#which i KNOW isn't true i know it's my brain telling lies but MAN

[stillcominback]

💕

#you ever just not feel great ??? #ugh seriously i feel like i haven't had a break in months #( mostly work just fully draining my life-force ) #but this week especially i feel so much more anxious and unlike myself like more than usual??? #it's in that: i annoy everyone i talk to stage #which i KNOW isn't true i know it's my brain telling lies but MAN #not feeling my best!!! #BUT #it just makes me wanna tell you all how much i love and appreciate you tbh #really like most of you have been my friends (and mutuals) for SUCH a long time #and whether we talk all the time or once in a blue moon like i hope you know every bit of that really makes me so happy #you're all so great and talented and i'm just glad to have you all here! #i do have a vacation planned (finally) going to toronto for the first time at the end of the month!! #here's hoping that'll help my mental health with a fun REAL break #but really just in my emotions and wanted to throw love at folks / you all #just know that if you're going through it?? you're not alone and we're gonna get through this! 💖💖💖 #idk skdjfasdf i just needed to get this off my brain and written down somewhere #00. // OUT OF AMMO ( OOC POST. )

[antimony-medusa]

The thing with RPF

Okay, I don't tend to engage much with RPF. I have read it, but only when recommended by someone whose taste I trust (I think it's all supernatural aus that I've read, to-date), and my intention is not to write it. Not really my scene.

However, I really think this fandom could stand to stop treating RPF like it is the devil.

If you engage only with someone in the form of like an hour a week of video of them performing for an audience, particularly if that video is edited, like, when you start mentally rotating characters to create with, your brain isn't gonna draw a huge difference between the guy from the scripted thing you watched, and the person from, idk, mythbusters. Love to see my guy make a big explosion.

In both situations, you don't know them as people, you know them as like, personas, characters. You are essentially engaging with them as fictional characters, cause you only see the small segment of their lives that they put into the video, and whatever story they're telling with that. You don't know them as people, because how could you? So your brain going "hehe what if hunger games au" is just one of the ways brains work.

And idk, as long as you know you're doing that, I think that's fine.

It's fiction. You're writing/reading fiction. It's in the name. You know that it's not true, you're dealing with fictionalized versions of like, stage personas, or teaching methodologies, or historical records, and you can make your little fictions, and you show it to the eight people who are also really into *spins wheel* Ancient Egyptian RPF or *spins other wheel* Taskmaster UK TV RPF or *continues to spin the wheel* Polygon (web series) RPF. You all shake each other's hands and go "man I really like [person/character] and I think about them a lot" and someone else goes "I also think about [person/character] a lot and I think that if he was a warrior cat he would be a kittypet" and someone else goes "I think if [peson/character] would boil an egg the egg would explode cause he's really bad at boiling eggs" and you go "go on". You are all silly together, and you are all doing fiction, and you go on your merry way.

Like that is A Thing People Do On The Internet, and that stays in its its designated space, and that's fine. Might not be your jam but it's fine. That is not more weird than inventing an elaborate imaginary religion for a minecraft world, or working out the emotional nuance of an arranged marrige au between fictional detectives, or carefully making an elaborate interlocking series of stories where someone from a children's cartoon is horribly tortured, rescued, recovers, and gets their vengance. All of that looks weird from the outside, and is a fine and honourable thing to do in your little circles on the internet.

The part where this becomes a problem is when you take your fiction (lies we tell recreationally) out of the designated circle of people enjoying the fictions, and you shove it in the face of the person it's based on, and go "do you like this" or "is this okay" or "I found this and I think it's bad is it bad".

When you are doing the fiction you are engaging with the person as a character which is like, fine, and a truthful reflection of how much you actually know them (not at all, you don't know them), but in shoving it in their face you are going "I don't know you but I want you to react to this for my entertainment/justification, because I think this reflects on you, and apparently I think I deserve your time and attention, and also I think I already know how you're gonna react and I'm gonna use it for my callout posts", which is like, so much ruder than just making fictions about people you don't actually know.

Like writing a superhero au about the person you watch video game speedrun— based. Love the imagination. That is making something from nothing, a great creative act. I could not do that at all but I salute you.

Telling the speedrunner about it? No were you raised in a barn. You are not writing it for the person to approve of— they don"t know you— you are writing it for fun and the enjoyment of other speedrunner enjoyers. Keep it locked down.

As long as we're all aware that RPF is fiction, and we keep it in circles where we're circulating it as fiction— ao3 archive locks exist for a reason! this is not something you want to show up on a google search!— this is just a thing people do for entertainment. Don't bring it up to the person it's about, and you're fine.

And I've been thinking about this because like, I don't think what I'm writing is RPF, but BOY from the outside people seem to think it is! Including the creators! Which means that even while I'm doing my best to adhere to character beats from the story and not just streamer personas, and differentiate between the dude in england and the dude in 3rd life, also I should be aware that if the creator hits it, he's probably gonna think that I'm just writing this about him.

Things go SO MUCH BETTER if the creator only finds it if he goes "huh I wonder what people are writing about me" and deliberately goes to look for it, not if he's just going along thinking about disney movies and someone comes screaming into his field of view like "people are writing about you on the internet". And then he's gotta deal with the ways he's percieved, and whatever weird warrior cat situation people were putting him in, and the fact that people don't know him but think he can't boil an egg, and the 3rd life cannibalism aus, and and and— it's a mess. Please don't do that.

All of this to say A) RPF is fine actually that's just like one of the ways storytelling works— we're not writing RPF but it isn't the devil either. B) STOP TELLING PEOPLE ABOUT FANFICTION.

#discourse #rpf #I had to sit through people ask phil TWICE on friday what his favourite fics are #and I could have bitten through the screen #fandom meta

[attorneys-against-court-violence]

The phantom fills my brain with questions DD never seems interested in answering.

Why was he so devoted to his work that he abandoned his entire identity? How much of that leaked out over the course of the game? How much of the real phantom lines up with Bobby so well that he never tripped any of the 3 living lie-detectors at any point (besides when he was trying to hide his concern about the police and Simon's actions, which is very much NOT in-line with the phantom's motives)?

He can fake emotions just fine so Athena's not an issue, at least until he feels comfortable enough to drop the act. Apollo's is a bit trickier since it picks up on subconscious ticks when someone's trying to hide something. Does the phantom telling him his name is Bobby Fulbright count as a lie if even he doesn't know what his actual name is? Does his waxing lyrical about JUSTICE! not count because enforcing the law is literally his job as a detective (or even because it really is a driving force behind his actions, not just for "Bobby")?

Phoenix on the other hand... I don't think the Magatama has been presented as a flawed method for weeding out someone's lies before. It can even pick up on lies the person in question isn't even aware of (Black Psyche Locks). When the phantom says he's concerned for Simon's moral compass faltering and wants to do something about his execution... nothing. This is one of the greatest threats to his identity - his core motive for most of everything he does - so wanting him to be saved and being concerned for his welfare runs counter to his primary goal. But that contradiction isn't picked up. Having two contradictory thoughts isn't impossible... maybe there's a cognative dissonance involved somewhere. Maybe the phantom really DOES care about justice, that Simon's situation is thoroughly unjust, that the man he's charged with keeping an eye on is starting to give in to his biases. The latter can't be explained away by "oh no, he's just concerned about Starbuck going free and leading people to question who actually killed Clay, eventually leading to discovering his involvement"; if that's true and his schpeal about Simon was a lie to cover that up, the Magatama would have picked up on that. But again, two things can be true at once...

It sounds to me that the phantom - whoever he was before he was the phantom - was a man who cared deeply about JUSTICE! and allows it to drive his every action. That sense of right could be overriden by his desire to protect his identity, however; between being physically threatened by his employers/political enemies that would rather him dead & the existential threat of realising who he's become, that often takes precident over doing right by others. Note that his major murders - Metis Cykes and Clay Terran - were committed in response to a potential threat to revealing his identity. Metis had his psyche profile and Clay had the Hope Capsule with the moon rock he had hidden inside. The courtroom bombing was intended to destroy that rock... human casualties be damned. Even Starbuck nearly perished as a result of the phantoms plans to have the rock destroyed and abandoned in space.

Think about the other characters he impersonates in the retrial. Starbuck was likely a means to have greater access to the Space Centre, to allow more involved control over its missions and ease of maneuverability through it. Means' ideology is what the phantom runs on when it comes to his identity; murder, bomb attacks, fragrantly destroying evidence mid-trial... all unjust means justified by the ends of protecting his long-lost face. Phoenix is a little trickier, but being the master of on-the-spot improvisation and straight-up bluffing is very handy for his line of work.

So what about Bobby? Functionally, he's a means to stay close to Simon and ensure he's on-track to be executed. He stands in opposition to the defense - one of which having the tools to out his identity and the motivation to save Simon - and seemingly has Simon's trust to handle the majority of investigative duties (even if he fudges it like with the bloodstains in the art room). That last point is a big deal by the way, considering that he openly says that he can't trust Starbuck's case to anyone but him, yet doesn't openly question Bobby's endeavours and conclusions. The only problem he had with the lighter was that Bobby didn't reveal who's fingerprints were actually on there, not that it was someone seemingly unrelated to the murder in question (Athena). Symbolically, I think Bobby is a reflection of an idea so paramount to the phantom that not even a mystical soul reader questions it; his sense of justice. There's not much of an explaination as to why his grand statements about it despite being very much unjust himself didn't register as lies - it's a core part of his person that lines up so seamlessly with this goofy cop that no one is any the wiser to it. It's a part of himself that he has to actively go against when his identity is in jeopardy. A part of the old self he has to discard in order to carry out his orders in safety.

The phantom has likely done many a dreadful thing from under all the masks. Forgetting who he is and discarding a part of him so intrinsic that it shines brightly when he's allowed to show it through Bobby is likely the only way he can reconcile doing what he's done at all.

He has no self because that self would be HORRIFIED by what he has done.

Though at this point I'm just saying what I've always said about ol' Phanty; the fact the game goes out of its way to detach him from Bobby in many ways while going against the very logic it and the series at large established to do so renders him much worse than he could have been, because what Bobby could say about the phantom is very interesting to me. ...which might explain why I've made three long text posts about my thoughts on the matter. Whoops!

#long post #ace attorney spoilers #dual destinies spoilers #dual destinies analysis #moon's haunted #look out the AAP is having another ''the phantom could be so good if the game wasn't so bad'' moment #hit the bomb shelters and protect your kids lest they hear my insane ramblings

[lightyaoigami]

Tell us about your inspiration for kompromat! Also -- Do you have any changes to the playlist linked, or mood board for it? 🥰 (From this reblog)

jessy you're the best, i love this question so much! <3

for anyone wondering what kompromat is, it's my beloved fic that i worked really hard on, here's the AO3 link & here's my accompanying playlist.

so essentially the idea came to me in a divine vision while i was spacing out walking my dog lmao. i was listening to i lied by lord huron & allison ponthier which isn't a one-to-one lyrically for this story, but the rhythm and melody injected "lawlight tragically dancing in a dark room" into my brain and i started kind of going into a trance from there. i haven't changed anything about the playlist but i would love to recover my mood board (i accidentally deleted it, tragically)

the line "i swore that i'd become a better man for you and i tried" just got me thinking, so i tried to kind of build a scene around the image of them dancing to this tune. like, where would they be dancing? a dark bar because i always want them in real life type situations. why is it so sad? because lawlight is inherently tragic but also, they are either about to part, or be reunited. while kompromat isn't explicitly a soulmate au i do think that the idea of a soul mate is pretty much a motif of DN. i like the idea of the red string of fate and i think it works here and in canon. also, with regard to memory loss and regretting losing your memories, i love eternal sunshine so much it's probably my favorite movie ever, and i hadn't made the connection until i started writing.

also i'm sure everyone who reads my fics has picked up on this but i'm really invested in everything being really real, so i spent a few hours looking at beautiful london hotels and nice bars. as a fellow new yorker i want to tell you specifically that the bar that is in my mind visually is the nines in noho even though the fic is set at the fumoir at the claridges hotel in london.

i was really, really intent on having kompromat be posted *on* new year's eve. i realize now that i probably hindered my engagement by doing that because most people probably don't sit on AO3 on nye (no judgment here obvi, just seems true to me). but there is always a melancholic feeling on nye to me no matter how much fun you're having. i don't know how to describe this specific melancholy other than the feeling of listening to the song "auld lang syne" and like, the idea of leaving your old life/year behind, for better or for worse, you know?

i just love the idea that in any timeline, in a million lifetimes, the boy best friends manage to find each other because there's nobody as awful as them, and nobody can love them the way they love each other ;_; in funnier terms, this tweet:

i would be remiss not to tag the kompromat cheerleader hive @bi-snapdragon @quicktimeeventfull @thesimstwo @god-of-this-new-blog love you guys sm thanks for always gassing me up about this work <3

#fic: kompromat #jessynote #*when harry met sally voice* IT'S ABOUT OLD FRIENDS!!!!! #my writing

[hamsahoney777]

Anecdote on how music can stimulate the brain to produce psychic visions:

General content warning for the holocaust

All of this is prefaced with the fact that the guy who was involved in this event is a theif, a race traitor, and compulsive liar who simply refused to face himself or his familial trauma.

I do not say that from a place of judgment or lack of understanding of how serious intergenerational holocaust trauma is. An eighth of my family also died in the shoah, and my healing journey actually started with healing the earth based, three-dimensional trauma I had inherited. It is not easy, nor will I cast the illusion that it is, but the alternative is sitting in that shit until you die. I refuse to give those who hate me for simply existing as a jewess that power.

Through deep inner healing work, I did find we had past lives together, including one where he turned me into nazi guards in order to secure his own safety during the holocaust. I was put on a train, taken to a forest, stripped of my clothing, wedding ring, and shoes before being shot into a mass grave. Hashem refuses to tell me where the grave is, knowing I would be on the first flight out to dig my former self up if given the opportunity. I am only thankful Hashem saved me in this life before he could physically harm me. I am also very grateful for my jewish ancestors for helping me to close that spiritual cycle for good. There will not be another incarnation in which we meet. The money he stole in this life is replaceable. I would have even given it to him if he asked, at that point, which makes it much sadder.

Do I know what he said about his grandmother's time in a concentration camp is true? No. This man literally lied to me about anything he could, including the smallest of unimportant things, such as giving one of his friends (hi ryan) a book I gave to him.

Do I think he lied about what his grandmother experienced? No, but being able to speak with dead people really helps the fact-checking I've found. The vision came from Hashem, not him.

The experience started when I decided to lay down for a nap. As a late teen and into my early twenties, I often listened to classical music to calm my nervous system and fall asleep. After discovering binaural music, I did switch to listening to that.

Realizing it has been years, I decided on a nice youtube compilation video of Bach. I settle in to rest, only to be met with leaving my vessel.

That isn't a rarity in my life, but it was out of the blue. The vibrations of the music triggered something within my spirit and pinael gland to start producing the scene I saw beforehand.

As I floated above the scene, I saw a giant Grim Reaper in a field of grain. The clouds are overcast and there is an uncanny stillness in the air. He started swinging his scythe, cutting down the grain. It was monotonous, until he throws the scythe up into the air.

While in the air, the scythe is spinning. It stops spinning while the scythe is backwards, forming a "7" of sorts. It seperates into three different scythes, making the number sequence 777. This is what tells me Hashem (the Grim Reaper, but that topic is for another day) is guiding this vision.

The vision shifts to David in modern time, being shot at. With grace, he did survive, but later that summer he lost his divine protection for his actions towards me and others.

I awake from the vision. Slightly perplexed. What had I just seen? Why did I see it?

Upon looking at the video, I saw it was published January 5th. David's supposed birthday. Who knows if that's actually true, but it was enough for me to understand why I would be seeing into his family holocaust trauma.

I tell him about it, in detail. He explains his grandmother was forced to work in the fields during her time in the camp, which is why I received the vision I had been given. She did survive and had her Tzadikim powers activated.

#psychic story time

[soulinaearthsuit]

A Perfect Man

If anyone thinks himself to be religious,

and yet does not bridle his tongue but deceives his own heart,

this man's religion is worthless. James 1:26 (NAS)

 

For we all stumble in many ways.

If anyone does not stumble in what he says, he is a perfect man,

able to bridle the whole body as well.

James 3:2 (NAS)

 

            "Sticks and stones may break my bones, bur words will never harm me."

That little singsong rhyme just isn't true, is it? Torn flesh and broken bones will heal, but there are millions who will carry open, bleeding, ugly sores to their graves, sores inflicted years ago by sharp words, spoken in a moment of haste and emotional eruption.

            We have asked hundreds of people over the years to answer this question for us: What one thing would you say has hindered your marriage and kept it from becoming all that you dreamed it would be?

            Forty-two out of every one hundred gave this response: Communication. Other answers ranged from financial incompatibility to sexual incompatibility; from spiritual imbalance to selfishness, pride, laziness, or children. But forty-two out of every one hundred pointed to lack of communication as the major hindrance in their relationships. That's astonishing!

            Webster defines communication as intercourse by words, letters, or messages; interchange of thoughts and opinions.

            As women we rely on our tongue to defend ourselves instead of physical strength; as men it isn't "cricket" to hit your wife, so you cut her to ribbons with words; as parents we feel that surely there is a more "civilized" way of disciplining a child, so you wind up in devastating word battles; as friends we wear our feelings on our shoulder and when a person touches those carefully balanced feelings, we swiftly react and a friendship is shattered. Schisms erupt and the healing process takes months or years or even a lifetime.

          James tells us that (3:6) the tongue is a fire, the very world of iniquity; the tongue is set among our members as that which defiles the entire body, and sets on fire the course of our life, and is set on fire by hell.

            You say, "I agree with you, Anabel, but knowing that what I say can cause pain and separation beyond my power to heal, how do I keep from spewing out the hurt or anger or vengeance that comes when others use their tongue to attack me?"

First of all, you must agree with this, I cannot control my tongue, but Christ can control what I say through me. Yes, your emotions are hitting sixteen when they are designed to stop at ten! Your whole body is screaming for release and steam is fairly billowing from your ears. I understand that. But if Christ cannot control my tongue, then He is not omnipotent! It is that simple. If there is anything where He is limited, then He is not God!

What to do? Practical steps:

1. Practice the presence of God in your life every second of the day.

            2. Practice allowing Him to face the small issues'then when a BIG one comes

 you will have practiced for it.

            3. Avoid confrontations when you are emotionally drained, exhausted, or not

 feeling well. Just retreat and say, "Let's discuss this later."

            4. Isolate yourself until the steam stops coming out your ears!

            5. Bite your tongue if necessary to keep it from spewing out invectives,

expletives, or half-truths

            6. Never use the words "YOU NEVER" or "YOU ALWAYS."

            7. Begin thanking God for His power to overcome, for controlling you, for giving

you insight, for fighting this battle for you.

8. Stop reliving the incident again and again. "I should have said... What did she mean with that remark? He always lies about everything! She doesn't have a brain in her head. I'll get even'just you wait and see!" Ad infinitum!

            Yes, sticks and stones may break my bones, but those broken bones eventually heal. Words cause wounds that may never heal.

 

Small boys flying kites haul in their white-winged birds.

You can't do that when you're flying words!

Careful with fire is good advice, we know;

careful with words is ten times doubly so.

Thoughts unexpressed may fall to earth yet dead,

but God, Himself,

can't stop them once they're said.

Will Carleton

 

            Dear Lord, You know that I have "erupted" many, many times and am still capable of building up a forbidding head of volcanic steam when I do things MY way. (I regret to confess.) But You have shown me the answer'Your answer'allowing You to fight my battles. May we grasp this truth and begin to experience Your strength in fighting our word battles'very difficult, destructive, painful battles. Thank You, Lovingly, _____________

[youbloodymadgenius]

Angel’s Touch (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my long overdue contribution to @rosepetals-flyingbirds‘ challenge. I’m sorry it took me so long, babe 💖 I’ve been going through a lot lately (including the loss of a loved one) and I wasn’t in the mood to write 😔

The prompt, as usual, is in bold.

Thanks to the lovely @geekandbooknerd for beta reading this for me 🌺

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

The gif belongs to @therealcalicali 💐

Summary: Ivar's always been very secretive when it comes to his legs. How is he going to react when you tell him you want to know all of him?

Warnings: angst; fluff at the end; Ivar’s insecurities; soft and vulnerable Ivar.

Words: 4600

"I'm coming!" you shout enthusiastically, wrapping a soft towel around your body before closing the bathroom door behind you. 

 Wincing at your words, Ivar hastily hides his legs under the comforter. "That was a close one…", he mumbles while breathing a sigh of relief. Deep down, he knows he's not doing the right thing. Avoiding the problem will not make it go away.

 He can't help himself, though. He still has nightmares about that awful night with Margrethe. It was years ago, yet memories of her disgusted look as well as her eyes full of pity still haunt his nights, vivid and humiliating. 

He doesn't want to go through that again. It would be unbearable and painful, much worse than the dull ache he's used to enduring every day. No, he definitely can't relive it. Shuddering at this thought, Ivar squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists tight. 

 He won't allow it. He can't. Because he's not sure he can get over it again. After Margrethe, he had been broken – more broken than his broken bones – for so long. It had taken him years of therapy to stop being disgusted by himself, to stop hating himself for what he was. A freak. It had taken him years to endure looking at himself in a mirror. And it had taken him years to imagine sharing a bed with a woman again. 

 Oh, of course, he had fucked every so often. He needed it after the complete fiasco with Margrethe. He had to prove himself that he could… But it had always been in a hurry, and with random, uninteresting women. Till you…

 You. You're not random, and definitely not uninteresting. You're beautiful and smart, patient and funny, warmhearted and caring but never overbearing. You're… perfect, he thinks, and it scares him as much as it makes him shiver with excitement. On top of that, so far you don't seem bothered by his legs and he wants to keep it that way. 

 His legs. His fucking legs. The averted elephant in the room. Well, averted… more or less. Because if you've never seen them, you know the braces, the crutches, the uneven gait and he's pretty sure you've figured out his pain. But you two never talk about them. He knows that you understood from the beginning that they were, they are a major issue for him. You're smart enough for that. 

 Yet, you never bring them up and he couldn't be more grateful. He's very aware that he can't keep going like this for long. But he doesn't know how to address what is, to him, a huge matter of concern. He's afraid you'll go away as soon as you realize how damaged his legs are, how crippled he really is. He doesn't want to lose you. He can't. That would be insufferable. And he knows exactly why. It's not just that he likes you, that sex is great, and that you're fun to be around, no… He's helplessly falling in love with you. It may be terrifying, but it's no less true.

 That's why he does what he does. That's why he's always hurrying up, hiding, avoiding. It doesn't matter if it leads sometimes to awkward situations. It doesn't matter if you're not fooled. All that matters is that you don't see his legs; not for a long time anyway; and most preferably never.

 Inhaling deeply, Ivar slips his hands under the comforter, rubs his scrawny, bony, twisted thighs, feeling their scarred skin and grunting in disgust. He knows he's wrong, he knows he's not going anywhere, but he can't help. He can't risk losing you. 

 ***

 More sad than irritated, you hardly stifle a sigh as you enter the room. Once again, Ivar is unsurprisingly already in bed, his fluffy comforter keeping his legs out of sight. 

 His legs… A fucking huge elephant in the room… It's amazing – not in a good way – how something that's never addressed can take up so much space.  

 The truth is, you know a lot about them. Being a son of Ragnar, the man who rules Scandinavia – at least economically but surely politically too, with friends in the right places and enough money to corrupt them – didn't allow Ivar to grow up in the shadow. Ivar's life therefore has always been on display, making headlines more often than not. So you know about his disease and its inherent struggles, about the surgeries and about the pain – well, now you even witness it sometimes, and the way he always tries to hide it is heartwrenching. 

 You know more than you'd like to since you even know about his supposed failing sex life, that bitch whose name you've long forgotten having told her story to everyone around. It doesn't matter though, as you can testify that Ivar's cock is far from dysfunctional. 

 Anyway, if you know a lot – truths or lies – about his condition and about his legs, you don't know them. And you're aware it has to change. You just don't know how. You can't be too straightforward or Ivar will close up on you. Yet you can't let things go on like this for too long, because it's unhealthy. And an unhealthy relationship with Ivar is the last thing you want, both for his and your sake. 

 Somehow always in your mind, his legs make things awkward. Sex is great, but could even be better, for they prevent you from being spontaneous. The last thing you want is to make Ivar, the man you're falling in love with, uncomfortable. So, you don't speak about them because you can feel he doesn't want to speak about them. You don't look at them because his tight jaw is unmistakable each time your eyes wander to his lower body. You do your best never to touch them, which isn't easy when you share his bed. In short, most of the time you act as if they don't exist. And this has got to stop. 

 You can't let this unspoken thing continue to grow between the two of you or it will end up becoming a problem that will eat you up, you do know it with utmost certainty. You won't allow it. You can't. Ivar is important to you, to say the least, and you're pretty sure he reciprocates your feelings. You see it in his huge blue eyes that sparkle each time he looks at you; you hear it in the softness of his tone each time he talks to you. 

 So yeah, the whole situation annoys you. It doesn't mean that his legs annoy you. They don't. You won't lie, you're a little nervous about them. How could you not, given how sensitive a subject they are? Will you say the right thing? Do the right thing? Will you hurt Ivar unwillingly? Just thinking about it, about them, makes you feel like you're walking on eggshells. Ivar is being very touchy when it comes to them, to those-legs-we-mustn't-talk-about, it seems to you that the slightest word could ruin everything. And you don't want that. Gods, you don't. Yet, you're not sure how to handle well something that important.

  That's the point. His legs are that important. They shouldn't be. They shouldn't matter. They don't matter. Of course, you're not stupid. Ivar has a disability, there's no denying it. But it doesn't define him, right? What defines him is his outstanding intelligence, his sharp mind, and his deadpan, ironic humour. And well, if you're being honest, his ridiculous handsomeness too… It might sound shallow, but… who cares?  

 Anyway, enough is enough. Things must change and you're sure Ivar won't be the one initiating the change. It leaves you no choice, you know it. Your heart hammering in your chest, you rub your sweaty palms together before inhaling deeply. That's it. Let it be done. The sooner the better.  

 ***

 "Are you not coming?" Ivar's blue eyes are scrutinizing you from under furrowed brows as you scrabble around in your small overnight bag, as an idea has just popped into your head.

 Glancing at him over your shoulder, you barely nod while swallowing the lump in your throat. "Of course I am, give me a minute." You reply after a while, sounding more confident than you feel. But you know it's a good idea. It could be the first step. It could work. It has to work. 

 Your hands are shaking but your heart is filled with hope when you eventually find what you were looking for. "Here it is.", you mutter, a tentative smile playing on your lips as you turn towards your lover, who looks at the silk scarf in your hand with a mischievous grin. 

 "What is it on your naughty mind?" He asks playfully, tilting his head in his very own way, the one that melts your heart each and every time. "You want to blindfold me, Y/N?" His low, deep voice sends shivers down your spine. "Or maybe you'd rather be blindfolded? It's up to you, I'm totally on board with either one." He swallows heavily, and when he licks his upper lip and then the lower in a slow-moving and sensual motion, a familiar warmth spreads in your lower belly. 

  Of course, he had to misread the situation. And you, you're so easily, pathetically flustered! Closing your eyes to push away any distracting thoughts, you inhale deeply while just shaking your head no as you don't trust yourself to speak right now. 

 Raising a brow, Ivar gives you a questioning look. "So, what is it about, then?" His tone is more serious now, you can almost feel a hint of uneasiness in his voice as if a part of his brain already suspects what's in your mind. 

 "Actually, I want to be blindfolded, but not to do what you're thinking about." You explain, shyly lowering your gaze. "I'd like to try something." You speak in a whisper but with honesty, fidgeting with the little silver Mjölnir – a gift from Ivar – you wear around your neck. "If it's okay with you." You add, your shaky voice giving away your nervousness. 

 Confused, Ivar looks at you with knitted brows. Since you don't want to explain further – because you're sure that if you told him of your plan, he would deny you – you just climb on the bed, kneel next to him and bring the scarf to your face, wrapping it around your head and over your eyes before tying it in the back with a tight knot. 

 Being blinded like that, even if it's of your own volition, is quite unsettling, you must say. You feel weirdly exposed, vulnerable, in your tiny shorts and a tank top and you have to inhale and exhale slowly several times in order to calm your nerves. 

 Uncertain, Ivar keeps quiet, his breathing just a little bit shorter than usual. "Y/N?" His hesitant voice startles you and you swallow, biting your inner cheek. 

 You know you have to take action, the sooner the better. So you fumble blindly on the bed and as you find Ivar's hand, you bring it to your mouth, kissing each knuckle one after the other while your free hand slips under the comforter. 

 His breath hitches, yet Ivar doesn't react, doesn't stop you, as you slowly lift the comforter, pulling it away. But when your fingers graze what you think is his thigh, he grabs your wrist, wrapping his fingers around it. 

 "What…" Ivar stutters, his grip tight enough to bruise your delicate skin, "… What are you doing, Y/N?" His voice, barely audible, is nothing more than a shaky whisper that wrings your heart. 

 Yet, you won't back down. "Let me, Ivar, please…" You beg softly, but to no avail. Ivar rushes his words, panic coursing through his veins. "Stop Y/N! Don't, please don't, I… They are… They are ugly. I… I can't." That's it. He can't. Just thinking of you exposing his disgusting legs, he feels like throwing up. He can't. 

 Hearing your lover so upset, and maybe even close to tears, is heartbreaking. Raising your free hand, you find his arm, then his shoulder, his neck, and finally his face, which you cup tenderly. 

 "You do know I won't see them, don't you?" You ask carefully, peppering light kisses along his jaw while trying to slow down the frantic pace of your own heart. 

 Ivar doesn't miss a beat, pushing you away gently but very firmly. "You don't need your sight to feel how hideous they are." Almost convinced to give up by his broken voice, you struggle to keep in mind that postponing the problem can't be a solution. 

 "That's what you think about them, how you see them, Ivar, that's not what they are." Your tone soft and soothing, you're trying to convey how much you care. "And it's certainly not how I'm going to see or to feel them."

 "How would you know?" You can tell that he shifts in the bed to sit upright, his back against the headboard. His fingers still around your wrist, you have to stifle a hiss of pain when he changes position. 

 "Because they are a part of you. Nothing from you, or about you, can be ugly." You wince, realizing that you've just opened up to him more than you would have liked. But well, speaking your mind isn't a bad thing, right? 

 As Ivar, dumbstruck, keeps quiet, you decide to strike the iron while it's hot. Once again finding his cheek, your thumb lightly strokes it while you speak. "Let me touch them, Ivar…"

 You know him well enough to be sure that right now, a storm is clouding his features. But as his breathing starts to quicken and as his grip on your wrist loosens, you understand that he's more frightened than angry. "Please…" You plead, aiming blindly a reassuring smile in his direction. 

 "But… Wh… Why?" He's never felt so scared, not even with Margrethe. Even if the rational part of him knows you're right, he won't give up yet, not without fighting. "Why… Why does it have to be? You don't need to touch those fucking…", swallowing, he closes his eyes briefly, "… you don't need to touch my legs, Y/N. You don't. We could just go on like this, as we have done up to now. Believe me, it will be better like that."

 "No, it won't." You sigh, shaking your head. Ivar's distress may break your heart, yet you're more and more convinced that this is the right thing to do. "Let me touch them, Ivar, please…" You simply repeat, your free hand still on his cheek.

 "Why… Why is it so important to you?" As soon as the words escape his lips, he regrets them, wishes he could take them back. He should have said no. Why didn't he say no? Slapping himself internally, he rolls his eyes, annoyed as much by his own stupidity as by your stubbornness. 

 You answer in a sweet whisper, placing your hand on his chest. He's sure you can feel the crazy thumping of his heart under your palm. "Because your legs are a part of you, and I want to know everything about you. Will you let me, Ivar?"

 Ivar, deeply moved by your words, is eager to believe them. But on the other hand, it's so… frightening; unsettling. Not used to being so vulnerable in front of someone, he feels like he's being ripped apart, and gods, he hates it! "I… I don't know… I'm… not sure…" He eventually stammers almost unwillingly, more or less denying you once more, yet his resolution starts to falter, and he knows you can hear it. 

 Even more surprising, it's as if his body betrayed him, his fingers finally releasing your wrist. As you gasp, astonished and pleased, he ponders for a few moments before deciding – if deciding something against what seems to be your own will is even a thing – he won't stop you. He knows he could, but he also knows you're right. So, conflicted and petrified with fear, he just waves his hand, wiggling his fingers, and mumbles under his breath a faint "go ahead" that you almost miss.

 "Is that a 'yes', Ivar?" Full of hope and with what you're sure is a beaming smile on your lips, you intertwine your fidgeting fingers and put your hands on your lap, anxiously awaiting his reply. 

 His jaw clenched, Ivar just nods. At first, he doesn't realize that you can't see him. As the silence drags on, he furrows his brows, confused, before breathing a hesitant answer. "Yeahhh…" Digging his fingernails into his palms, he waits for your next move, almost like someone awaiting a death sentence.

 Sensing his anxiousness, you raise your hands and then move them very slowly, willing to give Ivar time to stop you if he needs to. Since he doesn't utter a word nor grab your wrists, you keep going, your fingers grazing what surely is his lower belly before finding the hem of his cotton boxer shorts. 

 Intensely aware of the importance of the moment, you can't help but swallow loudly, your stomach tied in knots. You started all this, and even if you're still not sure if it's the right time – will there ever be a right time for this? – you have to keep going. But you're scared. What if it'll push Ivar over the edge? What if it is too much for him? What if you won't handle this as well as you think you will? You don't want to lose him. Your mind suddenly filled with doubts, you do the only thing you can think of, and send a silent prayer to the gods, hoping they can help the two of you. 

 Holding his breath, Ivar looks at your hands as if he was hypnotized. His eyes wide open, he can't move, can't speak, utterly terrified of what is to come. He knows he should trust you. Maybe he does. But he doesn't trust himself. No, that's not true. Most of the time, Ivar doesn't lack self-confidence. He knows his worth. He's aware of the strength of his intelligence, his cunning. He knows about his good looks – even if they're quite useless; or about his highly appreciated caustic humour. And as he's no fool, he knows that being a Ragnarsson – name, wealth, all the stuff – is a major asset. Yet, when it comes to his legs, he's nothing more than a frightened little boy, so anxious that he's ready to fall apart. Feeling ashamed, self-conscious, and helpless, he's wondering how much tenser he can become until he physically shatters. Conflicted, he wants you to stop as well as he wants you to keep going. This has to be done. This should never be done. He's in love with you. You will never love him. You won't hurt him. He'll be hurt once again. Hectic, opposing thoughts are constantly fighting in his mind, leaving him frozen in fear and panicked. So, since he can't think straight, he does the only thing he can think of and sends a silent prayer to the gods. May they help him; help you. 

 Uselessly closing your eyes behind the blindfold, you gather your strength. Ivar didn't stop you. That's good. That means he wants you to do it, right? Inhaling deeply, you try to stop the shaking in your hands, and then, slightly leaning forward, you let your fingertips run over his thighs, barely touching them. You forget how to breathe and Ivar is so still, so quiet, you think he's not breathing either. 

 As you become bolder, you place the flat of your hands on his legs, careful not to apply any pressure. Under your palms, you can feel every bump, every scar, every broken bone. Your movements intentionally agonizingly slow, your hands move down to his protruding knee caps before finding his atrophied calves, their wasted muscles evident to the touch. You can't think how painful walking, or even just standing up, must be. The thought spreads a dull ache in your chest, but you keep your face emotionless, aware that if you can't see him, Ivar can see you. Rather than dwelling on it, you continue exploring, and when your fingers brush against the sole of one of his misshaped, scrawny feet, Ivar flinches. "Sorry," you mumble, "I didn't know you were ticklish." Since Ivar doesn't react, you're not sure he heard you and decide to slowly move your hands up his legs, placing them back on his bony thighs. 

 Keeping his eyes on you the whole time, Ivar struggles to breathe, his heart pounding wildly in his rib cage. He's surprised, he must say. He expected to see disgust or pity on your face, but there's none of that. Of course, he can't see your eyes, but a small smile never leaves your lips. Could it be that you're not disgusted? In any case, you don't seem troubled by what you're feeling. Maybe you're hiding it, but if so, you're hiding it well. He's also surprised because he expected to hate every moment of the process. Himself, he's all the time trying to avoid touching his legs. He hates PT sessions and doctor's appointments with a passion for a reason. But your touch is… enjoyable if he can push away all his doubts and his awful thoughts. It strikes him all of a sudden: it's probably the first time someone touches his legs for no reason at all. They were regularly massaged, checked for injuries, examined, palpated; of course, they were. But there was always a medical reason. Even when his mother touched them, it was to ease the pain. But you… you decided to touch his ugly limbs just because you wanted to. And just now, he realizes how much he missed that. Can he really miss something he's never known? He's not sure, but here he is, enjoying your featherlike touch, craving it, not wanting it to stop. Yes, he likes it; needs it. But what if, after tonight, you don't want to touch them again? He wouldn't blame you, who would want to touch such repulsive things? The thought brings bile to his throat and he knows it won't stop plaguing his mind. So he has to know, whatever it takes. Moving for the first time, he runs a trembling hand through his hair and summons all his courage.

 "You… you didn't say a word." His quivering voice startles you, making your heart swell with sadness. You don't need your eyes to know that Ivar is filled with dread. The need to reassure him compels you to blindly fumble on the bed until you find his hand, which you grasp between yours. "What do you want me to say?" You ask cautiously, your thumb lightly stroking his knuckles. 

 You can feel Ivar stiffening, his fingernails probably bruising your palms as he lets out a shuddering breath. "I…" He stops to swallow. "The… truth, Y/N. Go ahead, speak your mind. You… you touched…" He stutters, and you're willing to bet his eyes are tightly shut, his tone giving away his level of anxiety. "… you touched them. My legs, I mean. I know… I know how they feel, ugly and disgusting… no need to sugarcoat your thoughts… I… I can handle the truth…" His voice cracks at the end, contradicting his words.

 Releasing his hand, you graze his right thigh with gentle fingers. "No, Ivar", you speak softly yet firmly, "that's not how they feel, at least not to me." You know you have to be honest, you can't just say nonsensical, lovey-dovey things, he won't buy it. "I won't tell you they feel beautiful. They don't." Choosing your words carefully, you let your pointer finger follow a massive scar from his mid-thigh to his knee. "They feel different, and yes, you can feel the scars. It must have been painful, it's probably still is. But I promise you, they're not disgusting. They're your legs. They say a lot, Ivar. They're telling a story, your story. That's why I wanted to know them because as I said earlier, I want to know all about you. And they are part of you. I do think they finally deserve to be cared about, to be loved. Let me love them…" You whisper the last words, feeling vulnerable. 'Let me love you…' is what you want to add, but you know you can't, not yet, so instead you lean forward, your lips brushing and then kissing his thigh.

 Something between a whine and a choked sob escapes his lips and you can hear his breath hitch as his hand gets up close to your neck. "Did I hurt you?" You ask with concern, frowning behind the blindfold. 

 Ivar can't help but smile, even if you can't see it. "No!" he replies quickly, his hand now on the back of your head. "I wasn't expecting that, the kiss I mean, but I… liked it." He explains shyly, surprised by his own words. "Actually, I loved it." He's not lying. He loved the kiss, he loved your words; it's as if a tremendous weight had just been lifted off of him. Part of him tells him not to believe everything you said, but he decides not to. He didn't hear any malice or mischief in your voice. He knows you were being genuine. That's why, choosing to chase the disbelief away, he decides to trust you completely. And that's why, suddenly, without warning, he pulls off the blindfold.

 "What are you doing, Ivar?" You squeak, immediately closing your eyes and picking up the comforter. But as you intend to cover his legs, Ivar grabs your wrists with both hands. "Just leave it where it is." He retorts before letting out a heavy sigh. "And open your eyes."

 You do as you're told, but keep your eyes on his face. There are tears in his eyes and a whirlwind of emotions. "Just look at them, Y/N." He almost commands you, but you know that's a way to hide his true feelings behind bravado. 

 Blinking a few times and scrunching your face, you tilt your head to the side, scrutinizing him. "Are you sure?"

 Your lover just shrugs, biting his lower lip. "Will I ever be?" Taking a deep breath, he adds in a murmur. "But I trust you."

 ***

 Later that night, as you're sound asleep, your head on his chest and his arm around your waist, Ivar can't get sleep, amazed that you didn't run away. He keeps replaying what you did when you saw his legs. You had just smiled. And kissed them one more time. And then thanked him for trusting you, for allowing you to love them. Moved and overwhelmed, he could see the matching tears in your eyes, but no sadness on your face. What he saw instead was relief, and care, and… love? 

 Kissing your head, he mumbles. "It is I who should be thanking you. I don't know what I did to deserve someone like you, but whatever it was, I'm glad. If angels are real, you're mine. I won't let you go, Y/N, never ever." 

 "I love you…" He finally whispers, taking advantage of your slumber. Well, little does he know you're awake but staying perfectly still. You know you weren't meant to hear those three words, not yet. And it doesn't matter. You can wait. You and Ivar have a lifetime to love each other. 

 All of him. All of you. 

🛡⚔️🛡

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[darkacademicfrom2021]

Away. So, so far away.

<<Previous part Masterlist

Alternative ending with Bucky>>

Alternative ending with Loki>>

Word count: 2,2K

Warnings: angst, incarceration, jealousy, alcohol, minor cursing.

5

Loki felt alone. In solitude, he thought of you more often than he would've liked to recognize. Magic was of no use for him to leave, but he was still able to conjure a few things. He kept going back to that picture you had hung on your apartment, hoping you'd be back and notice the picture was gone. Hoping you'd ask more questions to Thor, enough for him to lose his mind and tell you everything.

That picture took him back to the beach it was taken in. He remembers that moment so well, it's imprinted on his brain, tattooed so it'd never leave him. It was in one of the first missions you two went together.

He was in denial. He didn't want to be your friend, much less get close. You tried, you tried a lot, in different ways. You got him things that reminded you of him from other missions. You teased him, trying to match his sarcasm. You listened to him if he wanted to talk. He had started to care for you but he was still taken aback with all of those… feelings, he was cultivating. Mere seeds you were growing in his dried garden of a heart.

The mountain excursion was not a one-time thing. You did that with almost every mission, periodically searching for moments to steal and roam around the place. In that exact mission, you stole some nights on a nearby beach.

You went alone every night, and came back refreshed. Hair wet, shoes leaving a trail of sand through the hotel room, your blankets always uncomfortably sandy. Loki stayed in his bed, two individuals, reading the whole time. He didn't fall asleep until you were back. It was a dangerous place, and you left at night, after all. It was the least he could do, he thought with a sour taste on his tongue, like admitting he cared made him disgusted.

The second night you came with a handful of colorful and pointy shells, each one different from the other, picked carefully and thoughtfully. Most of them shined, or had golden lines, which very obviously reminded you of your asgardian roommate.

"They're for you", you stated excitedly, leaving them at his nightstand.

He remembers he scoffed and, without taking his eyes off the book, he said something among the lines of "you shouldn't bother being childish with me".

You didn't get mad over it. You were used to him being cold, at that time, where you were alright sharing a room and talking but he wouldn't actually talk. He was reserved, you'd say. You had a liking for quiet people, despite your explosive and loud self.

You kept the shells to yourself and didn't bring them up again. Except, the night that followed, you came back with more shells. Leaving them at his night stand, you didn't say anything and got your things ready to shower. He didn't take his eyes off the book and started saying,

"Again with that? I told you…", but as soon as he watched them, he went silent. You smirked.

"For Your non-childish Highness".

The shells were all black. All picked with especial detail to be the most pure form of black you could possibly find.

He still has those. Somewhere in the apartment he's not allowed to step into.

The last night of that mission, he joined you. You didn't even need to ask him, he just proposed to walk by your side to take some fresh air and stretch before bed. You walked around the beach, and even convinced him to dip his feet on the sea. If you would've been closer at the time, he was sure you'd thrown him fully clothed to the water.

That night he realized he could possibly care a lot more for you than he had initially thought.

He sighed, staring at the picture from his cell. Nobody was around yet. Too early —or too late. He missed you. He thought of leaving a note, and he even wrote it down many times. He is not so sure they got to you. It was part of the punishment and he had to be constantly reminded he couldn't be with you anymore.

He missed you so, so much.

"I'm so, so done with you!!", you yelled to the God of Thunder sitting across the room, just by the long bar of Stark's Tower. "You lying piece of shit, you damned…".

Thor flinched, and then frowned. It wasn't usual for you to lose your temper, much less to him. Bucky and Steve quickly grabbed you by the shoulders and told you to calm down in between whispers.

"Stark, get them a lemonade", hurried Steve.

"No, no. I want to watch this unfold", he laughed and Bucky gave him a dead glare.

"They's too drunk. This is unfair", he said, and Tony sighed.

"They doesn't get drunk".

"Damn fucking well I'm not. Get away from me, I'm trying to talk to this silent asshole over there. Come here, you fucking dipshit", you got rid of their grip and almost jumped to Thor's side.

"Very well, tiny avenger. What would you want…", he began, cheeks red from his own asgardian-sized drink.

"It's been an entire month and a week. Tell me everything you're not telling me", you demanded. He laughed obnoxiously. Loki, watching from the cell through the sphere, boiled in rage.

"Loki… is not worth your time, mortal. You should just get together with sergeant Barnes already", he spat like it was the obvious thing that should happen. Loki decided he'd stab him six—no, seven times as soon as he got to see him, with his sharpest and longest dagger.

"What on Earth do you mean by that?!".

"Calm, calm. The thing is, to save you some more pain, get over him because he's not coming back".

"What have you all done to him? I'll go get him myself".

"Don't be so imprudent. He's not coming back to you, that's for sure".

You insisted. And insisted. And Thor didn't wish his brother to look bad in your eyes, but in his opinion… he looked for it.

Thor was still extremely upset at Loki for going to Jötunheim looking for a throne he very obviously did not deserve, and then had the guts to call himself a rational man. Thor had been reprimanded by Loki himself as a careless oaf for waging war between realms a few years ago, but Loki had just done that —except he was even thirstier for power, and had more to lose.

To Thor, Loki looked for it, and you shouldn't suffer because of it.

So, he decided to lie. To save you some pain, and probably out of pity too.

"My brother took the chance and went for Jötunheim's throne", he said, and you scoffed.

"I knew that. I don't know why he isn't…", you began, and stopped as Thor raised his eyebrows. "I knew he did it after, okay? It's not like I could actually stop him. Now tell me what's next. Why hasn't he come home?".

"He… he got the same answer, that he needed the possibility of leaving an heir, so he…".

Loki watched with extreme attention. Thor wasn't going to actually say something like that, right? He knew his brother was upset, but… he wouldn't, right?

"So he what, Thor?".

"He just married a Jötun woman. She's with child. He has no intentions of coming back ever again".

Loki laughed, incredulous. You wouldn't believe that, would you? His heart was beating so fast he felt it burst open.

"He what? No, no. He didn't, you're lying".

"He did. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner".

"No… it's not true. It's not. He loves me, and I love him".

"He loves the throne even more".

You had to sit on the floor. Bucky ran to your side and you broke down in his arms. You cried so loud, Loki's chest felt like blowing up for sure this time.

He summoned an energy blast that broke every single furniture on his cell, accompanied with a scream that he was sure you would've heard from there if his cell wasn't silenced with blocking spells. He couldn't keep his anger for himself anymore.

He forgave Thor for many things. But now… He will never, ever in the almost four millennials they have left to live, forgive Thor for that.

On the roof of the compound, the sunsets were better, you always said.

You laid your back against the tiles and watched the sun with puffy eyes from last night. Loki was watching you with the half-broken sphere, and, lost in thought —much like you— didn't seem to notice James getting on the roof too. He rubbed your back comfortingly and you greeted him with a sad smile.

"Hey", he said. He spoke like you'd break down again. "How are you feeling?".

"I'm sorry about yesterday", you hurried. "I was very drunk. I don't have filters and get all intense and emotional when I drink too much".

"Don't apologize, you were right to feel that way. Loki's an asshole".

Both you and Loki flinched at that. Loki, because the damn soldier was right. To your eyes, Loki was now an asshole.

"I don't feel like I should believe Thor", you mumbled. "But Thor has never lied to me".

"It sounds crazy, I know… you were such a couple. I don't think I've ever seen that guy smile if it wasn't with you", he said, and placed a hand over yours. You let him. Loki sighed.

"I just… I can't imagine him being like that. I know he's done bad things in the past. I know his whole history with betrayal. But he's different now. I want to believe he's changed".

"Because of you?", Bucky raised his eyebrows, and you chuckled in embarrassment, nodding and putting your lips in a tight line. "Don't get me wrong, you're great. You're… wonderful. But…".

"But nothing is the direct cause of someone changing. I know. I didn't mean to sound so egocentric".

"I know. But I meant it when I said you're wonderful. That's what I've been saying all this time. You don't deserve to be stepped on like this".

Loki could feel his heartbeat race. He knew what followed now. You'd soon forget him and fall in love with the sexy supersoldier that held your hand and complimented you and treated you like the world you were, because Loki wasn't there and Loki hurt you enough to be vulnerable to everyone's eyes.

Loki was sure you hated him now.

"It's just that… I love him so much, I feel my heart shrink a little each day".

Bucky sighed, and hugged you with only one arm —the warm one. You put your head on his shoulder. He kissed your forehead.

"You'll be fine, sweetheart. I promise".

Loki stopped keeping count of how long he's been locked up. Between the time differences in Asgard and Midgard, and the fact that he had no other way to tell than to scratching a fucking wall every day, he's not so sure how long it's been.

He doesn't have the sphere anymore. He hasn't had it for a long time, now. It felt long. He isn't sure how long. His mother found it missing and went to him. His mother wasn't upset. She knew why he took it. Why he needed it.

Loki isn't sure if it's been a few months, a year or if you're already buried deep inside a grave. He shudders and flinches at the thought. But it would've happened with or without him. After all, you're a mortal. Or were.

"Loki, my son", called Frigga. He was still laying on the bed, staring at the roof. She was carrying a handful of books.

He looked up and scanned her. She was dressed up.

"The Ball", he stated, and his heart weighed even more. The Ball happened, for Earth's chronology, every ten years. He now knows, he's been locked up for five. "I assume you're planning on keeping me here for at least another… three days", he said, looking at the books.

"Loki", she warned. How could he sass her even in his current position? She thought.

"That's all you've been saying. You come here, and look at me disappointedly, and call my name with its various pet names. I beg you to stop pretending you don't know what to say. If you're biting your tongue, free it, or bite it enough to draw blood".

"It's already bleeding, Loki", she frowned, tossing his books through the walls of the cell. "I have many things I'd like to say to you. I don't think it's wise anymore".

"When am I getting out?".

"You're not getting out any time soon, son".

"I know that. I'm asking when exactly. A decade? A hundred? A millenia?", she sighed, and Loki raised his voice, "TELL ME!!".

Loki hadn't had enough time. If he were to ever see you again, he had to get out right now. And even then he was sure you'd never receive him back again.

"Now, watch your tone, boy".

Loki growled animalistically, and tossed himself back to bed.

"Leave".

His mother left. She came back a few weeks later, only to find an empty cell.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 , @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @enderslove, @theonewiththenerds, @vicmc624 )

#loki x reader #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x y/n #loki headcanon #loki odinson #Loki #loki fic #loki fanfic #loki x you #loki x masc reader #loki x fem reader #loki x gn reader #thor loki #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #y/n #loki series #loki serie

[nightswithkookmin]

GOING ON A HIATUS

Thanks to everyone who's taken the time out to read my posts and has enjoyed it so far. It's really been fun and entertaining exchanging thoughts and having these much deeper ship discussions.

I thought this issue was gonna go away but I woke up this morning to more people messaging me about finding my last video analysis on several other platforms without appropriate credit.

But that's not disturbing. The disturbing part is the people sliding into people's DM'S on other platforms to get them to take down my video because they don't want people sharing my content on other platforms as they believe it would only make my blog popular.

For those worried about this whole credit business, thanks for showing this much concern for me? I really appreciate the love and concern if it's from a genuine place of concern. Thank you...

I think some of you already know this by now or might have figured it out, I am a law student, I am very much well aware what is and what isn't within my rights? Lol

I honestly didn't see this whole credit thingy as a big deal. It's not. Not to me. Lol. I repost people's photos without credit too all the time. Often, it's because I don't know who to credit and most time my lazy ass just forgets to. Lol. I think it's normal? It's inconsequential I mean.

The videos I use are usually often water marked by the appropriate owners so I don't go through the hustle of figuring this whole credit business out. If I should decide to come back here again I will check that habit of mine?

While this whole credit business is not a big deal to me, malicious slander and defamation to my character is and I don't take it lightly.

It has been brought to my attention that some Jikookers from Tumblr have since been sliding into people's DM's on other platforms asking them to take down my video and or remove the credit they give to my post.

They are telling people I am problematic, calling me the Taekook Lives of the Jikook community. That I have been spreading lies about Jikook, that the Jikook Tumblr community hates me or something like that and to further caricaturize me and make me appear more evil in order to get people to turn on me and hate me, they make up the most ridiculous lies about me claiming that I believe a notorious serial killer is innocent.

Now I have since deleted my YT account because I don't want my colleagues to find out I am into shipping too lol- shipping is a guilty pleasure of mine and I know how this fandom works unfortunately. I've been a silent part of it since 2014. I mean it's started already. The Doxing and shit.

The original post under which these replies are from couldn't save sadly as my account has been deleted but you can see from my notifications the general feel of what my interests outside shipping looks like.

I am interested in a myriad of topics, from literature, Aliens, writing, Harry Potter, history, activism, advocacy, philosophy, law, politics, NASA, and mystery and murder among other things.

My quora is mostly filled with notifications from my Book community and True crime community and often I do share my thoughts and answer questions with regards to the psychology of murderers, legal evidence, notorious villains in literature- well I guess now you know the kind of lawyer I want to be if and when I'm able to complete law school.

But what has my interest in these topics got to do with Jikook and shipping please?? How does this prove I hate Jikook and spread lies about them?

This Kookie Min Monsta person slipped into someone's DMS and asked the person who had put up my video analysis to take it down or discredit me because to her I am problematic. She is not the only one.

You want so bad to paint me black- no pun intended just to win an argument? You claim I am the evil malicious person here but I am not the one sliding into people's dms trying to take credit away from people for their hardwork, spreading hate and negative energy, making things up to manipulate people's perception of others and get them to hate and turn on them- and all because of A SHIP? Damn. This is pathetic.

Who died and made you the gatekeeper of the jikook shipping community? Honestly antics like these don't work on me try again.

I made a video commentary on my Booktube YT account- yes I am part of the book YouTube community as well sue me or better still slip into their inboxes and tell them I voted for Trump therefore I hate chipmunks.

The commentary I made on YT months ago was when I was in the highs of finding a new passion and it was on Ann Rule's book, The Stranger Besides Me- a true crime novel on Ted Bundy which I found so poorly written that at the end of the book it left with me wondering whether or not Ted Bundy was guilty at all!

The Author's writing style which deviates from most writing styles of True Crime novels I have read gave me trust issues as I stated in the video. It felt more as if she was writing a made up fictional novel than an actual True Crime novel but because she knew Ted Bundy in person she made it seem as if we just had to believe her account.

Then there was this whole thing about the police not being able to match the DNA samples taken from his rape victims, to his own Semen because his Semen was DNAless- in lay man's terms. I'll spare you the technicalities involved.

As I stated in that video, I do believe Ted Bundy was guilty but I do not have much faith in the Judicial system, or criminal procedures or even the Author of that book- a sentiment most people within the true crime community share as well. We just had differing views on whether the writer's style took away from the narrative and waters down on the extent of Bundy's guilt.

We had a Similar conversation about Chris Watt. If the community I was engaging in didn't have a problem with my commentary why do you? Please don't meddle in things you know nothing about. It's embarrassing.

The conversation about whether or not Ted Bundy is innocent is moot but a philosophical one. It has nothing to do with Ted Bundy's guilt but more so the criminal procedures involved in his case and the different accounts that exists surrounding his case.

He was electrocuted, he confessed to his crimes no damn person with brains would think or assume he is innocent and I never said anything of that nature drew any conclusions to that effect.

Besides, I moved on from Ted Bundy a long time ago. Now I am into the Serial Killer who writes death poems and signs it off with drawings of the size of his dick at his crime scenes- mind your own business please or don't and let's have an intellectual discourse about him? Lmho.

I am also into cat memes if you care to know and have a whole IG dedicated to cat memes. I believe human beings are the most dumbest species in all the galaxies and when the Aliens arrive I am snitching.

When my mind is at rest, I often wonder if Aliens have masculinity complex and if they do whether or not their masculinity is contingent on the size of their dicks or whether they have to engage in a battle to the death with an alien grizzly bear to determine who is the man.

I love BTS memes too- a little too much and often end up debating over the internet with random people over whether BTS memes are funnier than cat memes- I'm weird, true. But how does all of that make me a bad person?

It's crazy how these people can go on these other platforms to ask people to take down the credits to my posts as well as my posts itself but can't ask people who run to these other platforms with misinterpretations of my work to take those down.

Instead they come on here to call me out for people's interpretations of my work?? It doesn't work that way. You are the author of your own opinion and interpretation of other people's work. You don't call out the original author for someone's opinion of their work. If that were so I would be emailing Stephanie Meyer for Anna Todd and her After series. Get some education.

I have since blocked this person and others whose Tumblr I have been able to find thanks to all those that's helped me finding them on here.

My gf also tried reaching out to the persons who shared my post after we realised this was becoming an issue and had asked them to credit her or my blog- but honestly I don't care about that yet she won't give it a rest. Lol. My ride or die this one. Sigh.

However, we realized soon that this is not about 'stealing' credit- can't call someone out for not giving credit when I suck at that myself. Lol.

This is about people's malicious intentions and their attempts to silence me and take away my right to freedom of expression however way that they can. This is wrong and evil.

I honestly don't care for all these ship politics these people are engaged in. I've had enough intelligent conversations to know the distinction between arguments that flows from bruised egos and actual conversations around a subject matter.

This whole I am right, she is wrong politics... y'all get that the point of having an opinion is not to be right, right? We all cant have the same perspective and you can't call someone a liar for holding views that is different from yours. That is a bizarre mentality to have.

As I stated in my post, that content I made was a rebuttal to the Taekook theories running around on the internet alleging JK glared at Tae when he pulled on his shoulder because he was jealous Tae and Jin were having fun behind him. He wasn't. He was worried Tae was gonna expose him and JM holding hands behind Suga.

If you don't think they were holding hands then Taekookers were right and his reaction was because he was Jealous of Taejin I guess...

But thats your truth. That's not my truth. I don't believe Taekook is real. JK isn't jealous of Taejin he is not Twelve- but then again he was sneaking around behind Suga holding his boyfriend's hands so I guess he is twelve? Lol. Jikook!

Do you.

But please stop the evil malicious attacks and seek immediate help. There is such a thing as right and wrong and this is just plain wrong. Your Karma and chakra are in the negative nodes and you need to fix it. It is not funny anymore.

Thank you to everyone who has shown genuine concerns for me in the past few days and thank you so much for trying to stand up for me. There are good people on here and I have met and interacted with a lot of them and thank you so much for such a wonderful experience and insightful discussions.

I don't hate people because of our differences in thoughts, beliefs, opinions. There's always room for dissenting opinions in every sphere. At the very least, we can agree to disagree and shake on it. But You can't make up shit about people just to prove your opinion is right and their opinions and views which differ from yours are 'wrong.

I am not a victim though, and they are not bullies, psst. They are just vile pathetic human beings exposing the greens of their insides. What you do says more about who you are as a person and human being. And this is who they are.

Just be a nice decent human being. That's what this world needs. Fix whatever is broken inside of you and free your mind and spirit. Hate is never the answer.

I'm going to be away for a while because I have studies, work and other interests I want to pursue at the moment- it's just my AADD flaring up so if you see me henceforth raving about Nana at least you'd know why. Lol. She's wrecking my Jimin bias. Lmho.

Spread positivity, do the right thing, stand up for a good cause and keep supporting Jikook. Jikook is real.

Until we meet again.

Signed,

GOLDY

[lawrising-a]

( continued from here! // @pseudoneiric )

there's a sore sensation nestling against the sensitive skin of his wrist -- not rubbed raw, exactly, considering his tie is too silky to achieve such a feat ( and he, desperately, tried to move as little as possible ) but it still stings. a chiding reminder of what he allowed to happen not even minutes ago. yellow wrapped around him, completely bound and helpless ... it was something he can't say he's done before, not like that. he thinks the correct term would be bondage, but was it? gloved hands sinking beneath layers of flesh to expose the fluttering organs beneath, and expose her own in turn. call him crazy, but that's not what he thought bondage was about. but when was anything with lilian it's textbook definition? he can't blame anyone for his display of vulnerability except himself, completely ensnared with the girl the moment they crossed paths. there were times he watered down his attraction, for both their sakes, blaming her allure for his enchantment. yet lies come clean eventually and here he now perches. the edge of his mused bed, chest rising and falling more then it should as he burns with the black markings drifted upon his ivory skin. lipstick marks painting him in a light he's not used to. he's been stripped of all his warm tones and fake boy scout personas ; left in cool colors. green pants and black marks.

‘and what are you ... the sun?’ whispered a voice earlier, like every hushed word was a secret reserved between the two of them. mat rolls his shoulders, because he doesn't feel that way anymore. never has, honestly. he wants to be beaming lights with a killer gravitational pull, but he ... isn't. the colors on him now is a striking reminder of that : yet he replays lilian's maddening words and fools himself briefly. it's okay to believe lies when she's the one feeding them! as long as she believes it, why can't he humor it? everything she said had been a warped view, a funhouse mirror at those shifty carnivals -- but it was raw honesty from lilian, and he can't turn away the swell of attention. even if he should, even if mat should waltz into the bathroom where she's currently shrouding herself away and spill out the truth. let her know he isn't some angelic force but rather a mockery of one. how matthew naively hopes he can be hers regardless of his lack of good ... it's dizzying, causing his vision to blur, because it's been a while since he's confronted this about himself. the student doesn't like it. but oh, he loves her -- a burning sensation that lights his veins aflame and races his heart.

distractingly, he presses the pad of his rough thumb against the mark on the corner of his lips. a replica of a kiss she once bestowed upon him like salvation itself ( hm, what's with the spur of religious imagery today? hah ). trying to prod away the disappointment that rises every time he feels the wishful want of her actual lips there instead. she has to -- she has to feel something for him at this point, right? that can't be an assumption anymore, can it? questions whirl around as his fingers ghost down his ruined skin, tracing over the words left with his own hands like confirmation. like he's silently saying 'yes, property of lilian eyler.' like he's finally allowing himself a love he thought he wouldn't ever have when he traces, ‘mine. mine. mine-’ that ends with him working his way back up, away from the bulge of his stomach and trembling arms -- away from 'poetry, life, religion' and back to his lips. where he's reminded, with a fuzzy feeling balling up in his chest, 'mine.' almost pushing hard enough to slip a finger through his pink lips, plush and ready for ... mat isn't sure. he just wants her to kiss him there. though he knows she won't, least not today. and even if there's this sickening greed that controls him with a talent, he lets her have that. lets her take all her time in the bathroom and tries not to beg for more. how did she elegantly put in, in all her poetic prose that he's seen briefly in the club? a loyal dog? just for you now, only ever for you, lili--

a shiver rocks his form, startling his hands to the edge of the bed to tear into as he digs his heels into the carpet ( like he once had in the bed, to ground himself, to not buck ). was his pulse racing with the life she declared to adore so much? the man sinks canines into his cheek to hold back from beckoning her out to check. no, no ; he said he'd leave her be. it's a good thing for them both right now. if she had stayed and let the fabric obscuring his view fall from his eyes, he would've reached for her. try to pull them close and he'd ramble like a mad man ... wouldn't he have scared her? some part of him thinks he still has. which wobbles his posture in order to keep his head bowed, like awaiting punishment. almost waiting for pain building in his scalp, because surely she'd card her delicate laced fingers through his hair with a bit more force if she came back out. or was that his gentle throb of arousal wanting that? she got him worked up so easily ; ah, well, at least it's a good exercise for his thinning self control ...

a sigh, shaky and human, whistles out of parted lips. dry due to the fact he can't lick them thanks to the lipstick, though he can't help but wonder if he did -- would he be licking lilian's lips that way? the material touched them ... realizing how wild he is, a thoroughly teased animal, matthew laughs nervously. jesus christ, there's parts of him strewn all around his bedroom, because there's no way mat is fully put together. his brain feels like soupy liquid dripping from his ears and hissing into his scarlet skin. a puzzle of a man that lilian expertly took apart and left half completed. no matter how hard he tries to reel himself in, chase away all the sweetened morbidness delivered, he can't find all the pieces. surely, the clever girl took some with her to the bathroom. she was ... possessive. mat learned that just now. possessive over him, envious of basic things that matthew almost couldn't believe. she'll never know how comforting it was to see. a feeling now nestled happily within because nobody's been possessive of him before! she mustn't of gotten the memo from former friends, didn't hear how expendable he was to everyone who's known him. people don't get jealous for matthew, they don't care how much he sleeps, they don't care if he isolates away -- and they certainly don't care if his eyes linger on a girl with purple hair.

because who would find him special? he's an emotional wreck everyone stays weary of, a boy to eye with skepticism. his jealousy, his rawness, his obsessive love and need is wrong and ugly. you're shunned for those things by society. to the world, mat is anything but special, he's wrong ; so wrong and he's relentlessly tried to change that. but lilian ... she thinks otherwise. feels like he feels. sensitive and lovesick. and while he's always tried to hide before, if the girl with inky hair thinks it's beautiful and radiant ... everyone else must be wrong, because lilian eyler never is! as clever as the devil and twice as pretty, so the saying goes. with a rueful smile, too boyish and gentle for his own sharp face, he thinks it's an accurate fit for his favorite person ever. his throbbing molten core of earth, the darkened reflective surface of his beloved moon.

“im excited about lunch tomorrow, you know?” calls mat, voice as rough as ever ; like he uses it too much. but during this whole date, he fears he hasn't used it enough. “i haven't eaten with another person in a while. i usually just grab an apple and loiter around the library.” did you think i ate with yuri? though the fawn haired male doesn't ask, he quickly kills that assumption if it festered in lilian's mind. “if it goes well, we could ... ah, why don't we eat together from then on? maybe everyday? maybe forever! i think it'd be ... nice.”

the last part is so quiet he's not sure she hears it, but maybe she hears it die off. senses his shyness that bares him like it's her own. matthew doesn't want to dwell in it, so he tries to push forward. telling himself to keep tearing down the walls until there's nothing left ( the bathroom walls or his own? ). she deserves to hear more then his sputters from their little session, brought on by gutting arousal and his own jittery sparks : she deserves the world on an obsidian platter. to know he does want to be owned by her, to understand he'd be so comfortable displaying that label for all to see. and for lilian to be told, sternly, that he'd choose her out of a line up with certainty most would be scared of. love isn't half way for him, ever, and lilian needs to know that. even if his heart thunders and he wants to hear more of her disarming voice instead.

“and i want to be yours ; your idea with the whole 'blindly leading me around' wasn't half bad!” heartfelt chuckling makes him feel like he's vibrating out of his skin, her skin now, isn't it? “i'd let you blind me, i'd let you led me even if i was deaf and mute. you could be all my senses, because maybe then i'd trust them more. you don't know how much i wish these words on me were permanent, lilian --” mat twists his mouth, ruins his hair more. “darling, you just ... i've tried so hard to be normal this year, more then any other, yet you make me so helpless! it's ... how do you do that? do you know how special you are, how beautiful? perfect ... well, perhaps not that ; because you're stupid for worrying about not owning me. isn't it obvious you already do? were these reminders for me, or wishes for you?"

( eyes flutter to words he can barely read on his bared parts, words overlapping due to frenzy. all true. all true )

with a tightening throat, emotions rising like waves and god he could just drown, matthew lays back on the mattress. meekly pulling the tie out from under him, only to drag it over his used wrists. picturing only her. wondering if this sight would entice her to keep going when she comes out. and he wants to say lilian, you've won! congratulations on having a lover for life! or, something like : yuri couldn't pry me from your cold dead fingers! but what stumbles out is something foolish that he immediately grimaces over. hopefully she's too shaken to judge him too much.

“i think you're my soulmate, lilian. i .. really do.” so why would i ever let you go? or deem you unworthy? it's me, im unworthy. not you, never never -- his lashes tickle his skin when he shuts his eyes. breath hitching before evening out. reminding himself to calm down because matthew thinks he'll actually explode otherwise. a bundle of nerves, of her love, is all he really is.

#» death risen ( thread. ) #lilian♡matty » i understand what love never could . i forgive what love never would ( pseudoneiric ) #v.ddlc ★ and the boy who loves you the wrong way keeps weakening #pseudoneiric #tw suggestive #( okay so. i think this pales in comparison to your amazing answered ask. like pales so hard ) #( but i hope this was a delight to read regardless !! ) #( thought it was time to reply to this. a lil warm up gift for lilian's bday <3 ) #( have some matty being lovestruck and a bpdcore mess for an entire response! ) #( and oh! hope its alright lilian was like. in the bathroom. she seemed shaken from being so open that i thought she'd need a breather ) #( if thats dumb im sorry </3 ) #( ANYWAY hope this was good ik i said i wouldnt write but i lied. its lilian day )

[greenygreenland]

Birds of a Feather Pt 1: (platonic) Scrooge McDuck & Reader

-i usually do star wars buuuuuut I'm becoming multi-fandom

-the original was deleted

-thanks a LOT technology. Three hours of hard work, down the drain

-comments will really help my mood, so please tell me if you like this

-happy father's day

Important note: You’re cursed with immortality, so you’re forever the age 15

Summary:

Scrooge has been hiding a secret from you for over two decades. You two argue and your relationship becomes rocky.

A week before

(Y/n) was seething in anger. Her chest heaved and her fingers curled into fists so tight that Scrooge worried she’d draw blood. “Twenty--no, thirty something years, Uncle Scrooge. I can’t believe you’ve hid this from me since the day you found me half-dead! How--how dare you?” 

Scrooge couldn’t stand the way (Y/n) was looking at him. Her eyes were ablaze, filled with hatred and sorrow he could not place into words. Seeing (Y/n), the girl who wasn’t so little anymore, look at him like that made his battered heart burst into little pieces. “(Y/n), I didn’t mean to--”

“No, I don’t want to hear it! You told me my family was dead! You said that I was the only one who survived that assassination.” (Y/n) stuffed a pair of trousers into her suitcase and zipped it shut. “You lied to me for decades! Why?” Scrooge’s lips withered into a frown. “I was trying to protect you!”

“’Protect me’?” (Y/n) echoed. She heaved her suitcase onto its quad wheels with a scowl. “Oh yes, because the wee little duckling who knows martial arts needs help despite surviving countless near-death experiences, adventures as your side-kick, and defeating archenemies. Yes, yes, I’m powerless, aren’t I?” Scrooge’s brows knitted together. He knew full-well that (Y/n) could take care of herself. She survived being stuck on an island as well, being swallowed by a gold-hunting dragon, and so many other things that could have ended her life for good. 

But this? It wasn’t that Scrooge thought she was weak. No, no. It was only that he knew she couldn’t handle the truth. The Eider family were an absolute nightmare. Besides the fact that they were abusive, they were greedier than the greediest ducks, and more power-hungry than the worst of kings. They believed themselves to be the best of the best (which in itself was not a lie), but because of their arrogance, their enemies spread father than the deepest oceans.

Funnily enough, that was what got (Y/n)’s parents killed.

She was a smart lass, Scrooge gave her that, but the one thing she could never seem to do was let them go. During the years Scrooge hid the true story from her, she never gave up in researching and looking into what happened to her parents. It was as if that were the only reason she existed. 

And now that she knew the truth, Scrooge worried what she’d do when she actually got back in contact with her family. Although it looked like she forgave them for ruining her life, abusing her, and for being absolute blockheads, it was clear as daylight to him that she held a deep grudge against her family. “You’re not going back to them are you?” he quietly inquired. 

(Y/n)’s glare made him feel as though he were the dust on an old book. “Guess again, Scroogey.” His expression hardened and the air thickened like jam. “Lass, you are not going back there.” (Y/n) made her way to the door, a tight frown on her face. “I don’t have to listen to you, liar.” 

Scrooge’s jaw unhinged. “I’m your guardian!” 

“Only because my parents died.” 

His shoulders tensed and he slammed the door shut. “You listen here and you listen well!” He yanked (Y/n) away from the door. “Me lying will never compare to how terrible your family treated you. You want the truth so bad? Well, your rubbish aunt hired a hit man to assassinate your parents! There! That’s the truth! Are you happy now?” (Y/n) slapped Scrooge’s hand off her shoulder, but he didn’t pay any mind. 

The two had a silent stare-off that may have lasted for an hour if it weren’t for the knock on the door. “(Y/n)?” Scrooge eyed the door as (Y/n) made her way towards it. She cracked it open just enough to peek out at the little girl before her. “Sorry Webby, I can’t play right now. I’m a bit...”

“Busy?”

“Yeah.” (Y/n) offered an apologetic smile, to which Webby frowned and twiddled her thumbs to. “Okay then. I’ll be in my room.” She made her way down the hall. “Alone.” (Y/n) frowned. “I’m sorry Webby, promise I’ll make it up to you in two weeks time. How about we get ice cream?” Webby froze, eyes wide. “You mean it?”

“Promise.” (Y/n) said. Webby smiled. “Okay.” 

Once (Y/n) was sure Webby was gone, she closed the door behind her and turned on Scrooge with a dark glare. “I’m done arguing with you. I’m leaving.” she announced. Scrooge folded his arms across his chest and seized (Y/n) by the collar. “Oh no you don’t!” He reeled her away from the door and kicked her suitcase out of her hands. “You are staying right here.”

“I’m not a kid anymore Uncle Scrooge!”

“You’re fifteen. Still a kid.”

“If you add the years after I was cursed by you--”

“It was an accident!”

“--I’m about thirty-five years old.” (Y/n) finished. Scrooge ruffled her hair with a roll of his eyes and a light-hearted chuckle. “You’ll always be my kid in my eyes. I suggest you reschedule with Webby to tomorrow.” There was a good pause before he added, “You don’t need to see your sad excuse of a family anyway. They’re nothing but trouble.”

Present

“Lauchpad, please try to stay on the road!” exclaimed (Y/n). The large man-child sped through Duckburg as if he were in a NASCAR race. Speed-bumps and pot-holes caused (Y/n) to slam into the door and Scrooge at least fives times in a row, and since he had a long day of meetings, the old man’s patience ran thin. “Eyes on the road McQuack!”

“Sorry Mr. McDee, (N/n).” 

(Y/n) wanted to be nice to Launchpad, but her stomach did flip-flops and her head ached. She should have expected this, because it was always like this, but her being her always held onto the sliver of hope that Launchpad would miraculously learn how to not crash a car. Scrooge took a good look at (Y/n), a short sigh escaping his lips. “Every dent in this car is coming out of your salary!” 

“Absolutely. Hey, hear about that crazy snow storm on the Drake Barrier Reef? I’d hate to fly into that one. You see, I’m a bit of a pilot--”

Without looking up from his newspaper, Scrooge pressed a button on the door. The glass divider slowly rolled up and forced Launchpad to keep his eyes where they should be: on the road. 

(Y/n) lied down on the seat with a sluggish frown. “I’m just gonna...close my eyes.” Either Launchpad forgot how brakes work, or he had zero brain cells left, because he continued charging through the city until he came to the manor’s gates despite Scrooge’s protests. The limo came to a screeching stop. If it weren’t for Scrooge, (Y/n) would have flown into the windscreen. 

“Why aren’t we moving?” demanded Scrooge. (Y/n) harshly swallowed and sat up. The impatient beeping of the limo’s horn didn’t help her spinning head, and neither did Scrooge’s yelling as he hopped out of the car. “Hey!” he shouted. “Jettison that jalopy from my driveway, ya deadbeat!” 

Who was he even talking to?

“Donald Duck.” 

Oh. 

“Uncle Scrooge.”

Oh.

(Y/n) didn’t care to listen to the arguing. All she wanted was a good cup of tea and a bed. 

“Jettison that jalopy from my driveway this instant, ya deadbeat!”

“Oh, here we go again, giving orders like he’s the richest duck in the world!”

“I am the richest duck in the world, now move!”

(Y/n) couldn’t take the arguing anymore. Her head spun, she felt like she’d throw up, and she really craved that cuppa probably waiting for her in the dining room. “Can you both shut up?!” A pair of footsteps made their way towards the open car door. Through the disgustingly bright sunlight, and the splitting headache, (Y/n) made out the angry face of Donald Duck.

“What did you do to her Scrooge?!” he shouted. Scrooge let out a large gasp, a clear sign he was beyond offended. “What did I do to her?! It was Launchpad’s driving!” 

There was some more chatter before three identical children piled in the limo. (Y/n) didn’t care who they were, and it seemed like the feeling with Scrooge was mutual. When the gates opened and they arrived at the front door, Mrs. Beakely scooped (Y/n) in her arms and brought her to her room. “My, my, was it Launchpad’s terrible excuse for driving again?” 

(Y/n) wordlessly nodded as Beakley set her on her bed. She poured a nice warm cup of tea and handed it to the car-sick girl. “I suggest you rest for a little before you get caught up too much excitement again.” Mrs. B. said. 

A little rest, Mrs. B. said. It would be good for you, she said. Only after waking up did (Y/n) realise she had been drugged by the one-and-only housekeeper. It was obvious she knew (Y/n) wouldn’t get a wink of sleep because she had a tendency to lay awake in bed until three in the morning, but in her eyes, that did not justify her actions, especially after all the action she missed out on. 

That morning, she stood in the dining room, PJs on and mouth agape as three identical triplets bombarded her with an arsenal of crazy questions.

"Aren't you Uncle Scrooge's famous sidekick?"

"Isn't your family crazy rich and extremely prestige?"

"How do you still look the same after so many years?"

"Botox?"

"Water from the Fountain of Youth?"

"No, plastic surgery?"

(Y/n) sent Scrooge a silent look for help, to which he shook his head with a warm smile. "Boys, don't be rude." he merrily said. "She's just cursed is all." The blue one's eyes widened, and for a second, (Y/n) thought he had chocked on his scrambled eggs. "You're cursed? How?"

"Uh..."

"Actually, I have a better question, how did you meet Uncle Scrooge?"

(Y/n) swallowed a bite of toast. Her gaze nervously snapped towards the old duck, to which he folded his newspaper shut and said, "Alright, boys. That's enough. I think it's a bit early for all these questions, especially for her. She hates mornings." (Y/n) smiled a little. "Yeah, I do." She returned her focus on the faces of the three kids. Each had large, bright eyes, extremely large smiles, and loud personalities. Which also happened to remind her of...

(Y/n) leaned over to Scrooge's ear and subtly face-palmed. "They're Della's kids, aren't they?"

"You just figured that out now?"

"I was tired, what do you expect?"

Scrooge rolled his eyes. "Besides that, we're going to Atlantis tomorrow." he nonchalantly announced. (Y/n) almost spit out her tea. "Wait, you're serious?"

He nodded, a sparkle (Y/n) hadn't seen in a while shining in his eyes. (Y/n) couldn't help but feel grateful for Scrooge. If he hadn't stopped her from seeking out her family, she'd probably be dead. (Y/n) Eider didn't belong with a bunch of prestigious, scholarly ducks. She was an adventurer, an explorer, who walked through every corner of the Earth.

But most importantly, she was Scrooge McDuck's one and only side-kick.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #x reader #reader insert #ducktales x reader

[reroseshi]

🦇Psychological Analysis of Diabolik Lovers❤:

Hi! I've decided for my first own Tumblr post that I should talk about the franchise that I have been a fan of for 6 years: Diabolik Lovers. After being in this fandom for so long I felt personally kinda cheap for me to just do a short funny post about DL

… sooo~~~ i've decided to share my personal psychological analysis on all the diaboys! Disclaimer: 

1-My memory is quite short and trying to analyse 13  fictional mentally ill boys is quite tricky so please be easy on me.^^

2- English isn't my first language so there might be some mistakes so please pardon me for that!

3- I am currently still working on the Mukami's, the Tsukinami's and Kino so they aren't gonna be in this post!

4- I based myself on the manga and MAINLY HDB and MB for my analysis.

Thank you and have a good reading!^^~ <3

-Rero

Sakamaki's:________________________________

-Shu Sakamaki:

Shu is the first born and the heir of the Sakamaki family. Thus, whether he wants it or not, it was decided even before he was born that he will be the victim of a lot of pressure. That pressure to become worthy of being the heir not only came from both of his parents but the servants as well. He couldn’t be free for two seconds. He was obliged to stay inside the castle/mansion (sometimes in the garden with his mom) to study and train, but he wasn’t allowed to go somewhere else. As he lived in a strict environnement, he wasn't happy as a kid and wanted to escape from that life. Meeting Edgar gave him true happiness. He was his first real best friend and he eventually lost him in the flames of his village. Imagine the thing or person who made you discover true happiness burning in front of your own very eyes. You will most likely lose hope in making other close relationship with anything or anyone. That's how Shu is. A depressed, borderline suicidal man who doesn't have any hope anymore and thinks that it is all his fault. Refusing anyone close to him and empty on a daily basis, he uses music as a way to cope with everything. If you think that Shu is easier to love because "he is less harsh than the other brothers" then you are wrong. Shu doesn't want to be involved with anything or anyone. If you try to get close to him, then get ready to be hurt because he is a sadist like his brothers and can hurt you if he doesn't want you near him.

-Reiji Sakamaki:

(If you want a more detailed and a well done analysis, please go check this one:

Reiji was severely neglected as a child by both of his parents. He basically spent his entire childhood trying to get their attention or at least some recognition from them, especially his mom’s, but never got any or if he did it was to remind him that he should be a good younger/brother/servant/right-hand man for his older brother, the next heir of the Sakamaki family Shu. Thus, as he grew up he developed a strong feeling of jealousy for his brother to the point of having a severe inferiority complex. In addition to that, the bitterness that he has for ages inside of him about his mother still resides in him and as we know he is still trying to revive her. Reiji is a man who holds grudges from his past and seeks revenge. He is also someone who loves attention (maybe not as much as Kanato) and wants to be recognized as superior to his brother whom he despises so much to the point that you cannot even talk about Shu around him without having either a death glare or a ass whooping. By putting high standards on to himself, not only in the present but also in his past, he’s become a perfectionist who cares a lot about image and manners. He even forces Yui in his route to learn the perfect lady etiquette. Why does he act this way? Simple, in my opinion it is because he likes to keep a perfect image of himself in a way to detach himself from his brothers whom he despises a lot. You might also ask: if he hates his brothers, then why didn’t he kill them yet? Well, Reiji in one interview (https://prevolt.tumblr.com/post/103068375676/diabolik-lovers-dark-fate-stellaworth-complete )admits that he doesn’t completely hate living with his bros, also if he would’ve killed them, his father would’ve punished him. Even if he seems not that bad with his gentleman personality, Reiji isn’t a kind man. Reiji can easily kill someone. To end this, to go back to the butler-like image he gives himself, I think it could be a mask to hide the insecurities he has. I also believe that he constantly lies to himself and that he doesn’t truly understand his own emotions or even himself has seen many times in his HDB route and in the manga.

-Ayato Sakamaki:

(For Ayato I fell upon this really interesting analysis if you are interested ) 

Ayato, in his childhood, like all of his brothers, was not treated well by his father but he , most importantly, got overpressured by Cordelia to be number one. He couldn’t get out and play freely like any normal child can do because when he would sneak out, he got punished and got slapped in the face by his own mother telling him that if he cannot be number one, he is not allowed to call her “mother” again.(Also, do I need to remind you all the lake scene from his childhood… )For him, you cannot be loved and/or appreciated if you’re not number one. Because he had to live such a childhood, he developed a severe narcissistic personality. Narcissists are not born, they are made, and they are made by being over praised as a kid for their success (such as having a good grade at school, winning a competition or an award, being the best in what they are doing) and by being emotionally neglected. (Ex: throughout the day the child is getting good compliments from their parents by being the number one at school but when the kid will start crying, the parents will ignore or punish him for it. Not giving him any love or support. Which will lead the kid to build himself an ego higher than Yūma’s height and rejecting his own emotions.) I think it describes Ayato’s behaviour and his past pretty well. Another thing that is important to consider about Ayato is that he looks as if he is frozen in time. (Which is a trait that can also be found in any real life narcissists) Even if his mother is dead and that he has nothing to prove anymore, he is still stuck in the “I need to be number one” as if his brain didn’t move on to the present. In addition to that, Ayato is a really childish man. I mean: he needs Yui’s attention and approval all the time, pouts like a kid, acts like a kid (when he asked Yui to stroke his hair in a childish way, plays pranks on Reiji, …) and sometimes speaks like a kid when things are not going the way he wants them to go. Also, once states that he doesn’t wish to have someone special in his life again because the last one who was special (his mom) broke his heart. Ayato himself and himself only and the only goal in his life is to prove that he is the best. To do that, he will use ANY sadistic method and won’t stop even if you beg. Heck, it’ll only excite him more. He is a narcissistic sadist who keeps his emotions far away from him.

-Kanato Sakamaki:

(For this character I highly suggest that you take a good look a this psychological analysis since in my opinion really detailed and the author made a really good job making it: . Thank you~)

Just like his brother Laito, Kanato throughout his childhood was severely neglected and treated very harshly by both of his parents. The only thing that was valuable to his mother’s eyes was his beautiful voice and literally made him sing until his vocal cords bled. I suspect that Kanato probably suffers from Asperger syndrome from how he acts when he is mad, the fact that he doesn’t understand his or the emotions of others and his overall behaviour. In the present we can all see that he is almost, if not, the scariest of all sakamaki brothers and I think that it is mainly due to the lack of attention and support from his parents. Of all the Sakamaki’s, Kanato is the one who, from very early in his childhood, needed attention and support the most. Why do you think he always has a teddy in his arms (with his mother’s ashes in it must I remind you..)and makes his own doll made out of the body of dead women? Kanato simply cannot stand being alone. He would rather have you dead by his side for all eternity than being rejected or even worse, ignored.(I really recommend to read Kanato’s analysis since it really explains well his behaviour on that aspect^^)

He is maybe cute, remember that he is unable to understand your emotions and that he has no problem killing you. Also to be able to survive with him, you will have to abandon your logic and read in between the lines which isn’t an easy task..(This one is shorter because I think that Kanato isn’t that complex. He is just really different but still stays, in my opinion, pretty simple and easy to understand)

-Laito Sakamaki:

Laito is what I would call an empty pervert who uses sex as a coping mechanism. He believes that there’s nothing more real than pleasure. He even goes further in his “crazy” beliefs that “even the sweetest pain can become the greatest pleasure”. Behind his playful, sociable, perverted personality is a really cruel, cunning and manipulator expert who knows the best tricks to manipulate someone since his mother uses those on him in his “young adulthood” to have sexual intercourses with him. Only used as a sex partner by his mom as a child and never received any unconditional love from his parents, he has a bad definition of love. For him love=lust, real love (true love or even unconditional love) doesn’t exist and that it is all fake. He spends his time having sex to forget about the women that broke him and would even go as far as threatening Yui to death if she resist him when she doesn’t want to get involve in his “activities” or “little games”. But even after all that he can’t forget her and still is captive of her “love”, still feeling her, remembering her scent and everything about her. He can’t escape from that jail. Finally, it’s important to remember that Laito is a sadist who takes an amount of pleasure by having someone succumbing to him in a mental and sexual way. He is not someone to be taken lightly. You might not see the danger totally at first by that’s just how Laito is. He even says it himself in his HDB route, he is the type of man who will follow his prey in an alley before attacking it. Therefore, he is not like most of his brothers, he is not going to attack fully. He’s slowly going to take little bites of you and before you even realize it, you won’t be able to escape from him anymore.

-Subaru Sakamaki:

First of all, we need to know that Subaru was born (just like almost all of his brothers) just for the sake of Karl’s plan. What is different about Subaru is that his mother became crazy when she had her child. (I just want to state that she did want the child and Karlheinz did not totally raped her since it is stated that she accepted but we also all know that she was being manipulated. Since for the moment I want to concentrate more on Subaru I will not spend too much time explaining his parents relationship but it is something that we should definitely analyse as well in my opinion) Subaru was severely neglected by his father and he never knew what it was to have a normal mother. Throughout his entire childhood, he’s witnessed his mother’s unstable mind, bipolarity, her tantrums episodes and even worse, not only her insults being thrown directly at him but her literally asking him to kill both her and Karl. Because of that, he’s developed anger issues, a lack of trust with women, a severe depression and he is, if not, borderline suicidal. I also want to state that (He even states in his route in HDB that the two people he hates the most in “this world” is 1) Karlheinz 2)himself)Subaru is one if not the most sensible emotionally. So that means he feels harder than the others. You can also see that he has developed similar traits has his mother has you get to know him more in his route such as: bipolarity (when he orders Yui to always come and tell him where she’s going and then get mad when she does so telling her that he doesn’t care) and random tantrums. (when he gets mad à Yui for no good reason and even makes false assumptions) Not only does he usuels violence as a coping mechanism but he also always isolates himself, not letting anyone in his hard shell because he believes that he can’t do any good and that he is useless. In his presents, he still believes in his mother’s insults and thinks of him as someone filthy, disgusting, weak, a monster who can’t do anything to help the person he loved, his mother. He hates himself. He is constantly irritated by everything. If you want to love him you will have to endure the violence that he’s going to give to you and live with his confusion and irritation against not only everything that surrounds him but also against himself and you, and you will have to give up your life to make him trust you entirely.

#Tried to put some pics but it didn't worked...fml #I swear in this game you don't date boys #you date mental problems #when you meet people and star analysing them but then you get these DL vietnam flashbacks #going through HDB made me feel so bad #HDB is the worst #Recent DL games are much softer imo #Diabolik Lovers #Psychological analysis #Sakamaki #Shu #Reiji #Ayato #Kanato #Laito #Subaru

[bobasheebaby]

100 Buffy Prompts

I had a lot of fun compiling this list. I was cracking up more than once and now I want to binge Buffy. If there is a show you want let me know because these seriously help me shut of my brain during this covid hell.

1 “NAME, your mouth is open, sound is coming from it. This is never good.” – Buffy Summers

2 “I just want to be alone and quite in a room with a chair and a fireplace and a tea cozy. I don’t even know what a tea cozy is, but I want one.” – Buffy Summers

3 "They were supposed to be my light at the end of the tunnel. I guess they were a train.” – Buffy Summers

4 “I don’t know what’s coming next. But I do know it’s gonna be just like this – hard, painful. But in the end, it’s gonna be us. If we all do our parts, believe it, we’ll be the one’s left standing.” – Buffy Summers

5 “I don’t handle rejection well. Funny, considering all the practice I’ve had, huh?” – Xander Harris

6 "Just because you’re better than us doesn’t mean you can be all superior.” – Xander Harris

7 “I’m leaning towards blind panic myself.” – Rupert Giles

8 “Since the picture you just painted means that I will never touch food of any kind again, you’ll just have to pick it up yourself.” – Rupert Giles

9 "With all the rubbish people keep sticking in my head, it's a wonder that there's room for my brain." – Spike

10 "Oh, I don't know. Looking in the mirror every day and seeing nothing there...it's an overrated pleasure.” – Angel

11 "Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping, waiting, and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir. Open it's jaws, and howl. It speaks to us, guides us. Passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have?" – Angel

12 "Anyway, for real now, I'm gonna ask you something, and you gotta promise you'll be honest and not spare my feelings just 'cause I could kill you. You promise?" Faith

13 "You gotta give me something to do. There's no way I'm sleeping. Don't you need anyone dead? Or maimed? I can settle for maimed.” – Faith

14 "You know, I honestly don't think there's a human word fabulous enough for me.”- Glorificus

15 “I’m cookie dough. I’m not done baking. I’m not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I’m gonna turn out to be. I make it through this, and the next thing, and the next thing, and maybe one day, I turn around and realize I’m ready. I’m cookies. And then, you know, if I want someone to eat m — or enjoy warm, delicious, cookie me, then that’s fine. That’ll be then. When I’m done.” — Buffy Summers

16 “Seize the moment, ’cause tomorrow you might be dead.” — Buffy Summers

17 “The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Be brave. Live.” — Buffy Summers

18 “No weapons. No friends. No hope. Take all that away and what’s left?” “Me.” — Angelus & Buffy Summers

19 “Don’t you have an elsewhere to be?” – Cordelia Chase

20 “God! What is your childhood trauma?!” – Cordelia Chase

21 “Gee, can you vague that up for me?” – Buffy Summers

22 “I laugh in the face of danger. Then I hide until it goes away.” – Xander Harris

23 “I don’t know what your problem is, what your issues are. But as of this moment I officially don’t care.” – Xander Harris

24 “You’re really campaigning for bitch of the year, aren’t you?” – Cordelia Chase

25 “I mock you with my monkey pants!” – Oz

26 “Funny how preparing looks an awful lot like sitting on your ass.” – Spike

27 “That’s fairly freaksome.” – Oz

28 “Do you have any tact at all?” – Giles

29 “I’ve known you for two minutes and I can’t stand you.” – Spike

30 “Great. Now I’m gonna be stuck with serious thoughts all day.” – Cordelia Chase

31 “You didn’t happen to take a lot of drugs, did you?” – Willow

32 “I’ve seen honest faces…they usually come attached to liars.” – Willow

33 “Can I be blind, too?” – Xander

34 “Gee, I hope I’m not interrupting anything really depressing.” – Riley

35 “And you just accepted that? I only said that because I thought that’s what you wanted to hear.” – Anya

36 “This is the crack team that foils my every plan? I am deeply shamed.” – Spike

37 “We’ve got to face it, we’ve changed. Well, not you—you’re still sadistic and self-centered.” – Giles

38 “Sometimes the most adult thing you can do is ask for help when you need it.” – Giles

39 “Did everybody have their Crazy Flakes today?” – Xander

40 “Do you love me?” “What?” “Do you?” “I love you. I don't know if I trust you.” “Maybe you shouldn't do either.” “Maybe I'm the one who should decide!” — Angel & Buffy

41 “Six a.m.!" NAME cried. "I know that's a number on my clock, but I've never actually been awake to personally witness it!” — Xander

42 “Bored now.” — Vampire Willow

43 “We’ll go be heroes.” — Spike

44 “You have a plan?” “I am the plan.” — Giles & Buffy

45 "Strong is fighting. It's hard and it's painful, and it's every day. It's what we have to do. And we can do it together." — Buffy

46 "I make it through this and the next thing and the next thing, and maybe one day I turn around and realize I'm ready." — Buffy

47 "You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. NAME, the hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Be brave. Live, for me." — Buffy

48 "Make your choices. Are you ready to be strong?" — Buffy

49 “Weird love’s better than no love.” — Buffy

50 “The who having wha with huh?” — Buffy

51 “Whatever you choose, you’ve got my support. Just think of me as… as your… You know, I’m searching for supportive things and I’m coming up all bras. So, something slightly more manly, think of me as that.” – Xander

52 "A lot of things that seem strong and good and powerful, they can be painful." Angel

53 "To forgive is an act of compassion, NAME. It's-it's... it's not done because people deserve it. It's done because they need it." — Giles

54 "In the end, we all are who we are, no matter how much we may appear to have changed." — Giles

55 "I don't have time for vendettas. The mission is what matters." — Buffy

56 "I don't want to protect you from the world. I want to show it to you." — Buffy

57 "Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?" — Buffy

58 "Recognizing power in another does not diminish your own." — Joss Whedon

59 “Out. For. A. Walk… Bitch.” — Spike

60 “You can’t see the stars, love. That’s the ceiling. Also, it’s day.” — Spike

61 “Is everyone here very stoned?” — Spike

62 “I feel safe with you.” [Chokes] “TAKE THAT BACK!” — Dawn & Spike

63 “I love you.” “Oh, my god.” “Hey, no. Look at me. I... love you. You're all I bloody think about... dream about. You're in my gut... my throat... I'm drowning in you, NAME. I'm drowning in you.” — Spike & Buffy

64 “Just... give me something. A crumb, the barest smidgen. Tell me maybe, someday there's a chance” “NAME ... the only chance you had with me was when I was unconscious.” “Oh, wha-“ [screams, then shouts]  “What the bleeding hell is wrong with you bloody men/women? What the hell does it take? Why do you bitches torture me?” “Which question do you want me to answer first?” — Spike & Buffy

65 “You can't deny it. There's something between us.” “Loathing. Disgust.” — Spike & Buffy

66 “Could do without the laugh track, NAME.” “But it's so funny. I knew... before you did. I knew you loved the NAME. The pixies in my head whispered it to me.” — Spike & Drusilla

67 “Damn right I’m impure! I’m as impure as the driven yellow snow.” — Spike

68 “I love you.” “No, you don’t. But thanks for saying it.” — Spike & Buffy

69 “This with you, it’s wrong. I know it. I’m not a complete idiot.” — Spike

70 “You always hurt the ones you love, pet.” — Spike

71 "When I say ‘I love you,’ it’s not because I want you or because I can’t have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I’ve seen the best and worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are." — Buffy

72 "I’m just gonna go home, lie down, and listen to country music. The music of pain." — Buffy

73 "I have feelings for you. I do. But it's not love. I could never trust you enough for it to be love." — Buffy

74 "Weird love's better than no love." — Buffy

75 “People don’t fall in love with what’s right in front of them. People want the dream — what they can’t have. The more unattainable, the more attractive.” — Buffy

76 "Trust is for old marrieds, NAME. Great love is wild and passionate and dangerous. It burns and consumes." “Until there's nothing left. Love like that doesn't last." — Spike & Buffy

77 "This isn't some fairy tale. When I kiss you...you don't wake up from a deep sleep and live happily ever after" — Angel

78 "I love you. I try not to, but I can't stop" — Angel

79 "If I may suggest, ‘This time it's personal.’ I mean, there's a reason why it's a classic." —Oz

80 "Well, to the casual observer, it would appear that you're trying to make your friend NAME jealous, or even the score, or something. And...that's on the empty side. See, in my fantasy, when I'm kissing you, you're kissing me. It's okay, I can wait." — Oz

81 "NAME’s our friend...except I don't like him/her.” — Xander

82 "What am I gonna do? I think about sex all the time! Sex ... Help! Four times five is thirty ... five times six is thirty-two ... Naked girls. Naked women ... Naked NAME ... Oh, stop me!" — Xander

83 "Man, NAME! My whole life just flashed before my eyes. I gotta' get me a life!" — Xander

84 “NAME. You're really campaigning for bitch-of-the-year, aren't you?” “As defending champion, you nervous?” — Cordelia & Buffy

85 "Tact is just not saying true stuff. I'll pass." — Cordelia

86 “Oh please. Like shame is something to be proud of.” — Cordelia

87 “I’m going to give you some advice: get over it.” — Cordelia

88 “Oh, and you’re welcome.” — Cordelia

89 “I’m not a sniveling little cry-NAME. I’m the nastiest guy/girl in PLACE history. I take crap from no one.” — Cordelia

90 “I think it. I say it. It’s my way.” — Cordelia

91 "I don't like spiders, okay? Their furry bodies, and their sticky webs, and what do they need all those legs for anyway? I'll tell you - for crawling across your face in the middle of the night." — Willow

92 "I don't want danger. Big 'no’ to danger.” — Willow

93 "Let's get this straight. I don't understand it. I don't wanna' understand it. You have gross emotional problems. And things are not okay between us." — Willow

94 "NAME, I got so lost." "I found you. I will always find you." — Tara & Willow

95 "But you like him/her, and when you think about him/her, you get that good down-low tickle, right?" — Faith

96 "You hurt me, I hurt you. I'm just a little more efficient." — Faith

97 "Just relax ... and take off your pants." — Faith

98 "I am, you know." “What?" “Yours." — Tara & Willow

99 "I don't have time for bondage fun." - Buffy

100 “It's fine, I don't need to be snuggled.” — Willow

#buffy prompts #buffy quotes #btvs #writing prompts #dialogue prompts #drabble prompts #buffy summers #angel #cordelia chase #rupert giles #xander harris #willow rosenberg #faith #spike #quaratine sucks and making these keeps my mind busy #i live in covid 19 hell

[leslie-red]

Connection chapter 4

Enjoy the new chapter leave comments please i would be very happy to see reviews and answer some questions ^^

Ruvik steps toward this gaunt and bruised body. Doing a new experiment was the thing he had first wanted to do as soon as he came back to the real world. It reminds him of the first times he made discoveries on the human brain. He might not be able to kill for his pleasure again, but nothing will stop him from finding again those sensations of studying the wonders of the human body. Not even Leslie. Despite everything, he can't stop thinking about Sebastian's "thank you". The second he heard those words, he wanted to hurt him. Make him understand that he doesn't care about his gratitude. But Sebastian still keeps that thing that fascinates Ruvik, that gives him something he could only compare to butterflies in his stomach. He slowly raises his head up and sees his sister's portrait. His beautiful sister.

 Seing you again would have been the most beautiful thing to happen to me. I would have protected you, loved you like I have always done. I'm staying here only to see you again, even if you're now just a picture. But the best one I can see.

He remembers this awful view of his sister in STEM. He didn't want to make her look like that, but everything was haywire. Starting with his mind…But now everything is clear. He takes the first surgical instrument he needs to start the experiment and pushes the button of his old recorder. Smiling, he makes the first cut. Like good old days.

"The body shows marks all around the neck, as well as hematomas. The brain was deprived of oxygen for several minutes. Enough for the victim to react and free herself, but the pression exerted by this force was merciless. It took no more than around three seconds for her ear-canal system to start taking damage. Her respiratory system soon followed and it's obvious to conclude that the victim died of several causes: cerebral pressure, respiratory pressure, and a broken neck. There is no doubt…I know this way of killing…I created those responsible for her death. There's more of them…I can feel it. Their power is more powerful than in the machine…"

For him, there's no doubt. He should tell Sebastian about it like he promised him. Sebastian stays inside his car for a few minutes, parked outside the hospital where Diane is kept in. He tries to think of the way he's going to announce her the horrible news. He may have lied to his coworkers about finding the body, but he can't lie to her. He just can't. Losing a family member is what's the most difficult…A parent, a child….A sister.

Ruvik always ends up being in his thoughts.

He laughs in a bitter way and sighs while getting out of the car. He walks towards the hospital, wishing he could be anywhere else. Once inside, he asks for Diane's room. His stomach starts going into knots as he gets closer to the room where she's resting. He has seen so much, in his personal and professional life. But it's rare for him to be so anxious. He sees her. She's sitting down on her bed, her head down and with a sad look on her face. It almost makes Sebastian cry. But it's not like him to do so. "Get a hold of yourself, man." Even Ruvik or Joseph would correct him from acting this way. Knocking on the door, he steps inside the room and Diane immediately looks up at him, a dead look in her eyes.

"You came back?" She remarks with a little voice. Sebastian slowly nods and walks closer.

"How do you feel?"

She shrugs without answering. She doesn't know what to say. In a span of a night her life took a drastic turn. But once again, just looking at this man convinces her that she can tell him everything. As if he experienced the same things. For a few seconds, neither of them dare say a word. Sebastian tries to find the best way to announce her what's new.

"Diane…" He looks at her with prudence and kneels down in front of her. "I need to tell you something…It's about your mother."

He tries his best to be as gentle as possible despite his rough voice. He was going to pursue when Diane cuts him off with a shaking voice.

"I know. Mom is dead."

He says nothing, completely thunderstruck.

"Diane…How…"

"I felt it. Since forever, I can feel things. And her…it was over. I couldn't feel anything anymore."

Since his daughter's death, he never felt such a thing. He can't describe it, but it hurts so much. He only wants one thing. To break everything, to let this feeling come back, either by smoking or drinking a glass of whiskey. But right now, all he does is massaging the girl's arm to comfort her, which he does rather clumsily. For fuck's sake, he was a father once. He should do this better. But he's like paralyzed.

"I'm so sorry, Diane." This time, his voice is naturally softer. The girl lays her head on his shoulder, suddenly exhausted. Sebastian can hear footsteps coming to the room and turns around. He stays silent for a long moment, not expecting to see her. What is she doing there? The person looks at him without moving an eyelash. Diane can suddenly feels the tension but says nothing about it. Sebastian slowly gets up.

"You…What are you doing there?" He whispers.

"I wasn't expecting to see you there either, Sebastian. The last time I saw you…"

"What happened, agent Kidman?" He asks with an icy voice. "What did you do when I woke up?"

"I freed you. Can't you remember?"

And he remembers. He remembers her face when she motioned him to be quiet. She saved him…

"Why?" He asks harshly. She sighs, uncertain about what to answer.

"You didn't deserve this. I owned you something, you're a good man. I told you, Sebastian. Just for that, I didn't want you to be involved in all those horrors.

On the spur of the moment, this answer makes him calmer. He knows she didn't lie. She probably experienced the same amount of horrors as he did in STEM. But a thought suddenly rushes back to his mind and

it doesn't take long for his anger to be back.

"And Joseph? Did he deserve this? Was a bullet in the heart all he deserved?"

"Of course not! You know I didn't want to shoot him, I had to find Leslie and…"

Tears are running down her cheeks. She really didn't want all this to happen. To kill Joseph…Well, he isn't…How can she tell this to him? Everything is jostling in Sebastian's head. This is too much to take. "I will never be at peace. I should have left for Hawaii or anywhere else, far away from this mess."

Sebastian notices a particular symbol on Kidman's hand. He touches it all of a sudden.

"What is that? I've seen this symbol before."

Kidman looks at him gravely, then her eyes fall on Diane. The girl silently kept looking at them with curiosity, but with an incredibly sad look on her face.

"Sebastian, please…We should talk about this outside the room and let her rest."

He accepts reluctantly, hostile to the idea of leaving Diane alone. However, he assures her that they will stay close to her room if she needs anything.

"Do you know a lot about this case?" Kidman asks suddenly, trying not to talk about the mark on her hand. Sebastian answers gravely, he doesn't have any other choice.

"I'm working on it. And you? Do you know a lot about it?"

"I was made aware of it as soon as I came back and I wanted to meet Diane. We sympathized." She ends her sentence with a smile. "She's very brave."

Sebastian slowly nods, remembering the whole case.

"Her mother passed away. I can't say much more for now, but trust me. Don't tell anyone about this. It would be useless."

For a moment, he starts thinking like Ruvik, which could be considered confusing. But he can't help himself.

"What really happened? You need to trust me too, Sebastian…I beg of you."

He stays silent for a few minutes, wondering if he should really trust her and tell her about what happened. But she freed him, and met Diane. However, Sebastian prefers not to say anything about Ruvik or Leslie. He doesn't want to betray them.

"It seems like…Being freed from Stem, wether it was you or me, wasn't without consequences. It was to be expected anyway, as soon as we were connected to it, we were condemned. This woman was possessed…Or contaminated by a malicious spirit from STEM…Like all those monsters we fought."

"My god…This could be a failure of STEM?"

"Either a failure or as I said, a consequence of our survival. We were probably supposed to stay forever in STEM, or die trying to get out."

Sebastian remembers Ruvik's words. Getting out of STEM is a miracle, but you can't do it unscathed. Ruvik getting out of STEM was itself kind of a consequence. He wanted to get out…But inside Leslie's body.

"So…This woman won't probably be the only victim."

Sebastian tries to tell himself that talking to her wasn't a mistake. From the people he knew that were linked to STEM, she's the only one he's got left. The only one who was professionally related to him.

Furthermore, she saved him from STEM, perhaps he can give her a second chance. And it's true she's even more involved in this than he is.

"Do you think Mobius knows something about it?"

She looks at him with a intrigued look and Sebastian can't help but sigh.

"Don't mistake me for an idiot. I recognize this mark on your hand. It's Mobius. You are connected to it. So it's only normal for me to ask you this question. Especially if we're going to work together again."

She owes him the truth. After everything they've been through.

"It's true that I'm connected to it. And…to tell the truth, I ignore if they know something about it. I lost contact with them since I left. This mark is all I've got left."

Sebastian stares at the mark. Red and neat, it truly represents Mobius' symbol.

"It looks like a burn…Is this dangerous for you?"

"It hurts from time to time. I believe I will keep it for life. I got it…When I stopped serving them."

"Damn…What did you get yourself into…"

They both stay silent for a while until Sebastian decides to walk away while looking at Diane, but Kidman suddenly speaks.

"Do you trust me?"

Sebastian stays motionless but ends up turning around, obviously exhausted.

"I don't have any other choice…And…Yes. Somehow, yes. Don't disappoint me."

She understands and smiles.

"I'm tired." Sebastian sighs. "We will talk about this another day. Are you going to stay with Diane?"

"Yes. I will take care of her."

He remembers. The last time she was taking care of someone, Leslie, she was hiding something. She was trying to kill him. But now, Sebastian knows why. At the moment, he wants nothing more than to sleep

and stop thinking about all of this. He smiles one last time at Diane, promising her that he will be back soon. She visibly understands and gives him a smile, but sadness is hiding at the corner of her lips. "Yes,

she is courageous. She reminds me of…" Suddenly, he's gone. Juli walks into the room and sits down next to Diane.

"Do you have family left?"

"Yes. My uncle is going to come here with my cousin. They don't know yet…"

The woman gently puts her hand on Diane's arm in a comforting way.

"You're not alone. Everything is going to be fine, Diane. Do you know when they will be there?"

"Tomorrow, during the day. I'm staying there for the night. Thank you, both you and Sebastian…"

For a few seconds, Juli can feel a chill down her spine but chooses to ignore it.

"You…Even if I leave, will you and Sebastian come see me again?"

"Of course, don't worry about it. We will still be there for you, Diane. I think Sebastian really cares about you."

Those few words warm Diane's heart.

"He suffered in his life, didn't he?"

"Yes." Kidman answers sadly. "We all had our share of misfortunes. But the only thing we can do is fight."

A nurse enters the room, advising Diane to sleep. The little girl, despite being tired, is afraid of being alone and Juli can see it.

"Diane, it's best for you to sleep. I will be there tomorrow, alright?"

This slightly reassures her and she lies down on the bed. Juli smiles at her, wishing her good night before leaving the room, unsure of what to do next. How to solve this case. No one is safe. Those monsters have the possibility to kill again. And being linked to Mobius and to STEM, she can be a victim. "This will never stop. Mobius was right…They will never leave."

She was going to reach her car in the parking lot when she feels that same chill down her spine again. This time, she can't ignore it. Looking around her is fruitless, there is no one. However, she ends up hearing a bloodcurdling voice.

"You." Gasping, she turns around only to find herself face to face with Ruvik. Exactly like in STEM. He pronounced the same word as Sebastian did, but this time she knows she won't be able to make it. He's right there, in front of her, a murderous look on his face. He really got out of STEM.

"They spared you…You failed…"

She can't even say a word, but instinctively gets her gun out. Stoic, Ruvik disarms her with a flip of his hand, throwing the weapon away.

"You are still confident in the fact that a bullet in the head is going to take me down. Huge mistake, Kid."

"Don't get any closer, Ruvik! I know you've managed to free yourself. I'm only asking you to leave me alone, I've got nothing to do with you anymore!"

Ruvik savors this fear that still fuels him, still walking toward her.

"Really? You are once again tied to a case in which you can play a role. I saw you with the child. You can protect her, but this time you can also save her, like you failed to do with Leslie."

"Leslie…He is…"

"Really cosy, inside my head." Smirking, Ruvik enjoys his victory. "He's not going to get out anytime soon. I told you he would be my vessel. From one way or another, him and I were destined to be one."

Juli's heart starts beating faster, as she expects to die at any moment now.

"You're not going to hurt me?"

Following this question, Ruvik wraps a hand around her neck and shoves her against the car. She can't bring herself to take her eyes away from this piercing gaze.

"Stay away from me or Leslie and I will spare you. I will even be kind enough to let you investigate on this case in your own way. But if you try anything against me, what Mobius made you endure will be nothing compared to what I will do to you."

 He's a monster…Even if Leslie is in his mind, he's still a monster…I need to be careful.

"I won't do anything against you, Ruvik. I care about my life."

"As awful as it is, you shouldn't." He spats while brutally releasing her.

"Sebastian knows you came back, doesn't he?" Hearing this name, Ruvik takes a deep breath as if he was trying to stop himself from screaming. Juli notices it.

"He didn't do anything to you…And he didn't do anything to me either." Where is she trying to go with this? He gives her a fierce look and lets her pursue, trying to stop himself from hurting her.

"I betrayed him…And you hurt him. But he forgave us…This man is outstanding. Do you realize that? Let's try not to kill each other. He doesn't deserve this." Even though his blood is boiling, Ruvik smirks once again.

"Oh, I see, so you have a little crush on him?"

She stays silent and he suddenly disappears without another word. Juli slowly sits down on the floor under the shock and takes a deep breath. At the second Ruvik showed himself she only wanted a thing: to die. Because that's the kind of feelings he can generate. He's back, all flesh and bones, but with Leslie inside his mind? And the worst thing is that him and Sebastian already met. She saw something…When she talked about Sebastian, Ruvik's eyes were displaying an emotion for a short moment. But she can't read it. Anyway, with Ruvik around she will feel even more insecure but she will try to stay careful and do her job. He's giving her the chance to do it.

Motionless, Ruvik stays for a moment on the porch of his manor, gazing at the starts. The autopsy is done and it was a delight to find this woman again and terrorize her. And above all, to make her understand that he will keep an eye on her. He can hear strange sounds around him. Demonic sounds. Identical to those in STEM. A part of him is glad to know that there will be victims…He can't erase this morbid and sadistic part of him. Nothing can erase it. That's what he has become. But another part of him somehow forces him to investigate and stop this. Leslie is the cause of this. The innocence of his mind. Ruvik walks back inside the manor and stands for a long moment in the hall, looking at the family portrait. Especially at Laura. This is something he will never cease to do. To look at her, like she was there with him.

 "I would give everything to be with you again. This is probably one of the few things I really want that has nothing to do with Leslie's mind. I will find a way, Laura. I love you."

A few words he can only think. Words he will never say out loud.

Ao3 link

The first chapters on ao3

#the evil within #ao3 #fanfiction #sebastian castellanos #ruvik #laura victoriano #juli kidman #ruseb #leslie withers #tew #writer #enjoy