#escape feels cruel but you also feel you deserve it and it is only justice making its work

[juniperkinglet]

Okay okay jumping off this great post from @neilsexy about Nicky hate to also talk about my Riko thoughts.

I find the treatment of Riko by the fandom fascinating. Calling it The Azula Effect cuz it's just like how a lot of Zuko fans treated Azula.

Riko is an antagonist, a villain, yes. He's literally there specifically for you to hate, so if you hate him, he's fulfilled his narrative purpose. BUT! There's this weird puritanical pathologizing of Riko and Riko fans that our protagonists don't receive, which I think points to modern fandom's whole "evangelical conservative beliefs with a gay coat of paint" thing.

Riko is a villain, but he's also an abuse victim whose only outlet is abusing others (and he is encouraged to do so by his environment). He holds a terrifying level of power over the protagonists, which masks how little power he has over his own life.

Riko isn't a sadist for just for the fuck of it. There is a meaning to his cruelty. When he abuses people, it's an attempt to keep his delicate social standing and illusion of power--which is all he has--by discouraging his peers from acting against him. There is a meaning to Andrew's cruelty as well, and fandom is totally fine with you sympathizing with that meaning and still loving Andrew despite his violence... but that same fandom will discourage you from having any sympathy for Riko's meaning and treat him as some special case of Inexcusable. Not to say Andrew's actions are on par with Riko's, or to discount all the work Andrew did to grow, but there is hypocrisy there.

Folks will designate Riko as evil from birth rather than circumstance, saying a lot of shit that sounds very "mentally ill people are inhuman monsters" and "sinners can never be forgiven and will burn in hell for eternity." This whole idea of "good person vs bad person" instead of "good actions vs bad actions" is just unhelpfully reductive.

Also, the very force driving Riko is the desire of a traumatized kid to be loved by his family. But because his family are cruel mob bosses, the only means to gaining love he sees are through enacting that same cruelty. And the great tragedy of Riko, and what makes him such a compelling character to me, is that all of that cruelty he used as a shield and a plea couldn't protect him or garner him love in the end.

Riko never had a Wymack (an "Uncle Iroh" so to speak). He never had someone who believed in him, which is what made all the difference in the lives of the Foxes. Because Riko was born a Moriyama, he never had an escape or a second chance, and his life was never going to end in anything but a bullet to the head when he became a nuisance. That's the difference between him and our protagonists. Not some special evil gene that made him incapable of humanity. He was a traumatized and flawed human being just like the protagonists, but unlike them, he never had an opportunity to grow. I know I'm overly optimistic, but I believe that everyone can change if they have the drive and resources to do so. It's come from a hard reworking of my beliefs to move away from punitive justice and towards restorative justice. And it's a theme I found prevalent in AFTG.

So why aren't fans allowed feel sympathy for Riko? It feels like wildly missing the point of the series to insist he is the one exception to its themes. You don't have to excuse any of a character's actions to sympathize with them or believe they deserve a second chance.

#aftg #riko moriyama #fandom meta #this is longer than i wanted it to be but not nearly as long as it could have been. i could write a whole essay #i'm forever out here collecting the most hated of blorbos

[pinkafropuff]

"no more heroes"

They loved heroes. They loved to hear tales of triumph with crowds cheering in the background, loved the indomitable fortress of justice and truth. Love the fun sounding stuff. The lies, mostly. The embellishments, often. 

The truth? Almost never.

She could have said that they vanquished the Ascian on the First, that his cruel plan had come to an end with one final, dying grasp. She could say he deserved it. Aye, that was true. Technically. But she couldn’t say what she really thought about it, about the grief he carried with him, the life he lived, the city filled to the brim with ghosts, built and rebuilt by his very hands. 

Dear mom and dad,

It was stiff. It always felt stiff when she started, considering which parts to keep and which to omit, but this time she just sat there, quill hovering over parchment as all of her thoughts drew a complete blank.

“...they’ll worry…” Soft and secret. A reminder to temper herself. They would anyway, if she didn’t send another letter soon. When was the last time? The Steppe, probably. She’d sent back some fresh herbs too, with blessings from the mothers in that community, during her time as the Khatun. ‘Cousins’, her people called them, the Au Ra that were not dragons, as they were all from the same ancestors, anyway, so what use was fighting? 

With difficulty, she tried again. Dear mom and dad, did you know I’m a big deal now? 

No, that wasn’t…that wasn’t right. It was too impersonal. It felt like snapping back at them for all the years she’d been under their tender care, carefully gathering strength until she struck out into the world on her own. 

What about something simple? Like, ‘I have a lover now’? Ugh, but her parents wouldn’t let her hear the end of it. Or worse, think she was lying! Besides, telling them about that, when her dad would read it…ew! She scribbled all over the paper in frustration and tossed it on the ground. 

“Figuring out what lies to tell, eh?” 

Aran’s head snapped up- though not before her shoulders shook in distress. A hiss escaped her, hackles raised. “Ugh, Stinny! Stop reading my letters!” 

The dragoon did not laugh or smile as she expected him to. Instead he shrugged. “I don’t.” 

Something within her roiled in discomfort. Instead of thinking of a snappy rebuttal, she turned her head, sighing as she laid it on the table. “...sorry.” Teeth clenched to nearly grind against one another, she closed her eyes in thought. The word hung there for a long while, neither of them saying any others, before Estinien crossed the threshold into the room and stood over her, as though waiting for something. With some effort, she was able to ignore him looming over her for exactly two minutes- after which her head flopped over to the other side so she could see him better, horn knocking on the wood of the table like the world’s saddest drum. 

“You need not write a novel on your endeavors,” he offered. “‘I yet live’ would suffice.”

Somehow, that made her feel more sickly than before. A thousand thoughts flew into her head, each with less sense within them than the last- then her answer was the softest sigh, before a low and crackling, “No.”

He gave a half shrug, as though he’d given it his best shot and would try no more, then pulled up a chair. In the silence she found it best not to do anything but lay there, letting regret wash over her. 

“I’m sorry.” 

She understood Raha now. The words did little to soothe, but took the place of many more pressing matters, any deeper issues that they barely scratched the surface with. What was there to be sorry for when there were no wrongs? What wasn’t there, when the wrongs were also the rights?

“Tried.” She continued. “But can only be one thing.” Pitifully, she picked her head up, then the quill and parchment, an offering of desperation. “Write for me?”

He shook his head, the spill of white hair only making his disapproval more evident. Arms draped over the back of his chair, he took a deep breath, eyes searching the ceiling of the little cabin for a moment before then settled on her. “I would not take such a pleasure from you. ‘Tis a rare thing among the Scions.”

A low blow. She wouldn’t soon forget that he’d lost his own birth parents and brother to the Dragonsong War. To the Calamity. On the contrary, her family was relatively safe- as far as she knew. Her parents, clan, and six siblings were none the worse for wear, according to the letters Tataru had delivered to her herself. Still, it was good to remember that. To remember those loved and lost, and those who had no idea of what she’d been through. 

Remember us. Remember that we lived.

She closed her eyes. Were she waiting on her eldest to send word of her travels, what would she want to hear? Eyelashes fluttering, she put quill to parchment again and began to write.

After a little while, Estinien stood from where he sat, pushing the chair back into its place at the table. On his way out he carelessly waved a hand on his departure, footsteps slow as he headed out the door. Hearing them, she lifted her head, tongue sticking out as her thoughts were stuck mid-sentence. 

“Will you take it for me?” It was mostly gibberish to her, but she said it anyway. It was harder now, to just say things outright. Like ‘thank you’ or ‘you’re my family too’ or ‘I’ll make you something for this later’.

“You need not ask.” Was his response, and he left her to her thoughts.

*

Dear mom and dad,

Stinny told me to keep this letter simple. It’s hard for me. I remember when you wouldn’t let me go play with the other kids, for fear of me breaking something, ‘cuz I played too rough and I didn’t have enough strength to bear the weight of it. I get it now. I know why you did that. 

Maybe you went through things like this too. Where you go through something that everyone says is heroic, or do something everyone makes speeches about and gives you medals for. But you come up empty. You don’t say anything about the way your horns burn near your face because you got poisoned, or how your knee hurts sometimes just by standing for too long now. You just kind of smile and let them cheer. They don’t know the strain and they shouldn’t. Not until they’re ready to.

I have both of my hands and feet, both my legs and arms. I have both of my eyes and horns and tail, and all of my fingers and toes. I have friends who love me and I love them, and my clothes are really nice and expensive. I have a lover now (soon my mate, if he says yes this time!) and he’s the kindest, strongest man I’ve ever met. I think you’ll both like him. He really wants to taste our traditional foods, and I think that’s a good sign. There��s this thing called Archon Loaf and it sucks. Apparently all of my friends have had it before to survive their studies at the place they're from. I tried some. I can’t believe they put that in their bodies! By Nhaama if I never taste it again, it’ll be too soon!

The twins are fine. Alphinaud (blue!) has grown up well and even protected me once on our adventures. Isn’t that crazy? Alisaie (red!) has grown into such a lady that she offered to buy me deserts at a shop she knows in Sharlayan. Thancred and Urianger are the same as always, as is Y’shtola. I think Thancred and Urianger are married? But Thancred keeps dancing around it. Whatever. That’s their business. Y’shtola tried to sacrifice herself again. I’m still angry about it, but I won’t tell her. She’s strong, but I know what kind of strong now. I’ll be around for her to lean on soon enough. 

I’m sorry this is late. I’ve had a rough time, but I don’t want you to think

I yet live. Are you proud? I miss you all.

Aran ✨

#ffxiv #aran utar #estinien wyrmblood #a midpoint. just after shadowbringers #partially into endwalker #fic

[jmalegni]

A Silent Voice

Man, I went through every single emotion that is possible and I cannot organize my thoughts in a coherent manner after finishing this film. So please bear with me.

People can be so incredibly cruel to one another for the stupidest things, kids especially. And when you factor in the extreme emotional swings that come with being a teenager, there is real potential for harm from words. Nishimiya, Ishida, Sahara, and Yuzuro have so little confidence and self blame for hurting/failing to protect the people around each other that two of them are driven to end it all just to escape the damage they believe they have caused. Ishida was admittedly a horrible kid and paid dearly for his actions in elementary school. He was ostracized and came incredibly close to killing himself due to the guilt and the belief that he is a monster. But he doesn't, instead he finds Nishimiya, and shows her that learned sign language. As the bond between the two develop, Nishimiya sees the damage that has occurred to Ishida and blames herself, leading to her attempted suicide. When one feels like they do not fit in to society, whether it be by their own actions, or the actions of others; the worst comes out. As a social species, humans need to have some kind of social connection in order to feel valued.

Back when I was in second grade, there was a girl named Ally, she was also deaf and the school did similar things as shown in the film. We learned sign-language every week to better communicate with Ally, and from what I remember, she wasn't made fun of like Nishimiya was. But I avoided interacting with her as much as I could because I wasn't interested in putting in the extra work to try to communicate. And I'm sure that I wasn't the only person in the classroom to feel that way. I feel terrible about it looking back, especially after watching this. But just because she is deaf, doesn't mean she should struggle to participate in society as anyone else would. Nishimiya isn't a victim or some horrible "disease", she is a normal girl who deserves to be treated the same as any other person. There is no valid justification for attacking or excluding her due to her lack of hearing, it is just laziness.

I am so sorry to anyone reading that. This was the best thing I have watched in a while, and yet this post is the worst I've written, I have gotten nowhere close to doing this justice. So I will watch it again and make a better post after this class is over.

[robhorninginternalexile]

inconvenience

Duke UP posted the introduction of Lauren Berlant’s last book, On the Inconvenience of Other People. There the concept of inconvenience is posited as “the affective sense of the familiar friction of being in relation,” as if a degree of friction were simply a given in any kind of human interaction. “There is an inevitability of the sense of inconvenience that has nothing to do with justice,” they write. 

I think the best way to interpret it is that no one should feel entitled to convenience, though the word inconvenience already has a lot of ideological baggage that muddies the picture. The word tends to suggest not only an economic orientation toward efficiency but also that a situation can be fixed by becoming more efficient. Or the word can be used to indicate that something deserves special recognition, as in “an inconvenient truth” — the “inconvenience” proves its seriousness, its importance. 

It seems strange, though, to propose “friction” almost as an end in itself, as proof of one’s conscientious attention to others, as if just getting along with other people were always a sort of false consciousness. (Maybe it is.)  

As an alternate definition of inconvenience, Berlant offers that “inconvenience disturbs the vision of yourself you carry around that supports your sovereign fantasy, your fantasy of being in control.” The question then becomes, Where do those fantasies of control come from? Are they inescapable aspects of the human condition? Are they the corollary of being a subject in a “control society,” of needing to escape from a sense of being constantly managed? Do they derive from how often convenience is marketed and pushed on us as the ultimate good? 

The pleasure that is supposed to stem from the experience of convenience depends ultimately on “inconvenience” being experienced as something incredibly terrible. (I think of the petty fuming of people (i.e. me) when they are about to lose their minds while waiting in a checkout line. Or how road rage is so disproportionate to what triggers it.) The technology we use and encounter in everyday life tends to reinforce this division, it always tries to orient us toward convenience as “enjoyment” and inconvenience as irrational or “unjust,” to use the frame Berlant rejects. 

I am generally sympathetic to the strain of tech critique that argues that it structures users as hopelessly addicted to convenience and willing to sacrifice their own rights, as well as the well-being of other people, to get it. That is, intolerance is produced as “inconvenience,” is fomented by the apps and devices and protocols and expectations that are associated with them. Tech’s marketing often hinges on making other people disappear — this is predicated on something like Berlant’s claim here, that the awareness of other people is inherently inconvenient, draining. But the critique assumes that the love of convenience or sovereignty can be produced or augmented in people — Berlant seems to want to locate it in the social matrix, or as a horizon. 

Inconvenience is at once “mattering to someone” and “enraging someone.” Berlant stops short of framing inconvenience as a kind of cruel optimism, but it has some of that self-contradictory quality. But where “cruel optimism” directly illuminated so many kinds of situations in which one feels stuck or at odds with oneself, split by desire, “inconvenience” just seems descriptive, an “everyday affect.” No more, no less. 

Berlant goes so far as to argue that “the minimal experience of inconvenience does not require incidents or face-to-faceness: the mere idea of situations or other people can also jolt into awareness the feel of their inconvenience, creating effects that don’t stem from events but from internally generated affective prompts.” In other words, just thinking about other people, and their irreducible difference, prompts a feeling of having been inconvenienced. (One can read out a lot of right-wing politics from this.) It seems a bit reminiscent of Sara Ahmed’s work on “killjoys’ and “complaint” that dwells on the various ways people are deemed inconvenient, structurally and interpersonally. 

But over this long introduction, the concept of inconvenience feels worried down to the point where it just signifies life’s ups and downs or just means “ambivalence”: Inconvenience becomes simply a moment within any kind of experience whatsoever, and speaks to a psychic “drive” to have experience, to understand that one is having experiences precisely because they are inconvenient. “Inconvenience is not just a punctum experience but a measure of the impact and standing of encountered things.” Yes, but what does describing it that way accomplish?

[opinated-user]

Aliana flaws

- Cruelty. A tendency to torment her foes, often giving them chance to escape.

While this might be considered a flaw, in TSR it is not. Precisely because no one ever treats it like ine. Aliana's a "badass" because she can hurt the bad guys, but she's also not perfect because she let Kylo Ren escape again! But no one ever says anything about her unwittingly letting their main enemy go (that way putting them in even more danger) only because of her sadistic nature, unlike you know Luke, who gets a whole tub of trash for hesitating to kill his child nephew. Ok seriously now. Just imagine if, after Aliana shoot Leia with lightning, she would simply be kicked out of the rebellion, would not be given a promotion or any kind of excuse, or would simply be arrested on the spot for attacking the general and would have to deal with the consequences. Or for example if she got the First Order agent in her hands, and she would immediately go to torture him instead of interrogating, which would greatly scare Rey, Finn and Poe, and they would begin to avoid Aliana or openly call her out. Great idea for a conflict and development. It's a pity that Aliana always has to look holy... Moreover, that "often" kind of shows that Aliana doesn't learn from her mistakes at all, which ironically makes her look just as stupid as Kylo Ren lol.

- A doormat for allis. Prone to putting up with poor treatment.

Doesn't that, well... contradict the points about cruelty and a strong sense of justice? Like don’t you feel a dissociation in a character who is both incredibly cruel, fair and, technically, lived almost alone for about a decade, but at the same time can’t stand up for herself and needs someone to wipe her snot due to the fact that someone (who isn’t even dear to her but simply a necessary ally) was not friendly with her? Another question, is Aliana really so unsocialized that she cannot resolve differences diplomatically? Doesn't she have some talant to form alliance with underclass? Poor people are people as well, surprisingly, so what's the difference?

- Poor seff care.

And again, factually that this is not a flaw, this is another reason to make readers sympathize with Aliana. Has she ever lost because she was tired? No. Has she ever been so tired she couldn't handle a mission properly and ended up failing it? No. Has she ever had to run from the fight because she was clearly losing? No. The only time she gets hurt is when she dropped her weapon to protect Rey. But even than it was not the effect of her poor self-care, it was a conscious sacrifice. Aliana's depression is another complete retcon to make us feel sorry for her.

This is the main problem with Mary Sue inconsistency and constant contradictions, breaking the world and other characters in order to wrap them around Aliana.

A tendency to torment her foes, often giving them chance to escape.

that's not cruelty, it's recklessness. the same one that rey later learns herself and puts everyone in danger because she just had to come out in fury and not listen to anyone just like alaina. alaina might be cruel and have a too big sense of self importance that makes her lose sight of the situation, giving enemies a chance to escape because she didn't made sure that they didn't before trying to torture them. cruelty is no the issue on this situation.

A doormat for allis. Prone to putting up with poor treatment.

i get the feeling that what LO understands as "poor treatment" is nothing else but mean comments from one sources, which sours the idea that alaina has the respect and appreciation from absolutely everyone, even if she doesn't deserve it.

Poor seff care.

i agree with you, anon, this is a retcon and a poor one at that.

#lily orchard

[eternitysprophecy]

2: Rose's Letter

Today was the day.

Or rather, last night.

It’s November 1st, 2016, and you’re finally free. As such, this will be the final addition to the collection of letters and articles I have assembled for you during the past month.

Of course I cannot even begin to explain over three thousand years worth of history. Mainly because not even I can remember that far back anymore, but also because that past is irrelevant to the current circumstances. But this collection should serve as a useful guide until you become accustomed to the new world. The new Earth.

I wish I could say that the darkness that once corrupted this realm has vanished, but unfortunately that darkness is exactly why we brought you back.

…I sound cruel. 

Believe me, I wanted you back more than anyone. I missed you. I loved you. I needed you.

I thought I needed you.

But of course I was too selfish. I should have tried again after that first failure. I should have done something, tried something. Perhaps I could have reworked your soul myself. Exterminated your darkness, and saved you from the creature that once haunted you.

Perhaps I was afraid. 

Just as I was last night.

I almost didn’t go. 

I stood in my home, and watched the clock. Minutes ticking by, and my heart feeling so torn between all the little decisions I would have to make. Now of course I did eventually leave. Alya, you’ll meet her again tomorrow, was understandable about my reluctance. But thankful I still came around. Then there was Arthur, who I would also love for you to meet again, and of course Samael. Alya, Samael, and I were the ones who performed the revival ritual. We thought it had gone wrong at first, but of course you’ve always had a flair for the dramatics.

It was sweet - Arthur rushing to protect me. The younger immortals are lovely, and I look forward to their progression. ( He’s a few centuries, but I believe I’ve still got him beat ). 

I don’t know what I felt when I saw you.

Guilt? Happiness?

Of course, you remember the rest. 

But I still haven’t quite told you why you’re here.

Just under a century ago, a new necromancer came into ‘the spotlight’ as it’s referred to now. Attention was on her, and what she hoped to achieve. Admittedly, myself and a few others did originally side with her. She wanted to kill God. Yes I know, it’s a bit of a difficult challenge. Killing the creator of the Heaven Realm - but she demanded justice for the millions of souls he’d wronged in his years of ruling. The issue arose later. She no longer wished to only kill God, but all who served him. Completely disregarding how many of those individuals suffered at his hands- how many of them that lost their friends, their family. Rumors spread of course. Saying that the necromancer was convening with the Shadow Realm. Lilith’s guard. 

Many of us stopped supporting her after that.

She wants to dismantle Heaven entirely, and rule it herself.

Most of those who still support her only do so out of the greed of their own hearts. They want war, and a reason to kill, and she’s given them that.

I beg you to help us.

I won’t curse you again if you say no, but your magic is so powerful compared to the other immortals from our time. Even my own power has been severely limited over the years, our old worlds having been lost into dust.

I’m begging you to help us win this war.

You’re a shadow borne, aren’t you? Her armies could not affect you the way they affect others, I’m sure of it. And we just need a plan.

Arthur’s father said he’ll follow Samael’s lead, as he’s the one who’s been tasked with taking the necromancer down. Her soul is destined for the pit, if there’s any remnant of it left of course. And with your help, we could…

I’m sorry.

You had no knowledge of this war before I forced you into it.

You didn’t deserve this.

I shouldn’t have brought you back just to force you into the role you were trying so desperately to escape. I…I’m so sorry, Lily. Please. Forgive me.

…

You’re sleeping now. I can hear you in the living room, whispering to yourself. I suppose you really won’t ever be free from that accursed realm's grasp. It haunts you, even after so much time away. I suppose that brings a new problem as well. With your revival, what old magic did we awaken? Surely the spell didn’t just impact you, right?

I don’t know.

I’m so tired.

…

I do like the new hair.

It looks good, short.

Though I will miss the red.

#eternity’s prophecy #hiddenrose04

[mythicamagic]

Fangs of Silver: Sesskag oneshot

Summary: Kagome Higurashi has her work cut out for her, hunting one of the most elusive and powerful werewolves known to man: the Killing Perfection. Sesskag smut oneshot. Werewolf Sesshoumaru/monster hunter Kagome. 

Rated M

Words: 4,700

Read on Ao3 and Dokuga

AN: for @cookieasylum​ for an art trade. Thanks bud! Hope you like it

Fangs of Silver

Warning: werewolf x human smut, knotting, menstrual sex

---

Two fingers unfurled to touch the moonlit forest floor, tracing the outline of a large paw-print stamped into dirt. Even splaying her palm wide with four fingers and thumb outstretched, Kagome couldn't hope to meet its size, dwarfed in comparison.

"Looks like I've found you again," she muttered, straightening from her crouch. Walking onwards and listening out for any hint of movement within the imposing woods- tall anorexic trees completely still with sharp looking branches- blue eyes remained alert, watchful.

She'd been tracking this one for God knew how long now. Months. Had it been a year yet? Though even the smallest victory of finding his tracks left no time for celebration.

Kagome frowned to herself. This particular beast wasn't usually so careless. He evaded her during daylight hours by wading through streams or keeping to rocky terrain, never giving the same name when mingling with villagers. Even when the Full Moon hit- he managed to be elusive and surprisingly clever. The smartest one she'd been sent to hunt. This time he'd either been sloppy or…

Kagome glimpsed something through a gap in the lower trees, located further down the hill. Smoke?

Surely he wasn't trying to trap her with something so obvious.

Frowning, Kagome set down her weapon and snuffed out the flames of her torch, checking her supplies. Enough silver bullets. Enough jewel shards. Her guns were in good shape, but she was out of herbal supplements to repress a certain annoyance that also occurred every month. Wincing, she put a hand to her lower abdomen, feeling it cramp.

Crap, not now.

She'd have to ignore it. She couldn't afford to lose this guy due to Mother Nature kicking her continually in the gut.

This beast had committed countless acts of violence- leaving behind a trail of bodies in their respective towns and villages. Unlike usual werewolves who sloppily left bitten survivors to run amok, this beast made no mistakes. He seemed to kill specific people and left them firmly for dead. He never inflicted the curse upon anyone. Surprisingly his victims were usually reported to be less than innocent citizens.

Due to the killings- a bounty had been placed on what the authorities referred to as 'the Killing Perfection.'

Creeping down a steep incline, Kagome stepped as lightly as possible within the relative darkness of the trees -autumn leaves crunching beneath her boots.

A lonesome house in the woods stood like a mourner in a graveyard under the light of the Full Moon, dark wood faintly eroded by time. Vines held the chimney in a stranglehold, but smoke puffing out of the top revealed it to be in working order despite the dilapidated state of the house.

Slipping around the side of the building and ducking out of sight from any windows, Kagome stopped with her back to the wall, loading her rifle while stooped into a crouch.

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Kagome wasted no time. She pushed off and rounded the corner, kicking open the front door with the barrel of her gun trained inside.

Empty?

Kagome didn't let her guard down, slowly inching inside and glancing around.

The fireplace was lit with healthy flames- a kettle sat off to the side, an empty mug not too far away. Everything else in the room had a layer of dust costing it, but the armchair lay newly cleaned. Footprints trailed around the ashen floor, some human, some wolf prints.

Kagome searched the lower floor that comprised of mostly empty rooms, before pointing her gun up towards the stairs, setting foot on the first step.

It groaned loudly beneath her weight.

Wincing, blue eyes snapped to the top of the dark stairs for any tell-tale signs of movement.

Wandering up to the second floor cautiously and looking around revealed nothing more than dust bunnies.

Kagome frowned, eyeing the open window. Had he jumped down and escaped?

Sighing with disappointment, she shouldered her gun and trailed downstairs.

I suppose I can sweep the outside to pick up his trail again, but I bet he's long gone. He probably lit the chimney to distract me before making his escape and transforming for the night.

Wandering over to the kettle, she touched its side.

Still lukewarm. He'd literally just been there.

And I was too late.

Kagome groaned.

"What a disappointed noise. Were you aching to see me that badly?"

Stiffening, her heart jumped. The silky sounding words had come from behind her.

Pivoting on one heel, Kagome turned her weapon on the man lounging in the armchair.

His image blurred, snatching up her gun to lurch the barrel upwards just as she fired, the blast piercing the ceiling- some debris raining down.

Golden eyes sparked, snapping the barrel in two before throwing her to the floor with impressive strength.

Kagome gasped, back colliding hard with the wooden floors, winded. She quickly grabbed one of her pistols and trained it on the man- who had disappeared again.

"W-what?" she panted. "It's a Full Moon. Why haven't you transformed?"

"Ah, you wish for me to change? Very well," his voice rumbled from outside.

Fur blocked out the moonlight pouring in from the shutters, brushing along the side of the house. Quiet, hungry panting filled her ears.

Kagome quickly fired at the windows, but the shadows melted away, causing her to wonder if it had been a trick of the light.

"I heard tell of a woman who subdues my kind before using shards of a blessed jewel to revert them back into humans…"

Paws padded around the house, nails dragging- scraping the forest floor. "You have pursued me for some time. Did you hope to transform me into a mortal like those you have hunted before me? Break my curse?" the male uttered.

"I knew you were strong, so I didn't have much hope of using them. Taking you back alive to stand trial for all the things you've done is a tall order," Kagome grunted, lower stomach clenching. She quietly hissed. Cycle blood likely marred her trousers now.

"Indeed. Even if you shot me with one of your infamous jewels though, it would not work."

A figure bent down, twisting through the front door with the ease of a feline through bars. Sleek silver fur gleamed with a fiery hue, bathed in the hearth's orange light.

Saliva dripped from exposed canines, muzzle pulled back.

The werewolf towered over her in size. He had the look of a distorted wolf- pale torso resembling a man due to broad shoulders and defined abdomen. He shifted to stand upright, hind legs strong, capable of supporting his weight. Thick hackles rose, paws more akin to hands tipped with killer claws.

Unlike the other beasts she'd faced, this one had peculiar red markings slashing over his cheeks, lower legs and flank. Glowing red eyes burned with the heat of the sun.

"You unknowingly came in search of a Pure Blood. I cannot be 'fixed' little hunter. This is how I was born," he purred, mouth unmoving, whispering honeyed words in her mind.

Those eyes strayed down to her legs, nostrils flaring. "And you are in heat, no less. A fine time to go hunting for a predator."

Kagome shivered, raising her pistol and aiming it between his eyes.

The werewolf gazed at her calmly, completely different from the wild, almost rabid beasts she'd fought with before.

A Pure Blood…

She'd never come across a creature so ancient. He looked at her with intelligence, as she'd suspected from tracking him.

"I-I'm not in heat," she muttered, finger grazing the trigger without pulling it. Why wasn't he attacking?

"You hurt those townspeople. Why?"

"I walk among men in my other form. Occasionally I find those deserving of death. Those who harm their cubs and mates. Those who leech of their pack and drink themselves into violent stupors. Sometimes they simply get in my way."

Kagome grit her teeth, "so you dispense justice alone? I don't disagree with cruel people deserving some kind of consequences but you don't get to decide who lives and dies. That's playing God."

He chuckled inside her mind, mouth pulling back from sharp teeth in an imitation of a smile. "Is what you do so different, little hunter?"

"I follow the orders of my superiors- unless I think someone can be saved with the jewels I bless."

Interest brightened his gaze, tail swishing once behind him.

Her only warning.

The beast knocked her arms to one side, striking her down with a headbutt to her chest. The action sent her gun skittering away over dusty floorboards, disappearing into harsh shadows. One human-like forepaw pressed down on Kagome's stomach, making her breath wheeze free from frozen lungs- his other holding her right arm down to keep her pinned. He then leaned in close, white ears perked atop his head.

A white maw drifted over her startled face, nostrils flaring, inhaling her scent greedily.

"Holy powers…" he uttered thoughtfully.

Kagome's left hand fumbled with the hem of her shirt, eyes narrowing. "I'm a former sister of the church. It comes in handy when dealing with creatures that go bump in the night."

She abruptly thrust her formally concealed dagger up, aiming it straight for his heart.

Powerful jaws snapped down, locking around her arm- the beast hissing as her blade ran off course but scraped down his neck and shoulder.

Kagome yelped, dagger freezing. Her hand remained free outside of the cage of teeth but she dared not move. Teeth mouthed her arm without breaking the skin, until a particularly sharp canine made a trail of crimson leak down the inside of her wrist.

A large, wet tongue roved, licking and sliding over the length of her elbow and wrist while they lay trapped within the hot cavern of his mouth.

"Now we have both shed blood tonight, little hunter. Are you satisfied?"

Kagome panted, gritting blunt teeth. She glared hotly into large red eyes fixed on her, looming close. From the new proximity, she could now see his seafoam green irises and slit pupils from within the sea of crimson. They dilated the longer she looked.

"You are quite the woman," he rumbled appreciatively. "What name do you go by?"

"K-kagome."

"Hn, I am Sesshoumaru. I thank you for your relentless pursuit of me over these past few months. It was quite flattering."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply before a hiss broke her off. The clenching of her abdomen took up attention for a moment, twisting like a knife in her gut.

"Heat can be painful to go through alone," he acknowledged, teeth slowly easing from her arm, eyes trained on her warningly not to try anything. His slick tongue unwrapped itself from her arm with a trail of saliva. He licked his maw hungrily.

Kagome gripped her sticky arm, glaring from her position on the floor. No bite. Just a nick from his tooth. It wouldn't be enough to curse her. She warily lowered her dagger.

"It's just my monthly cycle. I'm fine...gn…"

"You seem it," he mocked, wolf expression unchanging, though his eyes danced.

His great head lowered, hovering over her groin. His nose drew closer, inhaling over the red patch. His long pink tongue slid out, drawing over it with a lingering lick.

Kagome yelped, forgetting her guns and blades- grasping the dense white fur of his neck. "W-what are you doing?!"

He managed to look suggestive without human features, tipping his head slightly. "As a hunter, it must be difficult to find relief. You are always working, are you not? Chasing evil…" his voice resounded with the finest baritone in her mind, coaxing and soothing, completely at odds with his monstrous appearance. He almost sounded aristocratic. "Fortunately...you happen to lie beneath a beast tonight."

Saliva, warm and dewy, dropped onto her leg in small puddles. Sesshoumaru gazed at her while snaking his tongue out once more, prying it harder between her legs.

Kagome gasped, back-arching, a rush spilling up from her cunt to twist sweet arousal at her core. She viciously clamped down on such a reaction, growling.

"No one gave you permission to take liberties with me, pal!" she drew her knee up, attempting to kick him away.

Sesshoumaru released her arm in favour of grasping her thigh, chuckling while forcing it down. "Why protest?"

Kagome snatched up her dagger again, pressing the hilt against her chest and keeping the point raised outwards.

"Why agree?! Y-you're a…" wide blue eyes flicked over his strange, inhuman body. "I've never- n-not with a werewolf. I'm pretty sure that's breaking some sort of rule. Or law."

"I will not tell a soul."

Her gaze turned flat, fingers shifting over the hilt. "I'm supposed to be killing you. We just tried to kill each other!"

"Hn, keep your friends close and enemies closer, as they say. Allowing them into your bed does not seem like such an extreme, and I find there is always a slight thrill in fighting, is there not?"

It was a night of firsts. Kagome had never experienced anything like it in her five years of hunting. None of her superiors had ever mentioned an intelligent werewolf who could control their transformation and shapeshift at will. The only whisper of it had come from dusty old books stashed away in catacombs. The air in the lonely house felt cold, tickling her skin like a living thing, but the space between Hunter and Werewolf crackled with intensity.

Kagome swallowed, feeling squirmy. She tensed when a wet nose came back up to sniff at her neck. Warm breath fanned over flushed skin as his snout travelled up and down, scenting. It soon buried itself within dark hair, making her gasp. The suggestion of teeth scraped the crown of her head, joined by a pleased, rumbling noise. Goosebumps rose on her exposed skin, blood burning, alight with confused but obvious need.

His alien, paw-like hand ran over her hip and breast, cupping the side of her jaw. The shock of thin fur and monstrous, long fingers tipped with claws should've terrified her. Kagome had fought against such hands for years. Her body held traces of scars where such nails had hooked and dragged into supple flesh.

As it was, when his second stroked her inner thigh, Kagome shuddered. He smelled faintly of clove and damp earth. His movements were deliberate. The inferno of his eyes when they locked with hers shone with hunger- but also curiosity. That mindfulness and clarity of his thoughts was what allowed her to hesitantly touch the hand on her thigh.

It felt too large and gangly to be a human, fur and heat brushing the calloused skin of her palm.

"You can't bite me," she warned, laying the flat of her blade against his neck. "I'll kill you if you do- and that'll instantly free me from the curse."

Sesshoumaru smiled with his eyes.

He forced her down again, claws making quick work of her pants, tearing a sizable hole at the crotch.

The wiry fur of his muzzle immediately dived down, fervently taking in her scent with hearty, eager inhales. It sent a rush of arousal straight through her, hips jolting.

Nose, teeth and tongue soon brushed her sex, before the latter thrust inside, heedless of the blood.

Kagome cried out, toes curling, going completely still. The invasive probing between her legs filled her entrance, sinking deeper. It then flicked outside, allowing her to feel the velvet rough texture. It swirled experimentally over her clit.

Shakily tightening her now slippery grip on the dagger, Kagome gasped and shuddered.

"I-I thought you were going to transform into a man-!"

Sesshoumaru gave a rumbling noise in response. He gripped the front of her blouse, yanking to rip it open and fondle her breast.

"You do not wish to see the creature you've hunted feasting on you?" the rumbling purr lifted into something darkly amused, tail flicking behind him.

He grabbed her hips, swivelling them to flip her over. Kagome yelped and snarled, about to protest when his palms kneaded her ass, raising it and tearing off the remainder of her pants- the pads of his thumbs dragging to her sex, spreading slick folds and delving a warm, thick tongue inside her all the deeper.

Kagome kept a needless grip on the dagger, a strangled noise caught in her throat. His muzzle nudged and pried, urging her to rock against his tongue. Feeling warm, she clumsily grasped at her coat, yanking her arms free and tossing it aside.

Full breasts were squashed to the floor under the weight of the werewolf as he pressed her down, but her nipples- stiff and hardened with pleasure- received friction from the steady rhythm. The pleasure came in small, electric bursts.

"Fuck," she groaned, biting her lip. This was wrong. She shouldn't allow this.

A clawed thumb rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs silenced that weak protest. It felt good. So deliciously good. Men scarcely put their mouth on her down there, deeming it 'dirty' or beneath them.

Kagome shivered, pushing back against the roving tongue continually thrusting inside her core, flexibly twisting, rubbing against her inner walls and licking with heinous, grunting noises like she slaked his thirst. They found a kind of rhythm without communicating through words, and an incredible rush built in her stomach- delighted to rock against his mouth.

Bowing her head and trying to concentrate on breathing, Kagome jolted and shamelessly moaned as his movements became more relentless, hungrily collecting evidence of her arousal and cycle onto his tongue.

"W-why-?" she managed out, straining to look at him over her shoulder- the tongue plunging faster in quick delves like he were mining for gold- sharp teeth scraping her entrance, adding rapidly to the throbbing feeling building up in her lower stomach.

Why was he pleasuring her? It didn't align with a wild beasts actions.

Blue eyes glimpsed glowing crimson behind her. With a sudden push of his humanoid paw on her back, trapping her in place- Kagome squealed loudly as Sesshoumaru pried so deep he wore her like a puppet with his tongue, grunting with savage satisfaction when she came from the action.

"Agh!" Kagome cried out, body igniting, juices immediately flowing into his mouth, which he collected enthusiastically with broad strokes. Somewhere between all this, she lost grip on her weapon. The blade clanked against the floors loudly.

After pulling away, the werewolf paid no heed to the red staining his lips, licking at his jaw in a decadent, gluttonous manner.

"Why what?" Sesshoumaru sat back on his haunches, ears perking, haughtily eyeing her with an air of pride. He probably took great pleasure in reducing a hunter to such a vulnerable mess.

Kagome felt like she'd received her answer. "Never mind," she caught her breath, forehead dotted with sweat. Her muscles burned despite the lack of physical exertion, body feverishly warm.

She sat up slowly, wincing at the slick feeling of her cunt. It fluttered and clenched, demanding more- wanting to be filled.

"I feel better now. We can end things there and-"

Kagome caught an eyeful of his crotch, entranced by the hard evidence of his arousal.

Oh.

She swallowed, reading the look in his eye easily. They wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. From the look of his long, thick cock, they'd be spending a while easing it in if he were committed to pleasuring her.

Somehow she felt alright with that. The fever in her veins wasn't satisfied yet, though she had reservations about allowing a literal werewolf to take her. However something undeniable had come to life in the pit of her gut, something raw and hot that left her wet between her legs and wordlessly begging.

Sesshoumaru's claws closed around her ankle, dragging her towards him- her ass coming to meet his twitching cock.

"I do not think you have unwound nearly enough. You must expel all pent up frustrations if you are to continue hunting me. I worry you will fall behind if not- your tracking has become sloppy lately."

Kagome whipped her head up and growled- just as the head of his cock nestled at her entrance, cutting off the noise and sending it choking. Blushing, she reached behind her, spreading herself for him- holding herself open while Sesshoumaru gave that jagged flash of teeth in response, slipping his thick length inside her inch by inch.

Whimpering and dropping her hands, Kagome bowed forward, trying to adjust. He sank even deeper. The sheer slickness between her thighs helped but didn't assuage the terrible stretch that threatened to overwhelm her. He was too big, his large and hairy body towering over hers, encasing her back with the furnace heat of his body.

"Ease yourself back against me- slowly," panting breath fanned over her damp neck. She felt him run an almost affectionate feeling lick up the sensitive shell of her ear. "Relax. This body was built to withstand many things," his palm stroked a path over her navel, circling up her hip where a scar lay. "You will not allow me to dominate you so easily, will you, Kagome?"

Panting, Kagome tried to get used to feeling every inch of him inside her, filling her clenching walls to the brim.

His hands were three times the size of hers, one settling beside her on the floor. The way he loomed over her made the formally fearless woman feel small, crushable.

"H-ha! As if," she shakily replied. Not one to give in, Kagome did as instructed, slowly rocking back against him just like before. She winced. The sensation was much fuller and tighter, uncomfortable.

Sesshoumaru hissed and groaned, rubbing at her clit again to shoot tiny bursts of fireworks through her system. It helped coax some pleasure back into things. Kagome gave a shaky moan.

Sensing her change in enjoyment, the wolf began moving.

She cried out, wincing a little at his slight withdraw- before groaning as he eased back in, creating a slow, building pace.

The thick, soft fur that covered him from crown to foot gleamed in the light of the room. Kagome could feel it hot against her back, tickling her skin. The strands began to stick to flushed flesh. Sweat began to bead, rolling down her shoulder blades.

"You take me very well, for a human," Sesshoumaru nosed at her hair.

"I can't say 'taking a cock' nicely is the highest compliment ever, but- thanks," Kagome panted. He gave an amused huff, giving a hard thrust in response that knocked her forward.

Yelping, she grabbed onto the first available thing. Her breath caught when her fingers met soft, warm fur. His arm.

It felt sturdy amidst the sea of sensations. Kagome held tighter onto it, bracing herself. She could sense the control beginning to slip from her new bedmate.

Sesshoumaru growled ferally, fanning hot, sticky breath over her shoulders. He then slammed inside her- ramming his hard cock completely within.

Letting out a loud, startled cry that bordered on a scream, Kagome bit down on his arm. He set a brutal pace, thrusting his cock with a quickness that blinded her. She squeezed her eyes shut so tight stars burst behind her eyelids.

Strands of dark hair stuck to her forehead, the rest bouncing and swaying with the werewolf's chosen pace: hard and merciless.

She sank her teeth harder into Sesshoumaru's arm, but he was completely silent inside her mind now. Whatever debonair and lofty charm he possessed had been shoved far back into the recesses of his consciousness, replaced with raw primal need and heavy grunts. He sought to fuck, and Kagome found herself mewling receptively, weakly rocking back against him.

With a snarl, he yanked his arm free from her teeth- rearing back onto his haunches and dragging Kagome with him, holding her hips while continually rutting into her.

Kagome went completely speechless in both pain and pleasure. The new angle nestled onto his lap with the steel band of his arms wrapped around her waist allowed him to reach new depths.

Letting out mindless moans, she rested her head back against his furry shoulder, body ablaze, cunt squeezing him deliciously. The arms holding her prisoner forced her to meet each thrust, creating an intense friction inside that brought her into a state of begging. "P-please- more. Fuck-! More, I'm so close, please!"

Sesshoumaru gave guttural snarls and rumbles in response. But there was something strange happening with his cock. She could feel it even while held under the haze of pleasure. Nudging up against her entrance, something thicker than his length and more rounded threatened to push inside. His knot.

Kagome couldn't react- distracted by another orgasm ripping through her at the most inopportune time.

The knot swelled and stretched her sex farther than she'd anticipated. With a jolt of his hips, Sesshoumaru followed her into orgasm, throwing his head back in a deafening snarl. A torrent of cum flooded her, painting her inner walls- all locked in by the werewolf's knot.

Kagome jolted and strained, mouth opening in a wordless scream. Full. She felt too full. Her sex strained, still squeezing him like a vice.

Slowly, his voice drifted back into her head. "Very good...worthy female...powerful. Should claim..."

"S-sesshoumaru?" she croaked weakly, limp in his arms.

A silver muzzle nuzzled the side of her head in response, crooning lowly. "Hn?"

"You uh..." Kagome panted, giving a weak gesture of her wrist, trying to rise and finding it impossible. He was quite literally locked inside her. "You knotted me- shouldn't you have pulled out?"

She wasn't concerned about being pupped- she'd handled dodging pregnancy with herbal aid before. However, like this, it made moving away impossible.

"Why would this one do that?"

Blue eyes blinked, shifting up to him. His fur plastering against her skin felt like a feathery bed cushioning her spine. "Because now we're stuck, for who knows how long. A few minutes to 30. I figured you'd..."

Want to get away. Re-establish our roles as enemies.

He acted the same as always. She couldn't anticipate his movements or read him.

A sinuous tongue she'd now become intimately acquainted with slid up her cheek. The fur receded at her back, and Kagome stiffened with alarm.

When she turned slightly, she found herself gazing at the pale, handsome features of a man. His markings remained, branding him as something inhuman despite the skin, pretty fall of hair and stern sweep of his brow.

"I intend to have you many times," Sesshoumaru uttered out loud, sounding much crisper in the quiet room. "In a multitude of ways."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply, gasping when a tongue thrust inside her mouth. Grunting, she managed to return the dominating press of tongue and teeth, biting his lip for good measure and feeling him shiver.

When he began moving again while locked inside her, she fell into the murky waters of arousal once more.

-----

The morning sunlight peeking through the broken blinds brought many aches and pains with it. Kagome heard the front door shut, footsteps drawing away before falling silent.

Sitting up quickly, a fur throw fell from her shoulders. It pooled in her lap, revealing the full extent of fresh scratches and claw marks littering her nude body, along with bruises.

She winced at the stickiness between her legs. The smell of sex overwhelmed the stuffy room. So it wasn't a dream.

Noticing a steaming mug of green tea sitting before the lit fireplace loaded with newly chopped wood, Kagome tentatively reached out to touch it. Still warm.

He must've just left.

Running her hands up and down her flesh, she found no bite marks. He'd stayed true to his word.

Feeling a little complicated, Kagome blinked upon noticing a letter sitting atop a fresh change of clothes on the armchair. Her weapons were also neatly arranged nearby.

Picking up the parchment, blue eyes flitted over the message.

'Pursue me once more, my hunter. I enjoyed feasting on you.'

Kagome pressed her lips together. She shook herself a little. This was still the enemy, nothing had changed despite a thoroughly pleasurable night. In the privacy of the room however, she allowed herself a small smile.

After eating, washing and dressing for the day, Kagome stepped outside.

Securing her weapons, she gave chase.

End

#sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #sesskag fanfiction #werewolf smut #monster boyfriend

[buckystarlight]

A Blessing, Beautiful And True

pairing: bucky x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns; swearing if you squint; mentions of death; mentions of food

a/n: this is a rewrite of one of my old fics that i absolutely hated with my entire being. i hate this a little bit less djaksjsjs also pls ignore how i literally cannot write a good ending to save my life.

dedicated to @xsamsharons for lending me her name. i hope i did it justice mi amor ily <3

Bucky learnt to value things.

Not the great, terribly material things people around him seemed to rush after. Not money, not even when he was barely getting by.

No, for Bucky, it was the small, seemingly insignificant things.

The tiny toy WWII soldier figurine he found at a yard sale one Tuesday afternoon, the one with the missing arm. The near-exact model of the car his father used to drive—rusted around the tiny steel axel, the rubber wheels worn from use. That yellow screwdriver set that sat at the very back of the tool cabinet in the garage, unusable because of the cracked plastic handles and rusted steel, that looked exactly like the kit he had once used to fix up the plumbing in his first apartment.

Bucky was used to valuing the broken little things.

He never truly understood what loving something whole, something complete felt like—not until he met you.

You, in your white sweater and blue jeans, hair tossed up in a braid. You, your eyes that dancing with unbroken light, like the rays of the sun on the ocean on a bright summer’s day. You, with the sort of kindness he never truly thought he would ever be worthy of, not until you showed him that he was.

You, the girl he fell in love with before he could ever truly know what love was.

Steve might’ve been the first to notice. He was with him that day, the day he first saw you. They had been hunting for a Christmas present for Tony, and even though Bucky wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to attend, he wasn’t about to show up empty handed.  

Steve didn’t even realize that the sly-footed assassin wasn’t by his side until he had walked the two blocks from the mall to his car. Hands ghosting over the gun tucked into the holster hooked into his waistband, Steve retraced his steps, his heart thundering in his throat.

Until he heard Bucky’s laugh.

Not the obviously fake chuckles he used to placate those around him. No, this was the laugh he remembered, the laugh he thought Bucky had lost.

This was Bucky’s laugh—his Bucky’s laugh, before the world stole him away. Pure and innocent.

Happy—so undeniably, inexplicably happy.

The tension eased from his shoulders when he saw you. Steve knew who you were, of course. Everyone did—or at least, everyone who had been around after the Battle of New York. Everyone who had seen you walk among the rubble, bleeding through your jeans, helping dig survivors out of the rubble, guiding them to shelters. Everyone who had seen you do everything you could help those who needed it more than you did, until your legs finally gave way and the only reason you didn’t collapse to the floor was because Steve caught you.

But Steve also happened to know why you’d done it. Because you were kind. Because you were selfless. Because you knew what it was like to lose everyone you loved, and to garner the strength to build yourself up anyway.

You’d lost people too—everyone you loved, killed during the Battle. Your family. Your friends. It might’ve seemed cruel to be spared. Might’ve seemed like a cold, dark twist of fate—and for a time, it did.

Steve had never known anyone to be resilient the way you were.

And maybe, just maybe, he thought to himself, as he watched his friend from through the glass, maybe you would teach him to hold on to the tiniest sliver of hope too.

—

Bucky didn’t even like books.

The only book he’d read—aside from the coursework assigned to him in his school days—was The Hobbit. And even that had taken him an ungodly amount of time to finish.

So yeah, Bucky didn’t exactly like books.

But he still visited the tiny bookstore on the corner every day.

He didn’t even buy anything. He just looked around, running his fingertips over the spines of the books that jutted out of the wooden shelves, the sunlight turning his eyes into uncharted waters of the oceans, swimming with undiscovered secrets and untold lies.

You would talk to him. All the time, and with no trace of the usual pity or sympathy that he heard when he spoke to people. You talked to him in a way that made him feel like himself, in a way that made him feel like he just might rediscover the man he used to be.

That first time he’d seen you was burned into the back of his brain, the image of you standing there with a hip braced against a bookshelf, dressed in a white sweater and jeans, your hair pulled into a braid over your shoulder. He had watched as a strand escaped, falling into your face.

And him—he'd stood there, watching you talk to another woman he couldn't recall because really, how could he look at anything else but you? Bucky was certain he looked like a gaping idiot, both wanting your attention to turn to him, and dreading the fact that he would surely make a fool of himself if you so much as looked at him.

Back in the 40s, things would've been so much easier. He would already have said something witty to make you laugh, he would already have been telling you about the carnival down at the beach and asking if you wanted to go with him.

But when your friend left, and you asked him if there was anything you could help him with, his voice sounded strange to his own ears as he croaked, "Books?"

You had laughed—and he found himself laughing along. A true laugh—for the first time in a long time, the sound didn’t sound fake to his own ears. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself.

Bucky had taught himself to value that which wasn’t whole—because he wasn’t, either. Love was give and take. Love was equal.

If he was to deserve your love, he would have to be whole again. If he was to deserve your love, he would make himself whole again.

—

There was a sudden shift in the way Bucky viewed the world.

It had been three days since he last saw you, but he walked in through those doors anyway. He had no cause, no reason—he just couldn’t go any longer without seeing you.

You were sitting by the bay window at the very back, reading a book. He took a second just to take you in, to get used to the fact that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

The second you looked up, your face split into a grin, like you were truly, genuinely happy to see him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had smiled at him that way. “Hey, you’re back! It’s Bucky, right?”

He nodded. He couldn't trust himself to speak, not when he was sure he would stumble over his words, not when he couldn't bring himself to string together a coherent sentence in your presence. 

"What can I help you with today?" you asked, snapping your book shut and placing it on the table. 

"Uh... What're you reading?"

You glanced down at your book before looking up to meet his eyes again. Blue, you thought, supressing a smile. Icy blue, but warm nonetheless—familiar in the way most things aren’t. "Wuthering Heights. You've never read it?"

He shook his head no. "Never been much of a reader, no. Is it any good?"

"It's one of my favourites," was your answer, watching as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The light caught the steel of the chain around his neck—the chain of one of those military-issue dog tags.

And maybe that was how it started—on that dreary cold Wednesday, when you'd stood next to the bookshelf by the window, telling him about your favourite book, but really all he could focus on was the late afternoon sun rendering the hue of your eyes several shades lighter, the soft slope of your nose, the fullness of your mouth. Every little detail about you was etched permanently into his mind—and he wanted to learn more.

He wanted to know everything there was to know about you. 

It was about closing time when he decided he had to go. Not because he wanted to, but because he had promised he would have dinner with Sam and Steve. And as much as Bucky wanted to stay, he was a man of his word.

Which is why when he promised you he would come see you as soon as he finished reading the book, you knew he meant it.

—

And you were right.

Two days later, he was back. 

It was raining that day, early in the morning when you were just about to open up. And there, standing under the awning in the freezing rain, was Bucky, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind, drenched to the bone.

"What're you doing here?" you asked, eyes wide.

"I just... I don't know," he said. Because he didn't. Bucky didn't even like books—but he did like being around you. There was a strange sort of calm about you, a sense of peace he'd only known in Wakanda. Around you, he was just Bucky—not Sargent Barnes, not the Winter Soldier—just Bucky. 

He liked being just Bucky.

You shook your head, but he could've sworn he saw the corner of your mouth tilt upwards as you fished your keys out of your pocket and unlocked the door. "Well, come on inside. I'll turn up the heat and get you something warm to drink. Christ, Buck, you could get pneumonia or something.”

He only nodded once. It didn't matter that he wouldn't get sick—not when the serum in his veins healed his body faster than normal. It didn’t matter that even if he could sick, he wouldn’t have cared, not when you were looking at him like that, with concern in your eyes for something other than your own safety.

You had a coffee machine in the back room, you told him. He followed you, lingering in the doorway as you bustled about, humming a tune under your breath. He recognized it as a song from that one Marvin Gaye album Sam couldn’t stop talking about. He recognized it as a song he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life, if only you were the one singing it.

He recognized that, for better or for worse, you would be his undoing.

—

After that, he came to see you every day.

When the weather got colder still, he brought you steaming cups of hot chocolate from your friend Bella’s café down the street. And on the days when he didn’t, he would head into the back room and make you coffee. You’d never had to tell him how you took it—after that in the rain, he’d somehow remembered what you liked.

You weren’t about to tell him, but you remembered what he liked too.

It started out simple—plum cider that you found on your weekly trip to the farmer’s market. An old vintage copy of The Hobbit from the forties. Rubber silencers for his dog tags that he never used but carried around in his pocket anyway—until eventually, you had something new for him every week, some insignificant thing that he looked at with the kind of childlike awe that made your heart twist into knots in your chest.

He walked you home too. Every evening, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, slowing his stride so that he could walk alongside you. He would stand outside, across the street, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to walk into the apartment you shared with Bella. Only leaving when the lights came on and he knew you were safe.

Bucky wasn’t much of a talker—you learnt that about him. He would spend all day sitting quietly in a corner of your store, reading one of the books he found on the shelf of used copies you kept in the back of the room.

He seemed to love those used books more than the new ones—books someone had already read, books that had already been loved.

He felt a little that way sometimes, too. A little too used for love, not loved enough for use.

But never when he was with you.

And you—you were falling for Bucky Barnes. A little by little, day by day, without even realizing it—not until it all came rushing to you one afternoon, like a dam breaking, like the ocean of his eyes pulling you under, especially when you felt his gaze on you from time to time, watching you as you worked.

That afternoon, a new shipment of books came in. You didn’t even have to ask him for help—he was already on his feet, snapping his copy of Anna Karenina shut, mumbling a soft, “I’ve got it,” as you signed for the order. Hefted the two cartons of books like they weighed nothing at all, and carried them inside.

There was a strange tightness in your stomach as you watched him, standing in the middle of your store—the only thing the Battle of New York hadn’t taken away from you—and you wondered just how it took so damn long to realize that the feeling of familiarity didn’t lie among these books, but rather, in Bucky himself.

—

It was a slow day, so the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon restocking the shelves. He asked you about each of the books, watching your eyes light up as you talked about your favourite ones, until conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, the two of you basking in each other’s company as you worked.

You didn't even realize how much time had passed until you heard the door open and your friend Bella breezed in. She'd been here the first day Bucky had walked in, had noticed the way your eyes shifted to him mid-conversation like you couldn’t focus on much else when he was around. “Ready for lunch, y/n?”

You looked at Bucky, opening your mouth to ask if he wanted to come along. Not because you didn’t trust him to be alone at the store, but because you wanted his company. Because being around him felt like coming home.

He only waved you off. "Go ahead. I've got plans with Stevie. I'll be here when you're back though."

You believed him. You believed that he would always be around, for as long as you wanted. And you wanted forever.

"Was that the guy from before?" Bella asked, looping an arm through yours as you left the store, walking down the street. She brushed her fiery hair out of her eyes, turning her head slightly to look at you, yellow-green eyes filled with curiosity. “What’s his name?”

"Bucky. He... He's a friend," you said. 

"Well," Bella said. "He sure doesn't feel the same way."

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused.

"Y/n, he looks at you like you put the stars in his sky. Are you sure he's just a friend?"

"I... I don't know, Bella."

Because you didn't know what else to call him. Because you and him weren't friends in the way people usually are—you had always been more.

Bucky was always more.

—

"I've barely seen you," Steve said, picking up his can of Diet Pepsi and taking a sip. "Where have you been?"

"Around," Bucky mumbled. Because how could he explain why he was spending so much time at the bookstore with someone he'd only just met? How could he explain the magnetic pull he felt toward you, the inexplicable desire to just be around you?

How could he explain the way you made him feel like himself again?

But Steve knew. Steve always knew. He saw the growing stack of novels on his friend's bedside table, saw him reading at the kitchen table, book propped up against the jug of milk.

He also knew that all this was because of y/n. Because Bucky mumbled that name when he was too exhausted to even know what he was saying. Because Bucky talked in his sleep—and Steve could hear him calling that name through the thin walls that separated their rooms. "You've been at the bookstore?"

Bucky set his drink down. There was so use denying it—his friend would see right through him. Steve had known him for too damn long to believe in his lies. "She's so... I can't even put it into words. She makes me believe that there's good in this world. That all the things I did wrong don't even matter—not when I'm with her. It’s the way she looks at things, the way she’s capable of finding a little bit of good in everything. Like she found something good in me, Steve."

Steve knew it was true. Because he hadn’t seen Bucky this way for a very long time. Because he hadn’t seen that light in his friend’s eyes in a very long time, and ever since he met you, it hadn’t gone away.

—

Bucky had to leave for a couple of days.

He didn't tell you why—just that it was a work thing. How long would he be gone? He didn't know.

"I'll be back soon," he said. "I promise."

And he was. Five days later.

But Bucky was quiet—quieter than usual. 

It was a Sunday, and you’d somehow managed to drag him along to the farmer’s market with you. He walked alongside you, hands in his pockets, like he was aching to reach out and touch you but desperately holding himself back.

He’d almost gotten himself killed on that mission.

You took up too many thoughts in his head, too much space in his heart. And when the bullet narrowly missed him, grazing his ribs, his only thought was whether or not you’d miss him if he was gone.

You deserved better than someone who’s life was tied to the death of others. Someone who didn’t have so much blood on his hands.

A few paces ahead of you, Bella walked hand-in-hand with Bucky’s friend Sam. You were glad that Bucky had introduced them, glad that Sam made Bella happy in ways you’d never really known or understood before.

“Look at them,” you said, watching with a smile on your face as Sam quietly slipped a couple of oranges into Bella’s bag. “They look real happy.”

Then, turning to look at him, you smiled, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Because you might deserve better, but he was selfish and stubborn, and the only thing he had wanted in so goddamn long was you you you.

“Go out with me,” he blurted, every thread of self-control he had so carefully cultivated to keep his head in your presence snapping. He felt like he was taken back to that December evening he saw you for the first time, when the words refused to leave his mouth, when you’d rendered him tongue-tied and helpless. Only this time, he couldn’t stop the words from coming out, not as he said, “One date, y/n. One date, and if you don’t have a good time, we can just forget it ever happened and move on.”

His heart shuttered when he saw the small frown creasing your brow, your voice soft as you asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to do this for the rest of my life with you, y/n,” he said quietly. “But for now, I’ll take that date.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “Okay, Bucky, I’ll go out with you.”

He couldn’t help it. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you to him, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around until you were both laughing, childlike and breathless, blissfully unconscious of the knowing look on Sam and Bella’s faces.

Because really, how could he see anything but you? You had been it from the first day he saw, and you were it now—a blessing, beautiful and true.

tags:

@goldengoddess @wherearethesantreys @ughlantsov @for-bebbanburg @mriddlemethis @xleiaorgana @xsamsharons

if you would like to be added to or removed from my taglist, just send me a message or an ask off anon!

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #marvel mcu

[myonepiece]

Smoker, Shanks headcanon/scenario- he is at your execution, but you react to the situation like Gol D. Roger then escape yourself

The first one using this theme with Luffy, Law, and Zoro did pretty well so I thought I would do another with different characters~

Also thank you for 300 followers!! 💕💕💕

*Miiiight have made these a little to dark/violent

•~•~•~•~

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of death, violence, blood, my thoughts got kinda dark

Smoker

The sun was hidden by clouds and fog covered the grounds of Loguetown as the cheers and boos erupted from the crowd, quickly disappearing as the marines dragged you in to view leading you to the famous execution platform that once held the infamous Gol D. Roger. 

Never once had you felt so much pride and fulfillment than this moment, knowing how disappointed your mentor would be that his student had turned to this instead of following in his marine steps. 

You kept your head up as your eyes searched through the crowd of onlookers gathered to witness the execution of a pirate responsible for hundreds of thousands of deaths. You simply inhaled the cold air and and smirked at the children who looked up at you like you deserved this. Of course you deserved death, but right now? By marines? No, you would die fighting, you die with pride or don’t die at all.

Standing on the platform, you could see the faces of a thousand angered citizens and marines. You held no remorse for your crimes, you felt nothing for thosee who had seen their loved ones murdered at your hands.

“Do you have any last words {Name}”

“No, do you?”

Your question cleearly caught the marines and the crowd off guard, for a gasp was heard and the marines eyes doubled in size. A scream ripped through the crowd and you took that as a signal to begin your killing spree. You kicked the marines off the platform and broke apart your shackles, quickly jumping down to steal the soldier’s weapons. 

Smoker watched on projecter den den mushi at some other marine base where he was told to stay. The Admirals had chosen to hold him there because even though they did not knnow of your relationship with the marine, they suspected something.

His face remained serious, appearing to show no emotion. But if someone had looked into his eyes as your words rolled out of the speaker, they would have seen the fear swimming behind his irisis. Smoker knew of your violence and continued rise in bodycount, but he had yet to see it. Only now as blood painted the walls of the city, did he realize he had fallen for a monster. He watched in horror as bodies fell left and right to the woman who showed no emotion except joy on her blood splattered face. 

Smoker was supposed to be the one bringing down people like you, and yet he had let himself be caught in your net. But as your figure emerged from the destruction of his hometown, clothes drenched in blood and a devilish smile plastered on your face, he felt no love for you. Perhaps it was the similarities of your actions to Gol D. Roger’s that terrified him so- excpet you were living where as Roger had met his end. Maybe it was the way you cut down so many of the people he knew with no regret or hesitation, maybe it was the way he finally looked back at all the signs and realized how physcotic you actually are, or maybe it was the look of pride and justice that filled your eyes as you left countless bodies in your wake.Yes it was one of those that had prompted his immediate change of heart. Smoker no longer viewed you as human, a monster is what he called you when you met him again. What scared him most was your eyes which were filled still filled with bloodlust and unwavering pride as you told him he was no longer safe in your presence 

Shanks

Cheers congratulating the marines ricocheted off the walls of Loguetown. You scoffed at the confidence the people held in their oh so mighty marines. You fixed your hair one last time before a marine pushed you out and followed behind you with the other soldiers. 

The crowd cheered and hurled insults at you as you were escorted to the platform of your execution. Holding your head up high and strutting through the parted crowd, you evoked more shouted jeers mixed with screams of “DEATH TO {NAME}” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t prideful to hear the results of your massacres. Your heart held no regrets nor pity for those who had suffered at your actions.

You feelings apparent on your face  made even the marines snarl insults into your ear as you climbed the steps of the platform. 

“State your last words”

As your laughter ripped from your throat the crowd fell into silence. 

 “Last words are for fools who have regrets!”

The crowds’ once enraged faces turned to looks of terror as they realized you had no plan of dying today. The marines fell from the platform and you broke your shackles, quickly leaping into the chaos breaking out below. 

Shanks and his crew had been watching with a den den mushi on his ship which was quickly approaching Loguetown. His crew had tried to tell him they wouldn’t make it in time to save you, but Shanks refused to believe them. Shanks watched with tears rolling down his face as you appeared on the projection. The view zoomed in on you and there gasps flooded the room. Shanks watched as the image of your grin mirrored that of his former captain’s, an unmistakable resemblance. The rest of the crew recognized it as well, and truth be told they were scared of what would happen. They knew you better than anyone, the people attending your execution were not safe, and they should have known that when your merciless and inhumane approach to enemies was what caused your reputation.

“Captain-” Shanks held his hand up at Lucky’s words. When your “last words” were said through the den den mushi, the whole crew gasped once again. They once again saw the reason for the “only dead” plastered on every one of your bounty posters.

And as your aggressive and blood thirsty nature took over, the crew broke in to cheers. All of the crew members had always found similarities between you and Roger’s pride and outlook on life, it had become an inside joke. But what set you apart was the cruelness in your heart. You could change personalities in the blink of an eye, leaping into battle like a demon who showed no hesitance in slaughter. You showed no mercy for anyone, and that was something that made you so feared throughout the seas. Shanks left the room where screams and cannonballs were drowned out by the cheers of his crew. He stood on the deck of the ship watching the Loguetown docks for a sign of you. And as you appeared from the smoke drenched in blood but grinning innocently at your lover, Shanks found another reason to be glad that you and him were the complete opposite of enemies, for if you sought his downfall, he would not stand a chance 

#one piece headcanon #one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #smoker imagine #smoker head canon #one piece smoker #smoker headcanon #smoker x reader #smoker scenario #shanks x reader #shanks scenario #shanks headcanons #shanks imagine #shanks #one piece shanks

[alfredolover119]

I looooove your zukka rec lists! I recently became Avatar-obsessed, never got a chance to watch it as a kid and only just got through it all! I was wondering if you'd consider doing a specifically angst rec list? I love fluffy zukka everything, but sometimes you just gotta have your heart ripped out of your chest and put back in after being thoroughly blended.

thank you! i relate heavily to “recently became Avatar-obsessed” haha. as for the angst list, i sure can try! warning: all of these have happy endings because im a crybaby who can’t read unhappy endings. also, p much all of the fics in the completed section were featured on my other lists but this is specifically the ANGSTY ones >:^)

angsty zukka wips

first, most obviously, feels like we only go backwards by @oldpotatoe

-currently at 102k with 19/27 chapters posted; rated teen

-the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. you know. i haven’t actually read it yet because, as previously mentioned, i’m a crybaby and am waiting for it to finish up but, from my understanding, this fic will murder you in a dark alleyway with no remorse. if u like zukka angst, you’ve probably already read this, but just in case!

An injury leaves Sokka with amnesia. His last memory is of the failed invasion, of leaving his father behind in enemy territory on the Day of Black Sun. Of hopelessness. Rage. // But then he wakes up, and the war is over. Suddenly, he must come to terms with the fact that years have passed, and that he's somehow the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador to the Fire Nation. He is also supposedly friends with banished-Prince-turned-Fire-Lord Zuko, of all people. Close friends.

Yeah, nah.

and i’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands) by @goldrushzukka

-currently 38k with 6/8 chapters posted; rated mature

-holy shit. holy SHIT. modern au based on the “my cat likes my fuckbuddy and i am falling in love” trope(?). maybe it’s just because of how the last chapter ended, but oh my god. this one made me cry. made me want to commit violence. when it’s not angsty as hell, it’s pretty funny, but holy shit. ao3 user nebulastucky please.

It’s supposed to be a one night stand. Pick up some guy at a bar, barely remember his name and never learn anything real about him, send him packing in the morning with a thanks for the ride and a cup of coffee to-go. That’s how it’s supposed to go. // But then it’s the best sex Sokka has ever had, and he thinks he’ll hate himself if he never gets to have it again.

Violet Blossoms and Celestial Objects by @hollypunkers

-currently 15k with 2/? posted. rated teen.

-this is the sequel to blue (an angsty, zukka rewrite of book 2-- go read it if u havent!)! !! this is a book 3 rewrite. only two chapters in and mrs hollypunkers is really abusing the miscommunication tag, as zukka writers seem to enjoy doing. im excited to see how the world and story develops with the changes to the story! you should be too!! its very good! obviously spoilers for blue lmao

Having sided with the Avatar in Ba Sing Se, Zuko not only must navigate his new relationship with Sokka but returning to the Fire Nation as a banished enemy. His own journey of self discovery and personal growth must now coexist alongside the personal struggles of every other member of the Gaang as together they blaze a treacherous path toward an unsure victory against Zuko's own father and nation.

breakable heaven by @fruitysokka

-currently 71k with 9/11 chapters posted. rated teen

-swt ambassador zuko! soon to be chief sokka! fake dating ur best friend to get out of an arranged marriage! what could go wrong!!! i also haven’t read this one ((see: i’m a crybaby who is being hurt by too many zukka wips already)), but it has been hanging out in my marked for later for months. from what i understand, this fic has: angst.

With his twenty-first birthday looming just around the corner, the Southern Water Tribe Elders have decided that Sokka, next in line to be Chief, needs to get married. Sokka does not want that, but he does need to get them off his back until he can figure his way out of it. What better way to do that than to pretend to date his best friend (and newly minted Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe) Zuko? // Seriously, this is a foolproof plan. Maybe one of Sokka's best. Absolutely nothing can go wrong.

angsty zukka fics (completed!)

(i’ll put these in wc order)

lighthouse beam by @incorrectzukka

-7k, rated g

-a modern college au!! zuko’s inner-monologue is very angsty in this fic. typical zuko. also per usual, theyre both fucking dorks. they sort themselves out in the end, but not before The Angst. zuko is semi-deaf in this fic and also he has a bit of internalized homophobia.

Sokka’s breathtakingly beautiful and he’s smart and makes other people laugh. Zuko has a half-burnt face and a deaf ear. It’s not rocket science. // Or, Zuko falls in love with the boy in his Philosophy class.

This Isn’t My Idea of Fun by @khaleeseas

-9k, explicit

-moon spirit/nwt prince!sokka, no war to be found here! admittedly this isnt THAT angsty but like. the angst IS present. zuko is still the prince. a lovely childhood friends (though they hated each other for a minute haha) to lovers story. 

If you asked Zuko, he and Azula saw far too much of Chief Hakoda of the Northern Water Tribe’s children growing up. It wasn’t until they were older, and Azula pointed out that - duh - their families were trying to set them all up, that he realized why. // He was told by his mother to be polite. These people were their friends and allies, and though their nations were as different as they came, harmony between nations was the most important thing. // It wasn’t his fault the Chief’s children were so annoying.

put your lips close to mine (as long as they don’t touch) by @celestialceci

-9k, teen

-modern au! zuko and sokka are college roommates. zuko goes to spend the summer with sokka. again,, not really that angsty but-- its there!! the detail and feeling of Home in this story make me happy. zuko is insecure as hell here too. if ur into that. 

Zuko hates his home. He likes college alright, but he likes Sokka even better, his assigned roommate turned best friend. Spending the summer with Sokka will be fun, a welcome change of pace he desperately wants. It probably won't awaken anything in him... right?

the thing about dancing by anodymalion

-9k, teen

-yes. this one right here officer. it makes my heart ache. also trans sokka! which is cool. but the zuko angst in this one. hurts me. not so much relationship angst as it is zuko learning he deserves happiness angst. i’m sure u know The Type.

The first time a attendant spills Zuko’s tea and doesn’t immediately fall to her knees, begging the Fire Lord’s forgiveness, it is not anger but a resounding warmth that fills his chest.

i could (never) give you peace by @zukkababey

-10k, mature

-OUCH. OUCH OUCH OUCH. boys please learn to communicate im begging u. also zuko.. zuko, dude. as the tags of the fic say, hes “really going through it” in this one. YOUCH. post-canon.

Zuko almost said it. He almost said the words I think I’m in love with you, but he choked them back down at the last second. // Zuko would never be able to be what Sokka wanted. They might have needed each other during the summer, when two boys with too much weight on their shoulders found comfort in each other in the only way they knew how. // But now Zuko was Fire Lord, and Sokka was leaving.

this love burns so yellow (becoming orange and in its time, exploding) by @meliebee 

-18k, teen, major character death 

-i lied. THIS is the one, officer. found family.. good mai and zuko and toph friendships.. . ozai escapes prison and tries to overthrow zuko. OBVIOUSLY angst ensues. poor boy. he Does heal in this but it gets worse before it gets better. angst angst angst angst.

Ten months after Zuko is crowned at seventeen, he faces his first coup.

Anything for You by beersforqueers

-23k, explicit

-istg. this is probably one of my favorite zukka fics. its PAINFUL. modern au where theyre broken up but sokka hasnt told his family yet so zuko goes home with him for kataang wedding. a bit smutty, but the plot oh my god ohgm y fuvk. made me cry the first time i read it. (see: crybaby!me) insert that one picture of the horse with the caption PAIN. 

In which Sokka and Zuko have broken up but Sokka hasn't told his family yet. So when Katara and Aang's wedding weekend rolls around and he doesn't want to break Gran-Gran's heart, he asks Zuko to pretend to be his boyfriend for one last weekend. // Things don't go as planned.

Moving Mountains by @thefangirlingdead

-64k, mature

-so. when i read this the first time it was in one sitting. soulmate au set within canon era / the comics, to an extent. soulmates can hear each others thoughts. i will happily say this is slowburn, jesus christ. champagne without the cham. 

Soulmates are chosen by the spirits and can hear each other’s thoughts. Sokka thinks it’s cheesy and dumb. Zuko thinks it’s poetic justice that he doesn’t have one because he doesn’t deserve it. Cruel irony is finding out that the prince of the Fire Nation (and the person currently hunting you) is your soulmate.

In the Soft Light by @voidcenturyscholar and @romancedawning

-83k, teen, graphic depictions of violence

-moon spirit!sokka living in the northern water tribe. zuko is sent to the northern water tribe as a cultural liaison. iroh is the fire lord but while he is away taking care of lu ten after his injury ozai steps up. i cannot express how many emotions this fic made me feel. background yuetara. i would almost say found family?? but. anyway. plenty of angst to spare here with a healthy dose of enemies to friends to lovers.

As the newly appointed cultural liaison to Northern Water Tribe, Zuko is the first Fire Nation Citizen to step foot inside the city's walls in nearly a century. He's determined to prove himself—to the Fire Lord and to his father—even if the Water Tribe's spirit-touched prince seems to want nothing to do with him.

That Midnight Sky by @zukkababey

-103k, teen

-now now now. tms... modern college au where sokka agrees to tutor zuko in physics because zuko has to maintain straight a’s and physics is just not doing it for him. so. thats cool but THEN azula moves in, randomly, with zuko. to hide the fact that sokka is tutoring zuko, they fake date! what could go wrong!! the mutual pining in here combined with the angst... wonderful, tasty. everyone read it rn. also SLOWBURN 

In Zuko’s strict family, needing a tutor is just about the worst thing you could do. Failing a class, however, is even worse. The only rational solution? Take up Aang on his offer to find him a physics tutor and have Sokka—beautiful, smart, handsome Sokka—tutor him in secret. // When Azula’s arrival threatens to reveal Zuko’s secret, it’s up to Sokka to convince her this definitely isn’t what it looks like. See, he’s actually… Zuko’s… boyfriend? // Hmm. There’s no way this could get complicated, right?

#zukka #zuko #sokka #angst #zukka angst #atla #avatar: the last airbender #fic recs #zukka fic recs

[onebillionstarsff]

if you think c!dream deserves torture, you don’t know what torture is

alrighty, it’s time for me to do annoyingly in-depth lore analysis again because i have seen way too many people on my dash and twitter timeline saying that c!dream deserves to be tortured.

i don’t really think people have a comprehensive, reality-based understanding of what torture actually is, what it can do, and the motivations behind it. i, unfortunately, do: i’ve done extensive professional-level study on torture, so i’m going to do my best to put out some knowledge into our little dsmp-related world.

obvious content warnings for references to torture and to violence below the cut (nothing too graphic, though; i know this isn’t an academic forum or government work)

all of this is /rp /dsmp

i’ll also list some sources at the very bottom if you want to learn more

alright then, let’s start: what is torture, anyway?

there are two types of definitions, general and legal. i’ll reference both, but the message they carry is essentially the same, so i’ll just paraphrase the united nations definition that’s party to (read: supported/enforced by) 170 countries:

torture is any act that intentionally causes SEVERE harm to someone, physical OR mental, for the purposes of extracting information or punishment for failure to do so, with explicit consent from an acting public authority.

i’ll break down those components in the context of the dsmp in a second, but i first want to make it very clear what torture ISN’T. torture is not manipulation, it is not "trauma” in the way trauma is broadly conceived, it is not even direct physical abuse. you can suffer abuse from, say, a parent or a partner, and that abuse is about a power dynamic, where one person is being forcibly subordinated to the other. torture, on the other hand, is not necessarily about power, and it’s definitely not ONLY about power dynamics; torture, by its very definition, has to be intensely and officially coercive, and it has to be SEVERE. there are not degrees of torture, like there are degrees of abuse: being deprived of sleep for days or even weeks at a time is just as psychologically impactful as losing a limb or being waterboarded (simulated drowning- a common torture method that the us has been known to employ).

this is my first major issue with the way some viewers of the dsmp approach this whole debacle. i constantly hear c!tommy’s manipulation by c!dream cited as a perfect justification for c!dream’s torture. what c!tommy, and others on the server- particularly the kids- went through is horrible, and intensely traumatic. i will never deny them that, especially as a survivor of abuse myself, but torture is not just another form of trauma. that’s a very important distinction that we, as viewers, have to draw: torture is considerably worse because it is sanctioned, it is coercive, and its explicit goal is not just to cause pain or make someone feel powerless (common goals of abusers), but instead to shatter someone.

in more specific terms, the mental goal of torture is to completely unmake someone’s conception of the world, how they interact with it, and their basic sense of identity. if you read accounts or speak with survivors of torture, it is frequently mentioned that their very way of processing everything in life was destroyed by pain and had to be rebuilt, completely different, after escape. by destroying one’s individuality, will, and their most integral of processing abilities, you destroy their grasp on the world; and, to put it lightly, such a breaking event is awful enough that, in an effort to make it stop and regain some sense of normalcy, the victim will tell their persecutors what they want to hear. it’s the reason why confessions obtained through torture are notoriously not admissible in courts of law. this goes far beyond abuse or manipulation, and i need everyone to understand that.

now, let’s get to c!dream’s situation. did he do awful things? yes, undoubtedly. i’m a c!dream apologist, but his manipulation of c!tommy and c!tubbo was very fucked up. beyond that, his notable “crimes” that others on the server aren’t also guilty of committing (e.g., murder, theft, arson, to name a few common ones) really just consist of especially massive destruction of property (people leave c!techno and c!phil out of this equation, much to my chagrin, but i won’t get into it here). punishment for his actions is understandable, and is typically what justice systems aim to do. but, even if we completely ignore the inherent inhumanity of pandora (HOOO BOY that’s a lot to ignore but i digress), c!dream is not being punished, he’s being tortured. 

going by the definition i used, let’s break it down:

c!sam knows what c!quackity is doing to c!dream, allows it, and even encourages it. as the warden, he is the person in an official, authority position giving their consent. 

c!quackity is, by his own admission, doing what he is to get information out of c!dream. it’s not a confession in this context, but very specific piece of knowledge, with the promise of death also hanging right above it.

list of extreme psychological abuse: long-term solitary confinement (torture if it’s more than 22 hours. c!dream has been in solitary confinement for more than 60 days now), deprivation of the passage of time, general verbal abuse, incredibly limited social contact (people start to fray without basic interaction after a while).

list of extreme physical abuse (god where do i start): prolonged starvation, malnourishment when he isn’t being starved (you will die without protein intake); use of Warden’s Will Breaker pickaxe (it can hack through obsidian, so i think that’s all i need to say), shears (can be used to do things like pull nails, break limb’s bones, amputate toes/fingers/a whole arm in c!ponk’s case), and an OP axe (a sharp blade capable of slicing easily through wood with brute force, and bone is significantly easier to crush than wood). 

so, we have consent of authority, coercion for the sake of extracting information, and severe physical/mental abuse meant solely to cause extreme pain. c!dream is being tortured according to the proper, internationally-sanctioned definition of the term, and that is not okay in any circumstances whatsoever. 

if you haven’t ever read survivors’ accounts (or the accounts of their victimizers), it’s difficult to understand just how uniquely despicable torture is, and the lifelong effects that remain after it’s over and done with. i honestly recommend you read some testimonials, because it absolutely changes the way you view authority and the world in general.

no one is deserving of this treatment, no matter what atrocities they may or may not have committed. 

it’s a basic tenet of human rights, and i don’t think it should be a hard pill to swallow that it’s never excusable in any circumstance. so, defend c!tommy & co. and criticize c!dream’s actions all you want, but please never say that torture is alright. that statement has real consequences, and real moral implications. don’t be an asshole, and don’t be disrespectful to people who have survived it.

if you’re curious, look into these events:

The Argentine Dirty War

Chicago Police’s Jon Burge and his torture regime

Abu Ghraib prison

Extensive torture by Pinochet’s regime in Chile

Guatemalan Civil War

Ugandan policing in the 21st century (Human Rights Watch report here)

if you want some reading, i recommend the following. tumblr will probably nerf this post because of links, but oh well.

Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment

Elaine Scarry’s The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World (very important work in the literature on torture) 

John Conroy’s Unspeakable Acts, Ordinary People: The Dynamics of Torture

Levenson (e.d.) Torture: A Collection

#mine #text #jfc this ended up being LONG #sorry about that #long post #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp analysis #dsmp meta #prison arc #pandora's vault #dreamwastaken #dream #torture cw #abuse cw #c!sam critical #i doubt this will go anywhere lmao but it's nice to get my thoughts on (digital) paper

[leonardhoee]

Ikevamp Guys as Villains

Warnings: Mass Murder, Gore...

Tagging: @aurora-morning @delicateikemenmemes @writer-akihiko @nafeary

Napoleon

Napoleon would be a royal dictator. He is the leader of a corrupt, authoritarian regime, hellbent on conquering the world. Think Hela (Thor: Ragnarok or The Darkling (Shadow and Bone). He controls people with his massive armies, and believes he is the only rightful ruler in this world. He believes that the world should be remade in his image so it can be restored to its former glory. He craves power and he will stop at nothing to get it. His armies are tools that swore their lives and souls to his cause. He feels no remorse in sacrificing them for his greater good. The only thing that would satisfy him now, is seeing the world crushed under the heel of his boot.

Leonardo

Leo as a villain would be like Iron Man gone bad. He does what he does simply out of curiosity he wants to see if it would even work. Cyberterrorism is just a tool for him. He would make modifications to his own body so that his eyes can see x-Ray, night vision, and other people’s biological information, and his brain is directly connected to the internet. He would create an entire army of robots like Ultron (Marvel) or Terminators. He hacks into government servers and international television broadcasts. He takes over entire governments simply by sitting in his lab controlling his army from a tablet. He can destroy anything connected to the internet with a flick of his finger. He wouldn’t even have to get up out of his chair. His plans would be so well thought out that no one would realize what happened until they’ve already lost.

Dazai

Dazai would be unhinged and reckless. He’d completely detach himself from human emotions and commit as many insane heinous crimes as possible till he does something bad enough that he would get killed for it. He creates an alternate persona for himself like the Joker or Hisoka (HxH), and at that point he has buried his emotions so well that he fails to differentiate between his persona and his true self. He may not actively acknowledge it but his true goal is to just go out in a blaze. It doesn’t matter how many lives it costs to do so.

Jean

Jean would be walking a fine line between villain and antihero. His main motivation is wiping out the people he considers evil, to make the world a “better place”. However, he would take it to a point of mass murder. There would be major battles breaking out between the people that support him and the people that believe what he is doing is evil. He believes he is bringing divine justice upon those who deserve it and thinks this is the way to atone for his past sins. Sound familiar? Jean would be Kira (Death Note). He is also similar to The Hood (Arrow). He has no mercy and he will not hesitate to kill.

Comte

Comte is rich enough to buy world leaders. He is the puppet master behind every single nation of the world. No one suspects him, however he slowly takes over countries one by one. He would also run some kind of underground mafia operation that’s involved in pretty much every kind of trade there is. He gets his money from so many sources that even if one is cut off, he is still rich enough to maintain his control over politicians and famous businessmen. Comte is the leader of the secret societies that the world’s richest people are involved in. The world answers to him and you would never even know. (Similar to Kingpin (Marvel) and the Court of Owls (DC)

Sebastian

Sebastian was adopted by Comte after ran away from his family. When he was young, hs saw firsthand how cruel the world can really be. He wholeheartedly believes the world is better off being run by Comte, and has pledged complete loyalty to him. He is Comte’s right hand man and he runs most of their underground mafia operations. He is incredibly versatile and does whatever Comte needs from him. Acting as a proxy? Assasinating a world leader? Leading a heist? Sebastian can do it all. His ideals have been so skewed growing up with Comte, that he sees himself as an extension of Comte’s power. Nothing more. He is a loyal weapon to be used by his boss.

Vincent

Vincent would release his emotions and would be unable to handle it mentally. He would be a serial killer who escaped from an asylum after losing his mind. He would kidnap his victims and slowly bleed them out as he paints with their blood. His specialty is carving designs into his victims after they have bled out and died. He leaves a sunflower at every crime scene and each new murder is just his latest artistic masterpiece left for the world to see. One way or another his art will be remembered, and it will cause the whole world to feel as much as he does.

Theo

Theo is driven by rage. Rage towards the world, towards the way he and Vincent were treated. His strength and anger would translate into him having an incredibly powerful monstrous form. His only goal is destruction. He wants to tear apart the society that allows people to get hurt like he did. He would be similar to Venom (Marvel), Abomination (Marvel), or Eren (Attack on Titan). Blinded by rage, he looses sight of his original goal and devoted himself to destroying everything he sees. It doesn’t matter who gets killed, they’re just collateral damage.

Isaac

Isaac can be two different types of villains all in one. On one hand, he’s a mad scientist who happened to discover a chemical combination that can be weaponized. However his insatiable bloodlust drives him to weaponize his discovery for himself. He wants people to know fear like he does (think Scarecrow (Batman). I can see him laying with Leonardo and helping upgrade his robot army with that chemical. On the other hand, when he lets himself give in to that bloodlust, he won’t stop unless he is stopped by someone else (like ripper Stefan from Vampire Diaries). He rips apart his victims like a wild animal. His crime scenes are covered in blood with dismembered body parts.

Mozart

Mozart would be an assassin for hire. He’s like a ghost. There have been stories about him but no one truly knows who he is. He works in the shadows and kills efficiently and without hesitation. One of his specialties is creating various sound waves that can kill his target. For those type of kills he doesn’t even need to leave his base, he can simply hack their device and cause it to play that frequency. Comte has hired him before to carry out certain kills he couldn’t do himself because of his position. Mozart is extremely devoted to his job will kill anyone who gets in the way of him and his target.

Arthur

Arthur would be a mix between Moriarty and Kilgrave (Jessica Jones). He would have some kind of mind controlling ability that allows him to create loyal puppets for his elaborate schemes. He loves playing games with the people suspecting him and he leads them in circles with their investigations. Sometimes he will even offer to personally help investigate cases he is responsible for, just to lead them into dead ends and plant fake clues. Every crime of his is a masterpiece with countless layers going into it. He does not see the people involved as humans. They’re just his pawns in his game of chess. Arthur just wants to see how far he can go before he finds a worthy opponent that can solve his cases.

Shakespeare

Shakespeare would be a theatrical serial killer who later escalates to mass murder. He would start out by abducting people he believes to “fit the role” he has planned for them. He would then kill them, replicating famous death scenes from plays and movies he admired (or his own plays). Each crime scene would be perfectly set up with lighting, makeup, and costuming. This would escalate later on to him and his troupe taking massive groups of people hostage, forcing them to read lines and act out various gruesome plays. When someone dies in the play, the actors have to murder each other. If they refuse, Shakespeare murders them both out of rage and brings in new people to replace them. He will not stop until he creates his perfect play.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp comte #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp jp #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp faust #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp theo #ikevamp theodorus #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp charles #ikevamp jean #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp imagine #ikevamp angst #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikemen vampire comte #ikevamp comte de saint germain #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire theo

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: Enies Lobby

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

this is still one of my very favorite nami panels. i think she’s really great through all of water 7 and enies lobby in general, actually, even though she isn’t really one of the characters in focus for a lot of it- like zoro and sanji, she stays pretty steadfast and very badass even though everything that happens, and never gives up on robin for a moment despite being one of the ‘weaker’ members of the crew. and it’s always fun to see her playing with lightning.

one of my favorite jokes from the first half or so of enies lobby is the strawhats both being completely unsurprised that luffy charges in ahead of them as soon as they arrive AND being able to find him immediately by following the explosions. they know him so well. 

luffy’s never been scared of dying, going all the way back to when he told coby he was fine with dying for his dream back in chapter two or three. that conversation is what his exchange with blueno here reminds me of- blueno asks him how long he intends to keep fighting, and luffy says until he dies, like there’s nothing to it.

it’s always been a trait of his to face death unflinching with a grin, so long as it’s for the sake of something he cares about, be it his crew or his brother or his dream, and i just really like that about him.  

i’ll go into it in the dressrosa post too, but i think it’s really impressive just how long oda held off on giving luffy any sort of significant power-up. he gets his first big power boost in the whole series here, forty volumes in. i’ve always liked that oda is very conservative with power boosts like this, because it both keeps the series’ powerscaling in check and makes the times it does happen much weightier. this is a monumental moment, and it feels like it.

also, i love the way gear two is drawn pre-timeskip, especially with the steam. it looks very cool and atmospheric.

i really like how united the strawhat crew feels throughout enies lobby, after all the internal turmoil and discord of water seven. even though the matter of usopp leaving the crew is still unresolved, they’ll all together once more, on the same page, and fully united in the goal of saving robin, whatever consequences it might bring. 

the tree of knowledge has such a cool design- it looks massive, and even more than that, it looks old. you look at that tree and you know its been there for easily thousands of years. its seen entire eras of history, and it would be priceless even without the countless books stored inside it.

and then it burns.

i’m so endlessly sad about the tragedy that is robin’s relationship with her mother. they never even got to see each other until their world was ending, and even then only for a couple minutes.

olvia is a very interesting character, because she’s someone who chose her dream over the people she loved. that’s not an inherently good or bad choice, but it is a choice she made, and it’s what led to the ending she and robin had to have. i’ve wondered a lot what might have happened if she chose the other way, if she never left or if she came back sooner or if she chose to flee the buster call with robin, and how different (and almost certainly better) robin’s life would have been if she had.

in a way, olvia reminds me a lot of kouzuki toki. they both die in order to fling a light of knowledge and hope into the future, and they both send their children away and choose to stay behind to choke on ash for the sake of a better tomorrow. 

i didn’t really notice until putting these panels together, but a lot of things burn in enies lobby. ohara burns, and the pluton plans and the world government flag, and enies lobby itself, and at the end, the going merry burns, too. if you extend it back to water seven, there’s the galley-la headquarters, too. in an arc that deals so much with the preservation and destruction of history and knowledge, it’s a fitting motif. 

the world government flag burning is still to this day one of the most striking panels out of a series full of them, in my opinion. in one act, the strawhats proclaim their absolute defiance against the world government, and their willingness to make enemies of the greatest power in the world for the sake of their friend.

it’s also another one of those moments that’s interesting to think about in the context of luffy’s past. it was a ship flying that same flag that shot sabo down, and while luffy wasn’t there to see it, i don’t think he’s oblivious to that fact, especially given how he says just before this he understands robin’s enemies perfectly.

dadan told him and ace that there was nothing they could do against the whole world, and luffy went and did it anyways.

sometimes i just think about how scary it must have been for robin, someone who’s been weighed down by the shackles of her past with no escape in sight for so very long, to open herself up and let herself hope, for life and freedom and a dream that’s always been out of reach. 

franky has a lot of really great moments between this arc and water seven- his conversation with usopp as usopp is working on merry and his talk with robin on the sea train are two others. it’s almost impressive how quickly he becomes an immensely likable character once we start getting to know him, given how he’s first introduced as an absolute piece of shit.

his burning of the pluton plans is a favorite of mine, and i think it might be because, like so many people before and after him, he’s choosing here to stake all his hopes on the strawhats, on luffy’s ability to pull off the impossible and on robin’s goodness. when robin’s only ever been chased and hated and called a demon by the world, franky chooses to trust her and luffy with the legacy his dad died for, and neither of them let him down.

monster point looks SO FUCKING TERRIFYING in enies lobby, and i LOVE it. look at that. franky is seven and half feet tall, and in front of monster point he’s tiny. monster point is huge, and dead-eyed, and a force of absolute destruction. i do kind of wish we got to see chopper go completely feral like this more often. he deserves to be terrifying!

i love how much FAITH all the rest of the strawhats continue to have in usopp throughout enies lobby. he left the crew and they really would have a right to be angry at him if they chose to, but it doesn’t even seem to cross any of their minds. they’re just happy he’s okay, and they include him again without missing a beat, because he’s still their friend and they know down to their bones they can trust him, even after everything. 

i’ve always really loved zoro and kaku’s little moment of post-battle banter here- zoro relays paulie’s message about cp9 being fired, kaku says he’s out of a job, zoro tells him to try the zoo, and kaku cracks up.

it feels very real to me for whatever reason, and i think part of it ties back into how well one piece handles morality with its characters- zoro and kaku are genuinely pretty similar people who get along decently, it just happens that they wound up on opposite sides. there are series where you’d never see moments like this due to the lines between good and bad being so firmly drawn, and i love how one piece blurs those lines so much they may as well not exist a lot of the time.

this is the other sequence, along with luffy climbing the drum rockies barehanded, that always makes me physically cringe to look at. it looks so painful. robin is so nearly powerless here, but not quite- she can still buy time for her crew to catch up, even if it’s only seconds, even if she risks shattering her teeth or even her jaw in the process. she’s spent so long giving up and has only just started daring to hope- she’s not about to go gentle.

there aren’t many panels that give me catharsis like this one. there really aren’t.

oda’s villains are usually complicated and awful and often a little admirable, if only for how clever or how terrifyingly powerful they are, but every now and then he comes up with someone who’s just pathetic and cowardly and pointlessly cruel. spandam is like this, obviously, and so is orochi, and the celestial dragons, and i’d argue flampe from whole cake island as well. and there’s nothing like seeing characters like them- weak, cruel people so assured in their own power and rightness- get obliterated.

one of the things i really like about enies lobby is that nobody really gets sidelined- everybody gets multiple chances to shine. luffy, usopp, and obviously robin are the most in focus, obviously, but zoro, sanji, nami, chopper, and even franky all get a bunch of individual awesome moments. oda’s ability to handle his cast satisfyingly is consistently really impressive (if sometimes strained in huge ensemble arcs like dressrosa or wano) and it really shows here, i think.

i just really love the entire climax of enies lobby. much like the arc as a whole, it just feels triumphant, even though the situation is extremely dire. luffy unlocking gear three, robin’s cuffs getting unlocked, usopp shooting spandam and the marines all the way from the tower of justice- it’s all just good, a long chain of much-needed victories and catharses, and it feels very good to read.

i’ll always be impressed by just how much characterization oda manages to give merry, a boat. she’s only really a character in water seven and the end of enies lobby, only about two chapters of which she actually speaks in. and yet i don’t think you’d find a single one piece fan who disagrees that merry’s death is easily one of the most heartwrenching in the entire series.

i love the reactions of the strawhats to robin’s thanks. they’ve just gone through hell to save her, most of them are beat to shit and they all risked their lives, and yet they all just smile, or brush it off, because to them there’s nothing else they could have done. it’s all worth it, so long as they got her back, so long as she’s safe and happy.

merry’s funeral just hits me in the chest every single time i read it. it’s tragic, of course, but there’s also something almost lovely about it, something peaceful about her getting to go out on her own terms, carrying her crew to safety one last time, defying every rule of the universe to do it. just like a strawhat pirate.

oda’s ability to communicate emotion through expressions really comes through here, too. merry has the only lines in this scene, fitting for her death in the limelight, but the shots of every other crewmate’s face let us know at a glance just what they’re all feeling and just how strongly they’re feeling it.

you know, i’d forgotten we only learn the name of the new world after enies lobby. we only get proper exposition about the revolutionary army and the yonkou here, too, despite them being set up since loguetown and jaya (or alabasta, or even chapter one if you count from shanks’s introduction) respectively. oda’s ability to parse out exposition and explanation so we always have just the right amount of information is really impressive- we always have more questions, but we also always have the feeling that those questions have answers, and that sooner or later they’ll be revealed.

points at shanks. i just think he’s neat.

it’s my opinion that one of the great joys of one piece is seeing luffy and the crew rise up in the world, and seeing them gain more and more notoriety. i love nothing they do ever happens in a vacuum- everything has impacts, and there are always outside eyes watching, and often those impacts are things that they never could have predicted.

ace and blackbeard is still, i think, definitely one of the coolest looking fights in the whole series. it’s not all that often we get to see two people with extremely flashy and showy abilities go all-out against each other, and the resulting fireworks are still really something to behold, despite how badly it all ends. 

#the voyage so far #one piece #opmeta #long post #arc: enies lobby #arc: post enies lobby #not japanese

[wingsofhcpe]

whumptober day 2- choking

fandom: shadow & bone

pairing: fivan [ivan x fedyor kaminsky]

rating: T+

additional warnings: blood, injury, gore

you can also read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34208404/chapters/85175464#workskin

[tagging @camilleisback upon request <3]

He makes it out of the Fold by the skin of his teeth. He uses everything that he has at his disposal; his powers, his experience, even the little bit of faith to the Saints he has retained over the years. It’s enough to get him out in the end, but not enough to make sure he does so unscathed.

Ivan crawls the last few meters away from the outer reaches of the Shadow Fold, tendrils of darkness still clinging to his clothes -or whatever has remained of them, anyway- as if they’re trying to pull him back into the hell he just barely escaped. He knows it’s all in his mind; the Fold isn’t sentient, although it houses sentient forms of life. Still, if there’s even the slightest possibility that something, be it the darkness or its monstrous inhabitants, may appear out of nowhere and drag him back inside, he knows with mortifying certainty he’ll be unable to get away a second time. All of his strength, his willpower, the force of his very life, is spent. It’s quite literally bleeding out of him as he collapses for good between the abandoned ruins of Novokribirsk’s outer reaches, the thick red liquid soaking into the barren ground. Within the haze of pain and exhaustion that muddles his thoughts, Ivan realises what poetic justice means; he helped cause this disaster. He helped drain all life out of this ground. Now, he’s giving it all back with his own blood. That’s alright, he thinks. It’s the circle of life, after all; when someone dies, their essence returns to the Making at the Heart of the World. Their life force seeps back into the heartbeat that makes the earth turn, that moves the waters, feeds the animals, drives the Grisha. They must all return to it when they’re ready.

And Ivan is ready. He really is. He is content to be sacrificing himself for General Kirigan’s righteous purpose, for the good of all the Grisha, for the safety of everyone in Ravka. He’s content to be reunited with his deceased brothers, his father, his uncle. And he would have been content to leave this cold, cruel world behind, if it wasn’t for one thing. One mere little thing that’s still holding him back. That is making him think he’s not yet ready to leave this plane of existence.

He doesn’t want to leave Fedyor behind.

It’s foolish, really. They’re soldiers, and the knowledge that one or both of them will most likely meet an untimely death, far out of reach from the other, has been ever-present in their relationship even before they made their feelings known. It had all been a silly little fantasy, a comforting but naïve dream, thinking that they may get the chance to grow old together, to die in bed held in each other’s arms after living to see Ravka in peace. Ivan had always believed himself to be a pragmatist, if not a pessimist- but this dream, this hope… Fedyor had almost made him believe they would get their happy ending. And now… it hurt. It hurt to think that he would leave Fedyor behind. That his death would extinguish his beloved’s warm, bright smile. That it would break his heart.

What Ivan wouldn’t have given to be able to speak to Fedyor one last time. To say all the things he may have kept to himself all those years. ‘I love you’. ‘You’re the light of my life’. ‘There is nothing more important to me than you are’. Fedyor knows already, and Ivan is aware. But still- he has been frugal with words of affection. Fedyor deserved so much more than his silent. Sometimes actions may speak louder than words, but others, you need to hear those words from someone’s lips. Words are comfort; words are a promise. Ivan didn’t realise until now. But now it’s too late, far too late.

Ivan closes his eyes as the sun sets below the horizon, somewhere to his left. Part of him mourns its descent; he already misses the warmth, the light. The sun… Fedyor is his sun. The Starkov girl, the traitor, may be the Sun Summoner, but nothing she does will ever come close to the warmth radiance that Fedyor emits just by existing.

“F-Fedya…” Ivan chokes on his own blood, sputtering and coughing until his lungs feel like they’re on fire. He knows he’s alone, and that Fedyor can’t hear him. But he wants to speak his beloved’s name just once more. A prayer, a goodbye.

Darkness seems to ebb out of the Fold and engulf the world around him, but it is just the night. Simply the natural order of things. Ivan gradually begins to shiver, his temperature dropping by the minute due to blood loss as well as the lack of a proper heating source. He groans softly; the little spasms that run through his body make the pain worse, make his wounds feel as if they’re being torn anew over and over again. But soon even those weak sounds fade, his strength nowhere nearly enough even for that. It’s barely enough to keep him breathing. To keep his heart beating.

The hours pass, or at least he thinks so; he cannot be sure. When he hears the distant sound of hoofbeats on the ground, he initially dismisses it as a hallucination, or perhaps even Death itself riding on its black steed to come claim his soul. But then something else tugs at the corners of his senses; a sound as familiar as breath, as life itself. A heartbeat he would be able to recognise even if he was already dead.

Ivan wants to stand. He wants to shout, to draw the attention of the one person that’s still keeping him tied to this world, that is making life worth living. But he cannot move- he cannot even speak. He can only lay in silence and pray with all of his might to whatever Saint is still watching over him, that Fedyor will detect his heartbeat just as Ivan detected his. That he won’t just ride right past him, leaving him to die alone, and cold, and in so much pain.

Don’t leave me. Fedya, please, don’t leave me.

Call it a miracle, call it divine intervention, or just luck. But the sounds that have stirred Ivan from his dying slumber draw closer and closer, until there’s no further doubt- it’s not a hallucination. It is real. This is real. He’s not alone.

A voice, a familiar and adored voice, calls his name. Fedyor is suddenly kneeling on the ground next to him, the flickering light of a traveling lantern illuminating his face. His eyes are brimming with tears, and all he repeats, over and over, is Ivan’s name.

“Vanya, my Vanya. It’s alright. I’m here now. You’ll be okay my love, I promise.”

Strong arms lift him slowly, as carefully as possible, and Ivan hears his own voice distantly as he cries out. Saints, the pain- it’s unlike anything he has ever experienced before. He feels his insides may drop out of his body from the gaping wounds across his chest and stomach, and he’s not certain whether or not his right arm is still properly attached to his body. It surely doesn’t feel like it is. But Fedyor whispers words of comfort to him, even as Ivan chokes and coughs up more blood. He cannot reply, although he dearly wants to; he wants to thank Fedyor, he wants to ask him not to leave him, to be gentle because oh, it all hurts so bad. And even though he’s unable to talk, and can only stare at his beloved pleadingly through blurry eyes, Fedyor understands. Fedyor has always understood, and now it’s no exception. He presses a soft kiss on Ivan’s blood-streaked brow, and sets himself to work.

Ivan flashes in and out of conscience while Fedyor and his Grisha companions clean and bandage his wounds. Even amidst unconsciousness, however, Ivan can feel his partner’s steady, unwavering and comforting presence. And he knows, now, that everything will be okay.

The next time Ivan comes properly around, the pain has subsided. Someone has lit a fire between the ruins that have offered shelter to the group, and there’s something soft and warm enveloping him. It takes him a moment to realise it’s Fedyor’s kefta, having replaced his own torn and ruined clothes. Fedyor himself is holding him in his arms, humming a soft Fjerdan lullaby- one that Ivan had sung to him during a particularly bad injury, while the Healers at the Little Palace had been patching Fedyor up. Despite himself, despite everything, Ivan’s lips twitch into a small smile. Fedyor smiles back, and leans down to gently bump their noses together.

“I’m here, lapushka.” He says reassuringly, as if he knows it’s just what Ivan needs to hear. The latter sucks in a wobbly breath, but Fedyor immediately shakes his head.

“No, don’t try to talk now. Just rest. I’ll stay with you.”

There’s no need for words between them, as there has never been. But Ivan silently promises, both to Fedyor and himself, that as soon as he regains his ability to speak, he’s going to tell Fedyor every day how much he loves him, how much he means to him, how thankful he is that Fedyor didn’t abandon him out here in the darkness and the cold.

Before sleep overtakes him, he swears he won’t ever again leave those words unspoken.

#my writing #whumptober #whumptober 2021 #fivan #fedyor x ivan #heartrender husbands #fedyor kaminsky #ivan no last name #shadow & bone

[ibijau]

Last one I promise 😅 Saving them from a burning building/running into a burning building to save them. AU where Lan Xichen goes back for Jin GuangYao and saves him from the building. Also the sword had just missed his heart so he lives. Idc if he's locked up after but I want Lan Xichen to know he's alive please I beg of you.

“Die with me, er-ge,” Jin Guangyao asked.

After everything that had happened, everything that had been revealed, Lan Xichen barely hesitated before closing his eyes and accepting that offer to die together. There was nothing waiting for him outside that collapsing building. His brother no longer needed him, not when Wei Wuxian was back, his uncle knew better than him how to deal with scandal, and even Nie Huaisang…

Nie Huaisang had probably never needed him at all, except that night as a weapon.

Death would solve his own problems and that of others’.

Just as he made peace with his own end, Lan Xichen felt a blow against his chest. He stumbled backward a few steps and opened his eyes, only to meet Jin Guangyao’s anguished stare and see his hand still extended toward Lan Xichen, frozen in place after that too weak push.

Lan Xichen blinked.

Around them the world continued to collapse, uncaring for the wounds they had inflicted upon each other.

It was too late, for both of them.

And yet, it’d be too easy to die like this, and after everything, perhaps neither of them deserved for things to end this easily.

In a split second, Lan Xichen reached out toward Jin Guangyao and, after grabbing him, used what little will he had left to rush both of them out of that temple. They feel side by side on the steps of the collapsed building, Lan Xichen exhausted and empty but alive still.

He couldn’t see any worse fate than having to live after this.

When Lan Xichen rose his head, he met the pitying gaze of his brother, and worse still of Wei Wuxian. That Wei Wuxian would feel the right to pity him was a slap in the face, but he took it gracefully. After everything that had been revealed that night, after getting a better understanding of Wei Wuxian’s struggles and his choices, Lan Xichen wasn’t sure he had the right to resent anymore the man who had ruined his brother’s life.

With some effort, Lan Xichen managed to rise to his knees, and then to stand up. He ignored Jin Guangyao’s prostrated shape on the ground, moaning in pain after this violent movement. He likely wouldn’t die, Lan Xichen knew. His cultivation was high enough to handle a severed arm, and the wound inflicted by Lan Xichen, even at such a time, had been aimed not to be fatal. Lan Xichen couldn’t have killed him, though he knew he should have wanted to. Another failure on his part.

Without a word, Lan Xichen challenged his brother to say anything about having saved that man. Lan Wangji, understanding too much, simply looked away. Wei Wuxian was ignoring him to longingly glance toward Jiang Wanyin, who did the same toward him. The Ghost General too found him unworthy of his attention.

Meanwhile, Jin Rulan and Nie Huaisang stared at him with open judgement. Or at least, so Lan Xichen understood their expression. Having both lost so much to the man he had saved, he supposed they could hardly be blamed for their hatred.

“If we let him die here today, what justice will there be?” Lan Xichen stated, as if that had been his intention.

As if he’d been capable of any intention during that instant. As if protecting Jin Guangyao had been more than an instinct at this point.

“We need him to give us a full account of what he did,” he insisted, knowing he was probably only making their opinion of him worse. “We need to know how far he went, what people he used, who helped him, or else this will happen again.”

Jin Rulan frowned upon hearing this, perhaps realising that Jin Guangyao’s crimes would be his to deal with, since his uncle had no other heirs. As for Nie Huaisang, Lan Xichen thought he saw rage flash on his face, but in an instant there was nothing more than fear and innocent concern.

“Er-ge is right of course,” he said with a nod. “Ah, what a mess, what a mess, I don’t even know how… but I’m sure all his accomplices will be duly punished. It’s only right, isn’t it?”

Lan Xichen shivered at his tone, so perfectly sincere. 

He wondered if Nie Huaisang counted him as one of those accomplices to be dealt with.

He didn’t have to ask to guess the answer. If Nie Huaisang was behind this, as he appeared to be, then he had more than shown what capacity for mercy he had.

“Zewu-Jun, do you want Yunmeng Jiang to hold on to Jin Guangyao until a trial can be organised?” Jiang Wanyin offered, his attention back on the current situation. “We will make sure he cannot escape.

Lan Xichen stared at him. Unlike Nie Huaisang’s too polite innocence, Jiang Wanyin made his disdain perfectly visible. He too seemed to have wanted revenge rather than justice. Or else, he too thought that Lan Xichen shared Jin Guangyao’s guilt, for having supported and helped him all these years.

It really would have been easier to leave Jin Guangyao to die in that temple, and perhaps to die with him. Survival instinct was a cruel thing.

Without a word, Lan Xichen knelt down again next to his sworn brother. Whatever the crimes, there was a bond between him and Jin Guangyao, one that couldn’t just be denied now that it had become inconvenient. They had sworn mutual aid, they had sworn brotherhood. If Lan Xichen hadn’t turned his back on Lan Wangji even when he had sided with a man universally hated, when he had broken every rule of their sect and some they hadn’t even thought to have, then he couldn’t renounce Jin Guangyao either.

Family was family.

“Considering the circumstances, I understand that it might seem unwise to allow Jin Guangyao to be taken to the Cloud Recesses until a trial is arranged,” Lan Xichen said, refusing to look at the other sect leaders and instead checking his sworn brother’s wound. “I will not fight against him being taken to whichever place is deemed safest to hold him. However, wherever he goes, I will go as well, to ensure no injustice is committed against him either.”

This time there was no mistaking the open rage on Nie Huaisang’s face, one so intense that it took him more effort to control it. And yet, even like that, Lan Xichen wasn’t sure if the others had noticed it, not when all the attention was on him.

What a pitiful fool they all seemed to think him. Even Jin Guangyao’s gaze could be felt, though Lan Xichen refused to look at him, unsure what expression he would see on that face, knowing it could be trusted no more than Nie Huaisang’s placid smile.

But all of this had started because Lan Xichen had insisted on having the world’s see Jin Guangyao’s true worth in spite of his birth, and so he would see it through to the end, no matter what that end would be.

Jin Guangyao would get a trial, and Lan Xichen as well if there was any justice left in the world.

#lan xichen #jin guangyao #nie huaisang #mdzs #xiyao #kinda? I guess? I don't know what counts as xiyao #this took me out of my block because there's nothing I love more than lxc being emotionally broken :) #jau writes #theuntamedmulti

[dreamteamfanblog]

CW // starvation, torture, mental torture, self harm mentions | you’ve been pretty rightly adamant about c!dream deserving punishment in prison. you have also felt he deserved to be placed in an inhumane environment as a ‘taste of his own medicine’ (implied, not you words) sort of ordeal. the problem with that, at least for me, is that revenge and karmic justice leaves no room for growth and no room for dream to understand every shitty thing he’s done. the reason he’s so spiteful and filled with hatred now is because he legitimately doesn’t believe he’s in the wrong, and that tommy placed him in prison as a way to flaw his goals. once he escapes, he will be thirsting for blood and revenge, and he will stop at no means to get it. he’s placed in an extremely distressing environment of self isolation, mental fortitude and torture, and purposeful withholdings of food (very insufficient food, mind you) with nothing and nobody willing to teach him how he deserved to be punished. he’s wrathful, loathing of everyone, and hurt. he feels no guilt because of his warped sense of morality perceptions. tommy was placed in the middle of that, and all that did was give him more trauma. now, he has to live with having stayed in the prison for over a month with his abuser, endured death and tore himself apart, and the sudden shock at re-emerging in a world that heavily grieved you. all of that could have been avoided if the prison didn’t value inescapability over comfort. ALL of that could have been avoided if c!sam gave tommy and his prisoner some basic human rights- heeded the contract, let tommy go or keep him in another cell. if he pushed for dream to reform, with a comfortable cell and comfortable food- NONE of what happened to tommy would have happened as it did. and that’s so fucking frustrating, speaking as a tommy and dream enjoyer- sam threw them into hell together, exposed the worst of two deeply unwell people with one another, and expected everything to be fine while an abuser and traumatized child spent prolonged durations in a horrific torture chamber. my question to you is, do you still agree that dream deserved a taste of his own medicine? i’d love to hear what you think

I think a lot of people misunderstand my stance on this so im going to specify here. I don't WANT Dream to be treated poorly. It isn't the ideal situation that he struggle in prison and I do want prison reformation on the Smp. My stance has never been starkly against offering that, nor has it been against giving Dream room to grow. My stance has been against people who are overly harsh with Sam or Tommy or Sapnap or anyone else in universe who isn't pushing for prison reform. Dream has taught the people of the server to view him some sort of god. To fear him, revere him, cower before his threats and bend to his will. The people were- and likely are still- absolutely terrified of him and personally traumatized by him. For a lot of them certain acts of reformation such as expanding his cell or loosening on visiting rules would mean less security, even momentarily while construction is done. Any less security than this is inconceivable for a lot of people in universe because of the damage Dream has done and has planned to do. He's destroyed homes, slaughtered innocents, he planned to imprison and kill and blackmail more people before he was locked away in a prison that could hold even a god. It's deemed necessary because to most people on the server Dream may as well be a god. Even putting aside the fear of cutting him even the smallest bit of slack lest he's eacaped, most people on the server just don't think about his well-being very often. Why would they? They're still trying to put back the pieces after all he's done, why would anybody be thinking about his feelings here or the condition he's in. Personally I think reform is a good idea and would like to see that happen, but im not ever going to be genuinely upset with the other characters on the Smp for not jumping into prison reformation for him at this point in time. It isn't necessarily that he deserves karmic justice- redemption and healing has always been the best case scenario for me, in every case, even with Dream id like to see him getting better- it's an acknowledgement that he made his bed here and of course the people are too scared or avoidant of him to go out of their way to fix the prison he designed which in my opinion doesn't reflect too poorly onto them. Even if they did give him better conditions I doubt he'd improve much simply because nobody wants to sit him down and work through his issues. Nobody is willing to teach him because nobody is indifferent to the suffering he's caused. Dream needs therapy in my opinion. I'd love to see him get it. Who's going to give that to him? Puffy maybe, but she's currently so emotionally distraught by what he's done that she doesn't feel like she can handle even looking at him. Quackity? Dream destroyed his home, tried to kill his friends, actually DID kill one of the people closest to him, he can't be expected to be in the right mind to do that kind of thing. Sapnap or George? After the years of manipulation and toxic friendship they've got behind them, I don't think so. Skeppy? Bad? After the 1x1 trophy case situation?? Jack? Niki? Tommy? Tubbo? Ranboo? Dream deserves therapy or at least to have what he's done explained to him in a calm way but nobody here deserves to have to do that if they don't absolutely positively want to and no matter what I objectively think Dream deserves I have to feel inclined to prioritize his victims here.

Tommy's ordeal was horrible. And it's one of the reasons I really think something should change. Which im sure it will given how horrified everybody is at what happened. However if this reformation involves looking into the safety of visitors- or even cutting off visitors entirely- I won't exactly be angry with any of the characters in universe because of course Dream's feelings aren't going to be anybody else's priority here. Dream is everybody's opressor or abuser or both. Everybody on the server. It's something that's deeply united a lot of people. Making anybody speak to their opressor/abuser or hell even care about their wellbeing isn't something im interested in. Sam as a warden can't be unbiased knowing what Dream's done, having been effected PERSONALLY by everything Dream's done. It unfortunately just isn't super realistic. Maybe if, like....Hannah was the warden or someone who pushed hard to lock Dream up id be more willing to accept the idea that she should be trying to support Dream more but as things are im not...mad that people aren't taking him into account even if I wish they would.

I'm disappointed but im by no means mad if that makes sense.

And honestly I can't in good faith accept the idea that if it weren't for the bad conditions of the prison Dream wouldnt be inclined to kill Tommy like that. Dream was like three seconds away from murdering Tubbo and locking Tommy away in the prison himself before he was arrested, and while possibly if someone had like..given him therapy..he might have gotten better, again, he's personally traumatized nearly everyone on the server and not only is therapy with any of them a conflict of interest but it would likely serve to retraumatize whoever's being forced to talk to Dream. He didn't get the idea to hurt Tommy while in prison basically, he's wanted to hurt Tommy for...well...ever...and while this possibly could have been mediated if someone would try ti give Dream a chance to heal and get better, im not going to expect anyone to do that for him given the general collective trauma he's caused because that would be immensely cruel to make anyone do unless they really want to and really think they can handle it.

Tldr; A cushier cell won't make Dream reconsider what he's done, he could have been living in luxery or even free entirely and he would still be the same tyrant and abuser. He needs therapy but this server is made up almost entirely of his victims who I won't even think about expecting to be his therapist. I'd love for him to have more comfort and think at least some changes are necessary but don't really blame anyone for not thinking about his comfort eapecially since a lot of these things would be actively loosening security which his victims obviously would be terrified by even the thought of. It's a difficult situation but it boils down to I want Dream to be more comfortable and get better but im not about to start hating the other members of the server for not thinking about that kind of thing.

#long post #dream smp discourse #dream smp #mcyt #cw starvation #cw torture #cw mental torture #cw self harm mentions