#some of these might not b completely word for word accurate

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Innocence

Remus Lupin x f!reader

warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), fingering, slight hand job, virgin reader, purity ring 😮‍💨, making out, underage smoking, mention of underage drinking, slight innocence/ corruption kink, lmk if i missed any!

summary: remus learns the ring you wear everyday is called a purity ring, and he develops a strange obsession with it… and wanting to take it off you…

word count: 4.6k

a/n: guys.. dw there’s gonna b a part two but like omgggggg this made me feel so many things i’m in love with this. lmk what you think :) also i’m not religious so if any of this is not accurate i’m sorry lol it’s for the plot

part two is posted!!! here

~~~

Ever since he knew you, Remus noticed that one thing you always wore. It was plain, a simple gold band on your left ring finger, the marriage finger. Typically, such nonsense wouldn’t cross his mind twice, but you wore that ring damn ring every day. Since the first time he ever saw you, that ring was on your finger. He never saw you without it. So, his curiosity got the better of him.

Why would such a simple ring be so important that you never took it off? It couldn’t have been because you were married. No. You wore it even at the young age of eleven. Could it have been a family heirloom? That idea was plausible, however to him, it didn’t feel like the correct answer. And Remus Lupin always needed the correct answer.

So, he eventually decided to ask you.

During dinner one night, when you just so happened to be sitting next to him, his eyes caught sight of the ring and he eyed it suspiciously. You noticed this.

“Something wrong Rem?” You asked.

He looked up from the ring on your delicate finger to meet your confused eyes. “Why do you always wear that specific ring? And always on that finger? Is it special?”

“Oh.” You laughed for a few seconds. “Yeah, it’s stupid really, an old muggle tradition.” You composed yourself and looked up at him, a slight red tint to your cheeks. “It’s called a purity ring. Basically, I wear it as a reminder that I pledged to wait till marriage.”

Remus was confused, and he hated being confused. “Why would anyone wait till marriage?”

You shrugged. “Muggle religion is quite weird. They value keeping teenagers pure until they’re married. I think it’s stupid, but I still wear it.”

“So, you’ve done it but continue wearing it as a... symbol?” He questioned.

“Oh no, I haven’t done it. I might find it stupid, but I still plan to keep my promise. It’s sort of a nice accomplishment don’t you think? I’ve gone through two years of everyone shagging around me and I haven’t given in,” you answered.

He stared at you for a few seconds. You were still a virgin, and that ring was the reason. He thought for a moment. How could you be a virgin? He swore he had seen you go off with a bloke from Ravenclaw a few months ago during a party. But then as his eyes trailed over your small figure, he realized the idea wasn’t completely impossible. He’d never seen you with hickeys, he’d never seen you dress improperly, and he surely had never seen you enter the common room after a long night with someone. For some reason, it made a strange feeling bloom deep inside him.

“Surely you’ve at least done other stuff, right?”

You simply shook your head and took a bite from your sandwich. “Furthest I’ve ever gone is having some Ravenclaws tongue down my throat.”

Ah, so he was right about that.

“Besides, I don’t really even know much about any of that stuff. I mean I know biology, but that’s about it. And of course, what Marls and Mary tell me from their extravagant experiences,” you added after swallowing.

So that meant...

“You haven’t done anything?” He was surprised, it was clear in his tone.

“No need to sound so flabbergasted. Besides, why do you even care about what I’ve done? I always thought you were the modest type too,” you replied with an eye roll.

Remus looked away from you, and the urge to smirk took him over. He thought back to those countless nights over the summer breaks he’d spent with muggle girls. The feelings, the sounds, the tastes, all experiences he’d never forget. But by no means was Remus Lupin a player, oh no. He was nothing like his mate. However, he also wasn’t a saint like everyone painted him out to be.

“I may be modest but that doesn’t mean I’m a virgin,” he said after a moment, his eyes finally turned back to you. He liked the way you looked at him. “That went away a few summers ago.”

You smiled, though something about it was off, almost as if it were forced. “Well, cheers to that.”

“Cheers.” He nodded in agreement.

You turned back to the group conversation before he could say anything else.

~~~

Remus had thought after finding out what the ring's importance was, he would let it go and move on. Unfortunately, he had thought wrong. Ever since that conversation with you, he couldn’t get any of it off his mind. When he’d see you, he’d always look at your left hand, almost making sure that ring was still there. It always was. And for some reason it made him feel almost relieved. He needed more answers.

Thankfully, another opportunity came not too long after the first.

The two of you had been paired together in potions. Typically, he would be a bit upset with the fact given you were never the best in the subject. But for the first time, he was pleased with the pairing.

He watched as you cut up some of the ingredients, that stupid ring shining from the lights. Questions filled his head. Where had you gotten it? When did you get it? Who gave it to you? Did your parents know what it meant? What were you supposed to do with it when the time finally came? He needed to get the answers.

“So, when did you get it?” He casually asked his eyes on the cauldron.

“Get what?”

“The ring.”

You chuckled. “You’re still on about that? I suppose you aren’t too accustomed to muggle things. I got it right before I came here actually. My parents wanted to give me a reminder about life at home, and they wanted to make sure I knew where my ‘loyalties’ lay. Though, I was only a little girl. Did they expect anything to happen at that young?”

Three questions were answered. Good.

Remus dropped his chopped ingredients into the cauldron. “Does that mean you give it back to them when you finally do it?”

“Oh no. I give it to my husband of course,” you replied. “Do these look alright?”

He finally turned his head in your direction and looked over your cutting board then he met your eyes. “Perfect. You can put them in.”

“You don’t know how good that makes me feel to hear. Master of potions Remus Lupin says I’m perfect, I could faint,” you said as you scrapped your work into the cauldron, a hint of laughter in your voice.

He rolled his eyes. “I said your cutting was perfect, but if it makes you feel good, I suppose you are too.”

You looked up at him with a glint in your eyes that made an odd feeling form in his chest. You looked so damn innocent. How had he not noticed it before? You had always been one of the shyer members of Gryffindor, but he always brushed it off as nothing important. He never would’ve guessed just how innocent you were.

“How sweet of you.” You giggled.

“ ’Course, anytime love.”

He noticed the shift in your body at his words. How odd. You looked away from him for a few seconds, that familiar rose tint returning to your cheeks. Did you always do that? Did such simple words always make you blush and turn away? Or was it just him? He watched you bite down on your lip and fiddle with your ring.

You were teasing him.

It was then he decided he was going to get that ring from you.

And you were going to love it.

~~~

Getting you to that point was going to take some time, Remus knew that. But it didn’t stop him. He started simply. When the two of you were hanging out in the group, he made sure to at least say a few words to you alone. When eating meals, he made sure to get a spot next to you. Most importantly though, he started making sure to leave subtle hints. Lingering eye contact, small touches that weren’t necessary, comments that made your face turn red. He could tell all of it made you flustered, and he loved it.

During all of it, his obsession with your innocence only grew. He wanted to take it away. He wanted to taint you, to make you not so pure anymore. He didn’t understand the feeling, he never cared much for such stereotypical nonsense. But each time you looked at him with those curious, innocent eyes, it only made his patience strained.

The first breakthrough came during one of Sirius and James’s parties. The common room blared with music, and people laughed and danced. You were among them. Remus leaned against the wall next to the staircase to the boy's dorm, a cigarette between his lips as he watched you dance with Mary and Lily. Your smile was bright, your body moved to the rhythm almost perfectly. You wore a pretty little dress. But he couldn’t focus on any of that because that damn ring caught his attention.

It had become quite a distraction. He found himself staring at it far more than normal. During class and dinner, it consumed most of his thoughts. He needed to get it off your finger before it caused his grades to slip.

From across the room, your eyes suddenly found his. You gave him a questioning look; he only smirked back and released a cloud of smoke into the air. He watched you say something to the girls before you began to walk in his direction. Perfect.

“Why do you always stand on the sidelines?” You asked once you were close enough. “And if you’re going to stare at me all night you might as well just dance with me.”

He chuckled and took another drag from the cigarette. “I’m not the biggest fan of these parties and I definitely don’t dance.” He offered you the cigarette, and you shook your head and pointed to your ring. “Come on, that applies to cigs too?”

“And alcohol, pretty much whatever is considered sinful. Though, I have indulged in a drink or two. Mommy and Daddy don’t need to know about that,” you answered.

Merlin, he needed to do something with you. It was almost unbearable.

“You’re saying alcohol and cigs are sinful but intense snogging isn’t? Seems a bit hypocritical to me,” he eventually said.

You smiled and shrugged. “That’s muggle religion for you. It’s pretty much up to each person's interpretation and what they value. I value being sober more than refraining from a snog occasionally.”

“But a shag...”

“That’s universally seen as a big sin. Most of us would agree not to do it until marriage.”

He released another breath of smoke. “Most of you?”

“Well, not everyone agrees of course. Like I said, it’s technically up to everyone’s values. Murder is also considered a sin, you know. But even some people commit that,” you explained. He watched you blush. “I don’t think I should compare virginity to murder though.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a fair comparison,” he replied, his lips turned up into a smile.

You turned even more red. “Sorry. But you get what I’m saying, right?”

“Everything is optional is what you’re saying.” He let his eyes trail over your body, making sure you noticed. “So really, you could fuck someone before marriage.”

“I mean yeah, I could, but I don’t think I will,” you said. You began to fiddle with the ring again. “It’s sort of always been with me it would feel weird giving it to someone else.”

“Do you have to give it away for anything? Or just actual sex?” It was another question he’d been dying to know. He watched you think for a moment.

“I think just the full thing. I don’t know. I don’t even really know that much about it like I said when you first asked me. I mean, I know people use their hands and mouths but... sorry. I shouldn't be talking about such things.” You put your face in your hands, Remus couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sorry.”

He needed to do something. Now.

“Don’t be sorry love, it’s alright. You know you can trust me; I wouldn’t dare tell anyone about your sinful thoughts,” he spoke. He turned and dropped his cigarette into one of the many ashtrays in the common room. When he looked back at you, you were already looking at him. “But you know if you ever wanted to indulge in something like that, you can come to me.”

You were beyond flustered, and it showed. “Oh! That’s very um... generous of you, but I don’t think I’ll do any of that I mean... I don’t plan on it.”

He casually shrugged. “We all get a bit curious at some point in our lives.”

For a moment the two of you only stared at each other. He could tell exactly what you were thinking. You were curious. You wanted to try things. He observed you carefully. He could sense the conflict within you. Value versus desire. It was a tough battle, but you didn’t cave. At least, not yet.

“Perhaps, but I made a promise and I need to stick to it,” you said. You looked over your shoulder at your clearly intoxicated friends. “I should get back to Lily and Mary.”

“Right, it was nice talking,” he replied with a smile.

You nodded. “I’ll see you later.”

“Till then love.”

Even as you walked away and joined your friends once again, he could see the way his words affected you. You could deny the feelings all you wanted, but your body craved the unknown. It was only a matter of time till you caved, and Remus would wait.

He was never one to give up easily.

~~~

You came to him faster than he expected. He understood why though, you were on edge about all of it. In the few days it took for you to go to him, he noticed how different you acted. You were more tense, you fiddled with your ring far more than normal. He imagined the inner conflict you faced was stressful, but he was glad about the turnout of it.

After dinner, as he was walking to the library for a study group, you found him. He was a bit surprised at your approach, but nevertheless, he welcomed it with joy.

“Hey Remus, could I talk to you for a second?” You asked.

You were a bit behind him, but he stopped instantly and turned to face you.

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

Your little bit of confidence quickly vanished. You avoided his gaze, focusing suddenly on your shoes. “Um, are you busy? It’s not really that important so if you have something else to do it can wait.”

He fought the urge to smirk. “I was just going to Lily’s little study group, but it can wait. Is something wrong?”

You shook your head and looked up at him, those big innocent eyes staring into his. “No uh... nothing's wrong. It’s just about... well... you know.”

“About what?”

“You know...”

“I don’t think I do love, you’re gonna have to use your words and tell me.”

He felt bad for teasing you, but it was too fun not to. The way your cute little eyes looked around the hallway to make sure no one else was around, the way you fidgeted, it was far too entertaining to stop. A moment passed before you finally spoke in a much softer tone than before.

“It’s about what we talked about at the party last weekend.”

“Oh?” He questioned. “What about it?”

He watched as you slid the ring up and down your finger. “You said um if I ever wanted to you know, indulge, that I could come to you.”

“Yes, I did say that.”

“So... um yeah,” you said. You looked almost uncomfortable. He knew he needed to be nicer.

“Are you asking if that offer is still there?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes! I mean, um, is it?”

He glanced around to make sure nobody else was around before stepping closer to you. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your mouth parted ever so slightly. He touched his fingers to your chin, lifting your head gently.

“How about you come find out?”

You didn’t fight it. He was glad.

Not too long after that, Remus found himself in a position he’d desperately wanted for almost a month. You were laid out on his bed, open like a flower, and he was on top of you. Your robe, shirt, and tie were thrown to the floor. He kissed you hard, the reward of your gasps kept him going. He let one of his hands travel up your soft thigh, you were so warm, so inviting. It took all his self-control to keep him from moving too fast.

Before it began, you told him you had only ever snogged. That meant no boy had ever touched you. Not with a hand, not with his tongue, nothing. No one had ever even felt up your breasts. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t pleased with the information. He wanted you to be his, he wanted to be as many of your firsts as he could be.

“Can I touch you?” He eventually whispered on your skin; his lips were by your ear.

“Yes, please,” you replied, your breath ragged.

He continued to press soft kisses to your neck as his hand moved between your thighs. You were wet, very wet. He could feel it through your panties. It made him even harder than he already was. He slid his hand under your panties and began to rub soft circles on your clit, you gasped and lifted your hips in response.

You were perfect.

With every flick of his fingers, you let out little whimpers and moans, and one of your hands gripped his shoulder hard. He caught a few glances of your face between kisses. Your cheeks were red, your eyes squeezed shut. You were beyond beautiful.

After a few minutes, he moved his fingers down to your entrance. He made sure to collect your wetness and ask if it was alright before he began to slowly push one of his fingers inside you.

“Remus,” you mumbled as he started thrusting his finger in and out of you at a slow pace. “Fuck.”

“Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?” He asked.

You lightly shook your head. “It feels so good, do not stop.”

“Do you want another one?”

“Yes.”

He complied instantly and added a second finger. You responded just the way he wanted. In only a few more minutes he was fucking you with his fingers, touching that spot inside that made your thighs clench around him. He kissed you hard, he loved how you struggled to kiss him back. When he also began to press his thumb to your clit, you became a mess.

“Fuck Rem, I-” You paused, your nails dug into his shoulder.

“You’re close.” It was a statement; he could feel your walls clenching around his fingers. He knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“I am,” you practically whimpered.

“Let go, love, it’s alright.”

Only seconds later you did. You came hard. Your back arched off the mattress, your mouth hung open wide, and your thighs tightened around his hips. Remus had never felt anything as good as the feeling of your walls pulsating around his fingers as you came undone beneath him. He made sure to keep going till you were fully done. At that point, he pulled his hand out of your panties and up to his lips. He knew you were going to taste good.

You sat up, breathless. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I just- you just- we just... I’m going to hell.”

“Relax, it’ll be fine. People do this all the time and nothing bad happens, I promise it’s just a normal thing,” he said. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, he thought you looked so beautiful. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried about being judged or anything, I’m worried because I don’t feel guilty. I should feel guilty for it but I just... don’t. In fact, I think I...” You looked down at your hand, specifically the ring. “I think I want more.”

Remus couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his lips. “More?”

“Yeah, I mean it’s only right that I return the favor.” He watched your eyes move to his pants; your cheeks turned red. “You’ll have to show me how though.”

“Alright, only if, you’re sure. Don’t feel like you have to because I did something for you,” he replied though he really did want you to touch him. But he could wait if he had to.

“I want to.”

He didn’t question you further. Instead, he guided you through the process of getting him off with your hand. You were a fast learner, though the act itself wasn’t that hard to get the hang of. He found it funny the way you gasped at the size of him. Merlin, you were so innocent. Either way, you made him feel extraordinary. Your hand was much softer than his, and warmer too. You touched him gently, almost teasingly. But that changed fast.

“Can I try something else?” You asked, your hand stopped.

He almost groaned from the lack of motion. “What?”

“Um, can I try using my um...” You pointed to your lips.

“Your mouth?”

“Yeah.”

How could he ever refuse?

It was sloppy, it was rushed, but it was everything he could’ve wanted. As he laid back on the pillows, one of his hands moved through your soft hair. He didn’t dare push you. No. He only stroked your hair gently and whispered praises. He knew you liked it from the way you hummed on his cock each time he told you how good you were doing or how good you made him feel. And when you looked up at him with those eyes, those damn innocent eyes, he could barely contain himself.

He was shocked you even did it to begin with, but he was even more shocked when you let him finish in your mouth. You had him halfway down your throat when he came, and you didn’t pull away for a second. You swallowed it all. Somehow, he became even more attracted to you than he had been before.

“Was it good?” You questioned after you pulled back. You were kneeling beside his legs, a nervous expression on your face.

He smiled. “You were amazing. Are you sure you haven’t done that before?”

“Never even saw one in real life before this,” you replied with a laugh.

“That’s hard to believe,” he said. He sat up and pressed a kiss to your lips before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. “Do you want to try one more thing?”

“Depends on what thing.”

“I’ll do what you just did to me but on you,” he answered, loving the way your eyes widened at his words. Despite everything that happened already, you were still so innocent. He adored it.

“Oh yeah okay,” you spoke after a moment.

He kissed you again. “Lay down.”

You did as he said and soon it began.

He started by kissing your lips while his hands pulled your skirt and panties off, leaving you only in a bra. Once those were off, he kissed down your neck, and your chest, only pausing for a second to unclip your bra and take one of your nipples in his mouth. You moaned, he stayed there for a few extra seconds. He then moved his mouth further down your body, relishing the sounds you made each time his lips made contact with your skin.

When he started to kiss up one of your thighs, you twitched. You were so sensitive, so untouched. He was obsessed with it. Every few kisses he sucked your skin to leave dark purple hickeys. He had made sure not to leave any on your skin that would be visible to the world so that no one would see the evidence of your sinful acts. But the skin that would be covered by clothing, that was his to mark.

A few minutes of this went by, and it was all on purpose. Remus could tell how eager you were for him to get on with it, but you were far too shy to tell him to do so. So, he didn’t dare touch you where you so desperately wanted him to. He wanted to hear you ask. But you said nothing, so he decided you needed a little push. He gave you one single lick then returned to your black and blue thighs.

“Remus,” you whispered. “Please.”

He looked up at you and almost felt bad. Your desperate eyes were already looking at him, he could tell how much you needed it. He didn’t wait any longer and gave you what you needed; you certainly earned it.

In all his experience with sex and everything surrounding it, Remus enjoyed pleasing his partner as anyone did. He didn’t mind going down on women, in fact, he sort of enjoyed it. At least until you. With you, he quickly realized having his head between your thighs and his tongue on your clit was not just alright, it was heavenly. He never enjoyed the taste of a girl like he enjoyed yours. You were sweet and the sounds you made as he played with you were their own type of reward.

So, it was no surprise how quickly you came undone on his tongue. He devoured you like he had been starving his whole life. Truthfully, he felt as if he had. You were spectacular. You were perfection. You were his. He was crazy about you.

After you finished, he wiped his mouth on one of your thighs before moving to lie on the bed next to you. He laid on his side facing you, his eyes examining your face. Your eyes were closed, and your cheeks were pink. Your hair was messy, and your lips were ever so slightly lifted into a smile. He swore he never saw anyone as beautiful in his life.

“I feel stupid,” you mumbled.

“Why?”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, your smile then undeniable. “I should’ve taken you up on your offer sooner. Now I understand why everyone’s so mad about this stuff, it’s unbelievable.”

“You don’t regret it then?” He asked.

“How could I? You’re just... Remus I...” You turned to your side to face him fully, one of your hands pressed against his chest. “I think we should do this again if you’d want to of course.”

He grinned and let a hand fall to your waist, he pulled you closer, so your bodies touched. He rested his chin on the top of your head, and you buried your face in his neck. For a moment he felt almost victorious, he had gotten you right where he wanted you to be. It would only be a matter of time before you let him take you fully. But then he realized, it wasn’t about taking your virginity so much anymore. He just wanted you.

“I wouldn’t want anything more,” he eventually said, then he pressed a kiss to your forehead, while the cold feeling of your ring on his chest lingered in the back of his mind.

Soon, it would be his. And so would you.

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[minervadashwood]

The Truth

Bucky x F!Reader (plus size/curvy/heavyset) Tropes: Fantasy AU, friends to lovers, confessions CW: sex, burn injury Word count: 2.1K Summary:

Playboy Bucky Barnes keeps insisting that he loves you. But he is not a one-woman kind of man. Or so you think. Fantasy setting in which Bucky and you are part of a small group of adventurers. You're not a front line fighter but a savvy alchemist. Maker of potions, poultices, and traps. One day, some of your traps are compromised, and you get hurt. Bucky is not pleased.

Notes: Inspired by a dream I had and this gifset. There are a couple of Russian words in there, but they are translated in the story.

You were bent over your alchemy table when your bedroom door slammed open. In walked Bucky Barnes, dressed in only a towel tied at his waist.

You flushed, taking in his sculpted body, the dips and planes of his torso. Heat overwhelmed you, and it had nothing to do with the burns along your right arm. 

“What the hell were you thinking?!” he demanded, stalking forward and taking your chin in his hand.

“The grenades were compromised!” You shouted back, twisting away from his grip. “ My grenades, Bucky! I sent you out there with something that could’ve killed Steve, Tony, Wanda.  Maybe even you.”

Bucky stared you down, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breathing.

Suddenly, with inhuman speed, he lunged forward, grabbing your arm and yanking you against him. His skin was damp, like he’d just come from bathing. Steve must have told him what happened. That you broke formation to detonate your traps before they could hurt your team. Thankfully the only casualty was you. Your burns had been treated, wrapped in cloth, and were healing nicely.

“ Lisitsa ,” Bucky warned. “You can’t scare me like that.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. Vixen? Really? That might apply to all those women he bedded at taverns. Not you. Leave you to your potions, poultices, and fiery concoctions. Ved'ma would be more accurate. Witch .

You tried to twist out of his hold, but Bucky only gripped you tighter.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?” he growled.

“No, Buck, I don’t. You bed every woman who looks your way.  There’s a different girl on your arm at every festival, every tavern crawl. How could I think that I’m any different? Shall I let you bed me and be done with it? So you can move on to your next conquest?”

You struggled in his arms, trying in vain to get away. Bucky easily controlled you, spinning you around, dragging you to your bed, and shoving you down on it.

You laid sideways, your butt at the edge, as you tried to scoot away from him. Bucky grabbed your legs, squeezing the generous, soft flesh of your thighs.

“There is no ‘next’ conquest, Lisitsa. Only you.” His towel fell away as Bucky made himself at home between your legs. With his strong hands and even stronger arms, he drew your legs apart, forcing your sarong open, revealing your lower half to him.

You froze in place, skin ablaze as his grip lessened and his hands trailed up your outer thighs, your hips, your sides. As he moved, he leaned over you, nestling his own hips to your pelvis, his taut stomach resting on your soft one, with his erection between you.

“If you won’t believe my words, then I will show you. Leave no doubt in your mind that I love you.”

“B-Bucky?” You whimpered, wetness gathering between your legs. He was a specimen of a warrior. Strong, agile, lethal. Of course you wanted him. He set your heart on fire, practically made your blood boil in your veins .   But you couldn’t give in to him. If you did, he’d be gone before the morning, taking with him his sexy, enigmatic smiles, his heart-pattering winks, his insincere confessions of devotion.

Bucky grabbed your wrists and took them in one hand to hold them above your head. With his other hand, he swept away the rest of your clothing. Leaving you completely exposed.

“Stop it, Bucky,” you whispered, catching his eyes and holding his gaze. “You don’t love me. You can’t .”

A devastating smile graced his lips. “Why not, Lisitsa? How can I not love all of this? All of you?”

“B-b-because…” you faltered as he traced his nose along your cheek as, his deep inhalation audible; he was just so close. You, too, took a deep breath, steeling yourself to answer. “I’m nothing like them. The women you bed. I am more; I am too much. ”

Bucky growled, deep in his chest. The hand holding your wrists tightened, and again he took your chin in hand, gripping it tightly .

“My love, you are everything .”

You gasped as Bucky lowered his head and kissed you. Now, there was no denying your body’s reaction to him. You moaned and writhed, wishing your hands were free so you could bury them in his hair. Wriggling, you sought purchase on the bed, but Bucky’s hips and torso held you in place. The sheer strength of him captivated you, entranced you. You could only wrap your legs around his waist and welcome him closer to your core.

Long minutes passed as Bucky explored your mouth and you his. The man was voracious, but so were you, gasping and kissing, a paired clash of teeth, lips, and tongues: both of you desperate for more.

With a moan, Bucky eventually pulled away.  “My Lisitsa,” he murmured, and rested his forehead on yours. Your eyes met again, and there he was, exposed, and soft…adoring. Was that the truth you saw in his eyes? Or another maneuver in his game? You’d seen him woo women, time and time again. Were you now just the next item on his ever-growing list?

“Don’t pull away, love,” he whispered, those soft, searching eyes pleaded. 

“Do you mean it, Buck?”

“With every word, Lisitsa. ”

He held still, his breath arcing across your face, evidence of his desire growing more and more rigid as it was trapped between your bodies.

There would be no way to know for sure, not until morning. But you had him now . Why not take what you could, trapped in his arms?

You lifted your head slightly, seeking his mouth, and then Bucky devoured you. His tongue danced with yours. Gods how he tasted, how he felt . How he was the only thing in the world now, aside from you.

Every inhibition forgotten, you kissed him back, fiercely, and he finally let go of your wrists. Instantly your hands were in his damp, shaggy hair, clutching him close to you as months, years of repressed longing were brought to the surface.

As you kissed, Bucky’s hand skirted down your body until it cupped your sex. His fingers traced along your wet folds, forcing you to whimper into his mouth as he kissed you. 

Bucky broke your lips apart, gasping in your face, his own cheeks and ears darkened, flushed.

“So soft and wet,” he told you, a single finger slipping between your folds and slowly stroking you. “Shall I stop now, love? Or do you believe me?”

“Please, Bucky,” you begged, angling your hips closer to his teasing hand.

He had the nerve, the absolute nerve to laugh at you, and back was that signature, indecipherable smirk. He kissed your nose, your chin, your jaw, and then his mouth was on your nipple, suckling and biting to send shockwaves of desire through you. You jolted beneath him, and then his teasing finger lingered at your entrance.

“Shh, doll, it’s all okay. You're mine now. Aren’t you?”

You nodded dumbly. “Yours, Buck.”

Bucky finally pushed his finger into you, and you sighed. The first finger was joined by a second, and Bucky hooked them both, moving languidly in and out until you were mewling, and whimpering, and begging, all in the same breath.

“That’s it, love,” he encouraged. “You look so beautiful right now, it hurts. I can’t wait. Not anymore.”

“Then don’t.” You tugged on his hair, insisting that he continue.

He removed his fingers, using them to coat his erection with your wetness. Then, he perched himself at your entrance, sliding in just a bit before he lowered himself on the bed, holding his weight on his elbows as his hands cupped your face.

“Believe me now?” he asked, thrusting into you.

You clenched around him, the sweet sensation of being filled by the man you’d denied for so long. It felt like he belonged there, inside of you, filling you, stretching you, loving you.

He moved quickly, and you matched your movements to his own, raising your hips and chasing after his thrusts.

Sweat soaked his body, and you grabbed every part of him you could reach as he made love to you. You gripped his arms and then caressed his chest. You sank your fingernails into his back as you neared your peak, as Bucky groaned and panted above you.

You were on the edge now, faster than you’d ever been before, all because of the man in your arms. “I’m going to come, Buck,” you rasped, voice strained because of all the pleasure coursing through you.

“Go ahead, love,” he told you, nibbling your ear. “I’ll be gentle next time. Take my time with you.”

Next time .

You came, the promise of his statement letting you rise and fall while surrounded by Bucky Barnes.

His thrusts grew sloppy, urgent, and Bucky groaned, capturing your lips with his own, as his movements slowed and he spilled himself inside you, coating your walls with his warm seed.

Your bodies remained joined, you gazing up at him, and Bucky, eyes wide, staring down at you. Then, Bucky gathered you up in his arms, lifting and arranging you easily on your bed so that you rested on top of him. Both your bodies were sweat-slicked and shivering from the aftershocks.

“Did you mean it?“ he asked you, holding your chin once again. “Are you mine?”

Apprehension, suppressed while Bucky had his way with you, rose again.

He must have seen it because Bucky softened his grip and ran his thumb on your cheek.  “I’ll go Lisitsa, if you didn’t mean it. I’ll go and never speak of this again.”

You shook your head furiously, unable to bear the thought. “I meant it, Buck.”

“So do I, Love,” he mumbled, kissing your forehead, and held you close until you both fell asleep.

*

You woke some time later, your injured arm burning and crying out for another poultice and a clean cloth. As you attempted to sit up, you realized you were cocooned in a pair of arms, with a blanket draped over you.

“Mmmph,” Bucky grumbled sleepily. “What is it Lisitsa ?”

Your heart clenched. “You’re still here?”

“‘Course I am,” he answered, voice still groggy with sleep. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You never stay the night with them. With…the others.”

He sat up, pulling you with him, and the blankets pooled at your waists. Outside it was still dark, the stars glittering the night sky.

Bucky pulled you into his lap. “There are no others.” Threading his fingers through your hair, Bucky forced you to look at him. “There is only you. I promise.”

In the darkness, you could not see his eyes or his smile. You only had his words and the feel of his touch to guide you.

“My bandage needs changing,” you murmured, trying to slip off his lap to get your feet on the floor.

“What here,” he ordered, setting you on the mattress as he got off the bed. 

“Buck, what are you--”

You heard the lighting of a match, then the soft glow of a candle filled your room. Bucky held it, and the tiny flame bounced off his body, casting shadows over his muscled form. He’d come into this room wearing only a towel, and he was barefoot and naked, making his way to your shelves of concoctions.

“Which bottle, Lisitsa ?”

“The green one, middle shelf.”

Bucky grabbed your healing poultice and a clean, rolled cloth, too, before returning to you. Unwrapping the cloth on your arm, Bucky tsk’d and sighed.

“No going where I can’t protect you. My heart can’t take it,” he said, focused on your injury. After setting the used cloth aside, Bucky scooped some of the poultice out of the jar and touched it to your arm.

You winced, not used to someone else taking care of you.

“Shush, love,” Bucky soothed. “It’ll feel better in a moment.”

Love . There it was again. He’d had what he wanted and still, he was here, tending to you, comforting you, loving you.

“There’s my good girl,” he encouraged, gently patting the poultice on your burns. He finished and put the lid back on the jar. You’d never seen him do such a thing. Not for Wanda, certainly not for Tony, not even for Steve. But he was doing it for you.

As he reached for the clean cloth bandage, you grabbed his elbow with your left hand and said, “I believe you, Buck.”

He gazed at you in the candlelight, it danced across his features the face of the man you’d loved for so long. And now you were finally ready to admit it.

“About time, Lisitsa . Now let me finish this so I can get back into bed with you.”

You let out a long-held breath as Bucky finished wrapping your injured arm. Bucky snuffed out the candle and found you in the darkness, crawling back into bed with and pulling you back into his arms. 

Outside, the sky turned gray with the rising sun. It was morning.

#mdop #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x curvy reader #plus size reader #curvy reader #bucky barnes #mcu #mcu fanfic #playboy bucky barnes

[yuurei20]

Glorious Masquerade Dialogue Comparison

Originally Rollo refers to Trein as “Mozus-sensei,” using Trein’s first name, but this was changed in the English-language adaptation to “Professor Trein” instead.

Both Sebek and Malleus had the word “humans” removed from their dialogue in two different places, changed to “people” for Sebek and dropped from Malleus’ dialogue entirely.

The English-language adaptation has a history of removing the word “egg” from the game.

Rather than dropping it completely (as in the main story) it was changed to “fledgling" here, much like Spectral Soiree. (More here: The EN Server's Missing Eggs)

While EN has technically localized the in-game currency "madol" into “thaumarks,” with the Port Fest event EN received an all-new form of currency that doesn’t exist in the original game: sorcents!

They returned in Glorious Masquerade (More here: Port Fest Dialogue Comparison)

Malleus never refers to the prefect as a friend, which may be significant, as the word seems to be of some importance at NRC.

If you were curious if Idia really did refer to Riddle as “Tiny Titan” in the original game, he did!

He also used his nickname for Riddle, which EN will sometimes translate as “Instructor” and sometimes as “Taskmaster,” but this time it was dropped.

Rollo’s Unique Magic

Pronunciation: Dark Fire Meaning: Smoldering Desire EN: Darkfire

(More here: Unique Magic (Signature Spell) Compilation: Pronunciation vs. Meaning vs. EN Adaptation)

Idia generally talks with a stutter in the original game, which was removed from the English-language adaptation of Glorious Masquerade.

I thought this might just be a language limitation, but his stutter has been accurately recreated on EN in other places.

This resulted in lines like “Blue handkerchiefs…ah, ah, th-th-the glass movies seem to be less simple than these…” becoming “Plain blue handkerchiefs? Um, no offense, but these look way more basic than those glass mobiles…” and “B-b-b-but then…” becoming “Okay, but, like…,” making the EN adaptation of Idia maybe sound more assertive than the original?

I have recently seen theories that English-language translation for the game might be separated into multiple teams, which seems logical.

It is possible that the localization team assigned to events like Glorious Masquerade is different from the team that did Idia’s vignettes, which would explain the inconsistency in his speech patterns.

It would also explain what happened to Deuce’s unique magic:

In the original game Azul recites the exact same spell Deuce did in Book 5 in order to summon Deuce's magic, but the spell used by EN- Deuce is not the same as the one used by EN-Azul.

The meaning is the same—there is no big difference between “It’s payback time” and “It’s time to pay up!”—it is just different phrasing, which makes sense if the translation team assigned to Book 5 of the main story is different from the team who did Glorious Masquerade.

If the teams are separated by vignettes / events / main story it would also explain why the egg references are getting removed from the main story while being translated into “fledgling” in Halloween events.

But this is all just conjecture based on the curious continuity :>

An interesting language hurdle arose at the end of the game when Malleus addressed the gathered visitors at the ball by the “omae” form of “you”.

The audience responds with discomfort and Jamil explains, “Ordinary students don’t address peers they are meeting for the first time as ‘omae-tachi’…”

(Being sensitive to social situations is a part of Jamil’s character, explained in more depth in his third birthday vignette).

Since the English language doesn’t have varying forms of “you,” this comment was removed.

Much like how the lyrics to the song “Piece of My World” were removed from Book 5, the lyrics to Malleus’ song “Wish Resound” were also removed from the English-adaptation of the game.

But whereas Book 5 is voiced Glorious Masquerade is not, so removing the text box entirely would have resulted in Malleus simply standing and staring in silence.

To compensate, EN has put “*singing*” in the text box.

While likely a licensing issue and therefore inevitable, it is kind of unfortunate as, during the song, there are repeated cuts back to Rollo’s reactions (Lyric translation can be very complex, this is just one possible interpretation of what the lyrics might sound like in English!)

And Malleus makes a point of commenting on the importance of the lyrics (that EN cannot see) that seem to be resonating with Rollo.

#twstdialogue #twisted wonderland #twst translations #Glorious Masquerade

[sgiandubh]

Lionsgate/*** quarter call - not so good as it seems

While I am still fumbling around with the strike's aftermath, let me just quickly say a word or two about ***'s last quarter call, yesterday. Nobody does it as @cb4tb, but FWIW, here goes:

I should immediately say I could not watch the replay on the link provided by the initial press release (here: https://investors.lionsgate.com/news-and-events/press-releases/2023/10-19-2023-140125017), despite my total good will to take one for the team, go to bed early and wake-up at ungodly hours. I have no idea why - maybe access is somehow limited? I would never know, I had no 403 error in my browser, so... 🤷‍♀️. Instead, I could peruse the paper version of the standard Company Quarterly Report (US SEC Form 10-Q), along with some scarce press comments, for a bit of context.

The document is damn long (94 pages) and it reads exactly like I presumed: a kidney stone would be easier to pass (https://investors.lionsgate.com/financial-reports/sec-filings). It's perhaps worth for this phrase alone (on page 43), which really made me stop in my tracks:

At the time of the document's public release, it is technically true and accurate that the tentative deal between AMPTP and SAG-AFTRA still has to be approved by the union's members. However, given the horrendous impact of the strike on almost all things Hollywood and California, for that matter (more on this in a separate post), it's more than likely the deal will hold. The rest is dire: more slashing of content to come, 'if the Company is unable to efficiently complete the production of the film, TV show or program or decides to abandon the production'.

While this does not seem to affect Season 8, this could (I repeat: could) mean that: a) BOMB is gone and b) MIK3 is no longer a priority (the fact that MIK 2, as OL, was listed among the last quarter premieres is not a guarantee it will be continued - not the same amplitude as OL). If so, Season 8 might start shooting as soon as January 2024, since it already has all the needed infrastructure and staff readily available at Cumbernauld (yes, Mordor, the peasant you all love to hate managed perhaps to save the day again!). So OL is doing ok on that side, unlike other productions of other studios, who reportedly started a mad scramble for location scouting and staff recruiting, just before the festive season - that is a big competitive advantage and one of the main reasons I believe it's still entirely possible to pull it off.

The 'thriving' future (according to Feltheimer, that genius 🙄) of *** as a standalone company is still something we severely lack data on, as Lionsgate kept its commitment to go on with the acquisition of Entertainment One (you know, the Peppa Pig people), for a mere 375 million USD, to be completed by January 31, 2024. At the same time, *** is not the only actor on the US media & tech market to proceed to lay-offs and it seems to fare better than many, as I already supposed and told you:

(Sourced at: https://variety.com/2023/tv/news/starz-layoffs-exit-uk-australia-lionsgate-1235779627/).

Something to be closely monitored in the upcoming weeks. I think it's going to be worth it. Sorry for not bringing any sensational content today and I know it's dull and probably uninteresting AF, but it's there and it has to be taken into account, for sure. So yes, 'not as good as it seems' (profit is now mainly driven by motion picture, not television production), but not as bad as expected by the prophets of doom across the street, who - as usually - have no damn idea of what they are talking about.

#sag aftra strike

[tieronecrush]

maroon

javier peña x f!reader

part of a slight malfunction & continuing from ninth wheels

rating: E (18+ ONLY, MDNI)

word count: 2.9k

summary: And I chose you / The one I was dancin' with / In New York, no shoes / Looked up at the sky and it was

One of your favorite nights from your summer with Javi. Cheap pink wine, ABBA, and having a laugh. Just as friends. Good friends.

warnings: NO USE OF Y/N, undefined relationship, use of pet names, very basic spanish so please correct me, unprotected sex, alcohol use, fluffffff, sweet funny times

April - July 1990

You’ve seen Javi every weekend that he’s had off since meeting him. Usually, he makes the trip up to yours in the city, driving the two hours (sometimes pushing three when traffic is bad) Friday night after work, staying with you until the last possible minute before he has to return home Sunday evening.

It’s a routine you’ve welcomed; he fits right into your life like a missing piece. Everything feels smoother when he’s around, running effortlessly with his efficiency that directly opposes your natural dilly-dallying. The two of you make the most of the sunny season, despite the nearly unbearable heat as it got into the midsummer months. Farmers markets, going out dancing, making meals together, and having one very uppity, fancy dinner that you two couldn’t stop giggling through and nearly got kicked out of. Some Saturdays you’d drive up to Canyon Lake outside of the city to have a beach day around your landlocked city. It was fun together, even just as friends or in this limbo situation-ship. You’d wondered if Javi just wasn’t a relationship guy, but with the way he treated you, you couldn’t imagine him not wanting a girlfriend or a wife, eventually. Admittedly, you were falling for him, but without any security of knowing if he saw this as something that could be long-term, those feelings were kept to yourself.

A few days stick out in your mind from these sweet months, one Saturday night in and slow Sunday morning that had become a quick favorite of yours. You’d gotten an unusual thunderstorm that night, ruining your plans to go mini-golfing with friends. Instead, the two of you had ended up with your apartment to yourselves and two bottles of cheap, screwtop rosé, courtesy of your roommate (you paid her back, of course, but without the opportunity to go out for your own alcohol, you were virtually left with no choice). A bottle was killed quickly, the second not far behind it, and you both fell into tipsy confessions. One came from Javier, admitting after you said you owned all of ABBA’s albums when you were younger (still did, obviously) that he ‘didn’t understand the fuss around ABBA.’

“What did you just say? I think I misheard you, because if you said what I think you said, you might be a psychopath.” You stared at him, completely deadpanned and disbelieving in his previous statement.

Javier rolls his eyes playfully, looking over at you from his spot sitting on the floor in front of the couch. Bottle of wine in his hand, he passes it back to you as he says, “C’mon, that’s a bit dramatic, cariño. I’m not a psychopath for not understanding ABBA. Just prefer stuff like, I dunno, Fleetwood Mac or Springsteen.”

“What is there to ‘understand?’ It’s just good fucking music! Springsteen wishes he was ABBA.”

“I don’t know how accurate that assumption is, hermosa.”

“Oh my god, I just have to educate you, I guess. Hold this.” You pass him back the bottle after taking a swig, unfurling yourself from your perch in the corner of the couch near him. You step around Javier seated on the floor, crossing the room to your record player. Flicking through the albums, you reach what you are looking for and carefully remove it from the sleeve. Placing it on the turntable and dropping the needle, the sweet melodies of “Angel Eyes” sound through the speakers.

Immediately, you turn to face Javi again, hand moving up to hold onto an air microphone as you sing along to the song. He leans further back, arms going up to his shoulders to spread against the seat of the couch. Brown eyes follow down your dancing form and back up to your face, an amused smirk quirking up under his mustache.

You perform the whole song for him, playfully singing the lyrics directed to him and at other times, dancing and singing like he wasn’t even in the room. As the record spins to the next track, you drop your air microphone and turn the volume down. Closing the gap between you and Javi, you take short steps and stand between his legs stretched out in front of him. His arms move from the couch cushions, motioning you down to his level. You oblige his silent request and kneel between his legs, a smug grin on your face.

“So, do you understand the fuss now? They’re so incredible, you just can’t help but want to sing and dance when their music plays.”

He tilts his head side to side, making a wavering gesture with his flat hand between you two.

“Eh, más o menos. I think they’re still okay, but I did thoroughly enjoy your performance. Definitely made me like the song a lot more.” An amorous smirk covers his face, his hands moving to your legs to hook them on the outside of his. He works to pull you closer on his lap, his eyes flitting around your face and back to meet your own as his touch lingers on your hips.

“Is that so? I guess I’ll just have to make up some choreography to the rest of my favorite songs to get you to like them.”

“I can get behind that idea, cariño. Can be my own little show every weekend.” Javi takes the pause between his response and your next quip to him, leaning closer to you and ghosting his lips over yours. Warm, humid breath fans gently across your chin and neck, a sensation that you don’t feel for long before his mouth is pressed against yours in a heated kiss. Hands find purchase anywhere they can, the two of you standing quickly and giggling as you make your way to your bedroom in a woozy, wine-drunk haze.

Clothes are pulled over each other’s heads, lips connecting again with fervor. Javi’s fingers work at the waistband of the cotton sleep shorts that you’re wearing, pushing them down without warning at the same time that you take a step back. The fabric around your ankles trips you backward, lips pulling away from Javi as you shriek in surprise.

His arms catch your waist before you can land on your bare ass, looking down at you with wide eyes and mouth shaped into a perfect ‘o’. He helps you stand up straight again as laughter falls from your lips, head rolling back at the sight of him startled.

“‘M sorry, cariño. Didn’t realize you were walking backward,” his voice mumbles out the apology, brown eyes softening with slight worry. Your giggles continue as your head shakes back and forth, hands finding his cheeks and squeezing gently to exaggerate the pout on his lips.

“It was funny, baby. Can’t be mad ‘cause you saved my poor butt from being bruised with your quick reflexes,” your soft laughter pulls a grin from him before he’s connecting your lips again, taking careful steps to guide you back to your bed.

The rest of your clothes are stripped off, and more giggles come from you when Javi gets frustrated with attempting to tug his belt from the loops in his jeans. His motor skills are less precise from the alcohol, and you’re thoroughly entertained by the antics from your own tipsy fog. He looks at you laying back on the bed, fully undressed and legs spread, a playful glare in his eyes that only makes you laugh more at the moment.

He grumbles something under his breath, finally getting the leather free from the last loop, throwing it down to the floor, and peeling himself from his tight jeans. Fully undressed, he crawls up the mattress to kneel between your legs, hands skimming across the velvety skin of your thighs. His frame hovers over you as he leans down to meet you in another kiss, breaths mingling with each other and a whimper swallowed by him when he slips his tongue against yours.

Javi moves one hand down the back of your thigh, fingers brushing the crease of your knee as he lifts it wider to let him closer to you. The feather touch tickles your skin there, and involuntary giggles slip out of your lips to the point where you have to pull away from the kiss, head pressed back into the pillow as you laugh. He catches on that you’re ticklish there, the sound of your laugh tugging a wide, satisfied smirk on his face. Fingers tickle your knee with purpose, your own hands gripping his shoulders as you plead between laughs.

“Javi, stop! It tickles, please!” Your begs only egg him on for another moment, his own chuckles exhaling through his lips before he concedes, lowering his hand to grip your calf instead.

The two of you easily fall back into heady kisses and feverish touches once you’ve caught your breath, both of you worked up to the point where your needs overcome your clumsy movements. Even as you only kiss, your heart beats faster. It occurs to you that you haven’t been like this with anyone else; comfortable enough to tease or giggle or act playful, and, at the same time, feeling the burning need to please him. The thought of it as more intimate than you’ve been before sends a shudder down your spine, arching your back to press yourself against his torso.

Minds clear for a moment, Javi takes himself in his hand and lines up with your entrance, rubbing against your wetness before slipping into you easily with one thrust. He pauses to let you adjust to the stretch of him, a groan falling to his lips at the grip of your walls around him. Lowered inhibitions and hazy minds make everything more sensitive until he can’t take the stillness anymore, hips moving to find a steady rhythm while he folds over you to kiss your neck.

Moaning his name, your eyes close to focus on the feeling of him inside of you, the drag of him in and out. As his name slips from your mouth, a breath of silence between the two of you lets you hear the music from the record still turning in the living room. An excited gasp leaves your lips, and Javi swings his hips harder at the reaction, head pulling away from your collarbone to look down at you.

A mischievous smirk is plastered on your face, his brow furrowing in confusion for a moment before you break out into song, singing along happily to “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” off of your Voulez-Vous vinyl.

“There’s not a soul out there, no one to hear my prayer! Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight! Won’t somebody help me chase the shadows away?” You’re incredibly off-key, voice breathy from the exertion of Javi thrusting into you. He groans as you start singing along, shaking his head as he can’t help the smirk on his face.

“You’re unbelievable. I’m literally inside you, cariño.”

“An ABBA song demands to be sung along to, Javier. No matter the time or place. Or activity.”

It’s his turn to laugh, an incredulous but affectionate look on his face as his hips continue to move. Something flashes in his eyes as he locks into your gaze, his smirk turning impish as he pauses his hips, pulling out of you completely and gathering your legs from either side of him. Confusion falls over your face while he manipulates your limbs into a new position, pressing them together and lifting them to rest your calves on one of his wide shoulders. As you open your mouth to question him, he fucks into you again, deeper and harder as he gets into a rhythm. It takes you a second to adjust, whimpers falling from your lips at the feeling of him filling you up completely before you gasp as you realize his thrusts are timed perfectly to the beat of the song.

Javi stares down at you, lustful and doting brown eyes locked with yours. A wide smile pulls the corners of your lips up, a loud laugh falling from your lips at the fact that he’s fucking you to ABBA. The laughs turn to moans quickly as two of his fingers work circles into your clit, the rhythm of the song providing you both with an ideal pace to chase your orgasms. You come ahead of Javi, his name falling from your mouth over and over as he continues to move his hips, the sound of skin on skin and loud moans from the both of you drowning out the music from the other room. Tight around him from your orgasm, it only takes a few short ruts of his hips before he’s spilling into you, a low rumble of pleasure as he finishes.

Chests move up and down quickly to catch your breaths, while Javi slowly pulls out of you, fingers gathering the mix of you two that drips out before it reaches your sheets. He makes quick work of finding his briefs to wipe you clean, discarding them quickly before falling to the mattress next to you.

Strong arms encase your waist, tugging you over to him to share soft kisses as the drunkenness catches up. Before both of you pass out completely, you close your eyes and mumble quietly, teasing evident in your tender tone.

“Bet you like ABBA a lot more now.”

A short exhale from his nose clues you into his humored reaction, his lips pressing to your forehead before his low timbre vibrates in your ear.

“Mi chica tonta, I think that’s my new favorite song.”

Your drunken mind paints a vision during your deep sleep. Watching as if you’re out of your own body, the vignette is Javi and you, in the middle of your living room as you were last night. This time there was no screw-top wine, something much better, more mature, with a deep burgundy color, sitting on the coffee table with two glasses next to it.

Bare feet pad against the low-pile area rug, one of Javi’s hands resting at your hip while the other held yours out to the side. Your remaining hand perches on his shoulder, fingertips feeling the muscle there as his arm moves to wrap around you further and press his large palm against the bottom of your spine.

Something slow and melodic played over the speakers of your record player, a tune that you recognize but can’t quite place in your subconscious. It directs you two into an easy sway around the small open square of flooring.

Your head rests on his shoulder, facing the large windows that look out onto San Antonio from your fourth-floor walk-up. The buildings around you are shorter, leaving your unit with a view of the city and expansive sky. Looking out onto the view, the sun is setting into a gorgeous burnt orange and maroon watercolor. Clouds are shadowed by the summer sun falling slowly behind them, and the lighting in your apartment changes subtly as the outside dims.

Lifting your gaze up to Javi, the two of you share a soft smile and your ghostly presence can see that he says something to you, but the sound is muffled as you’re pulled from the dream.

The memory of him in your mind melds into the memory of him laying next to you as you wake up, turning over to face him. His eyes are fluttering open, a pained groan rasping out as the harsh sunlight hits him. His head is quickly buried into the pillow under him, a soft chuckle falling from your lips at his dramatics.

The two of you sit in your bed with pounding headaches, not from being overly hungover, but from the decision to drink such cheap, sweet, and shit wine. Once you could bear the thought of leaving from under the covers, the two of you dress minimally and leisurely exit to the living room, your record from the night before still on the turntable. The candles and incense you lit the evening before all burned out, and he cleans up the ashes off the table while you put away the record and make a pot of coffee for the two of you.

Full mugs in hand, you carefully step from the kitchen back to the open living space, attempting not to spill a single drop. Javi cranes his neck to look back at you, a sleepy smile crossing his face and lighting up his eyes when you approach with the steamy beverage. He sits up from his reclined position, takes the drink, and sends you a soft thank you in his low, hoarse morning voice.

It was a slow start to the day with him, lounging around the couch and gradually depleting the coffee in your mugs. Your legs stretch across the couch as you lay back, and eventually, Javi creeps closer to you and sets your feet in his lap and rests his lukewarm mug on your bare thigh. His free hand runs fingertips up and down your calves, the goosebumps that raised calm down once he’s repeated the action a few times. It was the type of morning that those old jazz singers write songs about; everything and nothing happening, the two of you talking about things you won’t remember but having a laugh about them in the moment. You peek at Javi from behind your mug as you sip your coffee, thinking to yourself, that he's your best friend. And maybe more, too.

taglist: @swiftispunk @pedrit0-pascalit0 @lil-stark @joelsversion @mrsvedder12 @starsandsaints07 @wild-fauxed @rubyshouse @notes-from-my-journal @mi-place @killervirgosworld @paytonispunk @jakecockley @hydrangaces @jupitercorgi @nic0lodean @creedslove @westeros-needs-me @ikigailereve @the-casual-cat @marysucks-blog @midnightswithdearkatytspb @luamarieta @kaletastrophes @nasanatmfers @storyarcscribe @s3xymoonman @sylphene @asirenbyanyothername @ur-honey-child @frustratedpanda @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @nonbinarymothman @dieterbravo @theelishad @pascalislove @bigbutchenergee @starkovli @scrambledslut @atinylittlepain @pr0ximamidnight @beskarandblasters @johnwatsn @thetriumphantpanda

#javier #javier peña #javier pena #javi pena #javi peña #javier peña fanfic #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x afab!reader #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #me #writing

[granulesofsand]

A Guide to -conscious Terms with Examples

🗝️🏷️ paragraphs in orange refer to programming (and therefore RAMCOA)

We’re going back to -conscious terms. They’re easier to understand because they’re defined on pluralpedia and don’t have the aging that grows the meaning of phrases like possession form switching.

Possession Form: either experiencing alters as a) outside the body or b) taking over the body without shifting into the new alter. Uncommon variation of DID at the time of publish.

I’m going to define the words as I go, for anymany who identify with them, bringing them up in relation to our experiences.

We usually selves-describe as polyconscious, because it’s the highest degree of separation present in our system — most alter-to-alter switching works this way for us, though we also have a lot of subsystem switching that looks more monoconscious

Polyconscious: switching that feels like leaving or ‘coming to’ as you exit and enter front. Alters without innerworld access might ‘sleep’ when not fronting

Monoconscious: switching that feels like becoming the newly fronting alter. Could have memory barriers or not, could be median or multiple

Because we have both, we are more accurately a misaconscious or biconscious system. The structures of our system, however, rarely combine the two between subgroups, so we generally notice the polyconsciousness more in our front realm.

Misaconscious: a mix of polyconscious and monoconscious functioning

Biconscious: a system with two or more consciousness types

Our polyconscious switching feels like sitting next to someone at a piano bench; sometimes I can hear them play or fight them for the keys I want. They can get up and leave whenever, and someone could be next to me without me noticing if they’re sneaky or I’m not paying attention. Switching with other subgroup members is usually polyconscious for us.

Within my subsystem, we have a misaconscious switching that corresponds with our internal appearance. We are all Greys, and we can act as clones with set changes for each.

We can blend together and be hydraconscious with any other Grey by stepping into them (dropping our amnesia barriers), which makes us consciousflux.

Consciousflux: changing consciousness type

Hydraconscious: members have both individual (poly)consciousness and collective (mono)consciousness, like hydra heads. There might be a combined memory or a method of memory sharing

When we’re one alter, we have access to all the information each of us gathered. We’re still capable of talking amongst ourselves as separate entities, but we can let it blur if we ‘let go’.

We split to cover more ground; it used to be to spy on the others and report back to our perps, but now we do it for therapy — we can talk to different alters simultaneously, have one front and the others run around completing a task, become a general nuisance with higher numbers.

Depending on how we blend, we can lean into apiconsciousness or multiplexconsciousness, and we are always dynaconscious.

Apiconscious: individual (poly)consciousness with the ability to act as a hive-mind. The hive-mind bit can be more or less commonly used, noted as especially prominent for important decisions

Multiplexconscious: hydraconscious front and polyconscious headspace or innerworld; alters might have access to memories of others while fronting, but don’t continuously share them

Dynaconscious: alters can come and go from front as they please

Our subgroups shift around in proximity to front. Some groups were designed to stay far from front unless cued. They were generally polyconscious, but were taught to ‘slip in’ to front in an effort to make them less conspicuous.

These alters had to travel to get to front, and would ‘fade in’ as they grew nearer. They could keep information away from other fronters, so could be a subset of consciousflux called conciousslide. If they didn’t have secrets to keep, they could specify down to combiconscious.

Consciousslide: a change or shift in consciousness type depending on proximity to front

Combiconscious: polyconsciousness in headspace/innerworld, hydraconsciousness in co-consciousness, and monoconscious in front

Before one orbital subsystem cracked (split along submember lines to make each independent), they were cephaconscious. They were able to coexist simultaneously in our otherworld, but their switching was more of a shifting. They had nested subsystems that were mutoconscious, whose members existed within the same form always.

Cephaconscious: alters who are monoconscious at front, but polyconscious in the headspace/innerworld

Mutoconscious: alters who are monoconscious at front, and hydraconscious in the headspace/innerworld

Some polyconscious alters are seraconscious, the opposite of dynaconscious. They don’t blend well, or at all, with others.

Seraconscious: a alter or front whose consciousness can’t be entered or left

The one I’m thinking of has admin access to several hierarchy subsystems (ranked subgroups), and can’t turn off that function without an entire fleet of automatons going offline. Plus the general chaos of unmonitored children and active persecutors. Anyone who successfully joined up would have to deal with that too, but it’s not a problem cause we can’t do it.

Our system also has a gatekeeper to our front realm (headspace) that used to make us fixumconscious. They can roam around the Dome (front realm) now and are less bound to the external reality, but they can only get into otherworld if the body is unconscious.

Fixumconscious: an alter, group, or system that has to integrate/blend with another consciousness to front

We might still count? But the gatekeeper we used to blend through as our shell no longer serves that purpose; they rearranged the floating fragments in the Dome to hold the information we need, and they’re so tiny that it’s not the same sensation even in bulk.

If we aren’t, we would be raconscious. A good amount of our subsystems are raconscious — they don’t have any ‘lens’ alter or part that the front through, though they may still have a ‘blanket self’ they all identify with.

Raconscious: an alter, group, or system that doesn’t require stepping into another consciousness to front

Because our Dome is large (probably), we can have a lot of fronters occupying the same space and thinking concurrently. I imagine we were ‘trained’ to allow at least the programmed alters to coexist this way.

It does work to our advantage to have the resources to be conscious simultaneously; having that ability defines paraconsciousness. If we did have to learn the skill, we would have been unuconscious beforehand.

Paraconscious: a high capacity for hosting consciousnesses, like more bandwidth for headmates

Unuconscious: a low capacity for hosting consciousness, which can lead to dissociation and identity confusion between alters. It can be brought up with practice

One of our healing goals is control over dissociative barriers; in a system with total control, or who has focused on integration, they could lower the barriers completely and have a systemwide blend. Some systems can do this, or at least achieve a similar effect (as if before syscovery), spontaneously. Either would be dualconscious.

Dualconscious: systems who can maintain both a singlet and a system consciousness at different times, with or without their intent

Alters, groups, or systems can have murkier relationships with consciousness. They could be outside any description, unaware of which labels fit, or not care to use any labels.

Overlap exists between eniconscious and quoiconscious systems; one is outside the labels, the other is uncertainty around them.

Eniconscious: feeling no label fits (especially when headmate is unconventional) or not knowing enough about the system to decide on another label

Quoiconscious: not knowing enough about the labels or the system to decide on a consciousness type

#pluralgang #cdd system #osddid #did osdd #tw ramcoa #consciousness #the autocorrect refers back to my spelling to correct words #but it didn’t recognize them as ‘correct’ #unless it was in orange

[novaethecosplayer]

Hawks nodded and listened intently throughout the beginning part of the meeting with the leaders of the newly merged groups creating the Paranormal Liberation Front. He was only here because Dabi and other members wanted information from him about the Heros and the Hero Commision. They also wanted to review some of the clips they received from the cameras on his wings--ask him questions and dig further for more information. He didn't notice you walk in through the doors behind him, but the moment you began walking the length of the table to your spot--his eyes were glued to you. He really couldn't help it. He liked watching your hips move as you walk and seeing the air of authority that you carry with you as you take your place as a leader. Hawks has to mentally force himself to look away and tune back into whatever Skeptic was saying.

He continued to glance your way as his thoughts trailed back to you. He always made an effort to steer his attention back to whoever was speaking. He would be completely off guard if he were to be asked anything as his attention is divided in two--80% of it on you. He liked how you make jokes to a teammate next to you under your breath, the way you snicker and laugh at your own jokes, or when bored how you mess with your hair, clothes, jewelry, or fingers--whichever is more convenient. Speaking of your fingers, what he would give to have them tangled with his own, caressing his body, or entwined with his hair.

"Hawks!" He finally heard his name being called. He's not sure how many times Dabi had said it already. His head and attention snapped to the irritated patchwork villain. "Firstly, pay attention!" He chidded and Hawks swore he heard you laugh--causing him to glance your way to confirm his suspicions when he saw your hand over your mouth to hide your amusement. "Secondly," his eyes snapped back to the enraged flame-user. "We asked if you have more Intel on the Hero Commision. Your last meeting with them was short and seemed to have nothing being said at all."

Hawks was usually good with facades and smooth lies that helped in these situations. But today was not Hawks’s day because he was distracted by how you laughed at him. He would become your personal court jester, if it meant he could hear your laugh more.

"Some meetings are just like that. I have another one scheduled soon. It should have more information." Hawks told the truth, hoping to appease his "boss" within the criminal organization. His brain raced with thoughts of you hence he couldn't come up with anything better to lie about or give Dabi.

"How soon?"

"Monday at noon."

"Fine. Keep us updated. You're dismissed." Dabi waved his hand to indicate Hawks should leave now. The rest of the members had other things he wasn't trusted to know yet. Which is fine, Twice will tell him later.

As he stood to leave, he watched as you began to talk. He focused on the way your lips moved to form each word precisely and accurately. He noticed in-between sentences or even in the middle when there is a pause you would lick your lips. He felt his heart flutter at seeing your lips wet. If only they were on his own lips, kissing him feverishly. He would love to have them pressed against his neck, his chest, his temple, his stomach and down his happy trail. He wished he could see what they would look like wrapped around his--

"Hawks! Leave!" A member of the Liberation Front demanded and Hawks nodded and promptly left the room without a second glance otherwise he might be captivated again. He really needs to get his head back onto the mission. Find out what their next steps were and report back to the Hero Commision.

He shook his head In a miserable attempt to clear you from his mind. He shouldn't be thinking such things about a villian anyways. He's a hero, he puts people like you behind bars--yet he is the one wishing to be caught by you.

After a couple hours of gathering intel by mingling with others, your meeting finally ended. He was reprimand by Dabi for not paying attention and for not following orders the first time.

After getting his ass chewed out, he heard your laugh again as Dabi walked away. He pushed down a blush as he turned to the beautiful sound you made.

"You're really stupid, you know." You insulted him, but he would take it. He would take a billion insults as long as you are the one who says them. "You're already on thin fucking ice, hero" you mocked his title. Once again, he would take it and keep the words you say to him close to his heart even if they are meant the pierce it instead. "But not pay attention during a high priority meeting is just idiotic and just asking your ass to get kicked out."

"You're right." He agreed easily, bowing his head in shame as you shoulder checked hum as you walked by--contact that he would keep close to his heart as well.

"And another thing dumbass.." You call over your shoulder, he glances up at you to see you smirking mischievously and a certain twinkle in your eye, telling him he won't like your next words. "If you continue checking me out, you're not gonna like where you end up. Or rather, where your body ends up."

He swallows. He knows it's a threat. It's obviously a death threat. A warning. But, he couldn't help but be attracted in that moment. He couldn't help how in love he felt. He couldn't stop himself from feel desire for you. "Anything for you, Boss." He decided to cast his eyes down and bow to you to show his devotion to you. The appropriate title for your rank compared to his rolled off his tongue easily.

He saw your retreating feet pause in their movements and begin to turn towards him. No matter how much he wanted to glance up and see your face--was it contorted into anger? Shock?--he kept his stance.

He watched as your feet moved to turn away from him, his heart feeling like it was being ripped apart. Then hurried footsteps, a hand on his collar, and a door being opened and closed within seconds. He was surprised you had pulled him into a nearby empty room. He was not surprised he let you. Even as you press him against the wall and glare down to him, he is not surprised he lets you manipulate his body as you wish. Your own personal ragdoll.

"Anything, Hero?" You ask as you look down at him. He can see the wild look in your eyes that he often finds when battling villian. You seem satisfied with his response.

"Anything" He whispers out, unable to hold his voice steady.

You grin maliciously and he couldn't imagine what a world of pain he just got himself into.

If only he focused on his mission.

#mha hawks #hawks x reader #bnha hawks #x reader

[downwiththeficness]

Shadow and Veil-Chapter Forty One

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction.  Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his  best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty  well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run  her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life  from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings  for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed.  You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there  are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen  eyes.  This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence,  and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O  dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should  not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to  other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.  

Word Count: ~4,100

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They were ostentatious about it.

For days, Horacio and Eva went out into the city and made themselves known.

Or, more accurately, Diego made himself known.

Eva was surprised at how fast Horacio slipped back into the persona. It washed over him as soon as he pulled on the ridiculous baby blue coat from his suitcase. There was flint in his eyes and his jaw was permanently clenched. His walk was slower, meandering. He stopped acknowledging her presence when they were in public.

For her part, Eva fell into old habits. She kept her eyes down and spoke only when she had to. Whenever Diego reached for her, she made herself flinch. To anyone who was looking, Eva barely existed. She was a shadow in the heavy light of Diego Jimenez.

And, that was fine.

She got to sit off to the side while Diego had ‘meetings’ with various strangers, eating and drinking whatever she thought looked good on the menu. Some of the people she was now surrounded by gave her questioning looks, but very few mentioned it. Those that did were met with a glare so furious that she felt bad for them.

While she enjoyed the scene being played out in real time, Eva listened to the conversation. She never thought of herself as a particularly devious criminal. Nor did she ever think that she was doing anything that couldn’t be replicated by the average person. But—God—were some of the people running drugs in and out of the area doing it the hard way.

Too many bribes.

Too many risks.

Too many variables that could lead to a complete and total clusterfuck.

It wasn’t her problem, though.

Eva was just an actor in an elaborate farce. She might be playing her part, but she never forgot her primary goal. What Horacio did to make himself look legitimate was irrelevant as long as she got what she wanted. What the other players wanted in the game was even less of her concern. Even if they were idiots.

She was swirling a fruit filled cocktail that vaguely reminded her of refajo, waiting on an order of Gordita de Harina when the conversation she wasn’t supposed to even remotely understand became touched with fire.

The men Javier was working with were, understandably, putting their lives on the line to let Javier and Horacio attempt to take out their competition. And, given that risk, they wanted more than the agreed upon payment.  They weren’t even being subtle about it—telling Horacio and Javier outright that they would pay up or be exposed.

She sipped at her drink while she watched Horacio take that information in and start to make a series of decisions. He could pay them more—the States was fronting the bill on the endeavor—but, Eva knew Horacio well enough to predict that he wouldn’t give in so easily. What she wasn’t very sure of was how Diego was going to execute the plan Horacio settled on.

Back when she had no idea Horacio existed, Diego seemed like the kind of criminal that was both brutal and shrewd. When he made a move, it was quick, effortless, and cutting. No indecision. Just action.

A dangerous combination.

Horacio looked down his nose at them, letting the silence hang above the table. In the meantime, Eva’s food arrived and she happily munched on the crunchy cookies while the others at the table engaged in a tense stare down.  It didn’t last more than thirty seconds, or so, but it certainly felt longer.

Horacio sniffed, “This is not a conversation to have in public.”

The two men they were dealing with nodded, saying that they had somewhere to talk privately. Eva felt the hair on her arms rise in warning. They were being way too casual about having to go to a secondary location to get what they wanted.

Horacio seemed to be one step ahead of her, “No. We have a place. My partner will give you an address.”

She smiled into her drink while they moved back and forth through the argument. At first, it seemed like neither side would give in and that they would end at an impasse. But, eventually, Javier mentioned a secondary payout—something to sweeten the deal—and the argument ended.

The group stood to leave. Eva mourned the rest of her meal, but threw back the cocktail in one long gulp to tide her over for the next hour or two. In the parking lot, she looked for a familiar face while keeping her head low and her shoulders hunched.

Josh hadn’t yet made an appearance, but he had to know they were in town by now. Diego was making all kinds of noise and Josh would have to be both blind and deaf if he failed to notice. Especially if he was as keen on getting back at Diego as he seemed.

She wondered how he would do it. How would Josh approach the person he probably considered his worst enemy, the person who had brought down everything he’d worked to build. If she knew him (and she did know him) Josh’s approach would definitely be dramatic. There might even be a speech.

From the backseat of the car, Eva asked, “Where are we going?”

Javier answered, “Safe house. Kind of.”

“Kind of?” When the two of them were silent too long, she prompted, “I asked a question.”

Horacio sighed and glanced at her in rear view mirror, “Its more of an interrogation room.”

She blinked rapidly, “You plan on interrogating them?”

“No.”

Javier’s voice was low, and there was something in it that hinted at danger. Eva stared at the back of his head, feeling all of her questions fall away. They rode in silence for the next half hour.

The ‘interrogation room’ was actually a house far out of the city. Eva stared at it, thinking that it really wasn’t much of a house. It was more like factory that hadn’t seen use in at least a decade. The brick facade was crumbling and there was a long, wide trench that must have carried water at one time or another. A few of the windows were broken and there were birds nesting in the divots of the roof.

Walking in, Eva was immediately hit with a wave of dust. The compact dirt floor was cracked and each step brought up more plumes of dirt. Out of date machinery and furniture was piled in the far corner, leaving most of the space empty and bare.

“Well, this is a shit house,” Eva muttered around a cough.

Javier laughed, his hand coming up to cover his face.

“What?”

“It was actually used to make fertilizer,” he said, still laughing.

Eva looked around, “Yeah. I could see it.”

Horacio put his hands on his hips, “Our boys are not far behind. We need to set up.”

Javier, knowing what Horacio wanted, began to look through the various parts and furniture. He seemed to be looking for something in particular, tossing broken pieces carelessly to the side.

Eva stood next to Horacio, “What are you setting up for?”

He cut her a sidelong glance, “We have to make an example of them before they decide to double cross us.”

She made a soft sound of question.

His mouth thinned, “If they inform the cartel that we’re masquerading as one of them, we’ll have bigger problems than just your ex-husband.”

“Wouldn’t the government step in?” she asked, “We’re here because they asked us to be.”

Javier set down a pair of chairs and tugged a table from the wall. He was obvious about refusing to look in Eva’s direction. Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. There was tension between the two of them that was unfamiliar and suspicious. With narrowed eyes, she looked to Horacio for an answer.

Horacio ran his hand over his hair, “It will only go so far. We might get an hour’s head start. Enough to get out of the country—or, most of the way.”

She suppressed the memory of fleeing to Texas, of crossing the border with one eye looking over her shoulder. Eva pointed at the open door, “Those men want money or our lives? Is that what you’re telling me?”

He nodded.

Her head dropped back and she looked towards the ceiling, “I should have gotten a drink to go.”

Horacio chuckled and reached into his jacket pocket. From it, he produced a flask, which he handed over to her.

Eva took it and lifted onto her toes to press a short kiss to his mouth, “You’re an angel.”

He hid a shy smile, then cleared his throat, “You should wait in the car.”

She spun open the top of the flask, “That’s not going to happen. But, I’ll go sit over there. Nice and quiet. Won’t say a word.”

Horacio looked unhappy, but gave an eventual nod.

Eva sauntered over to the furniture pile and found a chair that didn’t look like it would break under her weight. She dragged it to the far end of the room, letting the wood scrape against the floor the whole way. Sitting daintily, she twisted open the flask and sipped Horacio’s preferred tequila while she waited for the action to begin.

A car rumbled up the road and pulled noisily to a stop near the large, open door. Voices chatted amiably outside for a moment before the two men wandered in. Horacio greeted them, all smiles and smooth words. Javier was a little more terse, but Eva couldn’t see an ounce of trepidation in their guests.

At least, she couldn’t see it until Horacio pulled the gun from the back of his waistband and shot one of them in the head.

Eva’s whole body jerked. Her ears rang with the single burst of gunfire. She gripped the flask tight while her knees drew up towards her chest. Her heart hammered painfully against her ribs. It was difficult for her to draw breath. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t.

Covered and blood and brain matter, the surviving man went for the gun holstered against his hip only to have Javier hit him hard with a two by four. Eva cringed at the sound of it, knowing that he had to be seeing stars.

Kneeling on the dirt floor, blood pouring from a wound on his temple, he spit blood and curses at Horacio. He was trying to be brave, was even looking Horacio in the eye. But, Eva could see the slow panic spreading across his face. It settled into the creases of his eyes and the tension in his jaw, ruining his every effort.

Horacio loomed over him, speaking in low, smooth, Spanish, “I’m sorry for your friend, Mateo.”

He was not sorry.

Mateo spit more blood.

She was struck with a visceral memory of Horacio standing in a dark basement, staring down at a man with much the same expression on his face. In hindsight, she knew that Horacio saved four people from being tortured to death that night. This, though, this was very, very different.

Eva drank deeply from the flask.

Javier hauled Mateo into the chair and took two steps away. He pulled out a gun of his and held it at the ready with the barrel pointed towards the floor. Horacio watched Javier until he gave a nod, then shoved his weapon back into the waistband of his pants.

“I’m not a man who takes threats lightly, Mateo,” he said, genially. “But, I understand that you don’t know that about me.  I will let this go one time.”

The flask, halfway to Eva’s mouth, paused. A slow, hot wave of emotion rolled over her. It was both strange and familiar. A taunt from her subconscious.

Horacio was hunched over, finger in Mateo’s face. The afternoon sun cut across his eyes, illuminating the brown so that it gleamed. Sweat gathered at his temples. The muscle in his jaw worked as he explained what was going to happen next.

“You know who I represent,” he said, “and you know what I can do to you and anyone you care about.” Horacio paused a moment, “I’ll make you disappear. I’ll make it as if your entire life never existed.”

That was...one hell of a threat. Eva felt a little bad for the guy. He probably had no idea what kind of man he was dealing with, what kind of man he’d tried to extort.

Mateo, bless his heart, replied, “You don’t scare me.”

Horacio straightened. His shoulders blotted out the sun’s rays, casting Mateo in mostly shadow, “Maybe I don’t. But, what about your boss? What will he do if he finds out you’ve defected?”

Mateo’s denial was cut off with a sharp slap across the face. Horacio leaned down again, “We’ll keep you safe for a while. Hide you away. A few weeks. A month. But, what will he do when we give you back to him?”

Eva shivered.

Tipping the flask back, Eva drained it and replaced the cap. Feeling warm for a number of reasons, she crossed her arms and tried to pay attention to what Horacio was saying instead of how much she wanted to kiss away the snarl on his lips.

“You’re going to take the money we agreed on,” Horacio sneered, “You’re going to to job you agreed to. And, when we’re done, you’ll never see us—or your competition—again. ¿Claro?”

It took Javier pulling back the hammer on his pistol for Mateo to nod. Even then, Eva wasn’t convinced. She didn’t like the way this went down. Didn’t like that there wasn’t any assurance that Mateo was going to cooperate. He might be pissed off enough to run back to his boss and make up a story to cover his ass. Or, worse, tell the truth.

The unknown made her antsy.

Her head jerked up at the sound of another car driving closer at high speed.

On alert, Eva got up and ran over to the door, shading her eyes with her hand so that she could peer up the road. She couldn’t see the car, but the plume of dust behind it was enough for her to turn back to Horacio and yell that Mateo had ordered back up.

Horacio, gun already in hand, aimed and fired. Mateo swung hard to the side, dead before he hit the ground.

Javier gave a frustrated yell, “We needed him, Carrillo!”

“We’ll find another,” Horacio called over his shoulder. He grabbed Eva by the arm and dragged her to the car. The keys were pressed into her hand, “Get back to the apartment. Drive fast. Don’t stop.”

“I’m staying here with you,” she spit, despite the rising fear.

Horacio’s hand was gripping her jaw tight in a flash, “You will listen to me! Go. Now.”

It was the voice of an alpha giving a clear and indisputable order. Eva couldn’t have disobeyed, if she wanted to. She got into the driver’s seat while Horacio yanked a case she knew contained several guns and extra ammunition from the back seat.

He made his way to the front of the car and leaned into the open window to kiss her. They shared a short, meaningful look before he pointed to the road and walked away.

Eva started the car and gunned it away from the factory. She drove without care for the law or the other car roaring towards her. The only sound she could hear was the wind blowing past and the tone of Horacio’s voice as he ordered her to go.

Her hands squeezed the steering wheel until they ached. They didn’t loosen until she got back to the city. Even then, Eva kept watching the cars around her to make sure she wasn’t being followed.

After parking in the lot, she got out and hurried to the door. With it closed behind her, Eva took what felt like the first breath of air since Horacio handed her the keys. It burned in her lungs, made her suck in several more.

Eva turned the deadbolt and rushed to the bathroom so that she could throw up a few shots of tequila and her meager breakfast. On the floor, she rested her head against the cool tile and tried to calm down.

Horacio and Javier were well trained. They had weapons and they knew how to handle themselves. She knew this. But, all the knowing didn’t put her mind to rest. The slow creep of panic kept coming in spite of it all.

Fuck.

She hadn’t even looked at the other car as it whizzed past her—didn’t know how many of them there were. A flurry of thoughts went round in her head, most of them beginning with the words, ‘what if’. Not a one of them made Eva feel any better.

Stop making a scene, Birdie.

Eventually, with effort, she was able to get herself up and off the floor. She washed her face in the sink and patted it dry. Then, out of an abundance of caution, Eva pulled the gun from her toiletry bag and loaded it.

She went around the apartment and closed all of the curtains, carrying the weapon with her every step of the way. Nervous energy made her pace for a solid ten minutes before her feet began to protest. With nothing to do but wait, Eva sat on the couch and watched the door.

The sun sank low and the already dim apartment grew even dimmer. Eva didn’t want to chance turning on a light. She would sit in the dark all night, if she had to. Anything to make herself feel safe.

A quick, firm knock made her jump, made her lift the gun and aim. Eva blinked rapidly to focus her vision while she held her breath. She stared at the blank door, as if she could see through it to the other side.

“Eva, its me.”

Oh, thank God.

Eva rushed to the door and unlocked it. Horacio moved past her, hustling towards the bathroom without saying a word. Confused, she locked the door again and followed him, setting the gun down on the island on the way.

“What happened?”

He turned the corner to the bedroom, “We handled it.”

She scoffed, “Obviously. But, what happened?”

Eva walked into the bathroom and stopped cold. Horacio was covered in blood stains. On his suit, on his shirt, in his hair. There was a bruise blooming above his eye. He looked like he’d been through hell—and, she guessed he had been.

“Are you hurt?” she rasped, unable to keep the tremble from her voice.

He looked up from where he was unbuttoning his shirt, “No.”

She pointed at the stains, “So, that blood isn’t yours?”

Horacio’s hands paused, “No.”

Eva watched his face carefully. It gave nothing away. Not a single hint as to what he might be thinking. The man she knew was all locked up behind an impenetrable wall.

“I don’t like when you keep me in the dark,” she said lowly.

He sighed, and she could see the faintest crack in his composure. Then, because she needed something to do with her hands, she stepped forward and pushed the jacket from his shoulders. It fell to the floor with a dull thud that echoed off the tile. The tremor in her fingers returned as she helped him out of his clothes. Every layer revealed more scratches, more bruises. More blood.

“I thought you said you weren’t hurt.”

Eva looked up at him with accusation in her tone. Horacio’s mouth thinned and he tossed his head gently to the side. She narrowed her eyes at him, earning a low grunt. Holding his gaze, Eva stared hard while she waited for more.

Naked, he leaned over and started the shower, “Its superficial.”

Eva hummed in a disbelieving tone, but didn’t comment further. She watched him climb into the shower and tilt his head back so that the spray of water washed down his face and neck. In profile and obscured by the glass of the shower door, she could almost fool herself into thinking this was just another night. Just another moment of casual intimacy between them.

The bottom of the tub went pink.

Blowing out a breath, Eva gathered up his clothes and held them at arm’s length so that she could throw them in the trash. She couldn’t say that she was sad to see that jacket go, but wished she had just tossed it while he wasn’t looking and not because of the blood spatter.

Eva dusted off her hands and went back to the bathroom. She hopped up onto the bathroom counter to wait for Horacio to finish showering. He was focused on scrubbing his fingernails against his palm. Eva got comfortable, willing to let him take all the time he needed.

She wanted a story and she was going to get it.

He was surprisingly quick about it, cutting off the water in just a few minutes. From the steam, he emerged and wrapped a towel around his waist. She allowed herself to admire the view while he ran a towel over his hair and face. Under different circumstances, she might be inclined to coax him over to her, to tug the towel from his hands and pull him into the space between her legs.

“What happened?” Eva asked lowly while she resisted a dreamy sigh.

Horacio sighed and set the towel down on the counter, “Its not very complicated.”

“Then, it should be easy to tell me.”

A tiny smirk appeared and disappeared in the space of a heartbeat, “Four men in the car. Javier climbed to the rafters to pick off a few as they got out. From there, it was easy to defend our position.”

Eva nodded, “How did you get home?”

He shrugged, “We took their car.  Windshield was broken, but it ran.”

She almost laughed at the thought of Horacio and Javier stealing the car of their would-be assassins, “Is that...it?”

Horacio leaned a hip on the counter and crossed his arms, “We kept one alive for a while. It was mostly his blood…” he gestured towards the shower.

Eva swallowed down the image of Horacio killing another man, “Did he tell you who sent them?”

A hum of confirmation.

“And?”

His mouth spread into an unkind smile, “It wasn’t Mateo.”

She drew back, “Who?”

The smile widened a fraction, “Josh.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No,” he replied with a chuckle, “We got his attention.”

Eva didn’t want to hope too much that they were finally getting where they needed to go with Josh. But, her chest fluttered with anticipation, “You think he’ll come for us soon?”

“I do.”

She glanced to the side in thought, “We should lay a trap.”

There was amusement in his voice when he replied, “I assume you have an idea.”

Eva met his gaze, “Why would you think that?”

Horacio rolled his eyes and reached out to put a hand on her thigh, “Eva, you’ve been plotting the entire time we’ve been in Mexico. Now, out with it.”

Abashed at having been caught, she leaned into him a bit and said, “I’m disappointed that he sent four men to kill you.”

A blink, “You think he should have sent more?”

“I think he should have come for you, himself,” Eva replied.

Horacio’s brows rose, “You said he was a coward.”

“He is. I just thought he’d get pissed off enough to overcome it.”

The hand on her thigh squeezed gently, “You can’t be right all the time, Eva.”

Huffing, Eva slid from the counter and walked around Horacio to the bedroom, “Maybe we have to up the ante a bit.”

Horacio followed her, “How?”

Eva thought about it while she pulled off the dusty clothes she’d been wearing all day, “I don’t know.”

A sense of defeat sat ill in her belly. Eva thought she knew Josh so well, so deeply that her plan would work. Maybe he’d changed since she left Louisiana. She certainly had.

Horacio sidled up behind her and pulled her into his chest. Eva let her weight fall into him, resting her hands on the forearms that circled her waist. His skin was warm against hers. His chin dropped to her shoulder, “You were right about one thing.”

She turned her head, laying her cheek against his, “What’s that?”

“I have something he thinks is his,” Horacio rumbled. His hand pressed against her stomach, “But, I don’t think he knows how much I have her.”

A smile flitted across Eva’s mouth.

He kissed her shoulder, her neck, lips hovering over the gland beneath her ear, “I think we should show him.”

#Shadow and Veil #Narcos #Horacio carrillo #carrillo #maurice compte #au #a/b/o dynamics

[dearhargrove]

sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

◗ ʙɪʟʟʏ ʜᴀʀɢʀᴏᴠᴇ

Heat my fav <;3 2,974 words

→ basically the sauna scene from season 3 but with you. Also, I changed the events a bit so beware

Heat 2 1,384 words

→ After the events in the sauna and you waking up again, you and Billy enjoy some time alone. Well, as alone as you can be with six kids standing in the doorway.

beat up (by love)

→ You and Billy had been secretly dating for 2 months when he comes to school to find you in the middle of Carol and her friends.

Stranger things have happened in the nighttime 4,465 words

→ You can’t shake off the unpleasant feeling in your stomach the closer you seem to get to “Watergate�� as Dustin named it.

fights and sleep overs 973 words

→ that scene in S2 E8 where Neill finds out Billy didn’t babysit Max and gets super mad. You’re hiding under his bed as you and Billy had forgotten the time and you had stayed too late.

Not being able to stand Neil’s bullshit, you step in. (Dialogue between Billy and Neil not accurate)

Stuck request about 5.8k

→ Losing you was probably, no, definitely Billy’s biggest mistake - and he’s made a lot of mistakes in his life. Whenever he sees Max and her friends, he thinks back to you saving all of them, in a ‘mall fire’ as it was known to the public. When the murdering starts again and he travels with the others he doesn’t inform anyone when he starts hearing the clock too. After all, death meant being with you in the end, right?

losing control request 1,170 words

→ Driving home from a date leads to a car crash. Not seeing any severe injuries you go on your way, only for you to start losing control.

seeking comfort 2,186 words

→ You’re uncomfortable after a few guys catcall you. Seeing Billy still at his car, likely waiting for Max, you go to him for comfort.

Suffocating in your love 3,235 words

→ One of Billy’s friends goes too far while drunk and ends up choking you. Close to passing out Billy comes to your rescue.

Shy 3,950 words

→ You were the quiet girl with a fancy car that everyone knew but no one really knew - and it intrigued him.

Cry baby, cry baby request

→ One of Billy’s friends makes an offhanded comment about you and when reaching out for your amused boyfriend he pushes you away - leading to a fight and flustered Billy coming to apologize after.

Love you so bad request 2,324 words

→ After another typical fight with Billy, you end things once and for all.

Leaving tonight request 1,303 words

→ request: So never done this before lol, but i was wondering if you could do a Billy H (from stranger things) X Reader. Where readers parents are abusive and find out she's bisexual (maybe b/c someone told them, idk) and she goes to Billy, since their dating and he already new about it, for comfort. And its all fluff??

Change of heart request

→ Dustin never liked Billy, but he definitely didn’t like you dating Billy. Until said boy shows up on the brink of losing consciousness but still manages to swoon over you. Yeah, that might have changed Dustin’s mind.

(Un)welcome surprise request about 1k

→ Being the most popular girl and cheerleader meant tons of attention. But the only attention that counts was that of your boyfriend, which the school finds out in a rather surprising way.

Getting through request 2007 words

→ When your mission fails and hundreds of Demodogs (as Dustin had named them) attack, Billy and Steve are quick to put their rivalry aside and help you. You don’t come out completely unscathed - at least not mentally.

Closer and closer request 2,783 words

→ Getting closer to Billy meant feeling more and more bothered by how little you knew about whatever lifestyle he had going on. So, you pretend to know what it was like to drink regularly, smoke and, well, sleep with someone.

Injured 707 words

→ You’re clumsy and trip over your own feet, due to the hurry you’re in to not be late to school. Spraining it wasn’t your intention. or, Billy gets incredibly protective when he finds he has to get you to the hospital instead of school.

Caring 858 words

→ Just as Billy is about to ask you out, he watches another dude make a move on you. He couldn’t let that happen - so he solves it in his usual way.

You're the only one I got my sights on request 1,342 words

→ Billy has always been known to never be with a girl for more than one night. When whatever it was between you and him evolves into more he reassures you he only wants you - no matter his reputation.

Lazy day request 1,175 words

→ just some sweet, soft moments with Billy!

hugs & pizza 993 words

→ you had a shitty day, but what are boyfriends there for if not cheering you up (and getting you pizza)?

Cliché Christmas? request 664 words

→ Billy came over after you called him asking to, expecting you just wanting to cuddle or something. Now he was in the kitchen making hot chocolate and listening to you rant about Christmas movies.

Inexperienced request 600 words

→ You loved him and you were sure of it. He was sweet, romantic and respectful (if he wanted to). Yes, he came with trauma and emotional baggage, but he tried his best. So why was it so hard to forget your inexperience and kiss him?

Neck pain request 637 words

→ Your neck has been aching recently so Billy decides to come over and take of you

◗ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙʏᴇʀs

Spring in California

→ Being the new girl in school was by far the worst thing. Not only did you have no friends, but everyone picked at you for fun. That changes, when two new students from Hawkins arrive and you quickly become closer than expected to them.

a little bit in love with you request 1,044 words

→ On your way to confess to your best friend you would’ve never expected hearing him admit his feelings for someone - seemingly - else. Heartbreak (and one big misunderstanding) ensue.

about that day request 6,141 words

→ Becoming friends with Will was the best thing that had ever happened to you. Him telling you he wished he never met you, broke you. So, meeting him again after months could never end well, right?

Again and again request 813 words

→ request: can i request a will byers with male reader where will has a reoccurring nightmare surrounding the reader and when he sees the reader since the nightmare he starts crying and you comfort him.

Hot Summer nights request 647 words

→ You and Will spent some time together the day before Dustin arrives.

◗ ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴍᴜɴsᴏɴ

Pizza, guitars and D&D request

→ after escaping the lab you wander around the woods of Hawkins. Getting lost and a boy with curly hair and the biggest, brown eyes finding you was never in your plans. Not that you mind.

D&D with the freaks request 864 words

→ Being with Eddie was one of the best things, if not the best things that ever happened to you.

2 AM 1,018 words

→ Eddie finds out you don’t have a place to stay the night after a fight with your parents. He doesn’t hesitate to pick you up.

Batle 3,712 words

→ After escaping from the lab you get sucked into the Upside Down, searching for somewhere to hide you find a trailer, what better place could there be? There they find you, hidden away in Eddie’s home.

◗ sᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʜᴀʀʀɪɴɢᴛᴏɴ

Jealousy, Jealousy request about 1k

→ While waiting for your best friend’s sister - Max - your boyfriend gets jealous and afterwards insecure. It’s up to you to make him feel better.

◗ sᴇʀɪᴇs

Spring in California (Will Byers x f!reader)

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #will byers #will byers x reader #billy hargrove x reader

[nothing0fnothing]

I'm 25.

There are millions of survivors of narcissistic abuse. There is so much research on their experiences. Let's not discount the experiences of survivors because we're triggered. That's called gaslighting.

Narcissistic abuse is not the same as verbal and emotional abuse. The purpose for it, the experience of it and the healing from it is different from emotional and verbal abuse.

The term "narcissistic abuse" doesn't label anybody who isn't an abuser. If you're worried the term "narcissistic abuser" may apply to you, I have some bad news...

Your disorder is called that because the traits you display are narcissistic. The traits aren't called narcissistic because of your disorder.

Narcissism and NPD are not one in the same. Your diagnosis reads " Narcissistic Personality Disorder" and not "Narcissist" for a reason. The terms have different meanings. Narcissism is a discriptive word for self absorbed, selfish or self important behaviour. Narcissistic Personality Disorder is a personality disorder characterised by some narcissistic traits and other traits that have nothing to do with narcissism. You might self identify as a narcissist, but that's not your disorder.

"The word narcissist can't be separated from the disorder because of people like me" who advocate for education regarding how narcissism and narcissistic abuse have nothing to do with cluster B disorders? Um OK. I won't stop advocating that people educate themselves on this issue but it's really weird you want me to.

again super weird you've came to the vent account of someone openly discussing childhood emotional, physical and sexual abuse and told them to stop crying. Was that a well considered choice on your part or were your emotions making all the decisions when you typed that one? Because for someone advocating on behalf of cluster b disorders and against the stigma they illicit its maybe not the best choice to come to someone's page to gaslight and emotionally abuse them.

I understand that it's hard to have the disorder categorised by clinically high narcissistic traits and it's not nice when people misunderstand what that means and how it affects your life. But narcissistic abuse is real. And you are not the victim in a complete strangers abuse simply because you have a cluster B disorder.

@divinitylockked I want nothing more than to continue venting about my real, lived experience and being a positive place for survivors of trauma to come to. For me to do that I have minimal need to even mention NPD. For me to be able to stop doing that, people need to stop coming to my page to accuse me of ableism for accurately describing my own abuse.

#narcissistic abuse #raised by narcissists #complex trauma #vent post #narcissistic abuse is real #narcissism #narcissistic abuse awareness #Narcissism is not NPD #NPD is not a synonym for abuser #Treating NPD as a synonym for narcissistic abuse is really not helping. #narcissistic abuse survivor

[snugglyporos]

NFTs of the art world. I'll see myself out.

// I'll be completely honest here, the idea of NFT's is not the problem. It's entirely down to how they are executed and commodified.

Art, that is worth money, is a commodity. It's value is intrinsic because it is A. not easily replicated (age, difficulty of creation, cost of materials) and B. has some name attached to it, and/or C. is limited in number.

Ergo, a painting by someone like Picasso is intrinsically valuable because it is old, limited in number, from a famous name, and cannot be replicated. We know this, because if you make a print of his work, it is not worth the same amount. Therefore, the value is contained in that individual piece.

This is not something that has yet to be replicated digitally. Digital artists have struggles because any work that they produce in the form of a .tiff or a .jpg or a .png can just be saved on anyone's computer. Anyone can just take a screenshot and then upload it somewhere else. The cost of materials is zero, not including electricity or cost to use a program. Unless you're a big name, your art probably doesn't contain any name recognition. There is thus very little intrinsic value to digital art.

At the very least, excluding costs of labor, a work of art is worth what it cost in materials to make it. A painting is worth the cost of the paints, at minimum. This is similar to the idea that a sculpture is worth as a floor, whatever it's worth in material scrap. Make something out of iron or gold? You're looking at minimum whatever it would cost to scrap it and melt it down.

Art, however, having such value, tends to be forged. A lot. That's why there are entire companies and an industry dedicated to validating that a print from a wood block by Salvador Dalí is in fact from the original print line. In other words, the language of digital art, that of 'theft' is not accurate. Theft implies something was taken and can be given back. What you deal with when you save an image is something akin to forgery, or duplication of something and the claim that it is now that thing.

You will immediately notice that there is no such organization or industry around validating digital art. Because the nature of the internet, that of free images, free access to work, free exposure to new things, is counter to the idea of making people actually own things like pictures. In the same way that it's hard for consumers to own digital products when the company decides they don't anymore, it's hard for artists to actually ensure that their work remains theirs. There exists no mechanism to validate it, or protect it. A physical art, bought by a collector, can be placed in their home for no one but them to see. You can't do that with images online, at least not ones that you post for everyone to see. You might be able to buy a physical print, but that too gives it the intrinsic value of a physical object that a digital one lacks.

In other words, absent the idea of an NFT, any image you post online is no different than a drop in an MMO. It exists, theoretically, you can look at it, but anyone can claim that they have one and there's no mechanism to ensure that the one you posted is the original, and if anyone pays you for it, no one can stop you or anyone else from monetizing it. That's why there's an entire industry around gold farmers and people who are paid to grind.

NFTs, as they actually exist currently, are little more than jpgs attached to penny stocks; they're gambling tokens. This is because there is no actual way to ensure the kind of signed authority of say, a real painting without a centralized authority that people respect enough to say 'yes, this is real and worth this.' You are not seeing people appraising jpegs because they're worth whatever someone will pay for them.

Digital art hasn't even gotten to the point where trading cards are, where there are validating and grading services to prove authenticity. Currently, anyone can claim they are any artist, and there's no way to prove that they're not lying without a great deal of effort.

That, obviously, cannot continue if digital artists are to ever end up in a place that physical artists inhabit. You will never see a digital artist become a great artist in the same way that a painter from the 1950s might have, because their work will never be able to have any intrinsic value so long as it is digital, without the authentication required.

In other words, the thing that allows digital artists to spring up more easily ( access to audiences, lack of material cost, ease of spreading their work ) actually makes their work less valuable in terms of intrinsic cost because anyone can see it and copy it for themselves. To post it online is to make infinite copies of it. And if you made infinite copies of a famous work, it wouldn't be worth anything either.

Eventually, something akin to NFTs will have to exist, in some form, if digital artists are to become as valueable in terms of intrinsic value as meatspace artists.

But what we have now isn't it. What we have now is a casino where people charge artists to gamble with their art.

#ooc

[neyafromfrance95]

Sylvie Laufeydottir in the Fanfics.

i love all the different takes on Sylvie in the fanfiction and i think that the fic writers should be bold when it comes to experimenting with her characterization, so i don't mean to be dogmatic or anything about it, but i think there is fun in trying to grasp the essential traits of a character and trying to write them as in-character as possible as well.

and if i'm being completely honest, there are not a whole lot of fics that have Sylvie characterized in a very "canon accurate" way.

i'm not saying that i am the one who has this correct idea of what kind of a character Sylvie is, but here are my two cents on what makes Sylvie - Sylvie.

first of all, here is what i think some people get wrong about Sylvie:

when she is reduced to exhaustion and stress.

it's true that Sylvie is an anxious character with many issues caused by her struggles, but Sylvie we saw in the series is passionate and driven.

when her one true dream and a final destination beyond revenge is settling down into a domestic lifestyle.

there is no hint of Sylvie dreaming about an uneventful, quiet, ordinary life. the flashbacks into her past suggest that her dream (and possibly her glorious purpose) was to be a hero. we see Sylvie living a low-key life in S2 teaser, and she doesn't look happy at all, she looks depressed af, which indicates that such lifestyle is not right for her.

Sylvie being sadistic.

i think the series makes a point that Sylvie is not sadistic at all. she never does more than necessary to her enemies, she is not cruel for the sake of being cruel. yes, she is feral and competitive, but those aren't the same as sadism. she puts Hunter C in a safe mental space while investigating her, she empathizes with Hunter B, she kills HWR with a quick stab. compare her approach to her enemies to pre-series!Loki's and Ravonna's - they tend to verbally hurt, scare and humiliate their enemies.

the only argument Sylvie has for fighting against Kang being "he wronged me."

yes, she is motivated by a personal vendetta. yes, she can be quite single-minded. but! her experiences with the the tva, awareness of who they are and what they represent, have shaped her worldview. Sylvie is an idealistic character, her revenge boils down to "he hurt me", but she has to believe that her mission is serving a good cause against the oppressive fascists. i believe this is why she is so discouraged and passive in the teaser of S2 - Kang tarnished her idealistic perception of her life's work. she doesn't feel like a hero any more, and it mattered a lot to her that she was a hero - Loki validating her heroism was one of the reasons why she fell for him.

Sylvie being a manipulative femme fatale.

another aspect of her persona that is portrayed very clearly in the series is her honesty. she is a straightforward character, always true to who she is. her kiss was not a deception, it was an expression of her feelings and emotions that exploded when Loki told her that he only cared about her.

Sylvie being overly-apologetic to the tva and Loki.

while Sylvie might feel like she fucked up and have an existential crisis, i highly doubt that she would feel apologetic to the very people who kidnapped her when she was a child and stalked her with an ill intent. "these new Kangs are bad so you were right when you destroyed my world and oppressed me" doesn't feel like an authentic Sylvie response. she most probably feels bad for pushing Loki away, but not to the point of self-depreciation and begging for forgiveness since she still felt backstabbed by him bc he did betray her, technically - he went back on his word and got in the way of her glorious purpose.

let's now move on to the aspects of her characterization that are pretty essential. i won't be elaborating too much on these for now.

she is assertive and strong-willed.

she does everything on her own terms, never compromising.

the themes of freedom and choice play a very important role in her story.

she has the pathological trust issues, and some anger issues as well.

she has probably been to every corner of the multiverse without ever settling in one place, so she never got to properly socialize within any cultural framework and she was exposed to the countless cultures. so, she has to be very nonconforming.

a glorious purpose means everything to Sylvie. it gives her life a meaning and is her driving force. out of all Lokis, it's probably Sylvie who values and prioritizes the glorious purpose the most.

she is truly like a feral cat in many ways.

she is the Multiverse Liberator.

(i always thought that out of all fictional characters, Sylvie is the most similar to Arya from ASOIAF btw)

but in the end of the day, we are still a new fandom, so it's understandable that there aren't many fics that have an astonishingly canon accurate characterization. it's ok and please don't hold yourself back from writing Sylvie if you are unsure about her characterization. the more you write and try, the better your vision of a character becomes! that's how the writing improves. also, i would encourage you to explore Sylvie's relationships with other characters as well. i mean, there is just so much to Sylvie's dynamic with Kang and Ravonna, it'd be interesting to write about Sylvie's journey around the multiverse, you all could let your imagination go absolutely wild, the Postman could be the ultimate OC in Sylvie fics (fancasting Will Sharpe, Sophia Di Martino's husband, as the legendary Postman)...

anyways, i think Sylki and Sylvie writers are some of the best fan writers out there (bc let's be real, there are not a lot of fandoms that characterize their faves very accurately to begin with), i'm only trying to say that if you are interested in writing very in-character, it won't be difficult since Sylvie is pretty strongly characterized in the series.

#sylvie laufeydottir #sylvie #lovie #sylki #loki #loki series #sylvie laufeydottir ao3 #loki tv #sylki fic #sylvie laufeydottir analysis

[hajihiko]

I love the way you drew that izuru doodle! I always thought Izuru in the anime looked too... not like he was a science experiment, but your Izuru just looks so much more realistic and it's heartbreaking but Izuru's existence is heartbreaking so. Well done you've outdone the danganronpa creators again

Question: What are your thoughts on Izuru? Like just him as a character? Do you have any headcanons about him? You might've been asked this before if so apologies ;-;

Thank you! Ive only seen that one sprite of him but it looked so....person with a wig, not very menacing

Anyway

I don't rly know anything about him, BUT i thought a lot about the deets of the whole talent thing, even talked to my rly smart friend about it

So like. We know he's constantly bored because he's so insanely capable and smart that nothing is any kind of challenge and therefore illicits no reaction. Also it's very possible that his brain just got messed with way too hard and it ruined the emotions part, one way or another (like hyper-dysthemic depression, idk if that's the word they still use but let's say I'm familiar with it).

I figure that, since nothing is a challenge, he doesn't even need to focus his talents, meaning it's either constantly running like a million computer programmes, or he just falls into the appropriate talent without needing to think about it- instinct basically, or rather, forcefully carved brain-paths.

Now bear with me I'm not a native english speaker. So when you do something often, and it works for you somehow, it opens a pathway in your brain to make it easier to access this action or thought, like sheep walking the path path over and over until it's a little grooved road. This is something people with talents of action (fighter, runner, programmer etc) definitely made in themselves, but it got artificially pressed into Izuru. So, he has these deep brain grooves that he effortlessly falls into when appropriate, because it's what all his brains are used to doing. It's extra effortless because he doesn't really care what it is, how it works, as long as it just does. His reactions might therefore be, creepily accurate in every situation, or completely inappropriate. Someone hugs him and he gives a great hug back because that's just what his body does, even if there's no emotion in it, because he's an Ultimate Babysitter or something. Or, someone hugs him and he breaks their arms, because his Ultimate Assassin talent kicked in and he just didn't care / try / have time to get out of that brain groove. And like, why would he? It worked then, it works now.

This is also, I want to interpret, somewhat why hes so GOSH darn bored. He got so good at protecting himself from all the pain and confusion that he just cut it all off entirely; VERY common trauma response. Some of it is definitely also the surgeries and the absolutely cacophony in his brain and his hyper-understanding- that's what keeps it up- but what started it might've just been a plain and simple coping mechanism. Also feels like that's why Hajime can come back fully; a) he decided to and he's a very wilful guy and his power is being human and I love him so he just did it, b) he was able to get out of that deep deep groove, feel his entire spectrum of emotions again and activate those pathways, and is once again able to kind of access them. It'll take time and effort to get to where he was, but it's happening! There's... dare I say.... hope?

Sidenote this is all based on / inspired by my experiences with depression (as a symptom or the whole thing idk) of the active-but-emotionally-dead variant, not nearly as serious as brain surgery fuckups but nonetheless sth I can connect. Just now realized I might be more invested in this than I thought.

This one is moreso Haji-zuru, but I imagine that he'd be both very easily bored and would often just peace out in his head bc nothing is fun (should not be left alone for too long bc he'll get too deep into his blank stasis), while ALSO chasing any real emotion ferociously, just like, honing in on anything that catches his feels. Which can be nice! Feelings are somehow novel and familiar to him. But also not nice because sometimes, the feeling is a bad one. Just because it makes you feel something doesn't mean that it's good for you and others.

Also the reflexes and such. Might be a hard habit to break.

Sidenote I generally err on the nurture side of philosophy and do not understand the talent thing. Everyone is memories, memories and thoughts are basically ALL we are, how can Izuru have the active parts of the memories only and nothing else. How can he be The Ultimate Babysitter without actually taking any of that in?? He can do the actions but not access anything that shapes them and that's honestly an interesting concept. Boggles the mind. No wonder he's fucked up he's fucking me up.

#Talky talky #This turned out long! Oops! #Izuru #Sorry I got personal there for a bit but honestly it's no thing to me so shrug #Not an art

[veliseraptor]

2022 Fanfiction Round-Up

Total Year-Long Wordcount: 388,095 words written, though obviously not all of those ended up getting posted, since a lot of them were in WIPs that continue to be WIPs.

This year I wrote and posted: 36 fics, apparently. Which is more than I thought it was going to be! I feel sort of like this was a year where I was more chugging along with things than spinning them out into complete projects but I guess that wasn’t wholly accurate.

Overall Thoughts

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted? 

Less, I think, but also…I feel like I wrote a pretty good amount, all things considered. More than last year, which is nice, since last year was…real rough, writing-wise. Though also an especially crazy year for me so that does make sense. 

What’s your own favorite story of the year? 

I waffled on this for a bit but ultimately I think the story that I’m proudest of from this year is our love would live a half-life on the surface. It wasn’t the story I expected to write when I started writing it in 2021 as my Big Bang fic for that year (and then ended up going a different direction because I didn’t think I had enough material to make up the length), but it ended up being stronger for the change (namely, the one where I realized that I’d been trying to write a fix-it proper and that wasn’t what I was writing at all).

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

Hmm. Unfortunately I feel like I have to say that I don’t think I did. Which kind of troubles me (am I stagnating as a writer?) but I’m going to try not to fret about it.

From my past year of writing, what was….

My most popular story of this year: In terms of kudos, somewhere between the heart and the vein by a fair margin (812); interestingly enough 4 out of 5 of the most popular fics by that metric this year were Kinnporsche fics, though I guess that makes sense given shiny new active fandom.

Most fun story to write: It’s sometimes hard to think back and remember what was fun to write at the time, but I feel like I have to go with the reluctant shishi for this one, because that was a fic that just flowed out of me very quickly and easily and I enjoyed pretty much the entire experience of writing, which is so rare.

Story with the single sexiest moment: I apparently wrote a shockingly minimal amount of smut this year, it turns out! Startling and appalling, what was I thinking. (I’m joking. Mostly.) I’m also in kind of a weird place with respect to my smut right now where I don’t feel like any of it is actually hot, so that’s making answering this sort of difficult. So I’m just going to leave that alone before I get too in my feelings about it.

Most “Holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story: It’s not really the one I actually feel this way about but I do still feel kinda funny about The Hand That Feeds, not so much that I wrote it (I’ve definitely written worse) but that I posted it. I didn’t write a whole lot of badwrong fic this year, though, apparently. In some ways I think our love would live a half-life on the surface might be the one that best fits this, though it’s less wrong and more just…more nakedly messed up than a lot of other things I wrote this year.

Huh. I feel like I’m losing my touch.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: I wouldn’t say it shifted my perception, exactly, but writing the rest of this world is gonna break your heart definitely got me thinking more about Jiang Yanli than I have most of my time in this fandom. 

Hardest story to write: But so many of them are hard in different ways, how am I supposed to choose one! I feel like I might have to go with the fair and the brave and the good must die because (a) it’s the first and closest thing to an actual Wangxian fic that I’ve written (or probably will write, ever), so I was working with characters I haven’t spent as much time thinking about and (b) I’ve been writing it for about three years (off and on) so clearly it was giving me many fits.

Biggest Disappointment: I continue to be frustrated with the fact that I can’t make myself be happy with Liability and continue to feel vaguely bad about it as a work. Same with on a narrow road, actually. I don’t know what it is about some works that just leaves me with a weird feeling of “this isn’t what I wanted it to be/this isn’t up to my standards” but…there you go. 

Biggest Surprise: There are always several of these because of my habit of planning absolutely nothing, but I feel like special mention has to go to heel, stay for initially being a fic that was just “put Xue Yang in a muzzle” and ended up being over 20,000 words of relationship negotiation featuring ace Song Lan. Didn’t see that coming!

Most Unintentionally Telling Story: I don’t know that I’d call it unintentionally telling unless I’m making it that by answering this question, but I’m going to say that writing like a trigger (get me ready to shoot) was deeply therapeutic to me. 

Favorite Opening Line(s):

Once he reached a certain age, Xue Yang learned that mostly people didn’t touch you unless they wanted to hurt you. (how bright you glow)

Vegas remembered the first time his dad hit him, but he didn’t remember why. (the edge of thorns)

Within thirty seconds of seeing Xiao Xingchen Xue Yang knew he wanted to fuck him. (spin me right round)

It was six months after the life Vegas had always expected to have was eviscerated like livestock in a slaughterhouse, and things were…fine. That really was the right word. Not good, not awful. Just…fine. (walking shadows)

The sun was starting to poke weakly through the heavy mist by the time Xue Yang stopped working. (our love would live a half-life on the surface)

Favorite Line(s) from Anywhere:

1. "You only want to stick around because I fucked with your head enough to make you think you love me,” Vegas said ruthlessly.

Pete punched him. (walking shadows)

2. He didn’t remember putting a collar on his own neck and handing the leash to Xiao Xingchen but he could feel it there now. Not like he was being pulled anywhere, or anything, just that there was the weight and the pressure and Xiao Xingchen held the leash so, so lightly that it was almost like he wasn’t holding on at all. (it hurts at first (but it ain’t that bad))

3. People looked at Vegas all the time. He wanted them to. He liked that they did. He’d made himself a lure for people like one of those deep sea fish using a light to draw in their prey, dazzling them before devouring them. Pete saw the gaping jaws full of teeth first and chased the light anyway. (like a trigger (get me ready to shoot))

4. He held still, but he didn’t look away, either. Just watched as Xue Yang shattered and shattered in the jaws of an emotion too big for his ruined soul to hold. (nurture the tiger)

5. He was his father’s hands and his father’s knife. Vegas the weapon, Vegas the monster, Vegas the attack dog, turned loose and brought to heel. Hands and a knife, or sparking wires, or pliers, a drill, shards of glass. (Finders Keepers)

6. He wished he didn’t know. He’d been happier not knowing. He’d rather be marked as disposable, he’d realized, than erased as invisible. There was something bitter about realizing that he’d been both. (Once You Are Real)

7. On bad days Vegas wished they’d just gone with a nice, clean execution. It made him feel a little better that Kinn probably felt that way too, so by still being alive Vegas could ruin that for him. (cuddle you in the undertow)

8. He had years of ingrained loyalty and training that dictated that the bodies of the family – main and minor – were sacrosanct, to be protected. And now there were bruises on Vegas’s face and a gunshot graze on his arm and Pete had put them there. (somewhere between the heart and the vein)

9. She dreamed about it that night. Dreamed that she stood at Lotus Pier, looking out at the water, and she could feel her brothers at her sides – a-Xian on the left and a-Cheng on the right. But she didn’t want to turn her head and look. A-Xian took her hand with skeletal fingers, bone worn smooth. Welcome home, shijie, he said, in a voice like a terrible cold wind. But she wasn’t afraid. (this world is gonna break your heart)

10. Xiao Xingchen. Boundless compassion and kindness and generosity, heart full of open doors Xue Yang had snuck through like a robber into an unguarded house. But not for Xue Yang. (our love would live a half-life on the surface)

Top 5 Scenes from Anywhere You Would Choose to Have Illustrated:

The bit from nurture the tiger that’s just a (thoroughly battered, one-armed) Xue Yang sitting with a (fierce corpse) Song Lan outside and having a full-on emotional breakdown.

Ghost Wei Wuxian being really fucking mean to Lan Wangji from the fair and the brave and the good must die, actually. I think that one would be fun to see visually rendered.

Pretty much anything from this world is gonna break your heart with Jiang Yanli and Xue Yang, though maybe especially the scene where he first sneaks up on her while she’s practicing her demonic cultivation skills.

I can think of several from (you give me) fever that would be fun to see but maybe at the top of that list is sick, semi-delirious Vegas in a blanket cape.

Honestly anything from the Vegas/Pete smut I’ve written the latter half of this year. I miss smut art. That’s not the only reason this one’s on here but it is part of it, while I’m fantasizing about imaginary art of my fic.

Fic-writing goals for 2023:

I have a whole collection of fics I really want to finish, but at the top of that list I think are: the concussed Xiao Xingchen fic (been in the works for forever), the Xue-Yang-haunting-Song-Lan fic (also been in the works for almost as long), and making at least a significant amount of progress on both Redux and Walking Far From Home, if not finishing one (or both). 

Finish et ipsi sunt jacula. I’m parsing this one out separately because I think it’s been on this list for at least two years now and I would really like to just fucking. Finish the damn thing.

Last thing on here I wanna say…write something really fucked up. Don’t care what it is or for what fandom. Just make it fucked, Lise. Go for it.

#fanfiction round up #confessions of a frustrated writer

[marvelrarepairbingo]

Hey everyone! Love is in the air this February here at Marvel Rare Pair Bingo as we kick off our mini-Valentine’s event. For the month of February we are running a mini-event for those looking to spread a little more Marvel love. If you’re interested in checking it out, click here and see how you can get involved on this month long mini-event! We’d love to have you with us! Now below the cut you can find the fantastic fills that were made during week one of this mini-event! Enjoy!

Author: The UltimateUndesirable Title: Waiting To Feel The Wind Card #: 2 Square Filled: E2 - Kissable Pairing: Jennifer Walters/Katy Chen Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary: After a long week, Jen really just wants the opportunity to get out and away from work. What better way to do that than with an old friend that likes to fly in the wind? Katy is from the expected day to day life, and is everything she craves. Word Count: 898 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44601274 Author: The UltimateUndesirable Title: Jarvis Is Watching Card #: 3 Square Filled: O1 - breaking the rules Pairing: Pepper Potts/Maria Hill Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply but PWP Summary: Maria and Pepper don't find a lot of time together, and finally having a relationship that can keep up with her she is always at the ready to embrace everything given to her. If that means moments of spontaneous passion in less-than-ideal places, then so be it. Word Count: 531 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44634913

Author: The UltimateUndesirable Title: A Quarter of Snow Card #: 10 Square Filled: E1 - darling Pairing: Sif/Hela Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary: Hela has insisted on visiting Midgard to see her Modir and Father. As a good loving girlfriend, Sif is happy to oblige. Mostly. Just not during winter because while the part Jotun may be made for it, she is most definitely not. Thankfully the other woman takes her moodiness with graceful ease that does nothing other than remind her why she loves her. Word Count: 523 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44601526 Author: The UltimateUndesirable Title: Pussy Pays The Bills Card #: 3 Square Filled: L1 - secret crush Pairing: Darcy L/Jane F Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary: Darcy knew there was money to be made when it came to lesbian porn. She didn't know about the latent romantic tendencies she had towards her best friend. While it creates a bit of an emotional hiccup, it makes for some damn good genuine pleasure. No one has to know the moans aren't faked. Word Count: 1027 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44601733

Author: The UltimateUndesirable Title: Reunited Again and Hopefully Forever Card #: 1 Square Filled: L1 - separated and reunited Pairing: Kate B/Yelena B Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary: Kate has been waiting ages for the opportunity to have Yelena back in her life, or more accurately face to face once more. After she left for Russia, she didn't know what to expect of their little spark. Nearly a year apart has left her with the answer though. The want for even more. Word Count: 828 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44657443 Author: Jeremy Title: The Baby Squad Has A Movie Night Card #: 8 Square Filled: E2 - Valentine’s day sucks, let’s watch movies and stuff our faces instead. Pairing: N/A Rating: G Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary: Clint loathed Valentine's Day. Luckily enough his friends make it bearable. (Notes: Completely self indulgent, based on an AU, and it might not make sense except to the people who know and love these characters and their established dynamic) Word Count: 575 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44791243

Author: Jeremy Title: Sneaking In Card #: 8 Square Filled: V2 - Sneaking In/Out Pairing: Bruce Banner/Justin Hammer Rating: G Warnings: Brian Banner's A+ parenting is mentioned Summary: “Dad will kill you.” “I doubt he’ll notice,” Justin said dismissively, instead wrapping his arms around Bruce’s waist and giving him a smile. “I wanted to come and see you.” Word Count: 556 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44858125

#marvel rare pair bingo #Valentine's mini bingo event #marvel rare pair #Jennifer Walters #katy chen #pepper potts #maria hill #marvel #sif #hela #darcy lewis #jane foster #Kate Bishop #yelena boleva #clint barton #Justin Hammer #bruce banner

[aspd-culture]

Hey, so I wanted to ask a question about your recent post regarding autistic sense of justice vs empathy. Would you mind elaborating a bit more on that and how you are able to distinguish the two? As an autistic person, I’ve been looking into ASPD/cluster-b lately after realising my affective empathy is probably a lot lower than I thought. But I’ve been wrestling with the fact that I’ve always had a strong sense of justice and have been considered relatively “compassionate”, if you will. So seeing that post was a real surprise and I’d love to learn more. Hope this makes sense.

Yeah, no problem. Heads up that I am quite new to being diagnosed with autism, so this can only be as accurate as my knowledge of ASPD and recent discoveries.

So since defining sense of justice here is kind of tricky, I’ll define empathy first and use that to compare to sense of justice.

There are two types of empathy: cognitive and affective empathy. When people use the word "empathy", usually they are referring to affective empathy. Affective empathy is being able to feel the emotions of other people, almost as if they are your own. This is how people with typical empathy pick up on the emotions of those around them without trying to do so or even thinking about it. Cognitive empathy is the ability to intentionally “put yourself in someone's shoes" to figure out what they might be feeling based on what you would be feeling in that situation. Many pwASPD still have cognitive empathy, and it plays a major role in that sense of justice - more than affective empathy would.

What I mean by that is that the sense of justice in autistic people does not require affective empathy at all. That sense of justice is basically a really intense reaction to people, whether it is the autistic person or someone else, being wronged or harmed unfairly.

As toddlers, typical kids begin to develop an instinct for what is and is not fair, and this tends to be extremely strong and cause problems for their caregivers because this sense of what is and is not fair does not really base itself in any societal rules because they haven’t learned those rules yet. Because of that, they tend to get upset as to why certain people make rules for others, why some people can do things others can’t, etc. It isn’t a cognitive thing where they consider why it is or isn’t fair, they just feel in their heart that it isn’t, and it leads to necessary conversations with kids about equity bs equality and such like that. As they learn social rules, and get the idea drilled in them that “life isn’t fair”, children lose most of this intense sense of fair/just and it is replaced with knowledge of how society functions and what is considered just in terms of that society.

In autistic people, though, that understanding of society may not be as complete as it is in neurotypical people. Therefore, many pieces of that original instinct of fair vs unfair stick around. Also, autistic people tend to not place as high a value on arbitrary social norms, so even the ones they do understand do not have as high a value as the instinct to want things to be fair. While the more inexperienced bits like not understanding equity vs equality don’t stick, they still may not understand or care why, for example, someone who went to college is treated as smarter than someone who didn’t, even if the person who didn’t proves themselves to be smarter. This type of thing tends to be upsetting to autistic people who experience a strong sense of justice, such as myself, while it doesn’t affect neurotypical people.

However, that doesn’t mean I understand how it makes the non-college attending person feel, I just know that it is not fair and thus wrong to act that way. Likewise, I may not understand how minorities I’m not a part of feel when they are left out of conversations they should be a part of, but I know instinctually that it’s wrong and I don’t like it.

Sense of justice is also much less nuanced than true empathy. So for example, because I struggle with empathy but have a strong sense of justice, I am personally (this is just speaking for myself, not everyone with this combo!) predisposed to believing in harsher punishments for criminals, for example, because I see it simply as “they knew they were doing something harmful and did it anyway, why should I care if they don’t like the consequence?”. Someone with stronger empathy would feel for both parties in the circumstance, whilst my sense of justice only cares about the one being “wronged”, rather than both people.

I hope this explained it ok? If you have any follow up questions feel free to let me know. In short I guess it would be sense of justice is caring about the situation more than the people vs empathy being caring about the emotions of the people more than the situation.