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ms-no1kpopstan · 1 month

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ɪ ᴀɪɴ’ᴛ (ᴀᴍ)ᴡᴏʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ

in which you find yourself not wanting to bother riki with the fact that you’re really stressed out about your upcoming finals but he figures out how bad your anxiety is once he finds you on your desk, silently crying with your head in your textbook the day before the first exam…

[Contains Comfort and established relationships, pda as well]

WARNING mention of toxic relationships and mean exes

• release date ~ 24/04/2024 in my country

• FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF FLUFFFFFFFFF

• idol bf!riki x reader

• oneshot

• now playing : I ain’t worried, by OneRepublic

•! reblogs, likes and comments are really appreciated! they make me happy <333

tags: @mandukkul @copyhanni @nikiswifereal27 @stariikis @ad0rechuu @copyhanni @jungkit @rk1stars @rikihqq @wonryllis

ENJOY READING THIS AND PLS LIKE REBLOG AND COMMENT!

NOT PROOF READ PLS DONT MIND ANY SPELLING MISTAKES!!!

You repeatedly tell Riki that you’re okay and that you’re not stressed about your finals but deep inside, you knew you were lying….

It hurt you each time that you had to lie because you knew that if he found out that you were lying, he would get really worried as to why you lied to him. So, you put on as real of a brave face as you could when inside, you felt like sobbing into rikis shirt while he gently holds you, silently comforting you with just his presence, but because of his packed schedule he has as an idol, you didn’t feel like troubling him with such a small problem, little did you know that holding your stress in would lead to you sobbing into your textbook on your desk.

You had never felt so much anxiety before an exam since you were a straight A student your whole life, and had never gotten a grade below a B and that B was only because you caught a viral fever and were barely able to write your test.

You hadn’t gone out of your room all day, let alone eaten something and because today was one of Riki’s few off days, he was at home, but because your door was locked, he tried all ways to get to you without opening you door and invading your study time… calling out to you, messaging you, calling you on the phone, knocking, but no response. He knew you were studying for your exams but he knows that you don’t normally skip meals, especially during finals.

He decides to knock again. He gently calls out your name while knocking on your locked door, only to be met with soft sobbing on the other end of the door. He, as a last resort, grabs the key to your door and slots it into the keyhole. The sight he was met with was a very heartbreaking one. You were sobbing into your science textbook, hugging your knees, your hair covering your entire face. You were still in your pajamas and were looking very pale.

You only noticed he was in the room when he gently collected your hair in his hands and tied your hair into a ponytail with a scrunchie that was on your still unmade bed. You look up at him with bloodshot eyes, which looked like you’d been crying for hours. He pulls you into a soft embrace, so gently, that one would believe that you were made of glass. You cry into his shirt, tears staining it but he couldn’t care less. All he cared about was you.

He pulls out of the hug, and looks at you so lovingly, his own eyes glossy due to the fact that you were crying. “Why didn’t you tell me, y/nnie, I could’ve helped…” he softly says. “Ki, I knew how busy you were and, well, I haven’t told you about this yet, but the reason I was so distant when we first got together was because my ex, he was so toxic and would shout at me if I went to him with my worries, he would get so mad and argue with me so much that by the time I left him, I was scared that all men were like that… but then I met you, and I lost that fear, but I still have a problem telling people about my feelings….” You reply softly towards the end, more tears welling up in your eyes. as if the look in his eyes couldn’t get gentler, they got more glossy as he pulled you into his embrace once more…

“Oh, yn, I didn’t know you went through all that on your own.. But next time, please tell me what’s bothering you and there’s no need to lie at all, I’m always going to be there to help you and listen, okay?” He says into the crook of your neck. “Thank you”, was all you could muster after the hours of crying. He pulls away a bit after a while, and then gently gives you a kiss on your lips, closing the gap on between your lips and his. He lifts his lips away from yours and laces your fingers into his, pulls you up and mumbles something about making instant ramen, which you genuinely needed, because, as mentioned earlier, you hadn’t eaten all day.

As you slurped your ramen up in record speed, Riki watched in adoration… how could you look so pretty even after crying?

You finished your bowl of ramen,and attempted to get up to put your bowl into the sink, but were pulled back into your seat by Riki, who insisted that he puts your bowl in the sink. You gave in, knowing that he was not going to let you go, and sit back down.

You were lucky to have a boyfriend like Riki and you would always be okay, as long as he was there with you…

END!

@ms-no1kpopstan’s not yours. Please do not translate, steal, plagiarise, or repost without my permission… pls send an ask if so, and it must have my credits if so.

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auras-moonstone · 8 months

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Hi! Hru? I love your stories. This is my first request ever/ Could you write Ethan Landry x YN, where they used to date like in highschool but one of them moved countries, maybe Ethan for his acting career and when he comes back he has a new girlfriend but never really forgot Y/N, and maybe she’s still waiting for him? I love the idea of first love never forgotten type of fic! :)

hii, i’m doing good, hope you are too! you sent me this request ages ago i’m so sorry😫 but i actually really love this little story, hope you enjoy it too<3

‘tis the damn season — jack champion

word count: 3,225 (i did not realize it was this long i’m so sorry)

pairing: jack champion x fem!reader

summary: jack and y/n broke up before he left for la, and now that he is back in his hometown for the weekend, they decide it to call it even.

based on: dorothea and ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift

WHEN JACK HAD TO MOVE OUT OF TOWN TO PERSUE HIS ACTING CAREER, HE DECIDED TO END THINGS WITH Y/N. His schedule would be too full and there wouldn’t be enough time for a long-distance relationship. Besides, he knew it wouldn’t be fair for Y/N to adjust to his agenda.

Y/N knew she was going to wait for him, and a tiny part of her hoped he would come back to her. So she waited, but the texts and calls stopped coming, and soon she realized it had been wishful thinking.

But even though Y/N was constantly telling herself she needed to move on, she couldn’t find herself to do it. Whenever a boy would ask her out, she would decline every time. She felt her friends’ judging stares throughout every rejection—they knew what she was doing, she was holding onto her hope.

Two years after Jack left, when the pictures of him with his model girlfriend invaded her timeline, she decided she had had enough. She couldn’t be hanging onto a high school relationship, so she started saying yes instead of no.

But truth to be told, she absentmindedly kept comparing every boy to Jack and obviously that was a winless fight because none of them had his shiny smile, or his cute laugh, or perfect hair, or gorgeous deep brown eyes and above all, none made her stomach flush the way the mere thought of Jack did. In short, Y/N was fooling herself into thinking she wasn’t still caught up in Jack, pretending her heart didn’t still belong to the guy she had loved at the age of sixteen.

She wondered if he ever stopped and think about her, about the times they spent together making a lark out of the misery. Y/N didn’t think so, he had new shiny friends now, why would his thoughts be on the girl from the boring town he once used to live in?

Little did she know, his thoughts always lead to her and his hometown. He loved his job, and the people he met were not that bad, but he missed the quietness, the homey feeling that the small town gave, his real friends and Y/N. God knows he tried to get over her, but the memories of him and Y/N lingered like bad perfume and he could ran only so far from them.

As soon as Jack stepped foot in his hometown again, the familiarity embraced him like an old friend. There was this warm feeling in his heart he had missed so much.

“I’m going for a walk by the beach” he told his mom, as he exited the house.

The soft sand tickled his feet and the salt air filled his nostrils as he watched the rough waves hit the shore, making a thunderous sound so pleasing he could fall asleep to it.

He remembered the times when he and Y/N would lay there, taking in the view and letting their bodies be surrounded by the peacefulness as their intertwined hands rested in the space between their bodies.

Jack saw the silhouette of a girl sitting alone and once he was close enough, his heart dropped when he recognized her profile. “Y/N?”

Her shoulders stiffened and her head raised slowly. Three emotions were painted on her face in the span of three seconds—first it was shock, then uncertainty and then realisation.

“Jack?” she asked breathlessly and the sound of her voice sent chills all over his body. It’s been four years since the last time he had heard his name coming from her sweet lips, and it felt as heartwarming as being wrapped in a cozy blanket by the fire.

“Hi… I’m back for the weekend” he smiled widely.

Her eyes dropped to focus on her favorite smile she had missed so much, the one that, even after years, was still so shiny and bright that made her insides melt.

She smiled for a few seconds, and Jack’s world lit up again. But then, something sinked in, and her face turned emotionally void. The eyes that stared back at him were cold, the kind that fogs up glasses. “I have to go to work.” her tone stung like icy skin being touched by hot water.

Jack watched her leave with an ache in his heart, feeling the coldness irradiating off her as she passed by him.

Y/N WAS GLAD THAT THERE WASN’T MUCH ACTIVITY ON THE RECORD SHOP THAT DAY. The scene at the beach left her shocked, she had imagined seeing Jack again so many times in her mind, yet the ache she had felt when he smiled at her was collosal. Did he think he could just melt her heart with that dangerous weapon he carried on his face and everything would suddenly be okay? That his excruciatingly killer grin would amend the fact that he had completely cut her off his life for four years?

What was worse was that she almost felt for it. He had caught her off guard. She never imagined he would actually come back to town. And he looked so dreamy, so Hollywood, so untouchable. The screen in where she was forced to watch his life through didn’t do him any justice. He had gotten taller, he didn’t have his cute curls anymore—instead, he had a mullet haircut that fitted him so well and made his jaw look sharper. And his shoulders and biceps? He shouldn’t be allowed to wear that black tank top he had on that day, because it showed the muscles he had gained with his intense working outs and it was pretty distracting. Unfair.

The drooling stopped when she heard the bell ring, indicating someone had just entered the shop. And in walked the superstar, with his big wide black glasses, looking magnificent. And he had the black tank top that clung to his firm chest as if it was soaked, which made Y/N sigh. You have to be strong, she said to herself.

“What are you doing here?” she asked harshly.

“I’m looking for some vinyls.” he shrugged. “Where are the ABBA albums?”

“Jeez, I don’t know, maybe on the shelf with the big A?” she rested her elbows on the counter she was sitting behind.

Jack held back a laugh “Is this how you always treat your clients? Because if then, it makes sense why this place is deserted.”

“No, this treatment is only reserved for you.” she replied with a fake smile. “And this place is always full of people. Not that you would know, because you don’t live here.”

“And the shots have been finally fired.” Jack said, putting the vinyls back in place. “You’re still mad I left town, that I left you.” he stated, getting close to her and placing his forearms on the counter, making them be eye-level.

Y/N’s eyes softened a bit. “Watching you leave had to be one of the toughest things I ever witnessed, but no. I could never ever be mad at you for following your dreams, I thought you knew that.”

He reminisced the day he told her he was leaving to LA. She had a sad smile on her face, but her eyes showed him nothing but understanding and support.

“That’s amazing, Jack. You have wanted to do this for so long, and you’re so talented. You’re going to be a stellar actor and will have lots of fans, I can picture it.”

“You think so?” he had asked with a hopeful smile, hugging her waist tightly while they sat next to each other in her bed.

“I know so.” she corrected, raising her head to make their lips brush so she could whisper, “I’ll always be your number one fan, though.”

“I love you”

“I love you too, Jack.”

“Are you still my number one fan?” Jack asked, his voice filled with nostalgia and love.

“Always.” Y/N smiled truthfully. She had watched every movie he had done, and may have shed a few tears every time he appeared on the screen. Tears of proudness from how far he had gotten and also of sadness, because she wasn’t a part of his life anymore so she couldn’t celebrate his success with him.

“Then why are you being so cold?” Jack asked, seeming genuinely lost.

“Are you really asking me that, Jack?” Y/N scoffed in disbelief. “Because you fucking stopped talking to me. You kept in touch with everyone but me, and I felt so devastated.”

“Because the more I talked to you, the more homesick I felt.” Jack confessed, looking down at their hands that were only inches away from each other. “I wanted so bad to reply to you when you reached out, I almost did every time, but I just couldn’t. It hurt too much.”

“We were best friends before we started dating, and when you cut me off your life, I lost my best friend and the boy I loved. I couldn’t move on, I felt so lonely without you.”

Jack rounded the counter and stood next to her. He wanted to pulled her into his chest and patch up the wounds with a hug. “Can we call it even for the weekend?”

“I don’t know, Jack. I don’t know if I can say goodbye to you again.” the intensity and curiosity of his eyes made her feel lightweight, and maybe that’s why the words spilled out on their own. “I still love you like the very first day.”

Jack swore he could cry from relief. She still loved him. After all those years away from each other. “God, I still love you too. You have no idea how much.”

Their foreheads were pressed together, and their lips were close enough that if they took one step forward, they would touch. “You have a girlfriend, Jack.”

Jack sighed, and cursed himself. Taking a step back, he looked her in the eyes. “We don’t have feelings for each other, I want you to know that. We are together because… I don’t know, our team says we look good on camera.”

The weight on her heart lifted, and she tried hard not to smile. “Okay, good to know.”

“Do you have a boyfriend? Or are you seeing someone?”

Y/N laughed, remembering all her date failures. “Nope”

“Have you dated someone since we broke up?” as soon as the question left his mouth, he regretted it.

“I have gone on a couple of dates, but no. I haven’t even kissed anyone- quit smiling, jackass” she poked him in the rib, making him squeak. “I’m still mad at you, but I guess we can call it even for the weekend.”

“Yeah? Will you be mine for the weekend?” Jack smirked.

Y/N gazed at his lips, totally hypnotised by them. “Rules!” she blurted out. “We need rules. No flirting, no hugging, no touching, no kissing. We are friends, okay?”

He backed her up against the counter, both arms on each side of her body, caging her in. She threw him a warning glance. “What? I’m not touching” he said innocently. “Either way, this friend thing and your rules won’t work.”

“Why? Enlighten me” Y/N frowned.

“We love each other, and we haven’t kissed in four years. Tension, babe, we can’t fight it for long”

“Those kinds of nicknames are also forbidden” Y/N said. “And speak for yourself, I’m so in control of my actions you don’t even know. I can fight the tension like a pro”

“Challenge accepted. I promise you that by the end of the weekend, when you are begging me to kiss you, I won’t mock you much”

Y/N raised on her toes, their noses almost bumping. “We both know you’ll be the one asking for that kiss first. And you’ll have to leave town defeated, cause I’m not giving in, Jack.”

Holy shit, I’m fucked, Jack thought as he stared open mouthed at the girl in front of him. Confidence was her best look and his newfound weakness.

JACK STOOD LOOKING LIKE A ZOMBIE ON THE PORCH OF HIS HOUSE, AND Y/N WAS EXACTLY HIS JUXTAPOSITION. Her eyes were a bit red, but other than that she glowed way too much for a person who was woken up at 6AM.

“What’s wrong, Hollywood? Too early for you?” Y/N joked when she arrived to the stairs of his house.

“Shut the fuck up.” he growled.

“Oh, someone’s grumpy this morning.” Y/N teased him. “Come on” she said, smiling at him as she extended her hand. “I made you brownies.”

Jack took her hand in an instant, making Y/N laugh, thinking she convinced him with the brownies. But he didn’t care about them, as long as Y/N kept smiling at him like that, he would followed her wherever she strayed.

Y/N drove the Jeep towards the beach, and Jack couldn’t even hide how mesmerised he was by the sight of the wind blowing her hair as she sang her lungs out to I Think He Knows by Taylor Swift.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Jack couldn’t help saying, making her look at him. “I’m not even flirting, I’m just stating a fact—you are so gorgeous.”

She blushed heavily and Jack smiled proudly. The fact that she still loved him felt surreal to him. “So are you, pretty boy.”

When they arrived to the isolated beach, they set a big blanket on the floor. As they ate their breakfast, they watch the sunrise unfold in front of their eyes. Once the daylight embraced them, they looked at each other and smiled softly. It was their last day together, the next day, in the morning, Jack would be going back to LA and leave her behind once again. There was sadness lingering in the air, but none of them dared to acknowledge it and ruin the beautiful mood.

“Can I hug you?” Jack asked, the need to wrap his arms around her frame was so intense that he had caught his limbs absentmindedly reaching towards her more times than he’d like to admit.

“I said no hugging” she answered, trying to sound firm, but Y/N wanted his arms around her as much as he did.

“Yeah, but this is… a friendly hug. Friendly hugs are permitted, right?”

“Sure, whatever” she nodded, and they both let the lie slide.

She tangled her arms around his waist and settled her head on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeats. Jack’s head rested on the crook of her neck, his long eyelashes tickling her skin, and his long arms covered her whole back and squished her more against his frame, making her laugh.

“Look at you, already bending the rules. Next thing you know, you’ll be asking me to kiss you” Jack muttered.

Her heart stuttered, maybe he wasn’t wrong. But she was too proud to give up so she said, “In your dreams, Champion.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely in those.” he said, and Y/N felt the outline of his smile on her naked shoulder. How was she going to go back to being without his presence again?

ON THE AFTERNOON, Y/N WAS READY TO TAKE A MUCH NEEDED NAP WHEN SHE HEARD A TAP ON HER WINDOW. With a scowl, she opened it and met Jack’s brown eyes that gleamed innocently at her.

“What are you doing?” he asked entering the room stealthily. “Stop frowning so much, you’re going to get creases.”

“I would, but some asshole knocked on my window right when I was about to take a nap, which obviously put me in a bad mood.” Y/N crossed her arms on her chest, and Jack wanted to pinch her cheeks.

“Oh, so this asshole arrived on time for a nap, then“ Jack said, plopping himself in her bed.

“Are you out of your mind? You’re not sleeping on my bed, Champion.”

“Um, well, good luck trying to get me off this bed.” he said with a mischievous tone as he laid under the covers. “Come on, we can build a pillow wall if you want.”

Pillow walls never worked with them. Jack, in his sleep, would roll over them and lock his arms around her waist. And maybe that’s exactly why she agreed.

They both slept peacefully in each other’s arms, but then the morning came. Jack woke up happily at the sight of the girl he loved resting on his chest, but then it was like a bucket of ice cold water was dropped on him. He was leaving in a few hours.

He dragged himself out of the bed, left a note on her bedside table and with heavy steps he reached the window. He sneaked one last look, his heart breaking by having to leave the warmest bed he had ever known and the only girl he had truly loved behind.

JACK SCANNED HIS SURROUNDINGS ANXIOUSLY, WAITING FOR HIS GIRL TO ARRIVE TO SAY GOODBYE. He had left her a note saying that he understood if she didn’t want to go farewell him, yet a part of him hoped to see her one last time.

“Jack! Sorry, am I late? I overslept, and when I didn’t see you I started to freak out and just ran out of the house.” she spoke in between pants. Jack grinned, she was still in her pjs and looked extremely flushed.

“You arrived just in time” he assured her. She nodded, and they stayed silent for a few seconds. “I’m going to miss you.”

Y/N jumped into his arms “Me too, Jack. I love you.”

“I love you. And as much as I want to, I won’t ask you to wait.” Jack said, resting his back on the side of the car as he held Y/N in his arms.

“And I won’t ask you to stay.” she said. “But if you are ever tired of being known for who you know, you know you’ll always know me.”

“I’ll text you” Jack said to her. “Seriously, I’m going to text you so much, and I’m going to facetime you to show you the sets I work at, and make you practice lines with me.”

Y/N smiled in relief, and then smirked at him. “Yeah, well, as your number one fan I seriously expect those privileges.”

Jack rolled his eyes in affection before pulling a serious face. “I’m fine with being the loser.”

“What?”

He turned them around, so that she was now between the side of his car and his body. “I said, I’m fine with being the loser. Please kiss me.”

Y/N pushed him down, and years of love presented themselves in one anticipated kiss. Their lips moved as if trying to make up for the lost time, for all those years they had been concealing the overwhelming amount of mutual love they had in their bodies.

“I lost too, I said I wouldn’t give in.” she whispered breathlessly against his lips, her warm breath sent chills all over his body.

“Totally. Worth. It” Jack pecked her lips in between words, leaving her in a complete state of drunkness.

A few minutes later, the car started and Y/N watched him leave for the second time, but she was really optimistic about their relationship this time. You don’t know what you got until it’s gone, and now that they had experienced the loss, they were never letting go again.

#jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion oneshot #jackchampion #jack champion imagine #jack champion fluff #jack champion fanfic #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry fic #ethan landry oneshot

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malum-forev · 11 months

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Reputation: Endgame

Summary: Bucky is sooo Reputation coded so, here's Endgame by Taylor Swift (Bucky's Version)

Previous: ...Ready For It?

The quinjet was quiet, nothing more than the constant sound of the engine. Neither you nor Bucky hadn’t spoken a word since you left the country you were hiding in but, it didn’t feel awkward.

You’d heard he was a man of a few words and you were used to being in silence. Since fleeing the Red Room, you’d been traveling alone. Solo travel takes a whole new meaning when you’re hiding from the world and from your past.

“You’re a hard person to find.” Bucky broke the silence.

“I know.” Your simple response made Bucky scoff. He was mid eyeroll when you turned to him. “Is there a problem?”

He shook his head. “Not a problem, just a- let’s call it a full circle moment.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your jaw slacked.

“Most of the times when I get mission reports, the target is very vague. Hair color, ethnicity, age range, a picture if I’m lucky but with you, I got a full manuscript. Off the record obviously because there is no actual record of you anywhere.” A whisper of a smug smile hovered over Bucky’s lips. “I don’t usually pay attention to what is written of people because it’s usually bullshit but with you, they’ve got you down to a T.”

Bucky has the audacity to shrug his shoulders! Like it was the most casual thing ever. The man you met barely an hour ago, who by the way has the worst reputation ever, thinks he can read you like a book.

“Is that right?” Your molars grinded together. “What did they warn you about?”

“Egocentric, narcissistic, selfish,”

Bucky was ready to keep spilling more kind words about you but you interrupted. “Glad to know Natasha thinks highly of me.”

“Just to name a few.” Bucky’s eyes were set forward, the right side of his lips curved upwards. “Big reputation.”

Now you scoffed. “You and me, buddy. We got big reputations.”

His playful expression hardened, like you had poked a side of him that immediately lifted the iron gates.

“Now’s not the time to get serious. You heard all of my worst qualities and you still decided to come on this rescue mission. You have to be a special kind of messed up to do that.” You laughed. “You heard about me so, you know I’ve got some big enemies but I know you’re on the same boat as myself.”

Your light tone was chipping away at the ice. He’d frozen, no pun intended, that part of himself a long time ago. When he was ‘normal’ (a term Dr. Raynor had told him time and time again he shouldn’t use) he loved to banter. It was his preferred method of flirtation and just conversation in general. But now, he truly felt like a fish out of water. The times had completely changed and he felt like sometimes he had to process information on a first-generation computer when the people around him were living in a world he’d only seen on TV.

“If only the people who are out to get us knew we were in the same plane,” Bucky said. “We’d be a big conversation.”

The plane fell silent again, the comfortable void caressed your shoulders. Like a whisper of something you’d never felt before suddenly became familiar.

“It’s not true, you know.” Bucky cleared his throat. “What they say about me. Most of what they say I did isn’t true. My reputation, it doesn’t precede me.”

“Well, I heard you once took down a whole Hydra base with only one gun and a couple of knives.” You nudged on. “And that was after the Winter Soldier.”

“I actually did that with only knives.” He turned to look at you with a smile.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone look more beautiful smiling. He tugged his lower lips in between his pearly whites and the sides of his eyes crinkled. He threw his head back and a bubbling laughter invaded his body. It was a little bit hoarse, like he was out of practice.

How long had it been since he’d laughed? You wondered.

“That’s not true.” He said once he came back, shaking his head. “The media loves to twist the narrative. They needed a bad boy on the team and I just happened to be the closest thing they could find.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing because never in your whole life did you think you would hear The Winter Soldier refer to himself as a ‘bad boy’.

“That’s what they like.” He shrugged his shoulders.

Your eyes roamed his body. From his short brunet hair to his beautiful blue eyes that shone like the night sky you saw in the windshield. Down to his short scruffy beard that made you want to run your hands against it. Feel the rough texture, touch him. To his muscular arms, you could see the definition through his thin shirt, the sleeves had been bunched up near his elbow revealing his forearms. Veiny and thick making you want to-

You snapped your head forward, forcing yourself to concentrate on the sky in front of you. You cannot think about him like this. This is just a mission. Nothing more. That means no touching an no thinking because those two things only lead to missing him, hurting him, or worse, becoming another ex-love.

You’re not trying to play, you’re trying to get to Natasha and work.

Your cold shift made Bucky rethink your entire conversation. Had he said something to upset you? Did he go over the line? Were his thoughts true or are they his past issues coming back? He’s got chips on both his shoulders and it shows. There he goes again with the negative self-talk.

Sometimes Bucky wished he could shut his brain off, find the master switch and go to bed. Some days it was easier to manage than others and he’d found a way to ignore it, it was easier this way. But the days where it was harder to ease, those were true battles. His flaws, paranoia and insecurities lurked in the back of his mind like monsters in the closet.

He’s made mistakes and made some very bad choices, that’s hard to deny but sometimes he wishes he could just forget. But with a reputation as big as his, it’s hard to get a clean slate.

The quinjet started its descent into the Avengers compound, the white building in your sights. As you got closer the plane felt bumpier, the wind was not in your favor and the landing was getting complicated. You snaked your hand on the center console at the same time as Bucky, effectively placing your hands on top of his. You felt a sudden jolt of energy that eased your nerves as your skin touched his but it was taken away far too soon.

Your throat felt dry and you tried to push any sign of nervousness deep into that rarely visited vault in your brain. You tried to forget the feeling but you couldn’t.

You went through a dark cloud and the rest of the landing was smooth. Your body ached from the long flight and the only thing you wanted was to get off. It had nothing to do with you wanting to get as far away from Bucky as you could, nothing to do with the strange reaction your body had to him.

Bucky lead you through the compound, the tall walls and windows made you feel more isolated than ever. Sure, you’d been alone for a long time but here it felt like the loneliness seeped into your bones.

“You’re safe here.” Bucky said, just above a whisper, leading you down a long corridor into the kitchen. “You don’t need to feel scared.”

You opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out.

Bucky opened the refrigerator and pulled something out, taking it to the microwave. Bucky rested both of his hands on the edge of the kitchen island.

“I don’t feel scared.” You finally got out, straightening your back.

Bucky’s blue eyes softened. “I’m just saying it’s okay if you do. I know I felt that way when I got here. When you’re on the run, you’ve got nothing to lose. You’re used to the feeling of independence but here, you feel watched. Scrutinized.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Did he have the ability to look into your soul? It was the only possible answer. He was calling your bluff on all your usual tricks like it was nothing.

You bit your bottom lip, debating whether you should open yourself to him, you were sure it had turned deep red now.

“I usually am always the first to know everything. I always know what happens next and I plan for everything. Even when missions are over and I’ve buried hatchets, I keep maps of where I put them just in case.” You said with a laugh to try and mask the truth you spoke. “But this, Nat sending you to find me, I never expected this. I just- don’t know what happens next.”

“I guess your reputation precedes you.” Bucky said with a smile, taking the food out of the microwave. Your nostrils flooded with the delicious scent of your favorite meal. He pushed the container towards you, slapping on a post it note from Natasha. Welcome home. It said. “They told me you’re crazy.”

A true smile ripped through you.

“I swear I don’t love the drama.” You promised. “It loves me.”

The two of you ate directly from the container, too exhausted to take plates out. Conversation died down and the silence came back. Only a few hums here and there and some stolen glances. His eyes were like liquor, tempting you and his body like gold, wanting to bring you in. You focused back on your food, wanting to erase the handprint he left on your soul from the second you saw him first, only a few hours ago.

Author's Note: Hi hiiii I hope you guys like this second part!! If you do, you know the drill, please comment reblog and like! As always my asks are always open <3

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour

*Any gifs posted are not my own and I give the artist full credit.

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katyawriteswhump · 24 days

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power of love, part 16

Alternate ending S4: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 17

Steve POV

Two soldiers escort Steve into the former Soviet base. He’s gotten his wrists cuffed behind his back, which makes his shoulder ache miserably. His bare feet are bruised and icy-cold—much worse than in the stupid ditch—and his thoughts race as wildly as his pulse:

The army is using the Soviet base. Okay, I was right about that. I was right and it sucks, because Robin was righter, and I have no clue what I’m supposed to do. I can’t even hear the crazy-ass water thing anymore. Oh my God, oh my God!

The apparently endless corridor reaches a spacious hall with racks of weapons. It reminds Steve of somewhere the evil emperor would hang out in Star Wars. Talking of bad dudes—a guy with a shitload of medal ribbons paces over.

“Colonel O’Sullivan,” says one of Steve’s guards. “This one says he’s Eddie Munson.”

A small tank loaded with an antiaircraft gun rolls by. Steve disguises a sniffle behind a mocking laugh. “I’m flattered. Did I make the FBI most-wanted list?”

“If you mean ‘did Eddie Munson make it?’ then no,” says O’Sullivan, matter-of-factly. “You and I both know he didn’t murder those kids. It is simply convenient for the public to believe so. Whereas you, Steve Harrington?” Steve can’t suppress a flinch, and clings to his only comfort—Eddie got away. “I get why you lied. You’re up to your ears in far worse trouble, so let’s cut to the chase. Where’s the girl, Steve?”

“What girl?”

O’Sullivan raises his arm sharply. Steve’s gotten a sudden urge to shout, I work for Scoops Ahoy. He’s gonna get hit, and it’s not going to go well, and all his worst fears rip through him like a tornado:

I died here before. Unless I dreamed it all, and what happened with the weather was JUST THE GODDAMN WEATHER, and I never drowned, and I don’t have superpowers, and it’s all a mad coincidence, and I’ve literally gone nuts.

O’Sullivan, nevertheless, hasn’t hit him. Instead, he presses a hand to Steve’s back, above his cuffed wrists. He steers Steve around to look across the vast room. “You see this impressive facility?”

Steve slows his shuddering breaths enough to say: “G-got these things called eyes. Can’t exactly m-miss it.”

“It was built by the Soviet invaders,” continues O’Sullivan. “We shouldn’t give them too much credit. These tunnels beneath Hawkins were already here. Some of them were old waterways, and others—Brenner’s pet made those. With the power of her twisted mind.”

That is a total bunch of bull!

O’Sullivan turns to confront Steve, his face carved with stern lines. “Do you not understand? We are being gentle, because of your age and medical history. Nevertheless, those who protect Eleven are traitors to this country. Traitors must be eliminated. SHE must be eliminated.”

O’Sullivan keeps talking. Blah, blah, blah! Steve tunes out, anger simmering way hotter than his fear. He doesn’t even know El that well. She’s still one of the kids. His kids. I’d do anything to protect them. Anything… Anything.

Finally, he feels the water, thrumming in his blood. Even better, he’s starting to get it.

That scream. That fire-and-fucking-fury tide sweeping through the tunnels. These are waterways, carved by nature, ancient and beautiful. At least, they were once. Like Lovers Lake, they’ve been violated by the Vecna and the Upside Down. Then by the Soviets and now by these knuckleheads, who seem little better…

He hears that strange voice again, the caressing whisper that drew him here: You are home, Steve. You know what you must do.

To be fair, he’s not exactly sure. All the same, he jerks his chin up, curls his lip: “I’m not gonna tell you shit.”

“Poor decision, son.” O’Sullivan nods emphatically at some guy hovering behind Steve. “Put him in with the other one. Let’s see what happens.”

“The other one? What the f—? Who!?!” Steve’s bravado dies in an instant. Oh my God, they caught Robin, and I’m gonna have to do something, and I still don’t know how! I can’t let them hurt her. Oh crap! OH CRAP!

His knees sag, and he’s scared his feet will fly from under him. The guards grab his arms and drag him away.

A door swings open, revealing a small box of a room. Steve absorbs the sight of Eddie curled in a corner, bare footed also, spattered with mud. The world stops spinning for several seconds. Then Steve’s uncuffed, shoved inside, and the door slams closed behind.

Eddie scrambles up, more doe-eyed and crumpled than ever. Steve lunges forward, grabbing him by the front of his t-shirt and shaking him hard: “You total braindead moron! What the hell are you doing here?”

…

Eddie POV

Eddie has spent the last ten minutes picking at his dirty nails and going completely out of his head. Then the door flies wide, and Steve is pushed into the poky cell-like room.

He stares at Eddie through a mass of messy hair, with huge eyes that seemed to have swallowed the anger and pain of an entire galaxy. A dozen resentful thoughts riff through Eddie’s head, ending with: Oh, Stevie, Sweetheart. Not you too.

He launches himself out of the corner where he’s wedged himself. He’s about to fling his arms around Steve, when Steve grabs him by the front of his t-shirt and shakes him so hard his teeth rattle: “You total braindead moron! What the hell are you doing here?”

Eddie shoves him off: “What d’ya think I’m doing? Come for the vibes? Oh, and thanks for the note. Real touching, man.”

“Yeah, that was a bust, seeing as HERE YOU ARE, HAWKINS’ MOST DIMWITTED FREAKSHOW!” Steve rubs his wrists, then squares his shoulders with a touch of King Steve swagger, that… Oookay, this does not ring true. “You know what? I’m happy these suckers didn’t get one of my real friends—you do make me wanna hurl. You know that?”

“Why are you spouting this crap?” He scans Steve quickly, seeking any obvious fresh injury. “You’re not being straight with me. What happened? Did they hurt you?”

Steve’s teeth pinch his lower lip, stained red where he’s repeatedly chewed it. Then the barest whisper: “No… no. You?”

“No. Oh Christ, Stevie, I get it, okay? What you wrote.” Eddie moves in for the hug again. Steve jolts away super-quick. Eddie jolts too, half-expecting to be headbutted.

“I had everything handled, and now… now… I HATE YOU!” yells Steve. Then, leaning closer, impossibly soft: “They’re watching us, Eddie, I’m sure. If they think I care, they’ll hurt you to get me to talk and… and Jesus Christ, I haven’t a clue what’s real anymore. All I know is I’m sorry… and I need to kiss you.”

Steve’s mouth barely brushes Eddie’s, yet the tingling, breathy warmth, the goddamn undiluted sweetness—it slams a sledgehammer blow straight into Eddie’s heart. Then Steve moans, sways backward.

Goddamit, he kissed me. Oh shit, and he wasn’t kidding. I MAKE HIM SICK!

Eddie lunges to catch Steve, never makes it. The door swings open again, and Steve collides with that instead.

To Eddie’s relief, Steve’s not totally out of it. He rights himself, shakes his head blearily. A dude with a ton of ribbons and shiny gold bling—the dreaded Colonel O’Sullivan, Eddie guesses—steps in, flagged by a couple of his henchmen.

One of them grabs Steve, wrenching his arms behind him. O’Sullivan regards Eddie like something he’s scraped off the bottom of his boot, then performs a smart about-turn and seizes Steve’s drooping chin.

“Tell us what you know about the girl, Harrington. Or Loverboy’s gonna wish he’s never been born.”

Part 17

...

I promise good things will happen for these two starting next chapter… Sorry for the cliffy, but it’s all in the name of my stupid plot (for what it’s worth!)

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology @finntheehumaneater If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 17

#steddie #steve harrington #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington whump #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #steddie fanfiction #stobin #steve harrington hc #platonic stobin #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington fanfic #steve stranger things

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krisvsthew0rld · 3 months

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I've been thinking about this while making sandwiches for the last like 10 minutes and i feel like i should just get it out somewhere

(*please* tell me if this needs trigger warnings)

i just played buckshot roulette a little while ago and first off, great game, another one of those rare games that come in randomly and create a conversation a hundred times bigger than the game itself, and in this case, deservedly so! i especially liked the tension of pulling the trigger of a shotgun on yourself *point blank*, it is immense, as it should be, and the best part is that it never gets any easier no matter how many times you end up shooting yourself. but that's not really my point with this post.

the point i wanna make is the response I've seen only once but that worried me a lot nevertheless.

mike klubnika, the creator of buckshot roulette (and a few other great games) is russian. and i am ukrainian. now, i personally dont have a problem with mike just because of that, i know better than to blindly hate people because they're 'the other', plus his games outside of roulette almost universally have themes of resisting authority, and somehow i feel that was not born out of nowhere. which is to say i dont think he's a fan of the Current World Event going on between our countries. (needless to say, i'm also having a fucking terrible time living in war, and am not a huge fan of being invaded by russia. i'm only adding this because this is the No Reading Comprehension website.)

despite that, not too long ago, in a ukrainian art server i joined i saw an offhand comment from one user on someone else's piece of buckshot roulette fanart that worried me instantly, (and that was before i ever really bothered to play BR or look into mike's previous games, so it worries me even more now that i know more about the dev!). the comment went something like 'wow i love the game a lot, but the creator is RUSSIAN >:(' which, yeah that is, again, an offhand comment which didnt have much thought put into it, so why am i getting so worked up about it? because it is kind of indicative of the fact that said person only really hates the creator *because he's THE OTHER.* if they bothered to look into just his itch io page and think about any of the games which are not BR, they might have found that hey, they seem to universally have a message i agree with and one of the games just straight up all but screams 'WAR BAD.'

all that to say, i feel like recently, nationalism has been on a steady rise in ukraine. obviously there is a good reason to be upset, very much so, but going down the road of blind hate is terrible, and only leads to where russia is today - a country ruled over by a senile old man, who blindly hates the country neighboring his own, and who successfully tricked most of his own people into doing the same. that tiny little offhand comment isnt the only one that i've seen that showcases this kind of nationalism but it might be one of the most blind and stupid cases.

tldr: nationalism is on the rise in ukraine and i'm afraid

#kris rambling #buckshot roulette #now to add onto this: there is very much a conversation to be had about how a lot of people in ukraine consume russian media #which generates profit for russia which they then send over to us in the form of bombs.#however.#an indie gamedev who asks a measly 1 dollar 20 cents for his game is not the problem here.#the real problem is giant media corporations that produce the vast majority of said profit.

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melanieph321 · 3 months

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Pedri x Black Reader - Our Secret Part 3/10

*Pedri's POV

⚠️Warning ⚠️

*mentioning of needles

The story of Marcella and Pedri. As students of the most prestigious high schools in the country, the two are very focused on developimg their indvidual talents. Marcella has music whilst Pedri has football. However, worlds collide when Pedri's secret is revealed, he has diabetes.

Enjoy!

A day in the life of Pedri. He woke up to the sunlight invading his bedroom. He yawned and turned over, reaching for his phone to confirm that "Jupp" he had indeed slept through his alarm.

After taking a few minutes to say goodbye to his bed, Pedri stood and made his way towards the bathroom. He brushed his teeth in front of the mirror in the same way he always did, from the bottom left to the bottom right. Followed by the top right, to the top left. This routine has never changed in his eighteen years of life. One thing had changed however, and Pedri hated this part of his morning routine. He back up in front of the bathroom mirror, viewing his full body. Alot of people like what they saw, outlined abs, tanned skin and a hairless chest. Pedri however, hated it, because only he knew that his body was broken.

He sighed clipping the lid if his insulin pen. The nurses in the hospital showed him how to do it correctly, but it never managed to feel right. He pinched the skin on his belly and pierced the needle through it. It hurt and would never seize to hurt. The doctors recommend that he brought at least three or four needles with him to school, Pedri however, only brought one.

Good morning cariño, did you sleep well?"

"Yes Mami."

She put a plate of scrambled eggs on the table, pulling out a chair for him to take a seat. Since his diganos of type 1 diabetes last year, his mother made it clear that eating breakfast was not negotiable. She kissed him on the cheek once he sat down. "Don't forget to help your father at the restaurant after school. He's gonna need all hands on deck to prepare for Martina's quinceanera this weekend."

"Isn't Martina a little too old to be having a quinceanera?"

She was about Pablo's age and Pedri only knew that because his friend had a huge crush on her and wouldn't stop talking about her during training.

"Yes, but Martina and her family moved from Mexico when she was fifteen and did not have time to throw her one then, so your father and I are helping them throw one now."

"Why can't Fernando help? I have training this afternoon."

His mother left the sink and returned to him, kissing the top of Pedri's head. I know you do cariño. But you know how your father is, he wants you and your brother to get along again."

"Making us decorate the whole restaurant in pink won't bring us closer together, trust me."

To Pedri his older brother was dead to him. He died when he got put in jail for drinking and driving, and stayed dead upon his release three months ago. No. Pedri only had one brother and that was Pablo Gavi.

"Pedrito!"

The little bastard had yet gotten his driver's license so every morning Pedri took the liberty to pick him up and drive him to school.

"It's a beautiful day, no?" Pablo walked down his driveway, hair still dripping from his shower as he got into the passenger seat.

"You're in a surprisingly good mood, why?"

"Love, Pedrito. I'm in love."

"Of course you are."

"Guess who invited me to a party this weekend."

"Martina?"

Pablo frowned. "How did you know?"

"Her family is throwing her quinceanera at the restaurant. I'm suppose to go down there this afternoon and help decorate."

"Can I come?"

"She won't be there Pablo."

"She might." He said, draping the seat belt over himself. "And what have I told you about calling me by my first name. I'm known as Gavi now."

It was an honor for any player to make it into the Estudios Filántropos football squad. Being formally adressed by once last name came along with that honor, that's how people in the streets knew that you could play.

"How about you stop calling me Pedrito, then we can talk."

Pablo chuckled. "Don't make me get rid of Pedrito. It sounds so cute."

"Cute, eh?"

"Yes. Isn't that what Rosie shouts when you make her..."

Pedri's hand left the steering, smacking his friend upside the head.

"Puta!" Pablo rubbed a hand where it hurt the most.

"Don't talk about her like that."

"It was a joke. A joke man."

"Yeah, but we don't joke about stuff like that."

Locker room talk. Pedri had worked hard to get rid of the misogyny within his football squad. As the captain he worked to install the players to focus only on what was important during training. What they did and how they behaved outside of the pitch he couldn't careless. Although he cared how Pablo spoke about women outside of training. To him Pablo was his successor and needed the right values handed to him as soon as possible, even if it meant handing out a slap or two now and then.

"Why are we just standing here." His friend complained. "We'll be late for school, drive!"

Pablo was right, however Pedri's car remained parked alongside the sidewalk. His attention was drawn to the house next door to Pablo's. The house where she lived.

"What is it, what are you waiting for?"

Just as his friend asked the question she emerged out of her house, grabbing the bike parked in her driveway.

"You've got to be kidding me." Pablo sighed. "Not this again."

Pedri rolled down the window. "Hey Marcella!"

Passing his car she looked to him with furrowed brows. "What do you want?"

"You need a ride?"

"No." She snorted and waited until she got on the road to mount her bike, disapearing with it down the street.

"Everyday." His friend shook his head. "Everyday since, what, Tuesday? Everyday day since Tuesday you've been waiting for Marcella to come out of her house, asking her if she wants to ride with us to school. Why? Is it because I hit her with the ball? Is that it, do you feel bad for her? Because I told you that she was crazy, didn't I?"

Pedri smirked as he reached for the button to push the car to a start. The two of them left Pablo's driveway on their way to school.

"Like what's your deal, you're into crazy chicas now?"

Pedri found it funny, letting Pablo's words slide without a slap.

"I mean she not ugly." He said. "But did I tell you about the time she glued my hand to a wall."

There were many stories like that, of Pablo and Marcella. Apperently the two had been neighbors all their lives, thier parents even throwing cookouts together in the summer. Pedri had asked alot about Marcella lately. If Pablo could tell him about what she was like. Her personality and such. "Crazy." Was his friends answer.

"If you're dumping Rosie for Marcella can I have a shot with her incase Martina rejects me this weekend?"

Pedri smiled, "What makes you think you have a shot with a girl like Rosie?"

"She's into footballers, no? I'm ten times better player than you are."

"You wish."

"Watch me play a full ninety minutes on Friday. At least coach won't sub me off after halftime like he does you. Shouldn't that be illegal, subbing off the team captain? They should make Rodriguez captain, he's a goalkeeper, he never gets subbed off."

Pedri let Pablo go on with his rambling, not knowing that his words had struck him right where it hurts. Yes, Pedri's diabetes was discovered after one of his coaches suggested he got checked out for his worsened stamina. It had all come up on his first visit, the reasons for suddenly feeling drowsy and unable to perform during training. The doctor told him that his body had stopped producing a hormone called insulin, causing his glucose levels to drop, resulting in his severe health problems. The day Pedri found out that his body was broken was the day he started fearing for his dreams of becoming a football player.

"Hola clase, today's lessons is...."

School went by in a flash. Pedri didn't share any lessons with Pablo since the two weren't in the same grade. However, he did share most of his lessons with Rosie. Apart from the occasional hook up, she was also a good friend.

"Guess what?" She said, stopping him in the hallway to peck his lips with her own.

"What?" He smiled, as she was quick to wipe away the excess lipstick that had rubbed off on him.

"Angie and I made a bet."

"A bet? Sounds fun."

"It is. I bet that I will make out with whichever player scores the winning goal on Friday."

Pedri raised a brow.

She nipped a few hairstrands off his t-shirt. "Make sure it's you."

With that she strutted down the hallway, looking back to make sure that Pedri was checking her out.

He was.

"Man, did you hear?"

There was commotion as Pedri joined his teammates. Most of them sat gathered around one table during lunch hour.

"What?" He asked Pablo, who looked to want to fill him in on what was going on.

"Coach is gonna make us run windsprints for today's warm up. WARM UP."

"Windsprints." Pedri frowned. "In April?"

"Yeah, and we have a game on Friday, I can't be sore for that."

"Strange, must be something up."

"It doesn't matter. The team wants you to talk to him, tell him to cancel the warm up, or at least change it."

"Why me?"

"You're the captain, aren't you?

And it came with his perks. All eyes were on him, his teammates nodding their heads, agreeing with Pablo.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do?"

He left lunch early, although his mother would curse him out for that. However it was best to get his rest now incase coach wouldn't change his mind about the windsprints this afternoon. He made it to the far ends of the building, where the school had its auditorium. There was a classroom near by, the door unlocked. Pedri plotted down on the old sofa behind a dusty keyboard. There he could hear señor Garcia tinkering away on his piano, and Marcella, warming up her throat as she was getting ready to sing. There were others singing along with her, but Pedri preferred to focus on Marcella's voice. It brought him comfort as he removed the lid off his insulin pen with his teeth, pinching the skin of his belly. Pedri squinted his eyes as the needle went into him, followed by the pain of inserting the insulin. He fell back against the warn out pillows, relaxing his muscles after tensing up during his shot. He drifted off to sleep to the sound of her voice, Marcella, with a voice like no other.

#fanfiction #football imagine #fc barcelona #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst #pedrito #pedri #pedri x reader #pedri x black reader #pedri/gavi #gavi #pablo gavi

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thebrightestwitchofherage · 4 months

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December 19th, 73 days since October 7th

TLDR- I am sick of seeing Hamas propaganda here. People here are posting literal blood libels and mistranslated quotes.

After taking a break from social media for the rest of Chanuka, your favorite Zionist is back. Don't worry though, once again, people who never had any interest in this tiny piece of land, continue to tell me, a Jewish Israeli, that I have got my history and facts wrong, while they know better than I do. To that, I have 2 answers: 1. I am just a student who wants to live in peace. I am not a "zionist demon" or a "genocidal killer".

When I call myself a Zionist, all it means is that I'm a Jewish woman who would like to live peacefully in her homeland. I don't inherently support war or death from any side because I am a Zionist. 2. I actually live here, born and raised, and so were my grandparents. How delusional and condescending can you be to suggest that you, a Western person who only found out about this conflict a while ago on Tiktok, know better than an Israeli??? More on double standards Sometimes I wonder why most of you didn’t have such a strong reaction to any other war & civil war going on right now: in Ukraine/ Yemen/Congo and Syria**, etc. Considering the amount of antisemitic hate anons I've received I have a feeling why...

**Which directly affected the lives of most Palestinians.

As I've said in previous posts- It’s easy to throw around big words you don’t understand. There is no apartheid as all Israeli citizens have the same rights. - Gaza is not occupied by Israel- it’s been returned multiple times in history ( just to name a few: 1956,1987,2006...).

*Even when it was under Israel’s control, all it meant was that there were approximately 10 Jewish settlements in Gaza*. The Israeli military presence was to protect those people& prevent terror attacks.

Blood Libels

In addition to the lies and the poor mistranslations from Hebrew, I have also received \ seen an alarming amount of Nazi Propaganda. -you say that you’re anti-Zionist and not anti-Semitic, yet you use antisemitic rhetoric…

Comparisons between Israelis and Nazis -Comparing Israelis to Nazis is wrong on so many levels.

In case you aren't aware, the holocaust was a premeditated and carefully planned genocide, that lasted 6 years. 6 MILLION Jews were killed and all of their possessions were stolen. It followed hundreds of years of persecution, violence, and discriminatory laws. They were also starved and enslaved in different sorts of manual labor, in addition to being experimented on. They were held in Ghettos and concentration camps. In the aftermath of the war, Jews were completely driven out of their land and face prosecution across the world to this day. The existence of Israel allows Jews to live free of that. The Israel-Hamas war following October 7th is a war against a terrorist organization that invaded Israel and massacred its civilians. Unfortunately, due to Hamas' tactics, there are a lot of Palestinian civilian casualties. While they are wrong- the treatment of Palestinians and the bombing of Gaza are nothing like what the Nazis did.

Debunking some misconceptions I've seen on Viral posts here: -No, we Jews do not control the media and global banks. At least invent something new, this is giving Medivel blood libels used by the church lol. -We do not go around killing innocent Palestinian babies for fun. We have laws and a moral compass (Shocking I know). We do not go and kidnap people or rape women for fun either. Do you know who does that? Hamas, the terrorist organization. -We're not all white, this conflict does not revolve around race: There are many Jewish Israelis from the same countries that Palestinians originated from (i.e: Egyptian & Jordanian Jews ). -Israelis perceive Palestinians as lesser human'- This claim is usually supported by mistranslation of Hewbew and out-of-context Interviews. The phrase חיות אדם (Chayot Adam, savages, acting like animals) was obviously often used to describe Hamas terrorists who took part in the October 7th masssacre. We do not call or treat Palestinians as "animals" or savages. All of the referenced instances were about those Hamas terrorists.

-There isn't a 'Gaza Ministry of Health', it's all Hamas. The number of Palestinian casualties and other claims they make are not to be trusted. Most of the casualties are terrorists.

So what is my point?

It is important to note that am not ignoring any of the Palestinian deaths. I’m not saying they should die either. Please stop assuming I do!!

All I’m saying is that Israeli victims matter as well. For some reason, some people cannot comprehend that Israeli civilians do not deserve to die just because of where they live.

You wouldn’t call for the death of all Americans/ Europeans/ South Africans etc… while they committed actual genocide & apartheid.

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whump-me · 4 months

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Conquest, Chapter 28: Perfectly Defeated

Chapter 28 of Conquest, a novel-length fantasy whump story about a timid royal clerk captured by the disgraced prince who needs their help to rule their newly conquered country. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: fantasy setting, nonbinary whumpee, male whumper, broken whumpee, royal whumper, reluctant whumper, emotional whump, fantasy politics

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Miranelis

When Kezul brought Miranelis back to the stable that night, Miranelis sank onto the straw with their legs folded messily under them. They sat slumped against the wall like a discarded toy. They didn’t bother wondering why Kezul had brought them back to the stable himself, instead of assigning the task to one of his Wolves. Or why he stood in silence and watched them for a long moment before leaving. Maybe, if they had looked into Kezul’s face, they might have been able to gather some kind of clue. But why would they bother? It didn’t matter. And they weren’t supposed to look Kezul in the eye anyway.

They knew these things now. There were a lot of things they understood now that they hadn’t before. Like how all their fear had been pointless in the end. Whether they lived or died, there was no real difference. Either way, their life had ended the day the Wolves had invaded. The day they had been defeated.

They sat in the straw, not thinking, not feeling. Finally, their control was perfect. They weren’t able to show any emotions—they wouldn’t have been able to if they had wanted to. Because they finally felt none.

They knew they should be angry at the thought of Kezul. Or maybe they should have been afraid. But they felt neither one. They certainly didn’t feel any hope.

They might have slept. They weren’t sure. There no longer seemed to be any difference between sleeping and waking. There was darkness, and then there was light. There were periods of more awareness, and periods of less. But there were no real thoughts in their mind, nothing that went beyond a vague consciousness of their surroundings. There were no feelings. Not even when heavy footsteps echoed outside the stall. Not even when the rusted stall door squealed open and Kezul stood on the other side.

Kezul was talking. Miranelis shook their head and tried to focus. They didn’t know how long Kezul had been speaking, or why he was addressing Miranelis in the first place.

“It will have to be all the noble houses at once,” Kezul was saying. “That will make as big a spectacle as possible, and that way, none of them will have any advance warning. I’ll have them all brought here, under some pretext or other. For the ones who are on my side, or think they are, it will be easier. I can get them here with the prospect of… oh, I don’t know, some kind of negotiations. That would work, wouldn’t it? Do you think they would believe it?”

When Miranelis didn’t answer, Kezul went on. “The ones who are already planning to rebel, I’ll have to arrest out right,” Kezul continued. “Of course, the problem there is that it could spark the rebellion all on its own. That’s not what I want.”

But killing them all will spark the rebellion anyway, Miranelis thought, and wondered why some corner of their mind was bothering to engage at all. Better to sit quietly and think of nothing.

“But killing them all will spark the rebellion anyway,” said Kezul, and Miranelis’s head jerked up with a start. Kezul looked at them sharply, a question in his eyes.

Miranelis’s head slumped back down again. They didn’t say anything.

After a moment, Kezul spoke again. “It’s not what I want,” he sighed. “But it’s necessary. The rebellion will come one way or another. This way, it will happen on my terms. I’ll strike the first blow. I’ll control when the war begins. I’ll be ready.”

It’s not what’s necessary. Miranelis’s mind echoed with the words some part of them wanted to speak aloud, even though they knew there was no point. What you mean is that it’s what your father wants.

They half-expected Kezul to echo their thoughts again. But this time he didn’t. “I’ll need another pretext to get them here,” he said instead. “Something more subtle.” He looked at Miranelis.

That distant part of Miranelis’s mind, the part that still cared about all this for some reason, wanted to laugh in Kezul’s face. Did Kezul really think Miranelis would help him with this? If so, he should have asked for that help before he had shoved Miranelis into that pit and burned all the fear out of them.

“You’re good at subtle,” Kezul pressed. “Better than I am, at least.”

There was no resentment in his voice at having to ask a prisoner for something, no shame at admitting a prisoner might be better than him at anything. He certainly had come a long way. Under other circumstances, Miranelis might have found it funny.

Under other circumstances, Miranelis might have been proud of him.

“Well?” Kezul prompted. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

Miranelis stared down at the straw. They didn’t answer. It should have been obvious that they didn’t have anything to say, so they didn’t know why Kezul was still here, demanding advice. Whatever they said, it would make no difference; Kezul had made that clear.

If they didn’t give Kezul what he wanted, maybe he would beat them. Maybe he would force them to fight him again, place a knife in their hand and make them stand there while he went through the motions, until he claimed his inevitable victory. Maybe he would kill them. What did it matter? Miranelis knew the truth now—there was nothing to be afraid of. They were already dead.

Kezul took a step closer. He leaned down into Miranelis’s face. “Aren’t you going to call me a coward for not standing up to him?” He crossed the rest of the distance between them and tilted Miranelis’s chin up to meet his eyes.

For an instant, Miranelis was reminded of the first time they had ever stared into those eyes. As had happened that day, he seemed to fall forward into their black depths as they stretched to fill the entirety of their vision. But this time, there was no fear. This time, they welcomed it. They wished those eyes would yawn wider and swallow them whole.

“Well?” Kezul’s voice rose, filling their hearing the way his eyes filled their vision. “Say something.” Maybe Kezul was shouting. Maybe he was whispering. Miranelis couldn’t tell the difference. The sound was all-consuming either way.

If they gave Kezul what he wanted, maybe he would leave them to their silence.

“As the ruler of Danelor, you know what is best,” Miranelis said, in a voice of perfect neutrality, perfect control.

Kezul made a furious noise deep in his throat. “Don’t give me that. Tell me what you think. You were honest with my father the other day—you can’t be honest with me?”

“I have no advice to offer you,” said Miranelis. It was true. Once, they might have tried to figure out how to dig Kezul out of this hole and salvage what the two of them had built together. But there was no chance of that anymore. Maybe they had never had a chance. Maybe, like Miranelis, all of Danelor had been dead from the time the Wolves had marched over the mountains.

“If you have no advice, then what about your opinions?” Kezul demanded. “You certainly had enough of them before. Don’t you have anything to say about me doing exactly what my father wants?”

“You will do what is best,” Miranelis said, and closed their eyes. What they meant was that Kezul would do what he wanted, and nothing else mattered. Not Miranelis’s advice. Not what would help Danelor. Not even what Vorhullin the Unmaker demanded.

For Danelor now, there was no best. There was only what Kezul wanted. His will had scoured Miranelis clean, and soon it would scour Danelor, leaving it a ruin of famine and fire. Miranelis knew, now, that there had never been any point in fighting for themselves. Maybe there had never been any point in fighting for Danelor, either.

Kezul stood. He paced restlessly back and forth across the filthy straw. “I have to do it,” he said. He wasn’t looking at Miranelis. Miranelis didn’t know if he was talking to them anymore. “I have to do it, because otherwise they’ll rebel.”

He paced back and forth, back and forth. “They’ll rebel no matter what I do.”

Back and forth. “But this way, it will be my choice. It’s the only thing I can control. I can’t put things back the way they were. I can’t go on ruling the way we started off—it would never have worked.” He stopped in front of Miranelis. “Do you understand? We never had a chance.”

Miranelis said nothing. They hoped Kezul wouldn’t insist on an answer this time.

He didn’t. He resumed his pacing. “They never really respected me. The noble houses, Danelor—it was never real. They were afraid of me, that was all. I saw it in the eyes of that man at the Poets’ Academy, before it burned.”

Who had he spoken to before the academy had burned, and what words have been exchanged? And what had become of that man afterward? Miranelis knew the answer to that last question—he had burned like all the rest. But what did it matter? Like the rest of Danelor, the man had been dead already—he just hadn’t known it.

Miranelis took a breath and tried to smother the faint spark that flared to life inside them. There was no point. Like the fire that had destroyed the academy, the fire in them was long dead. There was nothing left but cold ash.

“They feared me,” said Kezul. “They hated me. And why shouldn’t they?” Back and forth. Back and forth. “And that was when I was helping them! Why did we ever think they would trust me enough to help me rebuild their country? That idea of ours, that we could do all this peacefully… it was always an illusion.”

Kezul’s restless footsteps paused. Their feet stopped in front of Miranelis. Miranelis didn’t look up, but they felt Kezul’s eyes on them.

Miranelis didn’t react. They didn’t even know what Kezul wanted from them. Agreement? Argument? Absolution?

Miranelis had nothing to give. They had left it all behind in the pit of bodies.

“I have to do it,” Kezul repeated. “If I don’t, my father will. And when I fail his test, there will be no more second chances. I’ll be dead, and you’ll be worse than dead. Do you understand?”

Miranelis said nothing.

Kezul leaned down and grasped Miranelis’s chin between his fingers. “If you think I’m bad, you don’t know what he would do to you. You’re lucky you’re with me. You’re lucky I broke you before he could. You know that, right?” He shook Miranelis’s head back and forth once, sharply, as if in emphasis.

“I understand,” said Miranelis in the same perfectly controlled voice, before Kezul could decide to shake them again.

Kezul’s fingers dug in tighter. They growled. “Don’t fawn at my feet like them. You don’t fear me like they do—not anymore. Isn’t that right?”

“I don’t fear you,” Miranelis echoed. It was the truth. What did they have to fear now?

“You’re smart enough to understand why I have to do this.” The fingers dug in still tighter, Kezul’s nails pressing painfully into Miranelis’s skin. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” Miranelis repeated obediently.

Abruptly, Kezul let go. Miranelis didn’t look up, but out of the corner of their eye, they saw Kezul shake his head, his brows drawn furiously down. “You’re just telling me what I want to hear. You’re not afraid, so stop acting like you’re afraid. Stop acting like all the rest!”

What did Kezul want? Miranelis had no fear left in them because they had nothing much of anything left in them. What was Kezul looking for, then, if not the echo that was all they had to give?

Miranelis glanced up, just long enough to get a look into Kezul’s eyes. Kezul’s eyes shone with fury, but there was something else buried deeply there. Not the hidden fear Miranelis had grown used to seeing. This was shame.

It was easy enough for Miranelis to recognize. They had felt enough of it themselves in the days since the conquest. Every time they proved themselves once again to be a coward.

Forgiveness, Miranelis realized with a sharp shock that briefly brought a flicker of fire back to life inside them. It hit them like the first prickles of a limb coming back to life after having fallen asleep. Like hunger pangs after a long illness. Like the first painful rays of sunlight interrupting a long sleep.

It was anger, Miranelis realized.

Kezul wanted forgiveness from them? After all this?

They didn’t want to be angry. They wanted to stay numb and empty. It was easier that way. It was easier to be dead, to be cold ashes. Anger would bring their inner fire back to life, and fire meant pain. Fire meant dying all over again.

“Tell me you understand,” Kezul was saying. “Tell me you know why I have to do this. Don’t pretend. Don’t act afraid. Tell me the truth, the way you used to. Give me your advice. Tell me I have to do this.”

Miranelis couldn’t give him what he wanted. Not if he wanted it to be real. If they succeeded in killing the fire inside them, they would have nothing to give. If they didn’t succeed, all they would have was anger. Either way, it wasn’t what Kezul wanted.

So they said nothing.

Kezul crouched down and leaned in toward Miranelis. He grabbed the side of Miranelis’s head and forced Miranelis’s eyes to him. “Tell me I have to do this!”

At the touch of Kezul’s hot breath on their face, their anger flared again. It felt like fire on bare skin, burning and bubbling until the flesh was gone. They didn’t want it. They tried to push it away. But like that day with the torch held against their arm, they were helpless to pull away. The burning grew, and it grew, and it grew.

They didn’t even know if they were angrier at Kezul or at themselves.

They had trusted Kezul when they shouldn’t have. They had trusted him despite all evidence. They had helped the man who had stolen the murdered queen’s throne.

They were worse than a coward. They were a traitor.

And then, in the end, Kezul had done what Miranelis should have always known he would do. He had rolled over for his father. He had done what Kyollen Naskor always did—he had destroyed in the name of Vorhullin the Unmaker.

Unexpectedly, Kezul sat down heavily in the straw. He heaved a sigh and leaned sideways against the wall. Miranelis found enough life within themselves to shrink back—not in fear, not this time, but in revulsion. Why was Kezul sitting with them like they were friends? They would have preferred it if he had screamed in their face.

“I wish we could have made it work,” Kezul said with a sigh. His voice took on a sharper edge again; so did his eyes. “But it was never possible.”

Miranelis’s revulsion turned to anger. Their hands clenched around the spiky bits of straw, driving it painfully into their palms. It was the least of their pains. They wanted to shove Kezul away as hard as they could. For one dizzying second, they thought they actually might.

What was Kezul doing? Did he actually think Miranelis would offer him reassurance? The way he was looking at Miranelis, the weariness in the set of his shoulders that he never would have dared showed one of his Wolves… it was like he thought Miranelis was his friend. No, not even that—it was like Miranelis wasn’t real, wasn’t a person to him. Like they were a dog whose head he stroked when he felt sad, someone to lick his hand and curl up at his feet. Not one of the conquered people whose countrymen he was feeling bad about murdering.

Their time of conspiring together was officially gone. Now Miranelis wasn’t even human to him.

The feel of him so close, the heat of his body, the smell of his breath and his furs… it was sickening. The look on his face, even more so.

He was less than an arm’s length away. Close enough to kill. Just the thought made Miranelis’s face flush and their heart speed up. They were too much of a coward to do that, and they knew it. That had the chance before, and they…

They had taken it, in the end. And it hadn’t worked. But Kezul had been prepared for a fight then. Right now, he didn’t look prepared for anything. He had finally let his guard down, showing vulnerability he would never have shown to someone he considered human.

And what did Miranelis have to fear? They knew the secret now: they were already dead.

But they didn’t have a weapon. No matter how little fear they had left in them, they knew better than to think they could strangle the life from Kezul with their own spindly hands.

Kezul was wearing a knife, though. And it was close enough to grab. Miranelis knew where the knife was. In those early days, they had often watched the spot midway up Kezul’s side where the knife lay hidden, strapped to his side. He had been afraid to look away, afraid the knife would come out at any moment to rest at their throat again. Those days felt like so long ago.

Kezul wasn’t expecting a threat. And Miranelis’s hands weren’t bound. They could—

Kezul stood. Inwardly, Miranelis cursed. They had waited too long.

It was just as well. They would have been too slow again, no match for Kezul’s combat-honed instincts. They would have failed, and then Kezul would have…

Would have what? Killed them? They were already dead.

Even as Kezul resumed his pacing, the thought wouldn’t leave Miranelis. Every time they imagined the knife slicing across Kezul’s throat or sinking into his heart, their blood heated more. The fire within them was painful. Unwanted life surged back into their limbs, into their empty heart. They didn’t want it. They wanted to go back to being numb. They didn’t want to think about something they could never pull off.

They didn’t want to have hope.

Once, they would have found it unbearably sad that the only thing they could think to hope for anymore was the chance to kill Kezul and die in the attempt. Now they just longed for the return of despair.

But hadn’t they wished they could do something for Danelor? Hadn’t they tried to find an answer when Kezul had begged them, even after Kezul had burned the academy? They had wanted to help Danelor badly enough to put Kezul’s sins behind them.

Maybe this was the answer. Maybe this was the one thing they could still do for Danelor.

They eyed the place where they knew Kezul’s knife hid. They imagined surging to their feet, lunging for it, fumbling with their clumsy fingers. No—they couldn’t move fast enough, not with their injuries, and their muscles that ached from sitting in the same position for hours on end. Kezul would have to get closer.

Could they coax him closer?

They opened their mouth to speak, unsure of what they planned to say.

But Kezul was already turning away, reaching for the stall door. “My fears were right the first time I saw you,” he said. “You’re useless. Even for this.”

He stalked out of the stall, locking the door behind him with a heavy clang.

With that, Miranelis was alone—alone with the idea that wouldn’t leave them be.

They had tried to help Danelor. They had failed. But perhaps they could still do this one last thing.

And they had Kezul to thank for it. Kezul had shown them they had nothing left to fear. Because of Kezul, they were no longer a coward.

---

Tagged: @suspicious-whumping-egg @halloiambored @whump-in-the-closet @whump-cravings @sunshiline-writes @annablogsposts @whither-wander-whump @seaweed-is-cool @bloodinkandashes @sonder35 @cakeinthevoid @looptheloup

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#whump #whump writing #whump story #whump novel #my writing #my writing: Conquest #fantasy whump #royal whump #nonbinary whumpee #reluctant whumper #emotional whump

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toastypencils · 9 months

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Contains of Spoilers of some of the Geronimo Stilton books!

Alright so,I haven't done these rants in a while so uh, I am back with another one. This rant has been something I have been wanting to put out of my chest so let's get to it.

Most of Geronimo's friends are shit,you can't tell me I am wrong. From the emotional manipulating and the invasion of privacy, you can tell me that Geronimo's friends are worst than the definition of bad in a Google research result. And today yours truly in court will prove on how shitty Geronimo's friends are so enjoy.

Rumble in the Jungle

In Rumble in the Jungle, the book starts out with one of the books most annoying charecters. Bruce, visiting Geronimo to pull him into another shitty adventure once again, and the moment when this moron stepped into Geronimo's house. This is when Bruce just crosses a boundarie of lines, somehow and I quote he "accidentally" knew Geronimo's secret password to his mouse book page. He then for some reason he decides to take Geronimo's archives HOSTAGE and then Wild Willie and Maya decided to barge into Geronimo's roof with a helicopter...(What a great way to invade someone's privacy). Also in this book Bruce wasn't the only shitty turd in this book Wild Willie as well, and let me tell you this book dosent get any better because guess what...For some reason, Bruce, Wild Willie and Maya decided to LEAVE GERONIMO IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY ALONE HOMELESS! (By stealing his wallet.) They decided to do this so Geronimo can have a "awesome adventure". Which in my opinion is b*llshit, the fact that they decided to endanger him and the fact that they were preparing him to die (by preparing his last will and testament) made me believe that they wanted to murder him. The worst part was that they didn't even left him, they WACTHED him suffer and almost die of starvation and dehydration, and the part that made me angry was the fact that they GOT AWAY WITH WHAT THEY DID!. They didn't feel guilty or anything, (I wanted to punch Bruce and Wild Willie in this book). I can't believe it's this hard for these idiots to ask Geronimo nicely, overall this is one of my most unfavorite books in Geronimo Stilton.

The Way of the Samurai

This was the time when I truly lost respect for Wild Willie...In this book, Wild Willie decides to invite Geronimo to a karate convention I think?...only when Geronimo got there, Wild Willie grabs Geronimo and decides to use Geronimo as a PUNCHING BAG, only to show his stupid ass karate moves and HURT GERONIMO BADLY. The worst part was, Wild Willie was hurting Geronimo infront of a hole audience which just makes this so humiliating in the most bad way possible. But you know, this wasn't the first time Geronimo was used as a punching bag, in "Run for the Hills Geronimo!" He was used as a punching bag by Bruce and Wild Willie to show there stupid karate moves once again...(Can I throw Wild Willie and Bruce into Mount. Mayon?)

Bollywood Burglary

Y'all thought Wild Willie and Bruce were bad?, let's get to Hercule next...*sighs* In Bollywood Burglary...I am pretty sure Hercule is supposedly Geronimo's "best friend" right?...And I am pretty sure as his best friend, I think he could've of already knew Geronimo had heart burn right?. And in probably knowing that, Hercule invites Geronimo into a spicy food restaurant, and after Geronimo almost dieing from these spicy foods. Hercule then tries to emoitionally manipulate Geronimo in going to India, even after the amount times Geronimo POLITELY DECLINED!. Hercule continues to humiliate Geronimo to go to India all while emoitionally manipulating him like a b*cth. (If he continues to act like this, I might lose respect for him, hopefully that dosent happen)

The Race Across America

Technically in this book, Bruce invades Geronimo's privacy once again by barging into his house. And forces Geronimo to do something that he didn't want to do. Geronimo literally tried to tell Bruce that the Rodents Gazzete needed him but Bruce being the himbo that he is, didn't listen anyway. (I am surprized? no.)

There are A LOT of others books where Geronimo's friends are just plain terrible, hell! They shouldn't even be considered friends at this point! I get that the fact that there trying to make him more adventurous and other shit but.

I don't think they even realize that the more they pull him into danger. The more of a coward he is going to become, it's just really ironic.

But as much shitty most of Geronimo's friends are, I think the only true friend that I found in the books was Kornelius, let me explain:

Who is Kornelius Von Kickpaw?

According to Geronimo, Kornelius was his old friend since elementary school. Kornelius used to protect Geronimo from the bullies back in the day, and ever since elementary they had to separate ways.

But now, Kornelius is known to be a secret agent from M.I.S.S.O along with his sister Veronica Von Kickpaw. Now, why do I think Kornelius is probably the only friend of Geronimo who dosent treat him like shit, ahem allow me to explain:

Kornelius dosent treat Geronimo like a punching bag, and he dosen't manipulate Geronimo either. Kornelius actually cares about Geronimo, he protected Geronimo.

And he offered him to become his bodyguard! and not to mention, he actually respects Geronimo being Geronimo! He dosen't actually try to "change" him and he actually respects Geronimo's intellectual nature.He dosen't shame him for being scared! (Space Mice proves my point). And when Geronimo is with Kornelius, in a way he actually feels safe, and when noone was there to help him in Secret Agent Kornelius was the only one there for him! Even his sister Thea was not there to help him, only Kornelius was! (There is so much more reasons but I am to sleepy to put them all here so mabye I should make a rant about Kornelius in general soon)

Y'all read:

Mouse in Space! and

Geronimo Stilton, Secret Agent to see my point.

What is the main problem of most of Geronimo's friends?

.Geronimo's friends keep taking advantage of his cowardness to do what they want. They keep shoving things to Geronimo that they think it's "right for him" or "it's for his own good". They constantly mock and humiliate Geronimo because of his intellectual safe nature, they forcefully try to change him to the point they they endanger him. They should know that Geronimo has every right to make his own decisions, Geronimo is a full on adult in his Late 30s! He has every right to make his own decisions and options.

Most of his friends are literally in there thirties as well and yet, they can just never get any common sense.

I hope Bruce gets actually eaten by a mountain lion.

#geronimo stilton #kornelius von kickpaw #Geronimos friends are shit #Bruce makes me want ro commit arson #justice for Geronimo yall #Geronimo deserves better people man 😭#rant

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d34dlysinner · 10 months

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I always wonders ,what if MC was working for angels as a spy and got informations about hell?🤔

The kings fell for MC but they later found out that MC was betraying them,but it was too late because all of hell has been invaded🥲

So what reactions will the kings be about a traitor MC?

TW: mentions of death/killing I feel like that would be hard story-wise. But to make a simple answer to this. Depending on how attached they are to you it's either death or them banning you forever with a warning that you WILL be killed once you return. Their separate reactions: Satan would look at you in disbelief. What the FUCK did he just hear? Why did the spy have to be you? Weren't you the descendant of Solomon? If so, what made you so special that you were spared? He would blame himself and mostly blame you and the angels for letting you into Hell. He blames himself for ever trusting you and for bringing danger to the place he vowed to protect. If you developed feelings for each other you would be sent away in the most cold way ever. Satan wouldn't even cry for your departure. Too angry that you played with him for so long. Mammon would just give you a choice. Either You leave and spend your life with the angels or you'll die by his hand. He gave almost no reaction after hearing the news. Suppressing his anger that's enough to destroy an entire country. If you leave he'll continue killing the angel's race but at a bigger scale. Blaming them for playing with his feelings. The "generous king" he believed he was would start to become the selfish king that would stop sharing everything from then on. Taking away whatever he wanted. Someone's money, someone's house or even someone's love interest. If he can't love no one will. Beel would start creating some weird reality. Something that he would normally refer to as a miracle. Except this miracle was made to kill whoever played him. "Since you're having so much fun, toying with me. I believe it's my turn to play with you.", he says as he gives you and the other angels a glare as he put the "miracle" (a deadly phenomenon) to action. Walking away as he starts wandering over Hell again. He stayed for you. Now he's leaving, because of you. Leviathan couldn't believe his ears when it was confirmed that you were a spy. He would've been fine if you were a spy of any other king, but a spy for the angels? The species that was attacking Hell, because of some event that they didn't even start? His love? He didn't know if he wanted to end himself or you. He felt conflicted. Jealous at the thought of other kings having to feel less pain than him at this moment. Jealous that you were never his, but from a few angels that dared to make you do this. He felt betrayed. He knew he needed to kill you, but he just couldn't. It gave the angels and you enough time to escape as the other demons of Hell, primarily Hades, marched their way over to your group. Ready to have you punished for your actions. Levi just watched as you ran. The reality too much for him as he watched how his nobles and lower demons made their way to hunt you.

#whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb asks #whb satan #whb mammon #whb leviathan #whb beel

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balanceoflightanddark · 5 months

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Alright. A while back, I answered a question regarding Claude.

The post was not good. I'll be the first to admit that I have problems with replaying games on multiple routes because I'm the kind of person that gets overwhelmed easily by so much stuff being thrown at me at once. Couple that with my issues in regards to playing games and actively making things worse (I mean I'll be the first to admit that I doom search stuff when I feel awful) AND my assuming I could just wing it without any regards to proper research, which led to a really badly worded and misrepresentation of the character. Regardless of my feelings towards Claude, nobody should get the shaft like I gave him.

For that, I apologize and I'm releasing this...I guess you could say an updated continuation of the post. I also rereleased the original and included a link so you know where I'm coming from so you can judge it in full. Here I'm just going to go through some of the big sticking points and screw-ups I made one by one.

A big thanks in advance for my friends on discord for pointing them out.

Not well-liked in either country due to his mixed heritage, he was raised in the Leicester Alliance and basically is representative of their policies.

Claude was actually raised in Almyra, not in the Alliance. He only made the transition till he was old enough to understand the situation between Fodlan and Almyra in greater detail. The two countries were political enemies, so the idea of somebody of Fodlan descent because of their parents (King of Almyra and a Duchess of Leicester) becoming king didn't win him any favors back home. Neither did his being from Almyra make him popular with the Alliance. Really part of the reason he made the transition between countries was that he wanted to open up borders and ease tensions between Almyra and Fodlan from within Fodlan's system. Which is an admirable goal, obviously.

Sadly, I screwed up since I inadvertently downplayed his childhood with Almyra by implying he was raised in the Alliance. While he definitely picked up a few habits from the Alliance, he also got a lot of his habits of secrecy since he likely wasn't all that well-liked back home. I mean he did have allies, obviously. Nader served as his combat instructor and was willing to lend his forces when called upon. But it wasn't universal. As such, I apologize for muddling up his motivations and downplaying his heritage.

Speaking of Nader...

Which comes to a head in the war. When Edelgard declares war on the Church, Claude effectively decides to stay out of it. Mainly, he essentially locks the nobility of Leicester in a bit of a stalemate for 5 years to keep themselves out of the war. His long-term strategy is to get reinforcements from Almyra so they could effectively steamroll the Kingdom and Empire who bloodied themselves from all the fighting.

And his focus on relying on his Almyran reinforcements isn't even foolproof in of itself since...well, he's relying on foreign troops arriving in a country that hates their guts. Even if the war goes in his favor, that's a bit of a hill to climb.

Yeah. I really screwed up here. While it is true that Claude probably would've used the chaos created by the war in order to restructure Fodlan similar to Edelgard and probably wouldn't have wanted to get involved in the war right away, I was wrong about the nature of his reinforcements from Almyra. Again, in Verdant Wind, he called upon Nader in order to take the strategically important Fort Merceus in his campaign against the Empire. In Crimson Flower, he only called them when Edelgard invaded Leicester. There was no indication that he would use his forces to steamroll Fodlan in a colonialist matter, which I implied. He was fit to rely mostly on Alliance forces until the need demanded help from Almyra.

As a result, I misrepresented his character, and I apologize. While I'm still not a huge fan of Claude and don't think Verdant Wind is the best route for Fodlan (it ends with another leader backed by the Church in charge with Byleth...which is the same structure that led to this whole mess to begin with), I got his character wrong and made him worse for it. I...understand why people weren't happy with the first post and feel free to call me out on that. I promise to do more research in the future on the other routes if I make any more Three Houses posts.

#claude von riegan #claude fire emblem #claude meta #fire emblem three houses #three houses #fire emblem 3 houses

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felipeandletizia · 1 year

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December 24, 2022: King Felipe Christmas Message

Good evening.

I am very glad to be able to be in your homes and continue this tradition of sending you my best wishes, especially of peace, on Christmas Eve, and also to share with you some thoughts on the most notable events of the year now ending.

2022 has been, and still is, complicated and difficult. Just as no recent years have been easy. Just when we thought the worst of the pandemic was over — certainly the best news of the year — in February Russia invaded Ukraine, and since then we have witnessed ten months of a war which has caused levels of destruction and ruin hard to imagine in our everyday reality. We have felt the suffering of the Ukrainian people, and we still feel great sadness for the loss of thousands of human lives.

To the Ukrainian refugees in our country and all their compatriots, you are in our hearts, especially today.

We are here, with a new war in Europe, at the borders of some of our European partners and allies, and therefore close to us; and which affects not only Ukraine, but has a global impact.

And this has also affected our security. As well as strengthening our collective defensive capacity with our allies, Spain has joined the vast majority of the international community in supporting Ukraine, and restating our commitment that the sovereignty, independence and territorial integrity of States are essential principles of an international order based on law and which must always seek peace.

Spain’s NATO summit, which was held here in Madrid, helped reinforce the unity of all members of the Alliance, and of the European Union.

This war, together with the effects of the pandemic, is obviously having a profound impact on the economy; it has led to an energy crisis with serious consequences for industry, trade, transport, and particularly, household economies.

Rising prices, especially of food, have meant insecurity in our homes. Everyday actions like turning on the heating or the light, or refuelling the car, have become a cause for concern, and in many cases have meant important personal and family sacrifices. Because there are families who cannot deal with a situation like this for long, and need continuous government support to mitigate its economic and social effects.

All of this new scenario we are living through - the war, the economic and social situation, instability and tensions in international relations, are naturally causing great concern and uncertainty in our society. We cannot ignore the seriousness of these problems, but we also cannot give up the possibility that things can change and improve.

First, once again, we must trust in ourselves as a nation. The transformation and modernisation of Spain over the last four decades, thanks to the success of our transition to democracy and the approval of our Constitution, justifies that trust. As does the way we have overcome our other economic, social and institutional crises; most recently, that of Covid. We are a country which has always rallied, even through difficulty and sacrifice, to cope with all its challenges, which have been many over the years.

As well as believing in ourselves, in our capability, more than ever in these difficult times we need everyone to be more committed than ever to our democracy and to Europe, the European Union, the two pillars on which our present and future rest.

● The world’s democracies are exposed to many dangers, which are not new; but the risks of today have a particular intensity. And Spain is no exception. But there are three dangers I want to examine, because I think they are very important: one is division; another is the deterioration of cohesion; the third is the erosion of institutions.

A country or a society which is divided or in conflict cannot advance or make progress, resolve its problems properly, or create trust. Division makes democracies more fragile, but unity strengthens them.

In Spain we know this from experience. Our Constitution, the fruit of dialogue and understanding, represents the unity achieved by the people of Spain, as a commitment to the future, to diversity and harmony, for a young democracy. Today, after all these years, our constitutional values are firmly rooted in our society, and are now the point of reference where Spaniards must find the unity which ensures stability, cohesion and progress, and the harmonious coexistence which, as I have often said, is our greatest heritage.

A coexistence which requires our collective life to fully recognise our freedoms alongside respect and consideration for other people, their beliefs and their dignity. It must be guided by reason; it demands putting the will to integrate above the desire to exclude.

In this task, we need to strengthen our institutions. Robust institutions which protect the people, respond to their concerns, guarantee their rights, and support families and young people in overcoming many of their everyday problems. Institutions which reflect the public interest and perform their tasks with dedication, with respect for the Constitution and the law, and are an example of integrity and honesty. And this is the standard to which all our institutions must always be committed.

I think that at this time, we must all take personal responsibility and think constructively about the possible consequences of ignoring these dangers for our unity, our cohesion, and our institutions.

We cannot take everything we have built for granted. Nearly 45 years have gone by since the Constitution was passed, and of course many things have changed and are still changing. But the spirit that created it, its principles and its foundation, which are the work of all of us, must not be undermined or forgotten. They are a unique value in our constitutional and political history which we must protect, because they are the place where the people of Spain recognise ourselves and accept each other, despite our differences; the place where we have lived and continue living in freedom.

● Europe is the second commitment I wanted to talk about. For Spain, Europe has always represented freedom. It contributed to the consolidation of our democracy, strengthening our economic growth and social development.

Today, we share many of its problems and we contribute to its decisions with our own personality and our own interests. The shared challenges we face, from healthcare to finance or those relating to our energy and environmental models, receive solutions which form part of the common framework of the European Union. So the decisions made in the Union every day can be felt in the everyday life of everyone in Spain. This is reality.

We are Europe, but we also need Europe, our major political, economic and social framework, which also offers us certainty and security. I am sure that Spain’s commitment will be reinforced when we take up the rotating Presidency of the Union next year.

I said at the beginning that these are times of uncertainty. But if the success of a nation depends on the character of its citizens, and on the personality and spirit which drive its society, we must have reasons to look to the future with hope.

We are one of the world’s great nations, with many centuries of history, and the people of Spain must continue deciding our destiny, our future, together. Taking care of our democracy; protecting our cohesion; strengthening our institutions.

We must continue sharing goals, always with a spirit of renewal and adapting to changing times. With confidence in our country, in a Spain which I know well, brave and open to the world: a Spain that seeks serenity, peace, tranquillity; a Spain which is responsible, creative, vital, and generous. That Spain is what I see, what I hear, what I feel in many of you; and it is what, once again, will move forward. It’s up to all of you.

And finally, on this special night, thank you so much for listening. The Queen, our daughters Princess Leonor and Infanta Sofía, and I wish you all a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year.

Feliz Navidad, Eguberri On, Bon Nadal, Boas Festas.

#King Felipe #King Felipe of Spain #King Felipe VI #King Felipe VI of Spain #Official Event #Christmas Message #December 2022 #20221224

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nrdmssgs · 8 months

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OC ask game

Second part of answers for this request. This is quite upsetting, sorry. There are serious triggers out there: mentions of real life events, mentions of mental struggles, mentions of unhealthy behavior.

#B What inspired you to create them?

Ok, this is the fourth time, i'm starting answering this question. Lets do it like that: I'll give a short safe answer and a long one, but with TW.

So, short answer: personal trauma and a few characters/situations from popular culture.

Now to the long one. When I started this blog, I promised to myself to keep it politics free. So I'll really try to make it the first and the last time.

First and the foremost important: I know, I'm not a victim in this situation. There are people out there, whos lives are turned to hell on earth, who don't know if they see the next sunrise. So my whining about 'feeling bad about it' means nothing, and it's not a request for compassion or pity. I know, I must be nothing but happy and grateful for my calm and full life. I promise, Im working on it.

Four years ago I moved from my country to Germany. A year and a half ago my country invaded a neighboring country and started a heinous, bloody war. A number of war crimes committed by my country is multiplied daily. Never before I thought, I could cry every day, for multiple times, could stop eating, struggle to sleep. I never had depression, don't know, how real emotional problems feel. But the start of that war changed something in me, because in a few months I started committing to some unhealthy thoughts and patterns. I absolutely understood the reasoning behind possible hate towards anyone with the same citizenship as mine, I still do. I know we must feel bad, guilty not till the end of the war, but for the rest of our lives. And I swear, I do. But at some point my hate, I channeled towards myself, started to be destructing. I couldn't get professional help, as it is complicated to express your feelings in another language. I understood, that I struggle to do anything other than read news and cry. And it's actually a problem, when you are a grown adult, who is supposed to work on a thesis, do an internship, fight your cats cancer and find a job. So I clutched my teeth and just tried everything to just keep going. And one of the things was finding a hobby and reanimating this old tumblr blog.

I liked almost everything in CoD. Almost, because there was Nikolai. My problem with Nikolai was that we shared an origin, yet he wasn't a bad guy in the story. And by the time I started falling down CoD hole - I was already neck deep into self neglect because of my origin and everything, that happened. So it frustrated me, he wasn't depicted, and he wasn't feeling himself as a bad man. So when any discourse on tumblr came to him - I usually just went completely silent. That was until I found two blogs writing beautiful stories about him. My initial reaction was 'ok, those people are just super-nice and maybe they don't know about where he comes from'. But then I read one story. And all the comments. And another story. And, once again, all the comments.

I was startled. I sat before my screen and just cried. Because I saw people, looking far beyond this characters country of origin. And they loved him for who he is. By no means he was a perfect, no, but they LOVED him, they gave zero fucks, where he was born, they cared for what he was actually doing.

And at some point I thought, I have something to say about the guy, I have a story about self-acceptance, acceptance of others around you, and it means a world to me right now, because it hurts so much.

So I opened new file and started talking to myself in it. And I manifested all the pain I was dealing to myself into this poor thing, my Zhar. At first, I didn't even let her have a name or an appearance in my head, because I thought, she never deserved it. I wanted her to entertain me and others, speak to Nikolai about trust and fears. The main role in a Heart was always Niks, as it was him, who practically said her 'hey, I know, it hurts. I know, it's really bad. But I'm here to accept you, to show, you still can do something good. And I'm here to love you on this way and beyond it'. It was the hardest message to write, because i myself still struggle to 'sit before a mirror' and say it all to myself. But maybe, just maybe, its a step in a right direction.

The more I wrote, the more details Zhar got. By the third chapter I already knew, how her voice sounds, how she looks. I didn't add it in the story to not spoil it.

I took inspirations from many characters, I deeply love. There is a bit of struggle of Senua from Hellblade, there is a bit of my favorite scene with Cersei from GoT, there are little droplets of Claire Underwood being uncanny and friendly at the same time. All my favorite things. I also bring together a small playlist for Zhar that helps me a lot. But thats that - her and my story. I wish, I could tell, it's just a self-insert, but sadly it's not, at least not in a traditional way.

#F What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

Well, now that I told her story, its only fair to admit - my heart is full of compassion for her. I wish I could hug her. I think, if I ever won her trust - we'd have quite a talk. I wish I could make it hurt not so bad, but I guess, its Nikolais work now. Hope, he doesn't give up on it.

#nrdmssgs #nrdspeaks

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