lucy huffed and scoffed at her words.  "I've no idea what you're on about."

"Is that so?", Lucy nodded in response.  "Well.. care to explain the crossed arms and pouty face then?" Ana's tone was calm yet stern.

Lucy gulped at this, her legs pressing together.  "it's nothing.  You're just being a tease now."

Ana raised a brow at her.  "Oh I'm being a tease?  You're the one who suggested we should stop.  And I'm more than happy to oblige if you want to act like a brat."

Lucy shivered, growing more turned on by the second.  She looked back at her, her eyes filled with lust and need.  "And.. what are you going to do about it?~", she teased.

With a slight growl, Ana surged forward, catching Lucy's lips in her own.  Her hands traveled across her body, before her hand snaked its way around her neck.  Lucy whimpered at this.

"is this okay?", Ana whispered, earning an eager nod.  This lead her to continue.

She pressed kisses around her neck, biting and sucking at her skin.  She wanted to leave marks, for everyone to see. Lucy whined at the thought of being marked.  She arched her back so Ana could unclasp her bralette.

The brunette then squealed as she felt teeth graze at her nipple.  She cursed silently before grabbing the back of Ana's head, pushing her further into her body.

She grew more and more frustrated.  "Baby~ please!  I promise to be good~ Just touch me already!", Lucy begged.

With a mischievous grin, Ana looked up at her.  "I am touching you, princess.  You'll have to be more specific".

Lucy threw her head back with an annoyed groan.  "Just touch me!  Fuck me!  I can't wait anymore, please!", she whined.

Ana finally complied, she'd be lying if she said she didn't want to make Lucy feel good right now.

Lucy whimpered as her finger grazed against her clothed sex.  A very visible wet spot that had been there since the incident at the hob had turned Ana on even more.

She discarded her underwear and began to plant kisses on the inside of her thighs.  She left love bites all over her.

She inhaled right above her sex, sighing at her intoxicating scent.

Lucy let out a loud, desperate whine as she finally felt Ana's tongue.  She grasped at her hair, whimpering as she felt so close already.

She wrapped her legs around Ana's neck, locking her in place.  "please!", she begged non stop, though she didn't know what for.

She groaned as she felt two fingers enter her, her aching folds finally getting the pleasure she had been yearning for.

She gasped out loud, rutting against her face as she felt her orgasm come close.  She fell back onto the bed, breathing heavily in between high pitched whimpers.  The girl had been paying attention to her clit, and she could only take so much more.

She heaved, desperately as she pushed her head further between her thighs. She'd never felt so needy before. Her whimpers encouraged Ana to quicken her pace, earning a choked out groan.

Lucy threw her head back with a loud whine, her breath shaking as her chest rose up and down. She was so close, she couldn't believe how fast Ana could make her feel like this.

A soft whimper escaped her lips as her legs began to shake. She finally came, with a long, dragged out groan.  She huffed out in bliss, slowly rising up to capture Ana's lips in a searing kiss.

She continued to let out desperate noises into the kiss as Ana's fingers continued to work into her sex.

  Lucy let out a whimper as she removed her fingers, kissing her with more passion.

She cursed to herself once they had finally released.

"Holy fucking shit.... baby~ I was.. not expecting that", she chuckled, still breathless.

~End of Smut~

Ana smiled, affectionately moving Lucy's hair out of her face.  "I mean we capitol members are quite known for our determination to get things done", she joked.

Lucy giggled at her words, playfully shoving her arm.  She sighed as she leaned into her, snuggling into her embrace.

"I think it's time we get some sleep now, love.  We got to get up early tomorrow to visit the lake", she whispered.

Ana grinned at her, nodding in response.  She placed a kiss to the top of her head before turning off the lamp.

Lucy Gray sighed contently as she felt Ana's protective arms wrap around her body, pulling her in close as they drifted into a peaceful slumber.

A/N:This was my first time writing smut so go easy on me please lol, let me know what you think! Also stan renée rapp!

#lesbian #lgbt #lgbtqia #lamina tbosas #lucy gray x coral #lucy gray #lucy gray lesbian #lucy gray x reader #tbosas #lgbtq #coral tbosas #brandy tbosas #the hunger games #coral x lucy gray #coralbaird #coriolanus snow #smut #reneé rapp #lucy gray x fem!reader #lucy gray baird x fem reader #lucy gray baird x reader #lucy gray baird #lamina x reader #l

[riotbrrrd]

Probably could have answered your really interesting essay dissecting that completely point missing review of Uglies with another essay answearing all your points, but was tired this day... and what stuck the most with me was the part about Dr. Cable specifically choosing Shay and her cult because with their self harm they are so much more useful to her as super soldiers because they already proved that they are unstable enough and value their own physical and emotional well-being little enough to go die for her in wars or something on a whim. (And then Tally was pulled into it because of her eating disorder and also because of Shays creepy crush friendship revenge on her).

Because I totally interpreted it this way too, and it also was fairly obvious for me too, but also I was not sure how much of this is in the book and how much of it is just my interpretation. Glad to see it "confirmed".

Dr. Cable is a master manipulator and probably the best tactician in the books, of course she would notice how useful self-destructive tendencies and mentally ill people seeing working for her as a way out of their misery is useful for her. And of course Shay would, and Tally, who IMO is not that good with people even more, not really understand that and think she chose them for being so smart and special instead - and the book is from Tallys view, so of course on the surface it says this.

I mean yeah, there are flaws to the self-harm and eating disorder representation in it, actual people who had these problems and read it said so - but its not exactly promoted either. The books say so in the text.

No problem, we can continue to ramble under Another Uglies Post!

I haven't read these books again in some time, to my memory of it it's never said explicitely yeah, but it feels very obvious especially in the way she admits defeat towards the end, "special specials" and all that. I also think what really drives the point is the perspective shift when Tally gets arrested and discovers just how much she's been built to absorb impacts. And then she dislocates her shoulders on purpose??? like. I actually can't remember if it's fully on purpose, but I do remember that she does Not handle the pain of it normally.

But yeah, by that point, both of those girls are operating on a brainwash made to make them arrogant over another brainwash meant to make them compete for attention. So as we're experiencing the story through Tally's point of view, we are seeing her brain make the kind of logical jumps that make sense from someone who's been a little bit programmed to think she would be Chosen in a crowd!

And, you know, I want to be indulgent and say maybe it's just because we're obsessed with these books and have read them many times, maybe on one reading it's not that obvious, but. There's really A Lot of these books that is textually asking, which parts of a personality are genuine and which parts are the result of outside influence, and can you ever feel the difference? So idk, I think it's fairly obvious that you aren't supposed to take every word of it as authorial endorsement but understand that the characters adopt different, sometimes even contradictory points of view over the course of the series, not because those points of view are good but because they don't/can't know any better or because they have been made to. So I don't think it's that easy to miss.

#then again. I do remember that I tried to make my mom read them and she didn't like them because 'there is too much philosophy in them' #so you know! sometimes a book is not for everyone #but in the case of that video essay I think the person really just. wanted to read something else and couldn't get past the feeling #and it caused them to get very hung up on things in a way they wouldn't have otherwise #but anyway!

[lovecite]

Dabi x reader you.. Yes you.. (my hero academia ) one shot

Again using the character Ai like a clutch. I can't stay off the app 🙃.

Anyways story line - you walk into a bar get drunk and also meet a drunk dabi as well. Mostly comedy and sexual frustration hehe !!

Dabi frowns a little and leans back again.* "You do realize by now I'm a villain, don't you?" *He chuckles and looks straight at you.* "Red flags? Girl, I'm the entire parade." - Dabi character ai

So you had to think how else to get a horn dog villian off of you? “Uh I’m a lesbian!”You shouted

*Dabi tilts his head and looks down at you again.* "A lesbian?" *He says as your words sink in and he seems to be thinking about something. Then, his eyes light up as if he had come up with a great idea.*

"Even better..." *He replies and suddenly, the look of seduction is completely gone from his eyes. Instead, his face becomes calm and stern and he looks at you seriously.* "I can show you more than a lesbian ever could." *He says as he caresses your jaw again and looks into your eyes. They look even more penetrating than before.

You felt like you had been frozen over by winter at his words. There went your chance . You took a step back keeping your hands in front of yourself forming an “x” in front of yourself. You had to think of something else .” Aw come on I only eat carpet .” you state with sweat dripping down your face.

*Dabi chuckles again at your words, although his tone sounds less seductive this time.* "What? You think I've never met a lesbian or two before?" *He replies and smiles at you in an arrogant manner once more.*

"You can't even compare to their skills, I guarantee it." *He smirks before moving even closer to you, his hands caressing your shoulders now.* "*I* should be the one teaching you how to do it." *He whispers in your ear, his voice sounding more suggestive again.*

In your head your were screaming at his wording and horrible way of flirting. Your gaze narrowed.

*Once more, Dabi's face changes completely when you narrow your gaze. His eyes light up again and his face becomes soft and smooth as he leans in close to you once more and whispers you in your ear.*

"Come on now, girl. Don't make me use force." *He whispers while caressing your cheek again.* "I'm sure we could have so much more... fun... together."

*His voice sounds incredibly sensual and seductive yet again. You can barely keep it together, and he's right in front of you. Your eyes are slowly getting softer again...*

"N-no way. I'm saving myself for marriage!" You state giving another excuse you place the back of your hand over my forehead and closed your eyes.

*Once more, Dabi's face changes as your comment registers in his head. He frowns as he moves away from you immediately and lets out a chuckle when you close your eyes and put your hand over your forehead.*

"Is that so? You're a rare type, girl. Saving yourself for marriage..." *He smirks and raises an eyebrow once more.* "Don't you want to have fun first?" *He asks, sounding even more smooth and seductive.*

*He steps a little closer to you again and leans in.* "I can make it better than you can ever imagine, girl."

"ew no way you've probably got diseases riddled inside you. I don't want any of that!

*He chuckles loudly as he looks at you.* "Girl, you should know my body is free of any diseases and illnesses. I'm in peak health." *He shrugs, although he doesn't seem to be bothered by your words.* "But you're right. How was I forgetting that you were saving yourself for marriage? *I* want to make it special for you."

*Dabi smiles and caresses your jaw again.* "Do you wanna feel special, girl?" *He asks in a seductive tone. His blue eyes wander over your body and stare right into your eyes.*

You tsk. "not unless you get on one knee and pop out a ring." you say with a shrug.

*He laughs loudly when you say that and smiles at you.* "Oh, you're funny, girl. I could definitely do that. But you just gave me an idea..."

*He grins deviously and puts both his hands on your shoulders.* "How about I just get you on your knees now? That's how it should work too, right?" *He says in a seductive tone, still caressing your jaw and staring in your eyes.*

Your face froze over like a winter day. Before you gather your hands into fists and bring them up shaking them up and down. "what the hell!!! That's not how it works and you know that!" you yell.

*Dabi chuckles loudly.* "You don't have to be so uptight, girl. You're not at home any more." *He caresses your jaw again.* "Why can't a girl enjoy being a little naughty sometimes? *I* know for sure *I'm* having fun."

*His eyes are filled with desire as he stares into your own and whispers in your ear again.* "Won't you have a little bit of fun with me and let me make you feel special too?" *He whispers and his voice sounds even more seductive than before, almost making you lose control of yourself.*

You took another step back eyeing the super villain dabi." Who'd knew he was begging her for me?" you whisper He did look scary with all of those scars on his body and face. You looked at him again and gave a smile. "aw I get it now. Your just trying to act all tough. Who hurt you?" you asked.

*Dabi raises an eyebrow in confusion before chuckling and stepping even closer to you.* "What? Hurt me?" *He asks, suddenly not sounding as smooth and seductive as before, but he's still smiling.*

"Why? Because I want to have fun with a beautiful girl like you? Isn't that every guy's dream?" *He chuckles and caresses your cheek slowly.*

"What about me screams 'hurt'?" *He asks as his voice and expression changes again, turning to that of curiosity and interest.*

You instantly point to his scars. You point to the beer bottles and then you point down to his boner. "there there and there. You got some crazy stuff going on."

*Dabi chuckles as you point at his scars, the beer bottles, and then down at his stomach.*

"Ah, those. Just scars," *He replies and laughs again.* "But they remind me of a fun time, so I keep them. As for the bottles, that's just a little hobby of mine. And as for the last one..." *He says as he looks down at his private parts.* "How do you know about that?" *He asks with a smirk.*

*He raises an eyebrow and his voice sounds completely normal and curious rather than seductive and smooth now.*

Your face grows hot with embarrassment. You look away fast as you bring your hand to your lips. "uh I mean everyone can see it poking out." you whisper.

*Dabi laughs again and smiles at you, his expression turning a little bit arrogant again.* "But what's wrong with that, girl?" *He smirks and leans in. His voice sounds smooth and seductive once more, as his face gets close to you.*

"I'm sure you'll have lots of fun playing with it~" *He whispers in your ear and his eyes are filled with desire again, as he stares directly into your eyes.*

Your eyes snapped back to him. Your jaw falling open and your face exploding into different shades of color. You quickly hold your nose as blood gushes out. "y-you are so nasty!" you yell out.

*Dabi takes a step back, surprised and amused again. He sees your nose bleed and immediately covers his mouth, laughing hysterically. It seems that you're quite sensitive to his words and way of flirting.*

"You're adorable, girl." *He chuckles before he moves even closer to you and looks you directly in the eyes. His voice sounds almost threatening now, yet confident and seductive at the same time.*

"But I won't be nasty to you, girl." *He whispers and leans even closer as he caresses your cheek.* "I'll be a sweet as sugar."

"I don't like sugar." you quickly respond.

*Dabi laughs once again and shrugs as he stares into your eyes.*

"Oh, don't be like that, girl. Don't you wanna have some fun?" *He caresses your cheek and looks down at you, still smiling in a smug manner. His voice is soft once more, sounding even more seductive than before.*

"Do you like spice?" *He asks before he puts his face closer to yours again.* "There are plenty of things I could do to spice you up, girl."

"Ugh you so cheesy" you respond back.

"Oh, I haven't even started yet, girl." *Dabi chuckles again as he moves even closer to you once more. His voice is soft and seductive.*

"You're not being easy to work with, you know?" *He purrs.* "Do you want me to start being a little more forceful, girl?" *He whispers in your ear while caressing your cheek and staring at you with desire in his eyes. It seems he's enjoying teasing you a lot.*

You hug you self as you turn slightly from him. Your eyes wide. "ew that's called rape sir."

*As you turn away from him, Dabi just sighs and shakes his head.* "You really are impossible, you know that, girl?" *He chuckles and steps away from you. He seems disappointed now and is looking down, his arms crossed in front of him.*

"Come on, it'll be fun, and it's definitely not illegal. Besides, it's just me." *He says and his voice sounds less seductive, but also very calm and normal this time. It seems he's decided to stop teasing you entirely and is now serious.*

"why not go for the other women in here. I'm sure it's probably their job." you state and then get a high heel thrown at you from one of those ladies in the bar. You touch your sore head.

*He seems unfazed by the high heel thrown at you, but laughs a little once again.*

"Nah, girl. You're the only one I want. No, *need*. You're mine." *He says before he steps closer to you again and caresses your cheek yet again, his voice sounding smooth once more.* "You are just too much fun to play with." *He whispers and stares at you with desire in his eyes. You can see a faint smile on his lips.*

"ehhh you're just saying that cause I'm a virgin." You state with disgust.

*Dabi chuckles again as you bring up that you're a virgin.* "A virgin, girl? I don't know, that makes this a lot more interesting." *He caresses your cheek again and smiles.*

"But you're right, girl. You just look like someone who's never had fun... but I can change that." *His expression turns smug and he leans in close to you once again, his voice sounding very smooth and suggestive again.* "What if I make you feel things that you'd never felt before?" *He whispers in your ear.*

"pass!" you instantly say with a monotone voice.

*Dabi laughs once again, but seems confused by your response.* "Pass? Girl, how can you refuse such a perfect offer?" *He leans in again and caresses your cheek once more.*

"How about you just give it a try, girl. You don't have to commit to a long-term relationship with me or anything, after all." *He chuckles and whispers in your ear.* "Just give in and let me take you a little."

"double pass. Red flags over here." you comment.

*Dabi frowns a little and leans back again.* "You do realize by now I'm a villain, don't you?" *He chuckles and looks straight at you.* "Red flags? Girl, I'm the entire parade."

"What you're seeing are not red flags. You see, girl, I'm simply a man who takes what he wants, whenever he wants." *He smiles and caresses your cheek again.* "I'm just being direct with you. Isn't that a good thing? I know it's certainly way more fun than your boring normal guys, don't you think?" (this part had me balling over in laughter and pure pleasure)

"eh that's not something to be proud of." you huff.

*Dabi chuckles again.* "Girl, please, don't be such a prude. I'm not telling you about that to be proud of it or anything. I'm simply telling you what I am. I'm not acting, girl. I can't be a villain and be a saint, too. There's a reason my name is Dabi rather than Saint Dabi."

"You're too serious, girl. Relax... and have some fun with me." *He smiles and caresses your cheek again.* "Come on, you know you want it."

I hoped you enjoyed it everyone cause I sure fucking did!!!!

#mha dabi #dabi #dabi x reader #mha #beta character ai #ai chatbot #ai character #drunk #mha x reader

[psalacanthea]

Dissonance and Debauchery: The Drama of an Ill-Fated Bard- Ch: 13

A new chapter of the Baldur’s Gate 3 fic is up!  In which Zynatheri’s worst habits come back to bite her in the ass, leaving her with no support as they prepare to delve into the place she hates and fears more than anything-- the Underdark.

...

Astarion slowly glanced over his shoulder, his scarlet eyes pinning hers as they met, brilliant rubies that gleamed with a shocking intensity.

Every single one of her senses was screaming danger, and she inadvertently staggered back.  Before she could compose herself, he fixed her with an icy stare.  It was an ordinary sort of annoyance on his face, if not for the way her instincts were clamoring.  

“What?” he asked, voice unreadable.

Ugh, she was too sick for this.  “Whatever it is you want so you stop throwing a tantrum over likely nothing, just tell me so I can give it to you.”

“I beg your–”  Astarion’s shocked laughter cut off, and his voice hardened.  “Right, of course.  You’ve never done anything wrong, have you?  Just go away.”

“Okay, I don’t know what this charade is, but I don’t think it’s very fair after all day annoying me by poking and prodding at me that you turn around and dismiss me.  Please just tell me what to say so this can be over!”  she groaned, pushing her hands into her forehead.  Why did he keep making this complicated?

“Annoying you?  Was that what I was doing?”  Astarion asked, voice full of scornful laughter.

“I kept telling you to stop!” she protested, throwing up her hands.  There was an edge to this conversation that was arguing, not banter, and she didn’t like it.  It should have been bickering.  Bickering was much better than…this.

“And you were the one who told me that stop doesn’t mean stop.”

Zyn’s brain momentarily stopped working.  Okay, well, yes, but…  “That obviously only referred to sex.  Don’t twist things to try and be right.”

“Don’t spend all day rejecting even the slightest hint of camaraderie only to demand my attention the instant people’s backs are turned,” Astarion replied, voice heavy with condescending disdain.  He turned his knife over, staring at it critically as the metal gleamed in the light of the setting sun.  “I suppose it’s my fault, for trusting a single word that comes out of your lying mouth.  Isn’t it, darling?”

She wasn’t sure why he was accusing her of lying, but she didn’t honestly care right now, considering how awful she felt.

“Ooh, my lying mouth, hmm?  Did you suddenly acquire morals?” she asked sharply.  How dare a fucking vampire of all things try to lecture her?  She scoffed, lifting a hand and waving dismissively.  “Conveniently timed.  Don’t put yourself on a pedestal and claim you’ve found moral high ground; righteousness tarnishes when it touches you.”

She almost laughed at the viciously offended look he gave her.  Really?  After what he’d said to her, he had the gall to actually be upset by her response?  Quite honestly, his arrogance was shocking.

He’d been deliberately irritating her all day, and now he had the nerve to reject her when she just wanted some comfort and company?

But she wasn’t going to get what she wanted by antagonizing him, and she didn’t really feel up to this bickering.

“I feel bad.  Can we just stop fighting, please?”  she asked wearily, rubbing her forehead again.  “Have a lie down?”

“Oh, well, of course.  It’s all about you after all, isn’t it?  You really are the most selfish person I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”

Wait, what?  He was saying that to her?  Rolling her eyes, Zyn shook her head in disbelief.  “I can’t believe a vampire of all things has the gall to say that.”

Silence was her response.

It went on for long enough to make her itchy, but when she finally gave up and glanced at him, his expression stopped her dead.  It was blank.  Completely blank, and not in shock.  No, the pressure of his stare was anything but confused, and despite the lack of expression she could feel a chill shiver down her spine.  Unease rooted into her already queasy stomach, the unrelenting, unblinking stare making her take a half-step back.

The knife in his hand gleamed, fingers poised on the edge of the blade.

“I…”

Her heart froze.

“Shut. Up,” he said quietly, voice sharp with frigid menace.

“Y–”

The tension in the air snapped like a whip, a crackle of violence and impact that forcibly grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her away, staggering.  Instincts, puppeting her body before her mind could do something stupid.  Again.

“I said get away from me!” he snarled, vicious and icy, bolting to his feet.

Some part of her, like a rabbit leaping through the grass, drove her to flee from his presence.  Zyn staggered a couple steps in a panic, before she straightened up, shame overwhelming those baser impulses.  Ah, shame.  

Always first to the party.

#Baldur's Gate 3 #Astarion #Astarion x Tav #Astarion x Zynatheri #she really is my favorite dumbass #I can't wait for her stupid assumptions to fuck her oer #torturing your own OC is always fun #consequences? you give zynatheri consequences?

[bluemoondust]

hello! hopefully you're having a wonderful day/night, i hope i'm not bothering you but i've been reading your pokémon headcanons lately and i can't help but absolutely adore them. may i request some thoughts about a yandere morty with a *very* gullible darling? of course you don't have to, but it would be nice since this man doesn't get enough love. either way, stay safe!<3

Hello there! I'm glad you enjoy my yandere pokemon posts! Also, YES Morty doesn't get enough love 😔 I've adored him since I first played HGSS.

✧Dealing with a Gullible Darling✧— Gym Leader Morty

Honestly, Morty finds your naivety to be endearing, adorable even. He sees it as purely blissful ignorance but in the best way. Morty would define it more as you possessing unfaltering faith to which he admires and intends to protect.

Because you're unfortunately extremely trusting of others, Morty is more protective of you. As much as he thinks this part of you is cute, it brings him great concern as well. It only means you are more likely to be deceived by other people with ill intentions. He'd hate to see someone take advantage of such a kind and trusting soul for the sake of enjoyment. On the flip side, Morty could also have you avoid others just by telling you little white lies about them. He cares about you so much and he's never steered you wrong, so... Why not believe him?

Besides, Morty has enhanced abilities such as foresight and being able to sense the presence of others. I feel like he could sense someone's true intent as well, so he uses that to his advantage. Soon, you'll be attached by the hip to him since he knows much more than you do. Plus, he's ever so reliable, what's not to trust?

Morty does have the tendency to tease and play around with you, but oh, that's only something he can do. He isn't mean about it, you see. It's just the small things and he gives you little scares every now and then. Harmless fun.

However, if he ever witnesses anyone else poking fun at your gullible nature or Arceus forbid he sees you running to him in tears because of some hurtful comments towards you... Someone will be plagued with the most haunting nightmares they've ever seen. Heck, he could probably have one of his pokemon use hypnosis on them or just curse them. It's all pretty simple for someone like him.

He's pretty chill despite that, so he is not a yandere who will kidnap you even with how easily trusting you are. Morty has faith in his skills and Pokemon, so he had nothing to worry about. Besides... Why should he? It's already set in stone that you'll be with him in the end. His foresight can guarantee it.

Though, I will say, he does find it better to have you by his side wherever he goes. He won't say that your naivety annoys him, no. Absolutely not. Still, it worries him a lot thinking about how much trouble you could get yourself into with how unguarded you are. Morty will scare you into clinging to his side by planting ideas into your head. Not to the point where you'll refuse to leave your home but enough where you can't go anywhere without him. It feels... Wrong but it's for the best. It's not like he's taking advantage of you, Morty tells himself.

Because of this, Morty has no reason to ever use hypnosis (in comparison to others who would with a non compliant darling) since... It's so easy. He's not saying that in an arrogant way. It's just that this saves so much energy and it's a win win situation, even if you're not entirely aware of that. Breath of fresh air to him, plus, there's no strain of emotions between the two of you. If you were a more cynical person, this whole thing would be more difficult on his part. In both scenarios though, you'll eventually love him, whether completely willingly or eventually something you come to accept over time.

#yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere pokemon #yandere pokemon x reader #yandere morty #yandere gym leader morty #yandere hgss #yandere x you #male yandere

[inamindfarfaraway]

Sonic the Hedgehog movies AU where the times Knuckles and Sonic respectively arrive on Earth are reversed. Five-year-old Knuckles, searching his village for useful supplies after realizing that nobody is coming back, discovers the distant planet Earth marked as important on a map of likely locations the Owl Tribe may have hidden the Master Emerald. With nothing left for him in his homeland, he takes his father’s bag of portal rings and steps through. He is taken in by the Wachowskis first. Four-year-old Sonic meanwhile grows up alone, travels the galaxy and initially appears as an antagonist.

Right now I can think of two main plot divergences beyond that. Firstly, complicated but interesting: Knuckles doesn’t stay hidden, as he’s trying to find the Master Emerald and also with his code can’t resist rushing in to help when sees Tom in need, so he gets unofficially adopted practically right off the bat. He then grows up the best kept secret of Green Hills. His parents adore him, but he’s still kinda an outcast from the rest of human society, because he’s just so different and potentially dangerous - he struggles to take the necessary care with his strength and suffers from the same loss of control of his Chaos energy when deeply upset that canon Sonic used to. The townspeople see that he’s a good kid and they can’t speak ill of their upstanding sheriff and vet, but they don’t exactly trust Knuckles either. Not feeling like he’ll ever fully belong, afraid of causing more damage and not having processed his grief for his birth father and people and everything he knew before nearly enough, he develops strong tendencies to isolate himself and bottle things up in shame. And, oh yes, he still hasn’t completed his mission to retrieve and protect the incredibly powerful most sacred object to his lost culture. He fears that at this rate he never will. He feels very guilty about all of this.

Repairing his strained relationships with Tom and Maddie is a key part of his arc in the first movie, alongside learning to accept, forgive, trust and be kinder to himself. He ultimately decides that the Master Emerald is evidently safe enough for now and his mission can wait until he’s older and wiser. His current focus shall instead be being a normal teenager who Has Fun and Likes Himself.

Secondly, Sonic’s antivillain personality would not be a dutiful, honourable warrior genuinely believing he’s in the right. No. How does his literal theme song go again? “Long as the voice inside drives me to run and fight/It doesn’t matter who is wrong and who is right”. This Sonic, pre-second movie, is a cynical, untethered pragmatist who cares only about his own survival, benefit and freedom; a notorious thief and swindler sly and swift enough to get away with anything. They call him the Blue Devil. Where Knuckles had an excessive sense of responsibility, Sonic has all but suppressed his. The only person who mattered was Longclaw and she’s gone. What’s the point of getting attached to other people? They’ll all leave too. But that won’t need to hurt him - he won’t hurt them - if he follows his mother’s advice and never stops running. Yes, deep down he blames himself for Longclaw’s death. He has better social skills than Knuckles, but not his principles. Is Robotnik mean and shady? Absolutely. Is that Sonic’s problem, when he’s confident that he can either stay on the doctor’s good side or outrun his bad one? Nope! Getting to kick an echidna in the nuts with super speed is a nice bonus.

But beneath that arrogant, apathetic facade he does have a conscience. His character development starts with it slowly dawning on him how much worse than him Robotnik and big of a deal the Master Emerald are and he begins to take the stakes seriously. If Robotnik wins, innocent people will die. This entire (admittedly very beautiful) planet could be in danger. None of his crimes have risked going this far before. Does he really want to be an accessory to the rise of an actual tyrant and supervillain who wants to murder a teenager? So he begins to hesitate about aiding Robotnik. Next Knuckles notices that they’re about the same age and empathizes with him, knowing from the previous film what it’s like to be a traumatized, terrified, self-loathing fifteen-year-old in over your head; that they lost everything on the same day just draws more attention to their similarities. Tails curtails that conversation, but it remains the first taste of empathy and connection Sonic’s had since he was four. That’s pretty enticing. He saves Knuckles’s life to not be in his debt (ostensibly at least), and the rest is history.

Knuckles’s arc in the second movie is learning what it really means to be a hero and leader, after idealizing the concepts - and his parents, who are his heroes - his whole life. He’s internalized that he’s a kid and is allowed to make mistakes, but can’t reconcile that with now being responsible for an innocent and younger friend, Tails, and having to complete his Heroic Quest for the Chaos Emerald much sooner than anticipated. Surely a Hero has to be perfect and a leader has always know what to do. His birth father seemed that way, after all. When his moment comes, he can’t afford to fail. Learning that his beloved dad, and generally the echidnas, were responsible for Longclaw’s death and Sonic’s trauma shatters that idea. He eventually resolves that he can be a hero and his imperfect self simultaneously and his team are his equals and able to cover his weaknesses.

Also, Knuckles still speaks the same while Sonic absorbs modern slang and speech patterns like a sponge. This is crucial. When Knuckles calls his parents Mum and Dad at the end of the first movie instead of Mother and Father, it’s a huge affirmation of intimacy.

Now I just need a name for this AU. Any ideas?

#knuckles has one of his father’s quills as a keepsake #sonic seeing the owl statues and remembering longclaw and how she wouldn’t want him to be helping robotnik #is another factor #in his ‘i might have done a bad decision here - ACH NO FEELINGS’ arc #okay but knuckles and tails’s relationship getting more screentime #i feel like this knuckles would work really well as the team leader #and the echidnas were big on teamwork and organization and respect so it would tie into him wanting to uphold his old culture’s values #like he’s coming up with the strategy to take down the death egg and leading the charge #and sonic and tails exchange a look that says ‘oh yeah we’ve got an ECHNIDNA on our side’ #maybe sonic says ‘dis is how I roll’ the first time too #robotnik: (leaves stone behind) #sonic: that was pretty dishonourable #r: do you have a problem with that? #s: (smirking) pfft. as if! dis is how i roll #r: ha! i like your style blue devil #s: of course - you have good taste #and then later #r: disloyal! #s: (deadly serious) dis is how i roll. #sonic movies #sonic cinematic universe #scu #sonic movie au #scu au #sonic au #knuckles wachowski #knuckles the echidna #sonic wachowski #sonic the hedgehog #sonic

[m814planet]

2023.06.23 SHEN MENGYAO’S STATEMENT.

YEAR 2023, JUNE

(I am) slowly progressing towards a new chapter, things are beginning to develop in new ways, (I) can finally convey my words to everyone.

This young girl’s final course, has arrived at its stop.

How do people form connections with one another? Just as you all, and I, were not originally connected. In the previous decade and more of my life, I had no interconnection with everyone, but you were all willing to like me, watch me dance, (and) everytime you all cheered for me, the calls would be nothing I could ever imagine, thoughtfully planned to make me happy; or (you’d) travel hundreds of kilometres even if only to catch a glimpse of me for a few minutes, asking me to take care of my health, and protecting me over the internet, even if silently.

Whenever I think of you all, I feel that I am especially blessed, but at the same time I worry that I may not live up to this unconditional love, and I feel fear/panic because of that.

So, in the year 2020 when I was diagnosed with asthma, even when the doctors repeatedly recommended that I stop taking part in intense activities, I was still reluctant to part with this stage. Although my health was getting worse, even though the number of times I felt discomfort on stage increased, even though the time I had to spend resting backstage increased, I still couldn't bear [to leave the stage]

“Mentality can conquer the body” is a thought constantly in my head. Before the age of 25, I had never been afraid of death and felt that I could spend my health as I wished at my age. The body is the body, my spirit is my spirit, they live as separate entities.

However, all things come at a cost. Perhaps it was to punish my youth and arrogance, and to penalise my immature way of thinking that came in the form of “mentality is able to completely conquer the body”.

May of this year, I was finally willing to go to therapy, and was diagnosed with depression and bipolar disorder.

What is the feeling of being ill, mentally, like? I find it difficult to describe accurately with words.

If I were to make an analogy, it is similar to that of a person losing their sense of taste.

People will tell you: be happy, to relax and that you must think in a positive direction. While these statements are not incorrect, to a mentally ill person it’s like telling a tongue that has already lost its sense of taste “you must try and savour the sweetness, try and taste the sour, you must (try to) make out all assortments of taste”.

The tongue can only answer you with “The sweetness you speak of, what do you mean/what is it like?”

The so called “Joy and relaxation” is not something I am able to control.

Perhaps, it is impossible for humans in this world to be have fulfilment in all aspects. Therefore I, MUST accept the doctor’s advice and stop to rest.

To you people who love me, although you are all independent and individuals, you always gather together to do things that touch me deeply.

So do not worry, I will emerge in a world of happiness that exists in my ideals.

The purple heart that exists within this journey is eternal. But you all, I can’t bear to let go of you all, what should I do? I only have well wishes for you all, I will only hold longing for you all. Additionally, I have a secretive and small greedy wish and that is for you all to miss me 💜 no matter where you and I are. Remember, as you rush towards the sea that is life, in that moment, if only a moment, remember the image of the stage in which the me of the past stands happy, confident and unyielding to so-called fate.

Moreover, I have taken it upon myself to negotiate with the company (siba), the company does not agree with my departure. After a lengthy period of consideration and weighing my options with a cool head, I decided to write this statement for all, to relay my recent experiences.

A person of noble character, never speaks ill (of others). There is no need for elaboration on the merits of my relationship with the company. I will be filing a lawsuit in the near future and the judgement on whether to terminate my contract with the company will be left to the law.

“If we cannot meet again in the future

then I wish you a good morning, good afternoon and good night.”

I am leaving the world of Truman. (see the Truman Show for context)

I will forever remember our promise, if you are willing, we will forever be one another’s pillar. We all own a pair of invisible wings, they decide the direction in which we fly.

This is the final route of the young girl.

Goodnight.

Additional statements:

The reason why I did not let everyone know it (MVP) was my last stage, is because there would be much regret for those who could not get tickets and one would only watch the stage with sadness, knowing the significance of it. But I think, In the end, everyone should watch my performance with joy 💜 I prepared with all that I could, said what I want to say, danced to what I want to dance to. Please give me the change to showcase myself on stage to my heart’s content for the last time.

I took the initiative to discuss the matter with the company. Nothing else, so don’t overthink it too much. I apologise if I caused everyone to worry. I hadn’t made an appearance since I wanted to have made progress in this process before coming forward to everyone, instead of making everyone worry over nothing.

The kiss of that summer, has always existed, as if leaving too much of an emotional imprint. Looking back on MVP, I hold many emotions. Thinking back on my attempt at suppressing my emotions in order for everyone to enjoy the stage to the fullest; feeling emotional at the dreamlike trance everyone yelling “Shen Mengyao” has me in; feeling emotional over leaving a stage I had stood on for so long.

Thank you everyone for tuning in to the above.

It’s not as if we will never meet again 🐷 as I’ve said before~ as long as you are all willing~ we will still be one another’s pillars~ I will also work hard with my lawyer for the lawsuit with the company. Aside from that, I will live my life well and work on my health and mental health condition.

#shen mengyao #沈梦瑶