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#queueing like a villain
brokengem · 1 year
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PeterFelicia headcanon: Felicia always strips/makes the first move when it comes to Peter/and exposing his flesh to her. Just to run her paws all over his chest
Peter’s not shy, but Felicia knows the best ways to get him flustered. Face blooming into such a pretty pink as she peels his clothes away. He tries not to shiver beneath her touch, but some times he can’t help it. Especially knowing how excited it makes Felicia.
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raineandsky · 8 days
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#115
The villain slips out of sight, and civilians crowd the hero before they can think to follow. Several microphones materialise half an inch from their face.
“What does it mean for the city when villains get away like this?”
“Why is this villain so difficult to catch?”
“[Hero], this way!”
“[Hero]!”
They can see one reporter elbowing his way to the front of the crowd. He nudges his glasses up his nose awkwardly, a clipboard in one hand and a voice recorder in the other. He looks like an old school nerd, in a way.
He manages to wrestle his way to the front of the mob, miraculously. The hero isn’t convinced even they could do that. He clears his throat, adjusts his shirt against his neck, and presses a button on his recorder.
“What are your relations to [Villain]?”
The hero could’ve not spotted him and it would’ve been the loudest question of them all. Their gaze snaps to him traitorously before they can stop themself. He stands there expectantly, his voice recorder raised slightly towards them.
“My relation to them is that they’re a criminal,” they say carefully, a response well-practised, “and I am the person who will put them behind bars.”
That prompts a flurry of more questions, but the hero can only watch this one reporter. He nods, and they’re not sure if he’s trained to stay neutral or if he doesn’t believe them. Their stomach flips uncertainly.
“Can you really be the one to put them away if they keep evading you?”
The hero wants to smite him where he stands. They try to force a confident smile that probably looks more pained. “Then the victory will be all the sweeter when I finally catch them.”
“Are you helping them?”
There it is. The other reporters go quiet, curious. The hero’s aware they probably look like a cornered animal, but they can explain that away later. They were worried that the masses are losing faith in them, perhaps. They can throw a speech together tonight.
“Why would I be helping a criminal, sorry?”
“I’ve done some of my own research.” The reporter pushes his glasses up again as he looks down at his clipboard. “The villain’s getaway car looks alarmingly similar to yours.”
Another flip. Would it be bad to claim they have somewhere to be? They don’t have any answers prepared for this. The reporter’s watching them with an intensity that’s making them feel sick. Avoiding the question is worse, surely.
“It’s not my fault if [Villain] has impeccable taste.” They glance out over the sea of people, trying to seem distracted. Fuck it. Time to go. “Look, guys, I’ll answer everyone’s questions when I’m not actively chasing a criminal. Job first, interviews second.”
The hero flees like the fury of god is chasing them. They can feel eyes on them as they go, that little pain in the ass watching them the most intently.
They practically throw themself into their car, slamming the door like it’ll hide them from the outside. “Took you long enough,” the villain says from the backseat.
“Reporters,” the hero explains shortly. The villain hums thoughtfully.
“Always is.” The villain sighs, tearing their gaze from their phone and up to the hero. “What’s this week’s conspiracy?”
The hero turns the car on to ignore the question for a moment. “They think I’m working with you.”
The villain barks a laugh at that. “Can you imagine?” Their eyes turn back down to their phone amusedly. “A’ight, let’s get outta here.”
Gladly. The hero pulls out of the little alleyway, checking the streets for reporters, unexpectedly nervous, and onto the road. They always take the back roads like this. They don’t need any more reason for people to get suspicious. One reporter putting the thought in people’s heads is enough.
“Don’t get any ideas, by the way,” the villain pipes up after a bout of silence. The hero was quite content to listen to the rumble of the engine all the way back. “You work for me, not with me. Let’s keep it that way.”
The hero nods. The less they have at stake in this stupid little charade, the easier it’ll be to get the hell out at the first opportunity anyway.
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utilitycaster · 1 month
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the thing about people who tend to be really into villains is like. I have no moral issue with this. My problem is that you get people who are like yeah I love VILLAINS I'm VILLAINOUS and EDGY. And then when you're like ok cool anyway I think this villain does bad things, in the narrative, which to be clear, is their purpose, and I have again no moral issue because this is pretend and a story, they're like "no? my shmoopy? would NEVER. my sweet villain baby who has never done wrong? I love them because they're evil but if you say they're evil i'm going to scream and scream and scream." and also if you make any jokes about the villain they're like "actually this is deeply insulting to them because they had trauma in their life? You're so mean to my murder puppy" and like. The true secret is most villain stans just want to fuck the villain. And again. I have no moral issue with this. I support it, even. But I wish they would thoroughly lean into that desire for the villains instead of scouring the fandom and throwing a tantrum whenever people are like "wow I think the bad person character is sorta bad and here's a meme about it"
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uragirinoteme · 2 years
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MXTXTober'22 Week 1 😄💕
I mostly post them on IG/ Twt daily together with the XianTober pieces (which I'll also post here later 🤗)
~Commissions Info~
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(another) Thing that annoys me about the Cap movies: 
We never got to see the scene where Steve & Co found out about the torture and mind-control used on Bucky. 
Because that should’ve been super important!
It would have vindicated Steve’s faith in him, proved Bucky’s victimhood and innocence, and turned Nat and Sam 100% around on whether or not Bucky was worth helping (whether or not it was worth them apparently wasting years of their lives helping Steve to find him). 
They’re supposed to have been: 
A) hunting down the remains of Hydra for years, 
B) familiarising themselves with all the Hydra info Nat dumped at the end of of CATWS, and 
C) hunting for Bucky-related information specifically amongst all that. 
Meaning they absolutely cannot have avoided finding, for example, all the places Bucky was tortured in, the specialised enhanced torture equipment (impossible to mistake for that used on a non-supersoldier), cells he was held in, all the specialised physical restraints, tailored for an enhanced person with a cyborg arm, documentation of his torture, witness testimony from surviving Hydra mooks at the Triskelion, etc., and seeing it firsthand. 
And for some of that time, they know Hydra had access to a magic mind-control stick, courtesy of Loki, and an enhanced person who can control minds (Wanda). 
So even if Steve didn’t find evidence of Bucky’s mind-control early on in his search, he and Natasha definitely do know that mind-control is possible (especially Natasha, given her roots in the Red Room and the fact that her bff was mind-controlled.)
Even if you ignored Nat and Sam’s personal backstories, which preclude both of them from being dismissive of a victim (a veteran who suffered a fall, a mind-controlled Russian ‘assassin’), it doesn’t make sense for Nat and Sam to still be trying to suggest Steve step back from helping Bucky, the way they do in CW. 
They cannot still be ignorant of what was done to Bucky, when they have been specifically investigating what was done to Bucky, and all that information has to have been impossible for them to avoid! 
Instead of which, the movie just skips right over the reveal to Steve and Sam of the mind control (going straight from ‘scene of mind-control’ to ‘scene of Steve being skeptical (which he shouldn’t and wouldn’t be)’ to ‘scene of talking about trigger words already’). Casually implying that either Steve and Sam already knew about it, or that Bucky has just explained it to them... 
But only off-camera. 
And yet, Sam is still salty and scornful of Bucky’s innocence (even when they have just seen mind-control happening, Bucky is suffering amnesia of WS acts in front of him, apparently just told him about mind-control, and then proves that he has his pre-war memories). 
So they imply the content of skipped scenes but then have characters act in ways that are... irrational, given the skipped content?? 
Makes no damn sense! 
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familyofpaladins · 5 days
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@tmaynt Day 11: Favorite Splinter
I Think 2003 Splinter is my favorite because he was just a Rat! He wasn't a man turned into a rat, he was just a little rat, who was shown kindness, and when he saw 4 baby turtles washed into the sewers, he went "I'm going to take care of them". And he wasn't even mutated with higher intelligence either! He just saw these little lives and decided to take care of them like he had been taken care of before.
Also he's just always there for his sons. He's not afraid to go out there and face whatever danger his sons are facing. And when the turtles got kidnapped by the Ninja Tribunal, he went all the way to Japan to make sure they were safe. HE JUST CARES ABOUT HIS SONS SO MUCH AND HE WAS A RAT!!
Bonus sketches I did before coloring the one with the tots
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I liked his travel outfit from the ninja tribunal arc. Should have kept it lol
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revasserium · 8 months
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congratulations 2K followers may I request Victor from ikevil?Theme 17.number the stars.Thank you,have a nice day💕
number the stars
victor; 1,347 words; fluff, mostly -- kinda weird but victor is also kinda weird so i hope you don't mind nonny -- and thanks so much for sending something in!!!
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“count the stars with me,” he says one night, his hair dark as the shade of a broken promise, his smile just as sweet. you purse your lips, looking up from the typewriter at your desk.
“i’m… sorry?” you ask, quirking your head as you lean back in your chair, wondering if you’d heard correctly.
victor’s smile is moon-sliver and cyanide, and you find yourself drawn inexplicably to it, like a comet towards the sun.
“come,” he says, offering you a hand, standing by your door, looking for all the world as if he were inviting you for tea. but you know better than that now — don’t you? you wonder.
you get up anyway, telling yourself that you’d been wanting to stretch your legs anyways and the gardens should be beautiful at this hour.
“it’s — it’s a full moon tonight,” you say, tilting your head back to admire the scattered light of the milky way, streaked across the sky. beside you, victor hums in agreement. you feel his eyes on you before you see him, the dull simmer and heat of his gaze as it grazes over your skin, soft as fingertips, strong as sin.
“how many do you think there are?” he asks, casually, turning when you catch him staring, unabashed even as your own cheeks flush with heat.
“what, the stars?” you ask, casting your eyes back up.
“yes.”
you purse your lips, unable to keep your curiosity from bubbling over.
“why?”
victor’s body shakes with his blue-bell laughter, “why not wonder such things?”
you resist the urge to roll your eyes. but of course — has victor ever really needed a reason? or a rhyme, for that matter?
“i don’t know… billions… more than billions, probably,” you say, thinking back to the various headlines you’d seen splashed across the front pages of the papers — scientific discovery this, neighboring galaxies that. you let out a soft sigh as victor turns his head back towards you.
“mm… strange, isn’t it? that we’re all so terribly insignificant and yet… here we are… struggling against our own insignificance every hour of every day…” he flicks a silken strand of hair from his shoulders, leading you towards the tiny pagoda where you’d all shared afternoon tea.
“strange? i… i don’t think so,” you sit down next to him, pressing your palms to the cool of the bench beneath you, “i mean… all the stars up there…” you wave your hand at the vast expanse of night sky, “they’re all just… burning themselves up, aren’t they? isn’t that… a struggle against insignificance too? isn’t that… it’s own kind of curse?”
victor opens his mouth, and then he blinks, pauses. no sound comes from him for a solid ten seconds before his entire body spills into a fit of near-silent laughter. you watch him, caught between confusion and bewilderment, wondering if you’d said something truly strange before he shakes his head and presses a large, warm palm to the top of your head.
“yes — yes that they are… just burning themselves up… all for us to call them beautiful — terrible, isn’t it? i can’t think of anything worse in the world than being a star…” he’s still chuckling when he finishes, pulling his hand away from your head to smile at you, a darkness twinkling behind his eyes that you’ve never quite had the courage to question.
“you’re making fun of me,” you say, narrowing your eyes and making to pull away, but victor shakes his head and pulls you back, humming happily as you topple easily into his chest.
“not in the slightest! i just… i just love the way you think, that’s all.”
you can’t help the shiver that chases its way down your spine at the softness of his words, at the closeness of his voice, brushing by your ear like a summer breeze. you swallow hard as his arm comes almost naturally to rest around your waist, and when you look up, it’s once again to find him watching you. you press your lips into a line and try not to stare at the beauty mark on his bottom lip but —
“ah… if you keep looking at me like that…” victor grins as he leans down, a finger tipping your chin up towards him, his voice thick with honey, warm as poison, “i can’t promise… i’ll be able to keep being such a gentleman…”
you lick your lips, watch as his eyes flicker down to track the movement. your breath flutters in your chest, hummingbird quick.
“i — i thought you asked me out here to c-count the stars…”
victor grins, “certainly i did… and i am… see? they’re right here…” he leans in, so close you’re almost nose to nose, so close you almost go cross-eyed to keep him in focus.
“right here… i think i can see the entire sky in your eyes…”
a tiny whine works it’s way out of your throat and victor tuts, shaking his head.
“i’ve been waiting to use that line for quite some time but…” he makes to pull away, only for you to pull him back with your fingers fisting in the thick silk and velvet of his clothes.
your throat feels dry, but you swallow passed the desert blooming at the base of your tongue as your search his face for a sign — any sign —
“h-how many are there?” you ask, your voice softer than you remember.
victor’s eyebrows twitch, “how many… what?” but the curve of his lips tells you another story.
“how many stars did you count?”
fire licks its way up your stomach into your chest as you feel his fingers tighten around your waist.
“i… i’ll admit that i’ve lost count — i’ve been distracted, you see —” victor’s grin tilts like a planet on it’s axis, and you feel your world shift along with it, degree by degree. like this, you can almost taste the weight of his words, the sound of his breathing, the liquid of his smile — like this, you want to sink your fingers into the fine gossamer of his hair and tug —
he is kissing you before you realize, severing your thoughts with the silver scissor precision of his mouth and you’re left untethered, clutching at him with the tips of your fingers, feeling him pulling you close, close, closer — a thick moan winds its way from his throat and you lean in further, push your mouth to his to take it in, to take it all in —
“please…”
his voice is shaking when he pulls away, his lips the perfect shade of treason.
you don’t feel your own trembling until he pulls you closer, buries his face in the crook of your neck and breathes.
“gods…” he says, wrapping both arms around you, his voice a wreck of barely contained emotions, of barely restrained desires, “by all the stars…”
you find yourself smiling as you let yourself be held, let yourself sink into the tremor and shake of this thing — held between the negative space of your bodies — whatever it is, at least you know it’s precious. at least you know it’s the most sacred kind of burning.
“all of them?” you ask, in what you hope is a light, playful kind of voice, even as victor lets you pull away, to reach up to brush a few fallen strands of hair from his face with your fingers, “we don’t even know how many there are.”
victor’s smile is indulgent and full of surrender.
“no… we don’t,” he reaches up to trail his fingers through your hair, thumbing at the ends as he shakes his head, “but… i think with you… i’d like to try.”
“try… what?”
“why… counting all the stars of the sky, of course.”
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requests are open! <3
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onlyzhuyilong · 1 year
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“But why do you have to look like my Black Robe Envoy?”
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solarpunkani · 11 months
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Out of queue and definitely rambly but MAN
Ok last reblog (I’m on mobile so too lazy to add links) mentioned Solarpunk being more about settling down in a location whereas Lunarpunk is more nomadic and traveling on the water and such and
I
Got
A
Image in my head
Of a romance story. Or coming of age. Or both?
Of someone living in a solarpunk community along the shore, and someone living in a lunarpunk ocean nomadic community that stops by that shore and stays for a few days/weeks every time they come around. There’s always gardens and extra seats kept in storage for when they come around, warm beds to stay in, etc.
And these two people over time become close friends and maybe even fall for each other? But on top of the song and dance of ‘do I tell them, how to tell them, etc’ they have to also grapple with the fact that one of them stays put and the other is nomadic and their group only swings by once or twice a year on average (for a few weeks each but still)
And they gotta decide (once they finally confess to each other) what they’re gonna do. One person would miss home if they left with the nomads and their family and friends, and one person would miss traveling the seas and THEIR friends and family if they stayed put.
Idk if the solution would be to stay some years and travel others or what but thats ‘not 3am Ani’ to consider
Idk if this makes sense idk if this’ll seem like a good story idea and I SUCK ASS At writing romances (or having them hahaha *crying sounds*) but like
Yeah thats my braincell rn
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raineandsky · 4 months
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#86
Being a hero is stressful. That much is common knowledge. How a hero goes about unwinding from said stress is a mystery no one has yet figured out.
The hero settles in one of the little chairs in the circle. The man next to her gives her a light nudge. “Let’s see what you made this week, then.”
The hero reaches into her bag to show off her latest stress relief—a giant blanket, knitted in the downtime between jobs, sporting a rainbow of colours in bright streaks across its face. Everyone oohs and ahhs appropriately before the rest of the circle gets to showing off their own creations.
It’s been nice to have a place that isn’t entirely consumed by work, the hero thinks as she nods approvingly at someone’s mug cosy. No worrying about tomorrow, no wondering where the villains might be.
Her gaze flits to the next person in line to show something off, and her heart momentarily stops as she meets her eye. At least she doesn’t have to worry about the latter of her thoughts right now.
What the hell is the villain doing at the hero’s weekly knitting club?
“Go on,” the woman next to the villain prompts. The villain huffs and makes a show of it, but she pulls out a cardigan with a ghost of a pleased smirk.
The hero only realised why she’s so self-satisfied when she catches herself gaping in awe. The villain’s little cardigan is elaborate in pattern, swooping waves lining its shoulders. The yarns meld together in a perfect cacophony of colour. It’s amazing, more amazing than anything the hero could do.
The villain soaks in the praise with a humble nod before setting her gaze on the hero. It probably looks hopeful to anyone else, but the hero can see the glitter of arrogance in her eye. Go on, the villain’s practically saying, tell me how great I am.
“It’s nice,” the hero says through gritted teeth, and the villain’s smile turns humoured.
The hero can’t leave fast enough. Everyone else is packing their projects away. The hero’s blanket gets folded thankfully easily and she’s out the door before anyone can stop her.
Fine. A new project. Something to advance her skills and show the villain that she’s not the hot shit she thinks she is.
It takes all week. The hero holds her jumper up to show the group. The villain raises her eyebrows from across the circle.
“Inspired by another knitter here,” the hero says with what could almost be sarcasm, and the villain snorts a poorly contained laugh.
The villain shows off her creation. A pair of mittens, the patterns lacy and the colours bright. The hero scowls. Pissed doesn’t describe the feeling.
Next week. A layered scarf from the hero. The villain wins everyone’s affections with a tiny knitted elephant. “For my niece’s birthday,” the villain says innocently. “She loves them.”
Leaving is becoming more of a race with each passing week. “Keep trying,” the villain comments brightly before the hero can escape. “You’ve plenty of room to improve.”
The hero considers strangling the villain with her scarf.
The hero settles at her computer that evening with a scowl and a cup of hot chocolate, mentally prepared to prowl the internet for several hours for ideas on how to one-up the villain. It’s madness. She’s meant to be out there kicking the villain’s ass, and here she is trying to out-knit her.
It’s been three weeks, and she’s only just realising that her stress-relieving hobby is suddenly a lot more stress-inducing.
“Fuck,” she hisses outloud, and she momentarily considers the idea of knitting the word into a coaster for the villain too.
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deathsweetblossoms · 5 months
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“Isobel, I love you wholly. I love you eternally. I love you so dearly it frightens me. I fear I could not live without you. I could see your face every morning upon waking for ten thousand years and still look forward to the next as though it were the first.”
Margaret Rogerson, An Enchantment of Ravens
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utilitycaster · 3 months
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self-proclaimed villain enjoyers when other people are like hey that villain seems to be kind of a villain
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zrllosyn-art · 7 months
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How many died to bring you here?
Color experiment gone heavily awry.
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kelsonius · 2 months
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What's better than breakfast? Murder
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emblemxeno · 11 months
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At least in Fates, no one will try to defend Garon because he is a cute empress
The closest comparison that people make will be Conquest!Corrin, but even then, that game spares no efforts at making Corrin take responsibility and feel bad for what they do. They aren't victim blaming like Edelgard is wont to do, they get called out by named enemies frequently, and they actually feel for the people they've hurt, even the generics.
Like, I've seen people make fun of Corrin for crying over not just their loved ones but also civilians and complete strangers, because damn, god forbid a character not sympathize or be emotional over terrible things happening. Compare to Edelgard where she doesn't give one fuck about Randolph or Ladislava kicking the bucket, and really only cares if Byleth is in trouble, and the game then expects me to sympathize with how hard it must be for her lol.
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yeetlegay · 2 years
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I just think if Bollywood really fastened on the gay agenda they could make a fuckin bananas adaptation of Kinnporsche
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