#but he begins to discover that every time he dies it takes a little longer for him to come back

[kandlewick]

i'll dry the villain's tears

t h e r o s e r e d t y r a n t ' s m o t h e r

you get reincarnated into a role that became the breaking point of the villain's story and you, be it an unwillingness to cause them harm or a desire to survive, must work hard to make sure they grow into a better (or at least safer) person.

You had died.

at least, you think you did.

It was hard to remember much.

Blinding lights, fading screams, it all felt so fuzzy and distant that you could hardly even remember your old face. The new one staring back at you was strange and foreign and perfect; it was almost like you were staring into the eyes of a doll. You pressed a well manicured nail to your cheek, feeling the soft skin give underneath your touch. So this is what she looked like. Bright red hair and piercing silver eyes, Riddle's mother made for an intimidating figure. You could only imagine how wicked she would look when angry despite her pretty looks.

You let out a soft sigh, leaned back against your chair, and attempted a smile at your reflection. The muscles around your cheeks creaked in protest at the attempt and gave you little more then a grimace.

"Not one for smiling, are you Mrs. Rosehearts?"

Well, whatever sickness that had overtaken the former Mrs. Rosehearts seemed to have passed and you no longer needed constant supervision from whoever Riddle had called for. Speaking of, where was Mr. Rosehearts? Surely her husband must've been worried sick once he had heard his wife had collapsed.

After a few moments of pondering, idly rummaging through drawers and inspecting every nook and cranny of what you assumed to be your new bedroom, you quickly discovered there was only a wardrobe for one. How strange. As you continued digging through your new and incredibly modest clothes, your hunt for clues was quickly interrupted by a sharp knock at your door. You dropped everything and let out a quiet shriek, feeling what felt like your heart quickly jumping in to your throat at the surprised new guest. Imwardly, you had to remind yourself that you were in fact, not snooping! This was your stuff now and could look through it all you liked. Quickly patting down your clothes and pinning back your frazzled hair, you attempted to compose yourself and cleared your throat, quietly acknowledging their presence.

"Uhm - yes! You may come in."

Whoever stood out your door seemed almost hesitant, waiting at the door long enough for the silence to slowly grow awkward, before the door let out a small click and they entered.

It was Riddle.

"I finished my lesson for the afternoon." Riddle spoke quietly, eyes never leaving the space behind your head, as if too nervous to even look at you, "If you would allow me, I'd like to take a small break to rest my eyes."

Here it was! Your moment! You had dreamed of this since the beginning and you could finally, finally make a difference and fix the broken relationship between him and his mother!! You eagerly turned towards him, feeling your skirt pick up in your excitement and ducked down, balancing your weight on the balls of your feet and lowering yourself down to his level.

"Actually, Riddle, how would you like it if we took a break together. I made us some tea!" You smiled, eyes crinkling in delight, "And then after that we-"

"No, thank you."

Eh.

What a quick response!!!!

Blinking past the surprise, you were startled to notice that Riddle had taken a few steps back, his eyebrows knitted together in what almost looked like confusion. You could feel the apprehension and barely disguised fear roll off of him in waves as he opened his mouth to continue.

"It's not time for a tea and I'd much rather get back to my studies as soon as possible.."

Yes, you supposed it was rather late in the evening for a tea time but it couldn't be that bad to take a small break to unwind after a tiring afternoon, surely! Bu then again, you realized, Riddle's mother always enforced a strict schedule. There was no time for snack breaks or play time, everything was chosen for him down to the very last millisecond of his day. Breaking this trend would not be an easy task. Mrs. Rosehearts made sure of that.

"Ah, you're right! Silly me..." You took this moment to reach out, intending to push back a stray hair from Riddle's face but he flinched. It was hardly noticeable and honestly, if you weren't down at his level and painfully aware of every twitch and fidget, you wouldn't have noticed but still, you felt your heart break a little more.

"Yes... It must be the fever." You sighed out, lowering your hand before slowly putting it back in your lap, "I must still feel tired after being in bed the past few days. Being stuck in my room must've made me a little mad."

Riddle made no effort to respond, only slowing raising his head. When his silver eyes met yours, you smiled and kept his gaze, "Would you do me a favor then, Riddle? I'm feeling terribly lonely and would like the company... however," You had to give him the option, "if you'd rather end your studying for the day and choose yourself what you'd like to do until your bedtime, you're more then welcome to."

As much as you wanted to quickly mend the relationship between the two of you, you knew you could not rush it. Years of abuse and tyranny do not go away with a single good deed and the more you tried to force it, the more you guessed he would push away.

Riddle paused and searched your eyes, looking for any signs of this being a test. He seemed almost hesitant to even ponder the choices before him as if he had never made his own decision before - with his mother's blessing no less - and wasn't eager to start now.

"I won't be upset, Riddle. You c-"

"I would like to have tea with you, please."

You mentally fist bumped the air, tears of success running down your face. Progress! This was progress, right? Willingly getting him to break his rigid schedule was already a huge undertaking but getting him to choose to spend time with you? You could practically hear the angels singing in your head.

Getting him to slowly and comfortably break his schedule was one thing but his diet? That was a whole other trauma to fight and you didn't know where to start. Unlike Riddle's mother, you weren't a doctor. Your knowledge of what was healthy and what was not and how to balance calories was never something you were taught past the very basics. Smugly, you figured she wasn't any good at it either so really, it could only get better.

It started with little things, replacing what kinds of ingredients you used and portions and the like and you spent many a nights on Magicam, researching food trends and advice from dieticians and other mothers. Anonymously, of course.

If Riddle noticed the change in his diet, he made no attempt to question you about it, probably enjoying whatever you were doing enough not to bring it up. You were his mother after all and although the dinner table was still quiet between the two of you, it was a more comfortable silence as if you were both too worried to break it. Watching him eat was also a treat. You had always thought Riddle was a pretty child, but to see sparks of life flicker behind his trained expression was a victory you always cherished. Sometimes it was small things, like him kicking his feet or the shock of trying a new taste. It was precious, watching him slap his palm to his face as he jumped in his chair, eyes practically tearing up at the taste of pepper of all things.

And then, one day, you decided that perhaps it was time. A strawberry tart.

You paced in your bedroom for days, practically digging holes into the floor as you plotted your next big move. This moment was perhaps the most important of all the other events that had happened in Riddle's life and you knew it was going to be a real big hurdle to cross.

"Riddle?"

He perked up slightly from his desk at the sound of your voice and turned to look at you. His eyes were brighter now and they no longer had the same fear they once had. His gaze could almost be described as affectionate.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to be out for awhile. not for too long mind, but I have something very important I need to do. I'm sure you don't mind if I leave you to yourself for a short while?" You gave him a sheepish smile as you made your way to the front door, your hand already reaching for the handle. As much as you wanted to do this and get it over with, you could still feel the nerves biting at your ankles.

Riddle nodded his head, his red hair practically bouncing with the movement, before returning to his studies while you closed the front door behind you, breath heavy in your throat. Days of planning were all coming together. You could feel the sweat building up and running down your neck as you took a few simple breathes to calm your racing heart.

Some might consider it obsessive but you had carefully studied That particular bakery and it's foot traffic to ensure that nobody else would be in the store to witness what was about to happen for the past two weeks. In disguise, you had watched and written down the hours there was a slow lull in visitors from out in the streets, careful not to attract any sort of attention. It's not like you were planning anything nefarious! It's just that... the thought of anyone witnessing the verbal smack down you were about to receive was almost too much. But you had to do this. For Riddle, for yourself, and because you really, really, really wanted to try one of Clover Bakery's sweets.

It was time.

"Welcome in! Welcome to Clover Bakery! I'll be right with you in a moment!" A feminine voice sounded like it was in the back as the door to the bakery slowly chimed behind you, as if it was the death knell, signaling your demise. You trained your breath, in and out, and wiped your sweaty palms on the back of your skirt, willing yourself to calm down. You had to be strong! Trey and both his parents deserved a proper apology, even if technically you weren't the one who offended them. You had to fix this mess and you couldn't do it half assed!

"Sorry about that! We just finished the new batch of - oh."

Trey's mother was in front of you.

Trey's Mother was in front of you.

"I..." Your heart felt like it was going to give out. "I've come to apologize."

That obviously is not what she was expecting and judging by the widening of her eyes and the tightening of her posture, she didn't seem entirely willing to accept it but she stood there and didn't seem unwilling to hear you out so in your haste, you tripped over your words in eagerness to continue.

"Please," You lowered your head and gaze, nearly buckling under the stress, "at least hear me out. What I did - to you, your husband, your son, to Riddle - It was unacceptable."

You gulped and began the part you had rehearsed in front of your mirror. This part, while not necessarily the truth, would make the most sense.

"When I couldn't find Riddle in the room where I left him and the window opened, I panicked. I had always been very strict with Riddle and perhaps that's where I erred, where he thought that the only choice he had to enjoy an inch of freedom was to sneak out while I was unaware, So, when I couldn't not find him and found him with strangers, people I had never met before and knew very little of, I panicked."

"But what I ended up doing," Something wet fell from your eyes, "I hurt him. I hurt Riddle. I - I think that's what snapped me out of whatever idiotic beliefs I had. He wouldn't talk to me, he couldn't even meet my eyes-"

"I understand,"

Blinking past the tears, you looked up, watching as Trey's mother let out a long and weary sigh, "I may not forgive you for what you did yet, I can see you obviously mean what you're saying."

"You can?"

"Look at you. You're shaking like a leaf, you look nothing like the woman that came screaming in here for her son. Whatever happened between then and now obviously changed things."

You watched as she ducked behind the counter and wrapped something up in a small container and gestured for you to open your hands.

"Here," She closed your hands around it, "It's a strawberry tart. Those were Riddle's favorite right? I'm sure you can help mend whatever happened with something like this. It's on the house. Just... next time Riddle wants to play, let him. My son has been beside himself with worry ever since."

You held the tart close to your chest like she had just handed you the most precious thing you've ever owned and nodded your head, your once formerly primed and proper hair falling down your shoulders in wave from your excitement, "Thank you! Thank you so much... I will do whatever I can now. I won't make the same mistake again."

"Go on," You smiled, "Open it."

As soon as you returned home, you eagerly called for Riddle to join you at the family table, nearly tripping over your heels in your excitement as you carefully placed the boxed strawberry tart down. Riddle watched your expression carefully, eyeing the concealed treat from the corner of his eye. As much as he's enjoyed the past few months, this was a huge step forwards. It was almost as if he was scared that what he thought was going to happen wouldn't. What if this was an elaborate scheme? What if this was a big final test and he failed? What if-

"It's ok, Riddle," You reassured him with a low voice, pushing the small box closer to him as his eyes snapped to meet yours, "It's something really good, I promise." With a nervous look, he nodded.

You could hear his barely contained sniffles as he slowly began untying the ribbon, stopping periodically to wipe at his eyes with his sleeve, before the box opened and in the center was

the most beautiful strawberry tart he has ever seen.

His small sniffles soon erupted into wails, high pitched and heart wrenching as he sat there in his chair, his hands still in the air as his little body was wracked with tears. You couldn't hold back your own crying as you brought Riddle's small frame to your chest and hugged him tightly as he cried and cried and cried in your arm. His little fingernails dug crescents into your skin as he kept tugging you closer and closer, unwilling for there to be an space between you and him.

"My darling, Riddle," You sniffled back a tear as you dug your face into his red hair, feeling him hiccup and sob as you did the same, "I'm sorry you had to wait so long."

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland reader #isekai #riddle rosehearts #congrats your riddles mama #twisted wonderland #platonic reader

[sirianasims]

We had dinner at the food stall behind the gallery, talking about everything and nothing. Paul asked about my costumes and I showed him some of my cosplays and even a few original designs on my phone. He could name every single character I’d done, and I was quite thrilled to discover that he was just as much of a geek as I was. I don’t know why I had expected otherwise, considering the kind of roles he played.

He told me he’d loved comics and superheroes since he was a child, so when the casting call for a live-action Llama Man series went out he had jumped at the chance even though he knew the risk.

And he’d been right. By the time the series ended, he was too established as Llama Man and casting directors were passing him over for more serious roles.

He didn’t seem to mind that much though. He said that being a lead actor was hard work and he much preferred smaller roles where he could have some more creative input. These days, he mostly worked on Llama Man: The Animated Series and a few other voice acting gigs.

After the gallery closed, we found ourselves on a bench outside. The night was warm. I didn’t feel like going back to my apartment yet, and Paul didn’t seem to be in any hurry either.

“Finally, the director told me that if I didn’t get it together, he was going to replace me with an actual llama next season. So, obviously I had to bring a llama for the launch party. He did not appreciate the gesture. Turns out very few llamas are house-trained.”

Our laughter echoed slightly in the empty plaza.

“You know, you remind me a little of my grandfather.”

“Ouch. You wound me. I’m not even forty, you know.”

“No, I mean, he was an actor as well. Conrad Richards. He loved pranks like that too.”

“Conrad Richards was your grandfather?”

“Well, he married my grandmother, but he was always grandpa Conrad to me.”

“That’s amazing. I was a big fan of his, actually. I liked how he always seemed to have fun with it, not like those actors who take themselves too seriously.”

“Yeah, he never took anything seriously. In every memory I have of him, he’s laughing.” My voice wavered slightly. “Sorry, I still miss him a lot.”

“Understandable.”

Paul took my hand.

“I wish I could tell you that it gets easier, but the truth is, it doesn’t. You just get better at carrying the pain.”

He looked away, seemingly lost in thought.

“When my father died, my mother told me that grief is just love that no longer has a home. It has nowhere to go. So, what you need to do is give it a new home. Surround yourself with friends and family. Love the ones you have left even harder. It doesn’t make the grief go away, but they will help you carry it.”

He cleared his throat and gave my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. I immediately missed the warmth.

“Thank you, Paul. I mean it.”

“You’re welcome. Julia.”

We sat in silence for a moment. Then, he looked at his watch and smiled at me, back to his cheerful self.

“Sadly, as much as I’d love to, we can’t sit here and chat all night. I have to catch a flight back to the Valley in the morning. So unless you feel like walking me to my hotel to make sure I don’t get lost, we should probably part ways.”

“Sure. Where’s your hotel, then?”

He hesitated, his eyes searching my face.

“ZenView Heights. But -“

I leapt to my feet. “It’s this way.”

Paul grabbed my wrist and looked at me with a serious expression.

“Julia, it was a joke. And that’s way too far to walk. Are you really sure about coming back to my hotel?”

I tried to listen for that little voice in my head, the one that was supposed to warn me when I was about to do something stupid, but there was only silence. 

And Paul.

I nodded, slightly surprised at myself. Paul sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing any more,” he muttered as we walked to the street to find a taxi.

beginning / previous / next

#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen5 #julia duchelli #paul romeo #cw: grief #my sincerest apologies to all you Conrad fans out there

[alwaysteveswife]

hey lovely! i just recently discovered your blog and O M G i CANT get enough!!! your writing is absolutely amazing!

i had a steve x reader request of you were taking them?

what if Y/N was the one being cursed by Vecna?

If this were our last night | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader.

A/N: Thank you so much, your words mean a lot to me 🥺 I'm glad you like what I do as much as I like to do it 💕. I hope you like it 🥰.

It's 1986 at Hawkins, the first year they thought everything to do with upside down was over. At least it was until the Chrissy Cunningham incident. The investigation at the hands of the teens soon began, bringing to light Hawkins' darkest secrets and, in the process, Y/N's troubled past.

Words: 638.

How long had it been since they had first gotten into all this upside down and shit? You were aware it was somewhere between three or four years, but you could have sworn it had been decades.

In '83 Will had happened, in '84 the demodogs came to Hawkins and Will had gone into some kind of weird trance that you didn't want to see in person, in '85 a giant spider formed out of human flesh and Billy died, but that was supposed to be the end, wasn't it?

Well, apparently it wasn't.

Now it was 1986, and fucking Dustin Henderson walked into your boyfriend's work screaming that it was very likely that shit had come back. Now it was 1986, and all indications were that you were directly related to all that shit.

How fucked up life could be when it put its mind to it.

"Honey?" Steve grabbed your shoulder gently, his brow furrowing slightly "is everything okay?"

You nodded, your gaze fixed on the school counselor's folders, more specifically on the patients' symptoms, on Chrissy's symptoms.

"Yes" you nodded again, fear beginning to cause your chest to tighten until you couldn't breathe "I am, I'm just a little...surprised."

Steve grimaced. He wasn't convinced, you knew that, but you didn't want to tell him the truth either, you didn't want to worry him any more than you had to, not when it could be a simple coincidence.

Just then a bell rang in your head. A shiver ran down your spine, the fear growing more and more. You closed your eyes for a second, just for a second, but the moment you opened them the whole atmosphere had changed.

Something vine-like was hanging everywhere, stuck on the walls and on the floor. Tiny particles of what you expected to be dust were floating all over the place and it was so dark you could barely see where you were stepping.

The second bell rang again as you left the room. You walked slowly down the hallway, stopping only when you had that clock in front of you.

It was attached to the wall, covered by those strange, disgusting vines. The glass was slightly shattered, but the hands and pendulum still worked.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

The third chime sounded, but this time, when you opened your eyes, it was no longer in front of you. The wall was empty, and large hands rested on your shoulders, shaking you slightly.

"Hey, pretty, what's wrong, why weren't you answering?" Steve's concern echoed in every word.

"I..." a sneaky little tear slipped down your cheek, remembering everything that had happened the last few days.

The headaches, the nosebleeds, the nightmares about the crash, the watch, your father.

"'You' what?" Dustin insisted, staring at you.

"I think he's coming for me" you whispered, your voice trembling, covering yourself with your arms, trying to lighten the burden you were beginning to feel.

"What?" you looked at Steve. He looked almost as scared as you did. His eyes were narrowed slightly, his eyebrows were drawn together between his brows and his jaw was clenched so tight you could hear his teeth grinding.

Suddenly, without your expecting it, Steve took your hand and started walking briskly to the exit of Hawkins High School, the kids following as fast as they could.

"Steve? What are you doing?" you muttered, shaking your head slightly.

"We can't just stand here and wait for whatever this thing is to come after you" he growled under his breath "I don't plan on letting it take you, not you" his face softened a little, letting you see the fear in his eyes, "I'll do whatever is in my power not to lose you, even if it means having to come face to face with the whole damn upside down."

Masterlist

#stranger things #fanfic #stranger things au #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #stranger things steve #babygirl steve harrington #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington hc #steve harrington my beloved #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fics #stranger things x reader #stranger things blurb #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine

[profundcherrylady]

Couldn't sleep at 3am so I analyzed Death Note (Part 2)

Continuing were I left off last time:

Light doesn't have that. If Light could, he would avoid social relationships, despite having great intelligence in that area that allows him to adapt to any possible social situation. However, as I said, it's incredibly emotionally stupid. Every time I see the scene where he is discovered I laugh at how desperately he tries to defend himself, shouting things like "it's a trap!" in an exaggerated and even ridiculous way, because come on, who would believe that at that point. It almost seemed like he was trying to gaslight himself into thinking he still had a chance to escape the situation. In my opinion, if he had a little more emotional intelligence MAYBE he would have had a chance to sound more convincing, but then again, he got desperate and started yelling and insulting everyone because of his anger. He does not know how to control his emotions, which ultimately led him to die as well. Light and L were extremely intelligent in many areas, but also stupid in others, and the fact that each had that specific intelligence that the other lacked was what made them perfect rivals. For that reason, I consider it inaccurate to say that L was "less intelligent" than Light for dying first. They were both idiots, they were both geniuses, the difference was who failed first. And that's the thing, an absolute genius is not a perfect being, because there is no such thing as an absolute genius. You can't be smart in every area there is; there will always be something where you're going to look like an idiot. And that's fine; that is the point. In all examples of geniuses in the entertainment industry there is always an episode or moment where they break their stereotype of a perfect genius that makes them question their lives. Which is also stupid in its own way because of what I pointed out before. Geniuses make mistakes. And although these failures are sometimes fatal, that does not take away their value. If a chef accidentally adds more salt to the food, does that automatically mean he or she is less than another chef who has never made a mistake? No, it just means they made a mistake. Was the entire product ruined? Yes, but that is the human experience. Being, existing and making mistakes, learning from those mistakes and continuing; because even in fiction there is no such thing as a perfect being. So from the beginning Light's expectations of being the "god of the new world" were impossible. A human being can never be a god because he will always be destined to err and be imperfect; no matter how much you think you can do it. What's funny too is how much people joke about Misa cutting her life in half twice and still outliving both of them. She was, in the eyes of L and Light, stupid in every area there was, and ironically she was the one who managed to live the longest of the three. There is a saying out there that says ignorant people are the ones who live the happiest, and for Misa that was true. She was blind with love for Light and most of the time she didn't even know what was going on, but she had the time of her life during that time. She was incredibly happy while Light and L made their lives miserable seeing who died first. Of course, in the end Misa ended up committing suicide, but I have the feeling that despite everything she was satisfied with the life she lived. She was no longer happy because she was alone, but at least she lived the life she wanted. I feel like the story was never about who was smarter, because as I said, both had their moments of genius and stupidity, but rather about their own experience of what it means to be a human being in this mortal world. For Ryuk, something as simple as dropping a notebook into the human world sealed the fates of each of the people who died during Light's lifetime. For what they, mortals, meant their whole lifes, to him was a fleeting moment of fun and source of entertainment. That is, in itself, human life. Honestly there was a tiny bit more but it isn't worth making a part three tbh. Hope y'all liked it

#ryuk death note #l death note #death note #light yagami #misa amane #3am thoughts #thoughts idk

[wolfmage553]

Massive Spoilers for Guardians Of The Galaxy Vol 3.

Okay, I know Tony Stark's sacrifice at the end of Endgame was tragically poignant and befitting of Tony's character arc of turning from war profiteer to hero.

But what if The Infinity Stones, more specifically The Soul Stone that had Natasha's spirit in it, tried to change Tony's fate by using The Time Stone to send Tony back in time before the backfiring of The Infinity Stones could take effect,

Specifically, back to when batch 89 was created by The High Evolutionary?

Imagine him seeing baby Rocket and thinking to himself "I have a son now."

Imagine him holding baby Rocket close and humming Country Roads, Take Me Home as a lullaby to his new adopted raccoon son.

Imagine baby Rocket's first word is some variation of dad (like papa or dada) and Tony is trying not to cry with a combination of pride and joy for his son.

Imagine him also deciding to protect the 89 batch since they are his son's friends.

But this AU has a bittersweet conclusion.

Tony, knowing he's living on borrowed time but not wanting to leave his son in the care of The High Evolutionary, sets The High Evolutionary's base to explode and evacuates every single innocent creature The High Evolutionary was experimenting on, including the batch 89 who are the last to board a ship in the docking bay.

Unfortunately, The High Evolutionary enters the docking bay just as Tony is about to board the ship batch 89 are on.

To buy time for their escape, Tony says "Go fly in the beautiful sky without me." and battles The High Evolutionary in the docking bay while Rocket starts the ship up.

Tony is mortality wounded during the fight and sets off the explosions when the ship carrying the 89 batch is far enough away to not be caught in the blast.

Tony dies from his injury before the explosions reach the docking bay but not before answering The High Evolutionary's question of "What are you doing?" with

"Preventing you from harming my son or his friends ever again."

Meanwhile, Rocket is flying the ship but puts it on autopilot after hearing the explosions and looks out the window to see what remains of the place he grew up in. At first, Rocket has a look of shock on his face but eventually tears begin to pour out from his eyes as he screams out for his dad.

Eventually, he decides to listen to some music and notices one of the folders in the MP3 section is titled "Songs for my son" and he decides to play songs from the folder.

The folder has bunch of songs from the 70s, the 80s and even the 90s with the latest song released being an acoustic cover of You'll Be In My Heart from Tarzan.

He also notices that there is a video in the MP4 files called "Farewell" with his dad in it so he decides to play it.

The video has Tony recounting multiple good memories the two shared as well as reassuring Rocket that he is worth far more than The High Evolutionary saw in him.

He also apologizes for leaving Rocket via dying saying that if he could've stayed a little longer than he would have.

Finally, he ends the video by saying "I know you'll survive whatever happens next. I will be watching over you in the endless sky."

Rocket smiles and says "Thank you, dad."

As for how the AU changes the MCU, Rocket would have his batch 89 friends alongside Groot and they'd be a mercenary group called The Endless Sky.

Rocket would be slightly less cyclical because he has his friends but still hardened by growing up having to be a mercenary in order to make ends meet because when Tony died, J.A.R.V.I.S wasn't online so he couldn't transfer any funds to a new account for Rocket.

Peter discovers that Rocket is carrying a MP3 player and headphones in his bag but Rocket refuses to answer where he got it so Peter assumes he stole them.

(He actually bought them with some money he got from his mercenary work because he didn't want the songs connecting him to the memories of his dad to be subconsciously tainted by the kleptomania he developed as a way to survive)

When Yondu dies in Vol 2, Rocket actually allows Peter to listen to one of his songs and actually talks about his own dad with Peter and says "I wonder if Yondu is talking with my dad in the endless sky."

The only members of The Endless Sky who don't die in the snapture are Rocket and Lylla.

During the five year time period between the snapture and the main plot of Endgame, Rocket notices the physical similarities between Tony Stak and his dad, not realizing that they are technically one in the same, and thinks that Tony Stark is his dad's twin brother and asks Tony if he had a twin brother.

Tony is confused but Rocket pulls up the "Farewell" video on Tony's computer that Rocket had saved on a USB drive. Tony, knowing that Rocket would never believe him if he told him that that was probably another version of him, lies and says that he had a twin brother. Rocket explains his relationship with his dad before asking if it's alright if he called Tony his uncle.

Tony, wanting Rocket to have some family after most of his found family were lost because of Thanos, allows Rocket to call him uncle.

When Tony sacrifices himself in Endgame, Rocket is upset at losing his uncle but decides to be strong for the remaining members of his family.

GOTG Vol 3 goes way differently because The High Evolutionary is no longer in the picture.

#rocket raccoon #tony stark #avengers endgame #guardians of the galaxy #gotg volume 3 spoilers #gotg vol 3 #Tony is Rocket's dad au #mcu au #Rocket Stark AU

[itsmaferart]

Buddies Daddies Ep 11 Can no longer be repaired

Something catching BD is how from the beginning they make it clear to us that the actions of the characters, are not good, nor correct, each character is selfish and irresponsible in their own way (as only real adults, basically) AND EVEN SO all actions revolve around hurting/protecting Miri. At the same time, trying to save her every character does a damage, but this one is unbearable and there is no choice but to move on. Something that is emphasized in the last chapters

If we start with Misaki, at first we are presented as a selfish and irresponsible woman who blames others for her failures. She claims to be deceived by Miri's father, but being a human trafficker, she clearly engages with people with professions as dangerous as those of Kazuki and Rei….. Yes, she mentions "having been deceived by the father," (not if she meant that she didn't know her true profession or if it was just an affair until she left pregnant), frustrating her dreams of being a singer. Something she ended up blaming on Miri, to justify abandoning her and sending her to her father so she could get money. (At that point, Miri could be killed by her own father, abandoned elsewhere, or worse, killed in the confrontation between Rei, Kazuki and the target)

We assumed that because of Miri's cheerful personality, she never harmed Miri and only kept her frustration to herself, but being contained by those feelings came to such a point that she even wished to hit Miri when she laughed. Clearly, Miri wasn't laughing at her mother, let alone being to blame for anything. It was Misaki projecting her discomfort with herself on Miri and wanting to avoid facing the reality of her bad decisions.

When Kazuki knows Misaki clearly her current decisions without her daughter are no better. Her current partner beats and humiliates her, and far from fulfilling her dream as a singer she finds herself stuck in bars of little value, sinking into her own misery.

.

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The cruelty of it all is to discover in the course of a year that she had cancer, and to realize that the only real thing she had in this world is Miri, her daughter. To recapture he had to discover that he was practically going to die perhaps sooner rather than later, and to want to take Miri away from two men who were REALLY her parents by discovering that they are two killers. (But as I said before, their professions are no less dangerous than those of Miri's real father with whom she is supposed to have been sent)

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I really expected Misaki to die, even if she honestly didn't stop feeling a bad taste of her mouth. She really is a character with whom you manage to empathize with her redemption and you feel terrible to see her die saying goodbye to her daughter in her sleep. The fact that the chapter shows that she really wanted to change and was striving to be a good mother makes everything much more painful.

I wish Misaki was alive in the last chapter (even knowing that she was going to die anyway) or that she simply had lived to not solve so simply (?) the spectator's conflict - After all, it was complex to wish Miri would stay away from her and stay with her parents when she was clearly changed and Miri loves her mother very much (like her parents)… But I understand the decisions at the narrative level and really the season is about to end, so I understand that perhaps it is the most logical decision not to continue extending the misaki arc.

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The interesting thing about reflecting is how selfish decisions and mistakes bring us to a point of no return, and we will never know to what extent the consequences will escalate. If Misaki had never abandoned Miri, she would not have gone that Christmas night, would not have seen her dad (die) and would not have met Rei and Kazuki. And most likely she would not have died in the hands of the murderous organization Suwa. But fate took cruel turns and in the end she had to leave her daughter again: (

In the end you understand that Misaki was a good person sunk in bad decisions, frustration and that she took the easiest path but with the worst consequences. She really didn't deserve that ending, she really deserved to live next door to her daughter. But clearly, the fate of the work was cruel

Certainly, even with redemption not everyone has a happy ending

#buddy daddies #buddy daddy spoilers #rei suwa #kazuki kurusu #miri unasaka #misaki unasaka #my analisys

[halfmoth-halfman]

Congrats on your milestone! That's huge! And amazing!

Can I request #19 from ⚰️?

tysm!! 💜

⚰️ the retirement home

#19 - ok so this was one of the first ideas i had when i started writing for cod and was super in my ghost era tho let's be fr i'm never not in my ghost era it was two parts that went as follows:

pt. 1 - he holds my body in his arms (he didn’t mean to do no harm)

after receiving faulty information, ghost begins to think the reader (they aren't together yet, but they flirt and it's v obvious they have feelings for each other) is a traitor. he doesn't tell anyone about it, spirals, and begins connecting every little "suspicious" thing reader does to the info he got until they're put on a mission just the two of them. reader misses a shot (on accident) and ghost thinks they're purposely trying to alert the enemy. the enemy finds them, and in a moment of internal panic and thinking he's been betrayed, ghost leaves reader behind. he returns to base and tells the others reader betrayed them and isolates while the rest of the 141 tries to figure out what's going on and what exactly happened.

some undecided amount of time later, reader's location gets discovered by a separate team and the team brings in the 141 to recover them. they have clear info that reader isn't and never was a traitor and ghost remains skeptical, slowly realizing he was wrong as they work together to find the reader. guilt sets in and he overworks himself to find them, and they do, and it's bad. reader is bloody and beaten and almost incoherent as ghost holds them. all they do is apologize over and over for upsetting him and not keeping up with him when they were cornered. ghost tries to comfort them, tell them none of this is their fault, but by the time he can get a word in, reader has gone still and then it was left on a cliffhanger, not knowing whether reader had died or not.

pt. 2 - take the spade from my hands (fill in the holes you’ve made)

immediately starts with reader waking up in the hospital, because of course i'm not gonna kill them off dying is only for the canon characters. this chapter would just be about their recovery, their time healing and getting reacquainted with normal life and the 141 fully supporting them. ghost would disappear for a while, unable to deal with himself for letting this happen and when he finally returns he would hover around them, never really finding the courage to talk to them, not knowing how to properly get across how fucking sorry he is. reader would shy away from him, never looking him in the eye, keeping their distance etc, both so obviously hurt but too scared to talk to each other.

eventually one of them would cave (either reader as part of their healing process, or ghost because he can't stand to let their relationship be like this any longer) and there would be a long talk about what happened, why ghost couldn't trust reader, a heartfelt argument, unintentional confessions of feelings toward each other. it would end with them agreeing to start over

i hadn't decided if i wanted to end it there or continue with little moments of them slowly getting back to, not necessarily the same relationship they had at the start but something a different, something a little stronger and healthier.

#writeforfandoms #mothie3kcelebration #cod ask #private

[chronicwhorebatman]

uhhhh could u pls pls tell me ur hcs (if u have them) about the batfamilys hairstyles thru the years. do u believe in long hair discowing?? whats jasons hair like as robin vs red hood? give me a whole timeline if u want

you know what? hell yeah.

long post so here’s a cut

bruce. bruce, in his childhood, had the same haircut the whole time!! then his mother died and she cut it for him so for about a year and a half (nearing 10 years old) he had this steadily growing mop of hair that was not cleaned or brushed. occasionally alfred would attempt to get it clean but bruce would hiss like a feral cat so it didn’t get very far

THEN he shaved most of his hair off because it was unsalvageable to a nearly ten year old

then he had a FUCK TON of teenage mistakes. including bleached slightly long hair, although he kept it short at the back because bruce in my head never wants to revisit his Grief Hair phase <33 there were a lot more mistakes but i don’t have those pinpointed but i haven’t decided on them yet! know that he had frosted tips at one point though. it’s important to me.

as an adult he has the regular ass haircut he has in every comic lmao. as bruce it’s just neatly combed, as brucie it’s always sleep-mussed or sex-mussed, and as matches malone his hair is slicked back with so much gel it fucking drips. as matches malone he is a slimy little disgusting rat by design. in his secret drag persona he wears a wig like a coward.

dick. as a kid, dick has the same haircut as his father, whatever that might be!! he’s a baby mimicry and it’s adorable. he also briefly copied his mother’s hair only to discover it took way too much work

the father part also applies to bruce! although i don’t believe dick saw bruce as his father until he was well on his way into adulthood i do believe that he copied his haircut. i will not explain this clash with anything other than imagining dick as a tiny bruce clone is hilarious

discowing era dick had a mullet and bruce hated every second of it.

after that i think dick had short hair but quite floppy round the front? like lotta fringe <33

baby jason is continually fascinated w dick’s hair <33333

jason. jason had relatively short hair when bruce found him but it was growing longer (did not have money for a haircut) but he got it cut when he got adopted. unfortunately he now also has bruce hair because he didn’t care what his hair looked like because he was busy being excited about robin

after he died his hair grew out a bit because when he was comatose nobody was looking after him :(

w the league they shaved his hair because it was kinda gross tbh. he had shaved hair for a while

he grew it back out to what he generally looks like in comic panels, fuck if i know what that’s called. unfortunately the fucker shaved it again at the beginning of being red hood. jason your hair is pretty stop doing this

he then did a whole lot of things to get rid of his white streak from shaving to dying to threatening to colouring it in with sharpie. jokes on him it takes less than 12h to come off <333

tim. tim has had one haircut his entire life! it’s your average white boy haircut.

damian. damian is baby and has only had one haircut. he vaguely resembles a spiky hedgehog.

steph. not batfamily (unless by marriage <3) but including here because my hcs for cass and duke are also “they have had one haircut their whole life” mainly because my brain broke when i tried to picture anything else :/ i’ll leave my brain to marinate on cass and duke and get back to you because i also love them and this feels so bland

ANYWAY steph has long blonde hair then she cuts it into a bob then grows it out again. the cycle continues unless she cuts her hair a lot shorter! which she keeps for longer because she doesn’t like the half grown in half grown out look! then it’s back to the cycle <333

alfred has never had different hair ever. my brain also broke trying to picture it

#batfamily #bruce wayne #dc #dcu #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #i didn’t attach enough to everyone else to tag them #trixie’s headcanons #trixie’s character headcanons #trixie’s dick headcanons #trixie’s batman hcs #trixie’s jason hcs #trixie’s steph hcs #trixie’s batfam hcs #i didn’t want to make that tag damn

[aparticularbandit]

Instigation: Chapter Three

Summary: Steve sends Wanda to seek out an old witch he once knew, and eventually, Wanda brings said old witch back to meet her family.

Wanda Maximoff/Agatha Harkness

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: T.

AO3

previous chapter / next chapter

December 31, 2015.

Five months go by in the blink of an eye.

Wanda’s magic lessons persist, as they must, as she learns greater control, but now, instead of flinching with desire whenever Agnes touches her, she leans into it.  Agnes brushes hands along her arms, her hands, her waist to correct her form, and Wanda turns in her grasp to kiss her, just so she can see the smug purr of a smirk twisted along Agnes’s face.  Every session ends with something sweeter than tea and honey, something Wanda hadn’t known to search for.

For once, Wanda feels good.  Like she’s found somewhere she belongs.

But in those same five months, Wanda’s experiences with the Avengers vary.  Steve catches her after her magic lessons, as though he’s afraid of what might be happening there.  Sometimes, Wanda still sees Natasha outside Agnes’s apartment complex, and she thinks it would be easier to just invite her inside.  Then one of the others would know Agnes, too; then one of them would be on her side.  As it is, Steve comes across as an overbearing mother hen more often than not (it’s his earnestness, really, but the longer it goes on, the more suppressing it feels); Rhodey nags in a way that should remind her of Pietro, if it didn’t hurt so much (sometimes, she thinks he doesn’t know the difference between a joke and a jab; sometimes, she thinks he doesn’t realize they’re on the same side); Sam soothes things over with Rhodey and tends to take him to one side to try and correct some of his behavior (which half of the time leaves Rhodey feeling more resentful than helpful); and Vision….

Wanda doesn’t even know where to begin with Vision.  He’s a child stuck in an adult’s body, full of the wonder and joy and excitement that she lost the day her parents died, discovering so many new things – sometimes discovering everything all at once – and analyzing and questioning and learning.  In another life, she might be attracted to that, to seeing the world through his eyes, to being reminded that it can be good after spending so long in a life where it was bad.  Sometimes, she’s grateful she has Agnes; she’s certain that if anything happened with Vision, she would end up sucking the life out of him.

And every single one of them voices their opinion on Wanda’s visits with Agnes, on the ambiguous nature of it, even though those opinions aren’t always voiced to her.  Wanda keeps the specifics to herself as much as possible; she doesn’t want their budding relationship to be another point of contention, something else for them to examine or analyze.  They already analyze the possible teacher-student relationship of two witches; they already dissect what they might possibly be doing from the very little Wanda has said (and the great amount they can guess she hasn’t said).  Something tells her it would be much, much worse if she even so much as implied there was more to their relationship than that.

But fall comes, and with it, colder air, the first sprinklings of snowflakes, and warm puffs of breath that can transfigure a normal everyday activity, a habit without thinking, into creating clouds.  Holidays rest around the darkest day of the year to add some joviality to an otherwise depressing time.  Tony decides to throw a Christmas party, which Wanda sees as a public relations stunt and refuses to go, choosing to while away the time with Agnes instead.

Then Steve decides to throw a New Years Eve party, just for the Avengers, and asks if Wanda will invite Agnes.  She’s your friend, he says, and if she can make it, we would love for her to join us.  He means it as gently as possible, but it feels a bit like being asked to bring her girlfriend home to meet her parents, complete with the Please tell her not to bring any fireworks.

(Wanda and Agnes haven’t actually started using the term girlfriend yet.  They haven’t had that discussion.  Right now, Wanda is fine not knowing what they are, secure in simply knowing that they are.  Anything more concrete feels like asking for trouble.  So does inviting Agnes over for their party.)

Still, Wanda brings it up with Agnes in a roundabout way – Agnes can always tell when she’s preoccupied with something or other (in party because it comes through in her magic), and when she’s concerned, as she becomes then, she sits her down on the couch with a cup of chamomile tea (not peppermint, because it makes Wanda’s lips tingle in a not so pleasant way) to talk about it.  She’s not shocked when Wanda brings it up, only surprised it took them so long to ask, and she accepts the invitation immediately with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Which is how Wanda finds herself standing alone on the first floor of the Avengers Complex, waiting for Agnes to arrive.

Of course, standing is a bit of a misdirect.  While she is most definitely standing, it is much more accurate to say that she is pacing, walking back and forth from one end of the entryway to the other, wringing her hands together and pretending that there aren’t minute scarlet sparks flicking from them every now and again like a static shock.  She’s not sure what makes her more nervous – the idea of everyone meeting Agnes or the idea of Agnes meeting them.

For all that maybe she shouldn’t have said anything at all, Wanda’s been much more open with Agnes than she has with the other Avengers; Agnes is aware, to some degree, of her friction with Rhodey, her frustrations with Steve and Natasha.  Even if it’s only in small part, she knows about it in a way that Wanda hasn’t been open with them about her feelings for Agnes.

And she hasn’t…she hasn’t had the heart to tell Agnes about that lack of honesty.  It would only make it sound as though she doesn’t care about her, and that’s – that’s not true.  It’s just complicated.

Agnes would understand that, right?

(Wanda wouldn’t, if Agnes were the one saying it to her.)

So Wanda stands and Wanda paces and Wanda fiddles with her hands and scarlet sparks fly about them because her magic is linked to her emotions and while this is absolutely not the most nervous she has ever been in her life, it may be the most nervous she has been since she’s gotten her powers.

With, of course, the exception of joining the Avengers in the first place, just before Vision awoke for the first time.

Wanda only stills when the door opens with a rushing whoosh.  Even then, she’s not completely still; she still twists the rings about her fingers, starting with the thickest ring on the smallest finger and then moving along them.  She tugs her lower lip between her teeth until she sees Agnes, and even then, though she tries to relax, part of her remains tense – a part that grows even tenser when the first thing Agnes does on seeing her is throw her arms around her and kiss her.

She hates that she tenses.  She hates that she tenses.

Agnes leans back, looks up, and searches her eyes.  “Wanda, hon,” she murmurs, “is something wrong?”

It’s only then that Wanda notices how Agnes shivers against her, despite the heavy violet peacoat keeping her warm; it’s only then that Wanda notices the snowflakes scattered about Agnes’s shoulders, melted into the waves of her dark hair such that they seem to sparkle; it’s only then that she really relaxes, enough to kiss Agnes a little more properly.  “I’m afraid,” she confesses, gaze dropping.  “I shouldn’t….  That’s not your fault.”

“Well, that makes two of us, hon.”  Agnes brushes her nose against Wanda’s and then kisses its very tip, smiling fondly when Wanda wrinkles her nose, when she scowls.  “I think, as long as we stick together, we should be just fine.”  She brushes a hand through Wanda’s hair.  “How does that sound, my little Wendybird?”

Wanda offers her the gentlest of smiles, and even though the nervousness creeps up her spine again, she forces it back down.  “You know what, Nessie?” she asks, leaning into Agnes’s touch.  “I think that sounds very good.”

~

The living room upstairs should be something to write home about, but it isn’t.  For sure, there is a very Stark quality to the whole place, but that’s not a comforting sort of thing.  It makes the complex cold and uncertain, all sharp angles and large windows and bright metal, as though they’ve been transported into some sort of futuristic landscape.

Wanda might have lived here for nearly a year at this point, but she still can’t call it home.  There’s no warmth here, even in the bedroom she’s tried to decorate more to her liking, and without warmth, it can’t truly be a home.  It’s much too sterile for that.  (She knows full well this is an additional appeal to Agnes’s apartment.  For all that she might find stains here and there, for all that it might not be tidy and Agnes might leave clothes piled up and overflowing her hamper, for all that sometimes she opens the fridge and something’s been left in there for three weeks too long (and she doesn’t understand how this can be possible when she’s there nearly every day, but there’s magic in that, too) – for all that, Agnes’s apartment feels lived in, feels warm, feels like home.  Stark’s Avengers Complex just feels like a cleaner more military version of where Wanda’s been contained for the past several years.  (She’s never told them that.  She will never tell them that.))

Sam lays sprawled out on one of the couches as they make their way upstairs, half hanging on it and half hanging off of it, one arm curled around its back as though that’s the one thing still holding him in place.  He glances up as they approach and smiles, although he doesn’t relax.  “Is this Agnes?” he asks, loping himself into a much better and more normal sitting position, leaving room on either side of him for them to sit before scooting over to one corner.  “Wanda’s Agnes?”

“Yes,” Agnes purrs as she removes her peacoat, and she settles on one the couch opposite him, placing her coat on its arm.  “And I take it you’re....”  Her brow furrows as though she’s considering, and she taps her chin twice.  “You’re Steve, right?”

That draws a chuckle from Sam, and he instantly relaxes much more fully.  “Don’t watch much tv, do you?”

Agnes shrugs.  She leans back and crosses one leg over the other – her little black skirt pushes a little higher up her thigh, and Wanda pretends to not pay attention – and then answers, “I don’t have a tv, my dear man.  Rots the brain and all that.”

Sam’s brows shoot up, and he gives Wanda a look.

“Where is Steve?” Wanda asks, ignoring him.  She crosses her arms and glances around.  When she’d gone downstairs, Steve was here, sitting in one of the chairs; Vision decided to cook something, and Natasha thought it best that someone keep an eye on him, but Steve…Steve had been here.  (Rhodey was off somewhere with Tony, who had chosen not to show up.  Probably something about a New Year’s Eve party he was throwing.  Or one he needed to attend.  Good publicity.  The Avengers don’t need someone dedicated to PR when they have Tony, apparently.)

“Sam!” Agnes says with a snap and a bright grin.  “You must be Sam.”

“Something about an emergency in the city.”  Sam meets Wanda’s eyes.  “Not big enough to need all of us, but something one of us should take care of.  He’ll be back in a bit.”  Then he turns back to Agnes.  “Now tell me how this not having a tv thing works out.”

Wanda can’t help it – something in her stomach twinges at Steve’s absence.  She glances out the large wall of windows into the darkness on the other side, not focusing on the forest nearby or the stars in the sky, just. thinking.  Agnes, she reaches out gently into the other witch’s mind, that wasn’t you, was it?  Like with the storm?

Of course not, hon, Agnes responds while easily carrying on her conversation with Sam.  Why would I cause a commotion in the city?  I want to be here with you.  Mentally, she chuckles, which sounds weird given that her expression does not change at all.  Or I want you to be here with me.

Wanda nods to herself, but something in her doesn’t settle, and it doesn’t settle for a long time.

~

Natasha eventually leaves the kitchen with a groan, gently massaging her forehead, which indicates that Vision’s attempts to cook are not going well.  She catches Wanda’s eyes before glancing over to Agnes with a gentle smile that, like Sam’s, doesn’t feel real at first.  It’s the same sort of fake smile that Wanda herself would like wear if she were meeting any of their partners, if they had partners – the same one she would wear if she were ever to meet Steve’s Peggy – although, technically speaking, none of them know that she and Agnes are involved.

On second thought, Wanda thinks it’s quite likely that Natasha knows.  She might not have said anything, and she might be trying her best to be subtle, but Natasha is an international spy.  Even without trying, Natasha could probably have picked up that Wanda liked Agnes, and now, being in the room with them, she’ll very easily pick it up, if she hasn’t already.

By this time, Sam’s already relaxed in Agnes’s presence.  He may have thought the whole television thing was weird, but then Agnes got into the technicalities of using the threads of magic to read what’s been going on in the world so much clearer than reading a newspaper, and his eyes glazed over.  It was easier once Wanda changed the conversation to sit-coms; then Agnes got to talk about The Munsters, her personal favorite, and Sam brought up M*A*S*H, which sure, was an old show, but his family had so many of them saved, and Agnes knew the show – had actually seen it, unlike Wanda, who only knew of it.  They may not be talking like old friends, but they’re certainly talking with a familiarity that Wanda still doesn’t have with Sam.

Natasha sits next to Wanda, as though feeling the subtle tones of jealousy that Wanda wouldn’t have even acknowledged she had, and squeezes her shoulder gently.  “Your girl?” she asks, leaning in and speaking so soft that the others can’t hear her.

“Yeah.”  Wanda blushes the slightest bit.  “That obvious?”

“Nah.”  Natasha shrugs one shoulder and then settles into the conversation.  It takes her a while longer to relax in Agnes’s presence, but she does.  Eventually.  At least as much as Wanda has ever seen Natasha relax in a group setting.  Sometimes, she’s not sure she’s ever really seen Natasha relax; sometimes, she thinks even that is feigned.

For her benefit, of course.  Not because Nat is trying to lie to her.  But because sometimes, when you’re worried about something, you don’t want that worry to spread.  Sometimes, you want to keep your suspicions to yourself.  Sometimes, you don’t even know how to relax anymore.

Vision comes in later, with an apron tied about his waist and apologies strung from his lips as though they’ve been sewn there.  It’s then that Agnes’s eyes truly light up, and she volunteers to join him, to show him ­not how to correct any mistakes he’s made, but how to take what he has and make the most of it.  Something about waste not, want not but in a much more creative manner.  Wanda reaches her hand out as they leave to stop her, but Natasha makes her pause.  “Don’t worry,” she says with a gentle nod.  “He’s not going to do anything, and if she can get him to listen, then it’ll be a small miracle.”

“Maybe I want a miracle,” Wanda murmurs, unable to look up.  She does so only briefly, staring after Agnes as she walks away, mouth suddenly growing dry.

It’s uncomfortable, letting Agnes walk off with Vision with no way of knowing what they’re talking about, no way of being there to diffuse any potentially bad conversations.  No, not uncomfortable.  Terrifying.  But she won’t…she won’t hover around Agnes the way she instinctively wants.  She won’t.  That’s not a way to let her new family – if they can be called that – get to know the woman she maybe loves.

(Love feels like a leap.  They’ve only known each other a few months.  But she certainly absolutely likes her a lot.  And she wants all of them to like her, too.)

And – for the most part – it seems as though things will go that way.  Sam seems to get along with Agnes.  Natasha seems to have relaxed around her as much as she can.  And Wanda doesn’t hear any unhappy screaming from the kitchen – which is more an indicator that Agnes is getting along with Vision than it is the other way around.

That’s…that’s good.

Then Steve shows up, and everything goes a little sour.

~

It’s closer to midnight than not when Steve shows up, golden hair covered in snowflakes that refuse to melt at first, that still maintain their integral structure long enough for Wanda to almost make out patterns in them – not because she’s standing that close to Steve, because she’s not and doesn’t want to be, but because she’s searching him, looking for something, trying to figure out what sort of mood he might be in.

In some ways, Steve is the most terrifying of all the Avengers because Wanda has never seen him truly mad.  Not even small mad over stupid stuff, like when a can opener won’t open the can (probably because he can tear the top of the can off with his bare hands) or when the television gets all staticky and loses the signal (probably because their television never loses its signal and even when it gets close, Vision shows up and fixes it before anything gets too problematic) or when he tries to hammer something into the wall and slips and hits his finger instead (mostly because the complex is full of Stark technology that doesn’t require hammer and nails and Tony would probably get very mad if they tried to hammer a nail into the wall).  He isn’t always happy; more often than not, he’s pensive, and when he talks about it, it’s about the past – a past she doesn’t know, none of them know, not really.

It reminds her of Pietro, of how she feels about him.

Steve’s not mad or happy or pensive when he returns from whatever he was doing in the city, but when he sees Wanda, his eyes light up.  “Was she able to—?”

“Nessie’s in the kitchen with Vision.  Trying to rein him in.”  Wanda can’t help it; her lips curve up when she mentions Agnes, and she starts to fiddle with her rings again.  “I’m sure that’s…that’s going well.”

Natasha reaches over and pats her leg.  “They’re fine.  We’d know if they weren’t.”

“Nessie?” Sam echoes, brows shooting up again.  “She’s Nessie now?”

Wanda opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it again, brushing her fingers through her hair.  “She’s…I mean…we spend a lot of time together, so Nessie’s just—”

“Did someone say my name?”

Agnes strides into the room arm in arm with Vision, the brightest of grins on her face.  She nudges him with her hip when they stop.  “This hunk of metal and I—”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call myself a hunk of metal,” Vision says, and if it were possible, Wanda would say he was blushing.  His gaze drops, and he runs his hand over his head the way someone else might push their hand through their hair.

“You’re certainly a hunk, hon.  All of you in here such beautiful people,” Agnes starts to say, letting her gaze sweep the room, letting it land on Wanda as her grin softens, letting it move on to Steve, where it seems to freeze.  “You must be—”  Her head tilts, and her expression softens.  “Hello, Steve.”  Even her voice seems to change, darker and huskier and deeper.  It’s odd.

No.

It’s wrong.

Wanda’s gaze moves from Agnes to Steve, who stands there with his jaw working.  She doesn’t understand what’s wrong.  “Steve—”

“Agatha.”  Steve stares directly at Agnes, his eyes darker than Wanda has ever seen them.

That’s the wrong name.

Wanda glances over to Agnes, brow furrowing.  “Nessie—”

“It’s good to see you again, Steve.”  Agnes’s expression contorts, twists, almost.  “It’s been such a long time.”

It’s only then that Wanda realizes that no one else is moving.  She stands and looks around – it’s not that they aren’t moving, it’s that they’re frozen.  “Nessie, what did you do?”

Agnes turns to her then, finally, and her expression softens.  “Conversation for us old folks, love,” she murmurs.  Then she reaches over and presses a finger just in the center of Wanda’s forehead.  “I’m sorry, dear, but Steve and I need a few moments to catch up.”

“What do you—”

Sudden sleepiness overtakes Wanda.  She stumbles, and just like that first time in Agnes’s kitchen, Agnes catches her.  It’s less comforting this time.  She looks up at Agnes, brow furrowing.  “Why...?”

But that’s all she can get out before she can’t keep her eyes open any longer.

#bandit fic #december banditnanza 2023 fic #instigation with wanda and co #mcu #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #agatha harkness #steve rogers #natasha romanov #sam wilson #vision mcu #mcu vision #harximoff #wandagatha #wagatha #agatha harkness x wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x agatha harkness

[saintnightshade]

The Observer: Always Watching

(Proxy oc story)

Death and crime were all Aleksandr Baptiste Petrov had ever known, he was brought into this world by death; his poor mother had paid the ultimate price for bearing him. He knows nothing about her or where she came from; only that she was French. His father refused to talk about his mother and instead did what every widower does; blame his kid, drink, gamble and screw hookers. They barely made ends meet and his father had to go and blow the precious amount he managed to make, he always found a way to blame Aleks. A child. If Aleks hadn’t “killed” his wife then they’d all be living a life of luxury. Thinking back on his mother Aleks knows he has her eyes; green like the moss that grew on the long-abandoned house next door. His father had dull blue eyes that reminded him of dirty water. He did have the same platinum blond hair as his father, that was about all he had from the man.

Aleksandr and his father had lived in Russia until he was about 10; until the Big Change™️. His father had debts up to his neck and could no longer avoid the collectors, he had no money to give and nowhere to hide. They couldn’t just up and move to a new village, they could however move to a whole new country. And they did. Contact was made with extended family in the US and arrangements were made. Aleks never got the full story, he was told that his extended family in the US didn’t even know he existed. His father told them he had the money. Their extended family had set up a meeting to essentially get them smuggled out of Russia and into America. How much would all this cost you may ask? A lot. How did his deadbeat father pay for it? With his son’s life. His father sold him to the smugglers; a Russian crime family that operated out of the states. They dabble in everything including human trafficking and a child of his age was valuable for many things.

Once they made it to America his father took off and he never saw him again. He hopes he died in a gutter somewhere. After that Aleks grew up in the Petrov family, it became his “family”. It was very rough at the beginning but eventually, thankfully, he discovered he had a talent for memorizing things. It was as if he’d just witnessed a scene unfold even if it had happened weeks or months prior. The head of the family, known by everyone as Papa Petrov, took notice and boom instant promotion. No more long hours spent… doing other things. He would be a watcher, an… observer, for Papa Petrov. He was obedient and trustworthy by this point, thoroughly brainwashed after 6 years with the family. It’s not like he had anywhere else to go or anyone out there waiting for him. He was 16 and taking down detailed reports of the comings and goings of whatever job he was sent on; disposals, drug deals, prostitution exchanges, interrogations and so on.

He didn’t care much for anyone in the family and they really didn’t care for him, especially after his promotion. He was very detached much of his life but finally being allotted a little more respect and freedom had given him time to think about so much. His gender for one was the most important, he was told he was a girl for so long but it always felt wrong. Like trying to wear shoes that are either too small or too big, walking through life with a painful stumble in every step. He had a phone, they all did for “business” purposes, and the internet gave him so much. He learned what he was and went crawling to Papa Petrov begging him to be understanding and allow him to live as a man. Asking his permission to be happy. Papa Petrov didn’t care, the only things he cared about were results and money, a girl calling herself a boy meant nothing to him. Alyks was happy to be given permission for this and he wasn’t stupid, he knew Papa Petrov had no respect for people like him. But he was useful and he helped bring in money.

For the next few years, he was satisfied with what he was given, and he continued on with life. But when it seems like life has left you to rot it turns around just to throw you the hardest curveball it can manage. Void was his curveball, not even the crazy things that followed after could hold a candle to his Void. He was 20 and working a clean-up job, disposing of a body and its remnants. The job was at an abandoned community building by a forest preserve in Colorado. The target was wanted by the boss for ratting and running. He was inside the center, scrubbing the old cracked tile floor of blood and gore when he heard footsteps from the balcony overlooking the floor above him. Out of habit, he looked to see which one of his work partners it was, it had been none of them. On the balcony was a masked person kneeling on the dirty floor with their head resting between two bars and hands on either side, gripping two more. They were just looking at him and after a few minutes of returning their stare, Alyks quickly stood up, pulled his gun from his jogger's waistband and shot at the intruder. They hadn’t even flinched at the sight of his gun and Alyks hit the person square in the head, they violently jerked back from the impact before falling back and out of sight. Alyks wasted no time in running up to the second floor to confirm his kill and what he saw or rather didn’t see had him doubting his own eyes. The person was gone, he swore he nailed them right in the head, he had to of. His adrenaline was high and he could hear his heart hammering in his ears as he looked around the area. There was a small puddle of blood but nothing else. The others on the job with him wrote him off, it was a long night and he must be tired. The blood was probably from the target; he did give them a chase. That wasn’t the last time he saw the masked person who, amongst a deluge of other information, would learn they were a man only a year younger than him. But none of that was as valuable as seeing his real face, he’s swooning now just reminiscing about it. How fucked up is it to have met your future romantic partner while cleaning up blood from some guy you helped murder. Void had later told him that he hadn’t moved because he was so taken with Alyks and forgot where he was at that moment. Sap. As much as he loves his Void the shit he got pulled into was all because of him, he could protect Alyks from the woman that he worked for and from his brothers but not from the other weirdos out there and oh boy were they something else. Especially his new Papa.

About a year or so into his strange new friendship with Void, a few months after his 21st birthday, things started to get a bit strange. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d sometimes see a faceless human shape as tall as the ceiling, it didn’t bother him at first as he always had a poor sleep schedule coupled with the stress of everyday criminal life. Lights would flicker more often at odd hours of the night but again it was nothing too odd, the warehouse they used as a main hub for living quarters was old and kind of run down. The most annoying of these occurrences was the random popping of static on the radios and other devices Alyks used for listening to music, ebooks and podcasts. Reading in English was still kind of hard for him to manage so these things gave him access to more activities and having that interrupted was grating on his nerves. His usually calm demeanor and saintly patience were being tested to their limits until he couldn’t take anymore and demanded Void tell his “mother” to lay off a little or at least leave his devices alone. Void had assured him he would try to broach the subject with her but he couldn’t promise anything. He was warned about this beforehand, if he wanted Void in his life then he would have to deal with it. After a few weeks, nothing had gotten better, in fact, it was getting worse he would get migraines, but thankfully they didn’t affect his work too often and on a few rare occasions he would get nosebleeds. He once again confronted Void about all of this and what Void told him concerned both of them. He had spoken to his mother and she had cut down on her visits, whatever was happening now was not her. Void refused to ask his mother about the occurrences as he knew she would do nothing about them and might even see Alyks as some kind of sickness that might infect Void himself and that meant the end of their friendship. Permanently. So together they tried to find solutions for the problems, Void supplied him with medication for the migraines and cotton balls for the nosebleeds. Alyks resolved to wearing his hood inside to protect his eyes from the flickering lights and block his peripheral so he couldn’t see any more tall people. There wasn’t much to do with the static on his radio and other devices which was the most dissatisfying result for him but as the years went by he adjusted and got used to it until he barely noticed it anymore. It would all come to a head though, an explosive one that would paint the walls in blood.

Void had confessed that he and his brothers got wrapped up with a bunch of other strange people that lived in an old mansion in the woods and one of the “residents” might have been responsible for his paranormal problems for all these years. Alyks wanted answers but Void, looking absolutely ashamed, told him it was all his fault and there was nothing he could do to fix it and worse of all Void had to stay out of it. He told Alyks to just let it happen, don’t fight it, it would be easier. He was 24 and spent nearly every day waiting for something to happen, waiting for the boogeyman to rear his ugly head and drag him into the endless pit beneath his bed, leaving nothing but deep gouges in the floorboards behind left by nails. His nails. That didn’t happen but sometimes he wonders if it would have been better, more favorable than this. He and a few other family members were staying at a small safe house in Wisconsin, they had been tasked with tracking down a debtor who had run out of time. They would never find him and the men that were with him would never find anything ever again. It had all happened so fast and he was disoriented from being violently awoken in the middle of the night by the sound of breaking glass from three separate places in the house. Banging on the walls followed, the sound of people running around the house while one of them laughed. The men he was with began barking orders and threats, it didn’t take long for someone to get trigger-happy and start unloading through one of the windows into the pitch-black night. They didn’t hit anything and instead, it amplified the activity, the people outside taking it as their queue to really start their fun. Alyks remembered looking towards the window near his cot as it was shattered and he saw what might have been a man in a dull yellow hoodie and balaclava with a red frown and eyes stitched into it. Said man held a crowbar in one hand and a camcorder in the other, he took his time to scan the room with the recorder like he had all the time in the world. He finally landed on Alyks’ form and after a few seconds, he began to climb into the window prompting Alyks to haul ass out of the room but not before grabbing his gun and slamming the door behind him.

He had run to the rest of his men and relayed what happened to them. They insisted on staying together in the living room so as not to be snuck up on. From the busted living room window he saw another man casually walk by and look him directly in the face or he assumed he did. The man was wearing a mask with blacked-out eyes and feminine features, he tilted his head every so slightly before ducking out of sight. Alyks didn’t have long before one of his men screamed out in absolute agony, when he whipped around to see what the hell had happened he saw a hatchet embedded in the guy's shoulder. The man slumped to the floor in pain, his gun arm now useless, he screamed and swore and was answered with maniacal laughter. He had caught a glimpse of a third man running away with what seemed like bright orange eye wear. His heart was pounding in his ears, how many were there?! More gunshots rang out but Alyks couldn’t seem to make himself do anything, he was frozen and everything around him slowly began to be drowned out by the muffled sound of static that slowly escalated into a piercing shrill squeal in his ears that made his brain vibrate. His eyes began to blur with unshed tears as the tall faceless figure he’d seen in the darkest corners of his vision formed in front of him for the first time. It looked like a man in a suit but the suit looked wrong almost like tattered tree bark. Long tendrils writhed about from its back and a red slit down its chest glowed faintly and seemed to draw him in. It had no face, no mouth but it spoke to him from the deepest recesses of his mind. He could make out a tendril reaching for one of his men, the one on the floor, it seemed to go in slow motion or on purpose like it was testing him to see what he would do with this looming threat. His body managed to move out of instinct and as the tendril went for the man it pierced straight through Alyks chest and then blackness. He had passed out. As he lay there on the floor, something warm and wet bubbling out of his chest, he would groggily come in and out of consciousness only to hear the sound of men screaming, gunshots and something making wet thudding noise, the sounds of wet tearing, splattering, cracking and giggling. The only thing he could vaguely make out around him was red and the last thing he saw were three masked faces looking down at him amongst a mass of black tendrils.

#saint's writings #creepypasta #creepypasta oc #oc: the observer #prox #proxy oc #slenderverse #slenderman #proxy

[isolaradiale]

Data runs rampant, not only within the mists that crawl through city streets and shadow kissed forests, but upon the illuminated screens of technology that both Stars peer into. Every reaction was duly noted in the glimmer of Pleiades' glasses, much as she assumes it is for Caelum, likely keeping vigilant eye on his own respective area of interest. Before long, she offers an almost contented hum at what she sees, head tilting as she shoots a glance from the corner of her eyes toward him.

"I think this is more than enough data for my purposes. Is it enough for you, though?"

Part of the scientist attempts to smile, though it comes as more of a grimace.

"Well, it didn't turn out how I expected. Certainly not as much carnage as I thought. But I think that overall, they were able to connect with themselves a little deeper. So if they gained any knowledge from that... hm. I suppose that's good enough for me."

Emeralds linger on her fellow scientist, finding herself in agreeance the more she thought on it, moving to stand from the seat she'd been in. "They've learned quite a bit, I think. Perhaps next time we can put you in charge of our next little test? Maybe you can think of something more... ah, murder-y to tune everything up? There are always opportunities to see them raise from the ashes, of course," she shrugs almost leisurely at the suggestion, reaching over to input a few keystrokes.

To that, it seemed he finally relaxed--perhaps a little too much--he wobbled a bit on his feet. Now seated, his one good eye turned to the other.

"Something about that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Maybe I'm starting to like this place after all, hm-hm~"

Slender fingers tapped on his cane as he chuckled.

"...We'll have to see. Maybe that won't be necessary for a while."

Pleiades' expression hardly shifts, her smile growing, if anything, as she finally places the last inputs in with silent acknowledgement. Everything was set up, the last of their experimentation to be silently swept away with but another click of a button, thrusting everyone under their gaze back into a sense of normalcy. Or, perhaps, as normal as one can find themselves after the trials and things they have faced until now.

"Oh, but I do wonder if our darling subjects have come to notice the reality of themselves yet," she muses, hands shoving themselves into the pockets of her white coat, all before offering a speculative smile. "No, allow me to correct myself: if they've come to understand what they actually aren't一"

"--Pleased with our antics, I imagine." Came a cheeky little laugh.

"Well. I'll take care of the ones stuck in Purgatory if you take care of our surface-dwellers."

A gentle roll of her eyes in turn. "Very well. Then, let us begin..."

And with one click of a button does it all begin to return to how it once was. Where Caelum works upon his Purgatory tenants, her fingers are swift to realign the way mists swarm the perimeter of the city, peeling it back to release any still snared within their very own data. No longer does the crimson eclipse watch their every breath, returned once more to an innocent moon that lights the streets as if nothing has changed at all, before the mists finally settle at long last as a looming reminder of what had transpired.

All except for one opening, a new path to be taken, toward an area of Radial Island that was once blocked only a few days ago...

and that concludes our event rerun for MISTIFIED!

to start, there are a few notes on clarification: compared to other times when your muse returns to life, this time they'll discover they aren't being manifested into their homes and waking up in their bed anymore. instead, they get the unique experience of walking out of where they were kept during the event for the very first time! going forward, this is what you’ll expect if your character dies in isola, with the echo being the point of origin for post-death situations until they leave. for more information on this, refer to the 'exiting abyss' section of the echo's branch page!

we'd like to thank everyone who participated in this rerun. when we first ran this event, it was when we introduced THE ECHO and SKY-STREWN ISLES to our list of locations. you can still find them over on THE MAP, of course, alongside the other branches listed!

we're also happy to say that those who participated in this event will be receiving a FLAT REWARD as a prize for it! this means that so long as you participated in some way with the event and show us, you'll be able to redeem a small unlock without any other strings or word counts attached! some examples are:

one weapon unlock

one small power unlock/upgrade

500 stars

however if your character has already participated in the original mistified run and received an unlocked weapon or ability, you may only claim the stars reward! we have records of what was given out during the last run of the event, so do not try to claim an unlock if you already have. we will know!

all you'll need to do is go to THE GALAXY inbox and send in a request with what you'd like and your participation. much like the requests for housing, you'll have between MARCH 20TH until APRIL 3RD, 11:59PM to redeem this if you qualify!

once again, thank you all for your participation, and we'll see you in a new event in april!

#isola event #isola event: mistified #isola event rerun

[ram-reads]

Plot: Wallace the lawyer was insufferable in life and now he is dead. Even after becoming a ghost he refuses to believe he actually died, so when a reaper named Mei shows up to help him start the process of moving on he adamantly refuses. After coaxing him to come with her he finds himself at a strange tea shop in the middle of nowhere. The owner of this tea shop is named Hugo and is a ferryman meant to help the dead pass on. Once they meet Wallace tries again to convince them that his death was a mistake, but to no avail. Since no one will listen to him he tries to leave and discovers that if he does he’ll start to flake away. With little other choice he decides to stay at the tea shop where Hugo and the others living there try to help him come to terms with his death so he can continue on his journey. The longer he stays at the tea shop though the more he wants to stay, and it’s not because he is missing his old life but because he is starting to enjoy the life he now lives.

Review:  I think we’ve all read a book that impacted us in such a profound way we had a hard time articulating our feelings in a review. That is what Under the Whispering Door did to me to the point where the review is coming so late. Under the Whispering Door is a heartfelt story that is able to explore grief and death while also keeping Klune’s signature sense of humor. Books that are able to balance serious moments and lighthearted moments well are rare, but Klune achieves this balancing act perfectly.

It admittedly took me a while to get into this book. The first few chapters had me intrigued but I eventually grew bored. This was mostly because I felt like Wallace was having the same conversation over and over again for about fifty pages and there’s only so much repetitiveness I can take. Once Wallace starts getting out of his stubborn phase around page 150 I started to get back into the story and before I realized it I was hooked. I love found families and Klune writes found family stories so well. The plot is character driven which worked perfectly fine with me because my favorite parts of the story were when the characters were interacting with each other. Their interactions caused my heart to feel all warm and fluffy, but there were also times that they made my heart ache too. I’ve only read one other book by TJ Klune, but just based on what I heard about his other books I would say that this is his most serious one. Of course there is still plenty of humor, but it also explores death and grief. I personally liked the observations and insights the characters had pertaining to those topics. There’s discussion of pretty much every type of death in this book, so if you’re worried I would look into content warnings. Klune also has a disclaimer at the beginning of the book.

As for the worldbuilding, it’s pretty much the same old world except there are a few people who have the ability to actually see ghosts and help them move on. The concepts of reapers and ferrymen were easy for me to understand, but at times the logic Klune used when discussing ghosts and what they could do confused me. I get that they’re ghosts and any logic used will already be a stretch of the imagination, but if that’s the case then why try using any logic at all? I’d be content if the reason a ghost can do something or can’t do something is simply because they are a ghost. Klune tries to use logic to explain what ghosts can or can’t do though, and it just left me confused. I still don’t know if I fully understand what “unexpect” is supposed to mean. As I’ve already stated, the characters and their interactions were my favorite part of the story. Klune’s characters have such personality. They’re written in a way that feels exaggerated but when you really think about it you realize that it’s actually pretty realistic. His characters sometimes remind me of the citizens of Pawnee in the show Parks and Recreation. The main cast consists of our main character Wallace who at the beginning of the book cares more about his job than other people. He’s the sort of character who can’t have any fun because he takes everything seriously, but that slowly changes as he grows as a character. Then there’s the tea shop owner Hugo who is an absolute sweetheart full of empathy and is a prime example of how people can still struggle with anxiety even if they are usually a ray of sunshine. To round out the cast there’s Hugo’s mischievous grandfather Nelson who has already passed away but is staying around to watch over Hugo, the reaper Mei whose first instinct in any sort of conflict is to resort to violence, and of course I can’t forget to mention the ghost dog Apollo who was Hugo’s service dog and is the absolute best boy. While I did find some of them annoying in the beginning I came to care for each one of them. They are all so lovable and care about each other so much. I enjoyed watching Wallace warm up to each of them. There was also a memorable cast of supporting characters that brought a lot of the humor into the story. The romance between Wallace and Hugo was beautiful. I was cautious about getting attached to it at first because I didn’t know how a relationship between a ghost and a living person could work, but I quickly threw my cautions to the wind because I loved them together too much. Their pessimistic and optimistic dynamic fit together perfectly. I’m weak to relationships where someone opens up to the world more because of another person. I’m also a fan of characters yearning for each other and the yearning is strong in this one because they can’t physically touch. I don’t think I conveyed my feelings about the book well mostly because I think it’s a more personal book. The conversations on death and grief left an impression on me but I can’t begin to articulate how they left me feeling. I can say that while the book started a little slow I ended up loving the characters and their found family dynamic. The romance between Wallace and Hugo was just my cup of tea (pun intended) along with the platonic relationships Wallace makes with the other residents at the tea shop. I really hope TJ Klune continues to write books in this vein because there aren’t many of them out there and they vibe with me perfectly.

#book review #book reviews #under the whispering door #lgbt+ books #queer books #queer lit #fantasy books #diverse books #booklr #book recs #book recommendations #4 stars #2021 reads #my reviews

[rockislandadultreads]

Read-Alikes: Horse by Geraldine Brooks

French Braid by Anne Tyler

The Garretts take their first and last family vacation in the summer of 1959. They hardly ever leave home, but in some ways they have never been farther apart. Mercy has trouble resisting the siren call of her aspirations to be a painter, which means less time keeping house for her husband, Robin. Their teenage daughters, steady Alice and boy-crazy Lily, could not have less in common. Their youngest, David, is already intent on escaping his family's orbit, for reasons none of them understand. Yet, as these lives advance across decades, the Garretts' influences on one another ripple ineffably but unmistakably through each generation. Full of heartbreak and hilarity, French Braid is classic Anne Tyler: a stirring, uncannily insightful novel of tremendous warmth and humor that illuminates the kindnesses and cruelties of our daily lives, the impossibility of breaking free from those who love us, and how close - yet how unknowable - every family is to itself.

A Shout in the Ruins by Kevin Powers

Spanning over one hundred years, from the antebellum era to the 1980s, A Shout in the Ruins examines the fates of a diverse cast of characters connected to Beauvais Plantation in Chesterfield County, Virginia. When war arrives, the master of Beauvais, Anthony Levallios, foresees that mastery in a new America will be measured not in acres of tobacco under cultivation by his slaves, but in industry and capital. A grievously wounded Confederate veteran loses his grip on a world he no longer understands, and his daughter finds herself married to Levallois, an arrangement that feels little better than imprisonment. And two people enslaved at Beauvais plantation, Nurse and Rawls, overcome impossible odds to be together, only to find that the promise of coming freedom may not be something they will live to see. Seamlessly interwoven is the story of George Seldom, a man orphaned by the storm of the Civil War, looking back from the 1950s on the void where his childhood ought to have been. Watching the government destroy his neighborhood to build a stretch of the interstate highway system through Richmond, Virginia, and recognizing that his days on earth are coming to an end, he travels south to try to fill in that void. With the help of a young woman, he goes in search of his beginnings, all the while remembering the life that witnessed so much change during the 20th century, and so much that didn't. As the narrative finds that young woman farther in the future, now in her middle age, the questions remain: How do we live in a world built on the suffering of others? And can love exist in a place where for 400 years violence has been the strongest form of intimacy?

Transcendent Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi

Gifty is a fifth-year candidate in neuroscience at Stanford School of Medicine studying reward-seeking behavior in mice and the neural circuits of depression and addiction. Her brother, Nana, was a gifted high school athlete who died of a heroin overdose after a knee injury left him hooked on OxyContin. Her suicidal mother is living in her bed. Gifty is determined to discover the scientific basis for the suffering she sees all around her. But even as she turns to the hard sciences to unlock the mystery of her family's loss, she finds herself hungering for her childhood faith and grappling with the evangelical church in which she was raised, whose promise of salvation remains as tantalizing as it is elusive. Transcendent Kingdom is a deeply moving portrait of a family of Ghanaian immigrants ravaged by depression and addiction and grief - a novel about faith, science, religion, love. Exquisitely written, emotionally searing, this is an exceptionally powerful follow-up to Gyasi's phenomenal debut.

The Last Wild Horses by Maja Lunde

Mikhail lives in Russia in 1881. When a skeleton of a rare wild horse is brought to him, the zoologist plans an expedition to Mongolia to find the fabled Przewalski horse, a journey that tests not only his physicality, but his heart. In 1992, Karin, alongside her troubled son Mathias and several Przewalski horses, travels to Mongolia to re-introduce the magnificent horses to their native land. The veterinarian has dedicated her life to saving the breed from extinction, prioritizing the wild horses, even over her own son. Europe’s future is uncertain in 2064, but Eva is willing to sacrifice nearly everything to hold onto her family’s farm. Her teenage daughter implores Eva to leave the farm and Norway, but a pregnant wild mare Eva is tending is about to foal. Then, a young woman named Louise unexpectedly arrives on the farm, with mysterious intentions that will either bring them all together, or devastate them one by one.

#literary fiction #fiction #to read #tbr #TBR pile #booklr #library books #reading recommendations #book recommendations #book recs

[aayushisblogpoint]

F1 fan, but as a newbie.

   F1, one of the most expensive and fast paced sports in existence. Immense drama, historical feats, etc. It’s truly an exciting sport, one of a kind, where you expect the unexpected relating to driver transfers, contract extensions, terminations and most importantly the adrenaline spiking race results. It’s a sport of glory, power, politics and the most important factor, “Money”. If you can bring in sponsors with big pockets you are set to join a good team.

  I was not always a F1 fan but ever since I watched Charles Leclerc’s race in Monza – 2019, I was hooked into the sport. I’ve faced a lot of criticism from people for being a newbie fan. They presume that I have no knowledge of past F1 incidents and history. But I know enough to prove the stereotypes wrong. 1940s are where the roots of modern F1 began and in the beginning, F1 was entirely based on pre-World War 2 regulations defined by engine capacity. I am aware of most of the past events that have happened in F1, I know about the Era when Alfa-Romeo dominated the championship; how Cameron Earl died in the hospital due to the skull fractures he got as aa result of his car overturning during a test drive; how Ayrton Senna was killed while leading the 1994 San Marino GP in Italy; the Era where driver’s safety wasn’t the utmost priority, but winning a race was; Sebastian Vettel winning all three races that happened in India and a lot of other things that maybe even the fans who have been watching the sport wouldn’t know. You don’t necessarily need to be part of something to have knowledge about it.

 As a kid I used to sit with my dad while he watched television, most of the times it used to be just the news but he did occasionally watch sports and one of them being the fastest open-wheel, open-cabin, single seated, four wheeled automobiles in the world, racing all around the world which we call as Formula 1.The cars racing at full speed, the roar of engines, the cheers by fans seated on the bleachers fascinated me. I always, since I was a child, have had a keen interest in cars and sports, after discovering formula one, which is a sport that involves car, there was no stopping me. Now every Saturday and Sunday when there’s a race you will find me sitting in front of some or the other device having hotstar with my heart praying for Ferrari to win the World Championship. Yes, I am a Ferrari fan and my 2022 seems to be Tifosi’s year. I took my time to learn technicalities related to the sports. I had my friends to explain everything to me, but some may not have people around to explain. So, I am going to give a small guide for newbies to understand the sport.

 Guide:

Pirelli is officially recognised as the tyre supplier by FIA for Formula One. Formula One car tyres are built to last only between 60 to 120 kilometres. The main tyres that one needs to know are Hard tyre – colour white ( slows down the speed a little but lasts longer); Medium tyre – colour yellow ( moderately fast & moderate stability); Soft tyre – colour Red ( more grip & speed at the expense of compromised stability)

There are ten teams enrolled to compete for the 2022 Formula One season with two cars each. According to the rules for the season, a maximum of 26 cars will be allowed to compete. A maximum of 13 teams because each team is allowed to field two cars.

All the drivers have a contract of specific year(s) with the teams to drive for them.

F1 cars are required to weigh a minimum of 746kgs without the driver and fuel in them. F1 cars are required to weigh a minimum of 746kgs without the driver and fuel in them.

The average time taken for a race is about 2 hours and the average distance of a circuit is 305 km (190 miles)

Pit stops are essential for cars to change tyres and for making repairs, mechanical adjustments or as a penalty. Drivers make a call on taking a pit stop depending on the state of their tyres and any mechanical repairs or adjustments their car might need.

Races are usually on Sundays, however it may vary as timings and dates are different in different countries.

Qualifying happens on Saturdays, again depends on the country you are watching from. In case if there’s a sprint race, the qualifying session will happen on a Friday.

Sprint race is a new concept in F1. A qualifying race on Friday evening determines how Formula 1's drivers line up for the Sprint race on Saturday, when they compete to earn their starting places for the full race on Sunday, as well as those potentially precious extra points.

Point system of  sprint race -  the winner eight points and the runner-up seven points, with each subsequent position earning a point less than the rival behind whom they finish.

Point system of Race – The winner receives 25 points, the second place finisher 18 points, with 15,12,10,8,6,4,2 and 1 points for position 10 to 3.

Aayushi Raut.

Sap ID- 88012100009.

[luna-lafleur]

Welcome to my story blog!

This little corner will be dedicated to my FFXV au story, with my original character Luna Lafleur.

A prologue overhaul:

Born and raised in Insomnia, her father was an ex-researcher for Niflheim before he realized how out of hand their experiments had become. In this timeline, no Oracle has been chosen, and the Empire is working on developing the means to synthetically create their own with the DNA of the original Oracle, Aera.

Luna’s mother died when she was very young in an accident involving a Magitek soldier following Luna home, severely injuring her. Her mother stays behind to fend them off while she escapes with her father, which is ultimately what ends her life. Shortly after, her father disappears as well, leaving Luna with her adopted brother Prompto as the only family she has left.

Luna’s father discovers Prompto as a mere infant abandoned in a Niflheim laboratory, and not only takes him in as his own, but ultimately is what makes him come to terms with the empire’s wrongdoings. He takes Prompto and his pregnant wife, moving to Insomnia. Luna is born not long after.

After the death of their mother and sudden disappearance of their father, Luna and Prompto have to rely on each other. Grief-stricken through most of their early childhood, they keep to themselves, finding it hard to make friends even in school. Though Prompto is able to heal his emotional wounds in his own ways, Luna’s injury makes it hard for her to forget that day, and is plagued with nightmares, as well as a newfound hatred for the Empire.

Not long after the attack, King Regis declares a peace treaty with Niflheim, which doesn’t help any with quieting the rage within her. Now, Luna sees the royal family as no better than the empire, and her hatred now has a new target: the king.

Several years later, Luna and Prompto begin high school, and a new student is introduced-who is none other than Prince Noctis, heir to the Lucian throne. Everyone is abuzz with excitement and awe, even Prompto, who seems to bode no ill will towards the royal family despite what had happened with their parents. But Luna can’t help but feel her rage resurfacing when she lays eyes on Noctis for the first time. He’s quiet, reserved, and even politely tries to make peace with her, but to no effect. She uses him as her own personal scapegoat for her unfulfilled need for vengeance, picking on him and beating him up every chance she gets. Multiple detentions and suspensions later, their rivalry is known through whispered words throughout the school.

In a somewhat surprising turn of events, Prompto and Noctis get along quite well, and despite Luna’s personal issues with the prince, Prompto wishes to make amends, even going so far as to tell Noctis about their family’s troubled past with Niflheim and Luna’s accident that led to the death of their mother. Noctis sympathizes, now seeing Luna’s rage in a new light, and vows to do everything he can to help her through her grief.

After that, Noctis no longer puts up a fight. He lets Luna verbally and physically abuse him, hoping that it’ll help her work through her personal feelings. She sees it as a sign of surrender, and thinks that he’s giving up. It would be another year of torment before any sort of change would occur.

One night at a party, Luna gets particularly riled up (and belligerently drunk), and goes about her usual routine of talking down to Noctis and throwing several punches. Only this time, the two are inebriated beyond recognition, and Noctis’s mind is elsewhere. After a while, Luna angrily demands him to hit her back, scream, shout..to do anything other than sit there and take it. Rather than giving in to her demands, he looks at her with empathetic eyes, leans in to kiss her, and simply says: “Do what you need to do.”.

Luna is shocked by his actions, and through the lens of impaired judgment, that night ends up a hateful, passionate mess of intensity. Through their shared actions and newfound intimacy, Luna now sees Noctis in a new light: he’s not some monstrous, inhumane descendant of royalty. He’s human, just like her. Despite being intoxicated beyond belief, she takes notice of the scars on his back, similar to the ones she bears on her lower stomach.

The next day, when they both come to, Luna realizes what actually happened the night prior, and has, to put it mildly, an internal crisis. Despite this, she swallows her pride and proceeds to have a very awkward conversation with Noctis, who seems just as confused (and hungover) as she is about how the whole thing went down. They both agree never to speak of the incident again, promising to keep it a secret between the two of them.

Though initially hesitant, Luna ends up asking Noctis about the scar on his back she had seen, and he tells her about the accident he had as a child, wherein his mother died saving his life. Luna takes this to heart, realizing that the two are more alike than she ever imagined, and voices her regret towards her initial treatment of him. He tells Luna that he knew all along about her past, and wants to help her make things right, even going so far as to promise an audience with his father, the king.

Through time and trust, Luna works through her grief with the help of Noctis, and an unexpected friendship forms from their shared life experiences. What had begun as an initial bitter rivalry turns into something more understanding, and in time, the two become inseparable.

And that’s the gist of the backstory!

I tried to condense it as much as possible, but there are some things I didn’t touch on. This blog is mostly for myself to keep track of story bits and pieces, though I hope to eventually turn this into a full-blown story. More posts to come about the present day, as well as how Luna ends up as one of Noctis's Crownsguard with the other boys!

Thanks for reading!<3

#ffxv #final fantasy XV #original character #original story #ffxv au #luna lafleur #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #oc #my ocs

[jacquelinemerritt]

Horror Media Review: The Omen (1976)

Originally posted September 24th, 2016

With a score this beautiful, The Omen has no right to be this bad.

This review is part of a weekly series of pieces on classic horror films. See them all here!

The Omen is a film that explains a woman’s desire for an abortion as the psychic influence of the literal Anti-Christ.

The Omen is a film that attempts to ask whether it is okay to kill a child without ever giving that child an ounce of personality.

The Omen is a film that refuses to embrace its impeccable visual atmosphere and strong performances by muddling every scene with loud noises and an overbearing soundtrack.

The Omen might well be the biggest waste of frightening potential I’ve yet seen.

The Omen is about Damien (Harvey Stephens), a child who is adopted by the United States Ambassador to Italy, Robert (Gregory Peck). He is told that his biological son died shortly after being born, and he keeps this adoption secret from his wife, Katherine (Lee Remick). Five years later, Robert is appointed as the ambassador to the United Kingdom, and he moves there with his family.

Shortly after, at Damien’s birthday party, the family governess commits suicide, hanging herself in full view of the party and shouting that this action is to get Damien to love her. Damien begins behaving strangely after this incident, and this behavior is exacerbated when Mrs. Baylock (Billie Whitelaw), a new governess, arrives under mysterious circumstances to take care of him.

The biggest flaw of The Omen is how little time it expends on Damien, who is the center of the film’s conflict. We see Damien give people strange looks, take a liking to a fearsome dog, and throw a tantrum at being taken to church, but he is never given a moment to attempt to justify his behavior. This not only relegates his character to a mere plot device, it also makes the conclusion the film attempts to hint at rather foregone: that Damien is the literal Anti-Christ believed to be prophesied by the Book of Revelation.

Anyone with a cursory knowledge of this field of Biblical “prophecy” would pick up on the hints presented in the film. Damien is born at the sixth hour of night on the sixth day of the sixth month in the city of Rome.1 Father Brennan, a crazed bishop, claims to know everything about Damien spouts poetry and Scripture at Robert that clearly references the Armageddon of Revelation, and anytime something sinister happens, the music swells with the chants of a Latin choir, establishing a musical connection between Damien and a sinister form of the church.

That music, brilliant and awe-inspiring as it is,2 is one of the most poorly handled elements of the film. The entire first half of the film is filled with small moments that could be tense and sinister, but they are not allowed to be small, as the music posits that they are grandiose and terrifying beyond belief, even if what we’re seeing is a five-year-old kid circling his tricycle around his bedroom.

This “over-selling the scene” is a technique that works great in a genre comedy, as it allows the ridiculousness of a moment to be pumped up to a high degree. But The Omen’s use of this technique cuts against potential tension and turns many of its scenes comedic, exemplified best in Father Brennan’s death scene, which has him running from wind and lightning only to stand still and watch as a pole falls off a nearby steeple and impales him to death.

The film takes on a new life in its second half, however, as Robert begins to investigate the birth of Damien with the help of Jennings, a photo-journalist who was present at Damien’s fifth birthday party. This investigation gives the film some forward momentum. No longer are the characters sitting around at home, reacting to strange lectures by priests or tantrums by Damien; they’re traveling around Rome looking for clues about Damien’s identity, and they discover an Etruscan graveyard where Robert’s biological son is buried next to Damien’s “mother,” which is actually the corpse of an animal.3 After they learn that Father Spiletto (Martin Benson), the priest who suggested Robert adopt Damien in place of his dead son, was responsible for killing his son, they interrogate him and learn that Spiletto has turned to service of Satan.

Robert and Jennings then travel to Mediggo, a ruined city south of Jerusalem, and they speak to Dr. Becker (Anthony Nichols), an archeologist who shows Robert how to kill Damien. Robert rejects this at first, not believing his son to be the Anti-Christ, and this leads to a rather glorious death scene, in which Jennings is beheaded by a sheet of glass while trying to retrieve the weapons that can kill Damien.

Robert then returns home to London, unsure of whether to kill Damien until he sneaks up to his bedroom in an incredibly tense sequence and discovers a birthmark with the numbers “666” underneath his son’s hair. This convinces him to end his son’s life, and he takes Damien to holy grounds to do so, only to be shot by a police officer just before he plunges the blade into his son’s chest.

Gregory Peck does a commendable job here of selling his role as a father unsure of the morality of his actions, but because the film has failed to allow us to establish a connection with Damien, the weight of this decision is lost. Robert’s decision to kill his son feels like the obvious choice, and it’s hammered home that Damien should have been killed when we see him turn directly to the camera at his father’s funeral, looking us right in the face and smiling at his father’s demise.

This moment exemplifies the flaws of the film, too. What could have, and arguably should have, been a moment of contemplation over whether Robert made the right choice is undercut by director Richard Donner’s decision to make Damien’s evil as obvious as possible, and the film’s phenomenal score, performances, and atmosphere cannot save it from these failures.

Rating: 3/5

1Rome is pretty key to a lot of Biblical prophecy, and according to the schools of thought that believe the Anti-Christ will be a literal person who rules over the entire world, he must be born in Rome (though for some reason he later makes his capital in Jerusalem; end-time Christianity is weird).

2Much of the score actually reminds me of Nobuo Uematsu’s work on Final Fantasy VII (figures I’d notice that, right?), and it makes me curious as to whether or not he took inspiration from this score at all.

The Omen can be purchased on DVD and Blu-Ray though Amazon.

Critical Eye Criticism is the work of Jacqueline Merritt, a trans woman, filmmaker, and critic. You can support her continued film criticism addiction on Patreon.

#the omen #richard donner #gregory peck #patrick troughton #jerry goldsmith #horror #horror film #the antichrist #horrow review #horror media reviews