#just because they were raised to believe in their natural superiority and it fucks with their perception of themselves and others

[comradekatara]

katara’s fatal flaw when it comes to politics and also just general communication is that she cannot fathom why anyone would wish to act in a cruel manner and knowingly harm others, whereas sokka’s is that he does not understand how people can be willfully ignorant or even just plain dumb. it’s why sokka is always having to point out to katara that someone is a malicious actor who is taking advantage of her compassion and idealism (jet, hama, aunt wu, etc) because he knows that not everyone has pure, altruistic intentions, but he also doesn’t understand that king kuei isn’t just sheltered, he is also straight up an idiot (or that hahn isn’t just arrogant, he is also incompetent, etc etc) until it’s too late.

#katara assumes that everyone knows they ought to conduct themselves compassionately #whereas sokka assumes that everyone knows they ought to conduct themselves rationally #like in their minds (respectively) that it what is in everyone’s best interest at all times #and sokka’s ‘rationality’ is compassionate in nature #but he also acknowledges that other people mind find it in their best interest to be selfish #and conduct themselves accordingly #while katara always just sees the best in people #and is pretty unforgiving if they ‘mess up’ despite herself not being a perfect beacon of compassion #(she can be selfish myopic etc) #same goes for sokka perceiving himself as rational but also just. having a huge blind spot when it comes to his self esteem & daddy issues #(family issues in general tbh) #which can cause him to act irrationally #and then zuko and azula have the same thing (where zuko believes in compassion and azula believes in reason) but also like. far more cynical #just because they were raised to believe in their natural superiority and it fucks with their perception of themselves and others #but zuko does have a very similar fundamental worldview to katara & azula to sokka #anyway. im off topic now #katara #sokka #katara&sokka #analysis #ish

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How to Plant Snapdragons (pt. 3)

Task Force 141 + König + Keegan x Female Criminal!Reader (except Captain Price, because he'll be like a father to the bunch and König and Keegan won't appear until later on in the story)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You tell Ghost, Gaz, and Soap why you were in prison.

You are currently reading Chapter 3. Here is Chapter 2 and the Masterlist!

CONTENT WARNING: Strong Language WORD COUNT: 3k

A hand slammed on the table across you, and Kyle's booming voice echoed in the dining hall. "I've heard of the news!"

You sat with Johnny, while the Lieutenant was on the other side, where Gaz had also pulled himself a seat. You had your usual bright and smiley face that could rival the sun. You seemed as though you had just successfully run away from the base, skipping on some puddles.

You faced Gaz and smirked, knowing that your glorious feat had traveled the speed of light across this realm of gunpowder and tanks.

There weren't many people in the place, considering it was late afternoon, but it already seemed night because of the dark sky. You had changed clothes and eaten a portion of food before your superiors got to find you after you managed to slip away from them again. There were only a handful of soldiers scattered in the hall—considering it was a couple of hours past lunch—chatting their free time away and keeping their ears and eyes sharp for gossip. Gossip meant you.

You kept your legs crossed the entire time, in an attempt to hide the monitor. Every time it beeped and lighted up, you couldn't help but cringe. You hated being the center of attention and this thing that technically screams, 'Hey, keep your eyes on me, I might drive a tank into the base, uwu! Or I’m going to steal a bird and go HASTA LA VISTA BITCHES AND BROS AND NON-BINARY HOES IMMA GO HELICOPTER HELICOPTER!’ made it worse.

Except you didn’t know shit how to drive those things.

(That can’t stop you)

"Heard you got four combos," Kyle said, leaning over the table. "Two critical hits on each ball, eh?"

Ghost made a face under his mask, rolling his eyes. "Fuckin' hell."

"Aye, and a knock-out for his dignity," Soap shook his head with a couple of clicks of his tongue. "Poor guy vomited in the gym after the bloody massacre of his future children."

You giggled at his comment and shifted your gaze back down to the sheets of paper you had finally stolen. If it can be called that because the Lt. and Soap were staring at you the entire time you snatched them, along with a pen for fuck's sake in Price's office, before bouncing.

"I was planning on teaching the kid a lesson but . . . what the fuck are you—" Johnny glanced over his shoulder, wide eyes darting around the canteen before setting them back on the papers you focused on. You were drawing a bunch of nude dudes, not even hesitating to add nipples and balls and dicks—why were they so big, though? "Why are ya drawing that?!" He yelled in a whisper, his large hands covering your paper.

Both Ghost and Gaz peered over the gaps between his fingers and looked away the moment they saw someone else's balls. Then, Gaz quickly put his hand over the rest of your drawings his fellow Sergeant couldn't cover as a soldier passed by your table.

"Anatomy?" You waved a hand, raised a brow, and shook your head as though he didn't get something so obvious. "Renaissance art?"

Soap frowned at you. "I'm pretty sure Renaissance paintings don't have this much nudity, and they surely weren't holdin’ one another's cocks and lookin’ like they’re enjoying it!”

"Well, yes and no, sir." You tried to push their hands away but fuck those muscles staying like fucking statues. "Wanna know why nudity was common during that era? It is to revive Roman and Greek art, which focuses on the human body and nature. And they believe that without any clothing, they can see the purest form of the human body."

"That still doesn't explain that they're fucking holding—"

"Shush!" You put a hand over Kyle's face. "They're feeling each other's pureness, Gaz. They're feeling each other."

"The fuck—"

You slapped your other hand over Soap's mouth, gazing intently at him. "It's called an art style, Soap. An art style. A preference.”

"Well, other than ya have a peculiar preference, your drawings are well mint," Ghost claimed as he carefully took one of your drawings under Kyle’s hand and closely took in the details of the person you drew. The shadows and shades on the man’s visage made it seem like it was a photograph of a marble statue, which made him feel as though he was standing before it. You flawlessly captured the feelings and emotions—a life that he didn’t know would be possible with a pen.

He put it down and slid it back to you. “What did ya take in college?”

You brought your hands down from the sergeants’ faces and picked up the pen. “I majored in Civil Engineering." You spun the pen between your fingers and looked down at your drawing with a small smile.

You had traveled around, jumping from one country to another after you graduated. Met several interesting people, learned unforgettable and valuable things, and got into trouble with them. But that was what made your life colorful, painting over sceneries you had witnessed, covered in red. That, until you caught a bald eagle’s eye while he was on the hunt.

Also, what the fuck is ‘well mint’?

"And what got a bloody engineering student in prison?” Kyle questioned in a low voice. “Can’t be the one I heard around.”

Ghost glanced at him with a frown, while Soap glared at him, shaking his head as a warning, and Gaz in response, made an ‘o’ with his mouth, nodding.

“I blew up the university because the Dean said if the campus caught fire, she would let everyone pass,” You said, which made their heads whip in your direction in an instant, while you started to sketch on a clean sheet. “I was desperate for a good grade, but I didn’t know the Dean would be in her office as the fire spread.”

Johnny gaped at you in disbelief. “Bloody hell, for a grade?”

Gaz raised a brow. “Seriously?”

You snorted. “No.”

Both the sergeants made a face, whereas Ghost let out a low scoff.

“But I have truly always cared for grades,” you started again, “even though they say high grades aren’t everything and they are just numbers, I used to think they were everything. Then, whenever I see people partying around in clubs, I begin to get jealous of them because they seem free like they don’t have anything to worry about.” You glanced at them and found they were listening attentively, so you continued. “One night, I said screw this shit and went in a club.”

“Well, sometimes, ya just have to let loose, you know?” Soap said, leaning back against the chair. “We also go to the pub once in a while to drink.”

“And all hell breaks loose,” Ghost claimed, eyeing Soap knowingly.

Your brows raised. Oh?

“Shut up, Lt.” He glared at him, pouting a bit, which Ghost ignored. Then, Soap put his elbow on the table and propped his chin on his palm, then turned his head to you. “So, ya went to the club?”

“Yeah, met a couple of guys,” you copied his actions, “seduced those couple of guys.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Had a sloppy make-out in the bathroom.”

“Damn, aren’t ya fast?” Gaz asked, smiling.

You turned to him. “Went to the hotel . . . and drunk their blood.”

Soap straightened up in a blink. “Awa' an’ bile yer heid. I thought it was real this time!”

“Oh, damn it.” Gaz slapped the table.

You laughed, throwing your head back in amusement.

Ghost crossed his arms, tilting his head a bit. “You have your way with stories, don’t you?”

“I’m an avid fan of fiction. Either I write it or read it. It’s a way for me to escape reality.” You tapped on one of your sketches. “And if I can’t read or write it, I draw it. Although, sometimes, it also stresses me out when I can’t get things right.” You sighed, furrowing your brows lightly.

They stared at you for a moment, then shared glances, silently deciding it was believable enough, considering your request for books to Laswell and your eagerness to draw.

“Alright, what’s next?” Gaz spoke, motioning a hand. “You found a doll that turned out to be alive and a killing machine.”

You grinned, placing your pen down and riding along his joke. “Preyed on a bunch of children, led them in a sewer with candies and balloons.”

“Isn’t that Chucky and It?” Johnny asked, raising a brow.

“Didn’t expect you famous gentlemen would know those movies.” You nodded in acknowledgment and pointed at him. “Well, your turn.”

“A doll ya found in the basement of yer new house turned out to be possessed,” Soap fired, pointing back at me. “Why is it always dolls, though?”

You shrugged.

“Scared of dolls, Soap?” Gaz wiggled his brows with a teasing smile.

His fellow sergeant rolled his eyes. “The fuck I would be.”

Then, the three of you faced Ghost, who had remained silent and still on his chair. His eyes went back and forth between you three before he sighed. “Ya killed people with a chainsaw.”

You three nodded at him and you commented, “Classic.” Before you could say another word, you noticed Simon finishing something out of his pockets, a phone that you oh-so wanted to still just so you could read some fanfictions on the net. Soap and Gaz followed his actions.

At this rate, you were just going to make your own fanfiction to keep your sanity.

“Come on.” Soap nudged at you and stood up, making the chair creak.

The fun finally lasted and seemed something that you dreaded to do came sooner than expected.

You gathered and rolled your drawings carefully, and stuck the ballpen onto your bun, before following them out of the chow hall.

Laswell’s voice echoed from the laptop on Captain Price’s table, and you and the 141 stood in front of it, listening to the intel she had gathered. The map of Brazil appeared on the screen, making you raise a brow as it zoomed onto the mountains, which were covered in houses instead of nature.

“Supposedly our target, Fabrício, is in his base in Rio de Janeiro, we’ll finally be able to know his deals with Hassan.” Price crossed his arms and glanced at the rest of the group. “However, there’ll be mostly likely civilians around the area, so we have to watch our fire.”

“Rio de Janeiro . . .” You mumbled and put your fingers under your chin, which caught their attention. You faced the Captain, who had a questioning look at you. “Uh,” you raised a hand as though you were going to answer a teacher’s question, “may I say a humble suggestion?”

He nodded. “Speak.”

You gulped. “I may know some things about Rio that could bring us advantages."

Ghost fully turned his body at you. “What’re ya getting at?”

“During this time of the year, Rio holds their famous Carnival for a week every night until dawn. Millions of people go there, so their streets will be mostly empty or people will be in their houses. Yet at the same time, if you wander around at night in their streets, you’ll get targeted by criminals.” You pointed at the image of your target, a man with short curly hair and dark skin. “If that guy deals with international transactions, he’ll be most likely a boss of the local outlaws and militia or protected by them. So, at times of major events like this, eyes will be off them and they’ll be able to move freely.” You brought your hand down. “But so can we.”

Price’s brows furrowed a bit and he looked at the map on the screen. “That’s . . . good thinking.” He tapped on the pad of the laptop and said, “Laswell, I’d like to—”

“Damn, lassie, how’d you know that?” Johnny questioned, a grin appearing on his lips as he put his arm around your shoulders again.

Meanwhile, Price proceeded to discuss the changes in the mission with Kate.

“I’m pretty interested in Rio because of the Carnival, yeah, and the statue of Christ the Redeemer and their beaches.” You crossed your arms to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him as well and take the chance to squeeze his chest, biceps, and cakes. “Also, they are famous for being good at football and beach volleyball. I used to play some sports during my school days and they’re one of those.”

“Well,” Gaz also dropped his arm around you, but on your lower back, making you gulp, “aren’t you talented, miss? Wouldn’t be surprised if you're pretty famous on your campus.”

You sighed. “Don’t call me ‘miss’, and no, I’m not famous. I like solitude to be honest."

Soap pulled you a bit closer. “Ah, like the Lieutenant until he shows off his skills, aye?”

“I am not a show-off.” Ghost glared at you three. “Also, there are several disadvantages to your strategy.”

“Yessir.” You nodded and the sergeants let go of you. You raised three of your fingers. “The target is in their home ground, they know the place like the back of their hand and the difference between our numbers."

"And that's exactly why we have a backup,” Price declared in a serious voice, followed by beeps coming from the laptop which caught your attention, and General Shepherd’s profile popped out, meaning he was listening to the discussion or might be watching you without seeing him.

You pursed your lips, running your tongue through the light cracks, but kept your eyes strained on the screen. You put your hands behind you, squeezing them as hard as you could. You couldn’t miss any detail about the mission that might endanger the 141.

“We will have two teams to corner Fabrício in his base, front and back,” Laswell began once again, bright lines lighting up alleyways on the map, leading up to the mountains of houses. The first profiles to appear in bright boxes were Ghost and Soap. “Bravo team will go through this street.” Then, the Captain, Gaz, and finally, yours, appeared on the screen following a green line. “And the Alpha team will go this way.”

You let out a silent sigh in relief, yet at the same time in disappointment. You’d like to enjoy the calmness of the Captain and Gaz, and their light jokes, but you also wanted to go ape shit with Soap and make dad jokes along the way with Ghost. But what irked you more was the picture of you they used—with the eyebags and pimples. Couldn’t they put a better one for fuck’s sake?

Then, a familiar American’s profile came into view, along with several men in one box, making you frown and yell thousands of curses in your head. “Once we have Fabricio, the Shadow Company will help subdue the militia, and Nikolai will go around in helo for exfil.” As soon as Kate finished explaining, she and the General popped out in a split screen.

“Most importantly, we want Fabrício alive for interrogation,” Shepherd concluded, serious eyes darting at the 141, then settled on you. “And how are you?”

It was hard to put on pants with the monitor on. The food wasn’t any better than in prison. People thought you were a threat to be burned alive if you did something wrong before them. People thought you were a piece of meat. A dog to tame. A whore for trying to become close with the 141. A woman who knew nothing but play around.

Yet you smiled at him, despite all the thoughts that rushed to your mind. Curses that you wanted to scream at him. “Still trying to get used to things around here, sir.” You squeezed your hands, nails digging into your skin.

Gaz glanced at you and noticed your stiffness. He kept his face expressionless, seeing how you looked, and slowly, his eyes made their way to your hands.

Meanwhile, Ghost walked and sauntered behind Price's desk, keeping his eyes on the back of the laptop.

“Really?” He leaned back in his chair, head tilting to the side. “I thought you easily adapt to different environments. Has Laswell spoiled you?”

Fuck him.

“I did not do such a thing, General,” Laswell was quick to retort, a sigh escaping her lips.

She, in fact, did. But that was a story for other times.

You forced out a laugh, flowing along her lie. “If she had, she would have given me a phone, sir.”

Shepherd nodded in acknowledgment. “Very well. I hope 141 is treating you well?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Soap was faster to speak. “Of course, sir. Now we know one of the reasons why ye pulled her out of prison.” He put a hand on your shoulder, a bright grin appearing on his handsome face, yet you kept your eyes on the bald eagle. “She’s a fun one.”

You clenched your hands harder and planted your nails deeper. Motherfucking hell, Soap, don’t call me fun.

As though spiders crawled down your skin, you shivered.

With Soap's hand still on your shoulder, he felt you shudder.

Shepherd smiled, something that you didn't expect to see. "I see. But I did not put her in the 141 so you could have some fun."

"Ah, yes sir," Soap removed his hand from you and felt a twitch under his eye, "I'm just saying that—"

"She's a criminal, Sergeant Mactavish. The only reason she's out is because she'll be able to help 141. She's a tool you can use, and she knows that herself. So, make sure she continues being good and obedient." With that, his voice went static and soon faded, his picture disappearing from the laptop's screen.

"We will discuss the mission again later on," Laswell quickly filled the silence. "Take care, all of you."

"Thank you, Kate," Price said, turning the laptop in his direction.

"Anytime."

The Captain shut the laptop closed.

Chapter 4 is here!

You can also read the series on AO3 here!

Taglist: @yyiikes, @the-faceless-bride, @sae1kie

Note: Hope you guys like this Chap and don't forget to comment because I eat them when I have a bad day! Also, I've been thinking about this, would you guys like the one and only Keegan P. Russ as one of our men here?

#call of duty #141 x reader #cod 141 #cod mw2 #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x you #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz x you #john price #kate laswell #konig x reader #konig call of duty #keegan p russ #ask to tag #cod keegan #keegan russ x reader #ghost smut #soap smut #gaz smut #cod smut

[vivacissimx]

o resident viserra scholar 🙇‍♀️what kind of relationship do you think saera and viserra had? do you think either of them thought of each other with affection or envied each other after saera's exxxplosive exit? feel free to not answer if you don't want to!

RESIDENT VISERRA SCHOLAR *explodes*

I like this question, I've thought a lot about this specific dynamic because it's impossible not to when considering Viserra. Saera is the favorite of her father, thought of affectionately by her brothers, and the bane of her mother & sisters. Viserra's relationships inside of her family pale in comparison so you start to see through that contrast that attention from Jaehaerys & Alysanne has become a very limited resource at this point. Saera ('fierce and stubborn') has as much as she has because she demands it, something Viserra (equally willful but 'she never screamed and she certainly never cried') does not. The first thing that jumps out at me is competition between the siblings.

I enjoy that personally, because if Aemon & Baelon's relationship is described as competitive but deeply loving, rich off the plentiful familial love they grew up on — Vaegon & Daella's lacking love yet their individual 'happiness' nonetheless secured by their attentive parents — it makes sense to show the dark underbelly of that family structure through siblings like Saera & Viserra. What happens when the river runs dry? The survivors scrap over the leftovers.

Each of them had plenty of non-familial attention, particularly sexual attention from men and boys starting from their youth. Both of them were willful, a bit arrogant, sly, and rebellious, and both of them had a certain disdain for the men who desired them. It makes sense considering the ridiculousness of the fact that even at 2 and 6, the prime concern regarding them was their possible marriage (to Vaegon). Born & raised to be brides.

Did they have any common ground due to that?

Honestly, I don't really see it - Saera being four years older and having a superiority complex doesn't endear me to thinking she would be the type to care much about Viserra. Spending time around each other, sure — having some inside jokes & sibling scuffles, that seems realistic.

Post-Saera's flight... look, Saera was put under guard in the Red Keep. Publicly disowned. Her lovers humiliated. Then afterwards, packed off to Oldtown where she faced beatings and deprivations that someone of her nature never experienced before. Saera lost all faith in her parents and was forced to exchange sex for money to create a life away from everything she'd ever known. (Oh but Jaehaerys would have ended her punishment eventu—according to who? And why would Saera believe that after a year and a half? I know we're meant to think her spoiled and impatient but she was a scared teenage girl who didn't trust her parents to care for her, parents who ruled over the entire continent. Have sympathy for this, or don't, but she has the right to a perspective.)

Did Viserra envy her that? No. There was a pretty clear message in Saera's punishment for Viserra: this could happen to you.

While I'm tempted to think Viserra probably heard of Saera's fate and thought 'well that won't happen to me because I'm smarter/know better' that doesn't change the fact that, when betrothed, Viserra tried to get out of it by seducing Baelon. A son who Jae & Aly loved, a man known for being a loving partner, and a husband who could protect her from anyone. Such a specific choice!

Did Saera think of Viserra? This I can guess even less but my hunch is that she was just like nah fuck 'em about all members of her family, didn't necessarily blame them all but would've had a 'they should have helped me' chip on her shoulder (fair). The most I can imagine is her hearing of Viserra's death and thinking her parents deserved that, perhaps even feeling vindicated in her choice to escape Westeros by any means.

#viserra targaryen #saera targaryen #asoiaf #pre asoiaf #text #jaehaerys targaryen #alysanne targaryen #asks

[cobwebcorner]

“This is very important to understand,” Jill intoned with all the gravitas she could muster while three sheets to the wind. “There are two types of Umbrella scientists.”

She held up some fingers to demonstrate, then squinted at them, as if unsure she had the correct amount. She tried some different configurations, raising and lowering fingers until she was satisfied that she had two raised. “Two different kinds of Umbrella scientists,” she said again.

“Uh-huh,” Jake said slowly from his seat across the table, where he was watching Jill sway in her seat with amused fascination.

They’d all gathered at this bar to have that long-needed talk with him about who his father had been, and Chris had even gotten Sheva on facetime to help tell the story of the Kijuju incident. Chris’s phone lay in the center of the table still, with Sheva’s bemused face visible on it if you looked at the right angle.

“Jill,” Chris tried to intervene.

“The first kind,” Jill went on, ignoring him, “are the eugenics assholes. Like--like that Ashford guy, who was trying to breed his kids for intelligence--”

Claire choked and sputtered as her gulp of mai tai took an abrupt detour into her nose.

“You don’t have to say it like that!” she yelped.

“You know what I mean! He did the--you know, he fucked around in their genes and--”

“Genetic manipulation,” Rebecca said in a small voice.

“Yeah, that. All the executives were eugenics assholes. Ashford, Spencer, uh...who was the third guy?”

“Marcus,” Rebecca answered.

“And Marcus, yeah. Then the second type--”

“Jill,” Chris pleaded.

“The second--the second type of Umbrella scientist,” Jill leaned forward, stabbing one finger towards Jake for emphasis, “Are the monster fuckers.”

“Jill Please.”

“Would you look at the time, I’d best be going!” Sheva said.

“Sheva! Sheva, wait!” Chris scrambled to pick up his phone so she could see his puppy dog eyes. “You can’t leave me with this!”

“Like this one guy, in Raccoon--” Jill plowed on, undeterred.

“Have a good night, Chris. It was lovely meeting all of you!”

“Shevaaaa!”

“--He got his special hunter project canceled, so he ran off with the specimens and raised them in the sewers because they were his ‘babies’.”

“I can’t believe she hung up on me.”

“He wrote them love letters.”

Jake watched all of this as he would a train wreck, his own drink sitting half full by his hand. He was the second most sober one at the table, by virtue of having forgotten his drink once Jill really got going.

“Actually, I think Dr. Marcus was um. A monster fancier,” Rebecca said.

“I didn’t need to know that,” Chris said.

“Was he a noble? I think all the eugenics assholes were old money or European nobility. Like--like it’s their whole thing, isn’t it, being obsessed with good breeding and lineage?” Jill asked.

“I don’t remember Marcus’s background,” Rebecca said. “We--I--just found some old school photos.” Her brow scrunched up. “He had weirdly long hair for the 30s...”

“I’ll look it up later.” Jill waved a dismissive hand. “I think I’m on to something here.”

“So, which one was dear old dad?” Jake asked.

“Eugenics? Right?” Rebecca looked to her companions for confirmation.

“Definitely eugenics,” Chris said.

Jill’s face was scrunching up. “Ehhh,” she said, waggling her hand in the air.

“No come on, he spent so much time ranting about natural selection.” Chris straightened up, lifted his chin, and did a terrible impression of a high class Birtish accent: “Superior DNA.”

“He definitely wanted to fuck that tyrant,” Jill rebutted.

Horror crystallized on Jake’s face as he realized fully what cursed knowledge he had just asked for. Beside him, Claire introduced another shot of mai tai to her nose.

“Fuck, fuck that burns,” Claire muttered, rubbing furiously at the bridge of her nose.

“Yeah,” Chris admitted, with the thousand yard stare of a man reliving very old trauma. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“So Wesker was...both?” Rebecca suggested.

“He was both.” Jill nodded.

“I’m so sorry I asked,” Jake said.

Misery loves company, and a young man freshly cursed with terrible knowing will want to inflict that same knowledge on others, so of course Jake’s head canted to the side to look at Sherry.

“Supergirl?” he prompted.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she did not look at him, gazing straight ahead with unshaken conviction.

“Mom wanted to apply the G virus to gene therapy,” she said firmly.

“...and your dad?” Jake pressed.

The conviction withered, along with her posture.

“Monster fucker,” she confessed to her crab rangoon.

Jake nodded.

“And this is why we don’t let Jill touch tequila,” Leon said.

#resident evil #drunk jill has some very contentious opinions #tw: alcohol #my fic

[andersfels]

i feel like. the people who get mad when ppl say "i pity the poor ppl who get taken advantage of by military recruiters" and just go on tirades about them being class traitors...have little to no concept of the power of propaganda. like i myself didn't have a single fucking clue of how bad the US military was until WELL after recruitment age. i was in my 20s when i started learning FOR THE FIRST TIME that the us was perpetrating war crimes and racist, imperialist violence.

my whole life I'd been fed so much propaganda, i was a whole ass adult before I'd even heard any perspective other than "military service is a great honorable thing to do to protect us from terrorism." post 9/11 ramped up military propaganda on a scale that is truly frightening, and circumstances and civilian fear allowed it to work.

i cannot even begin to imagine how many teenagers, struggling to afford college with no idea what they're even going to be able to do with their future, being preyed upon by recruiters who will tell them they can pay for their school, their future, if they sign up to do this thing they've been brainwashed since birth to believe is good and noble.

like class traitors?? babes the predatory nature of recruiters isn't just from the fact that they start recruiting children who are too young to decide that sort of thing, it's from recruiting children who haven't had a fucking chance to deconstruct all the propaganda they've been fed (especially if their parents are pro military) on top of having free school hung over their head like a carrot. they don't KNOW what they're signing up for.

the utter lack of empathy for how literal fucking children get manipulated by the whole system, starting with the complete and total effictiveness of our propaganda, means i don't think a lot of you even understand how any of this fucking works. you've got some cartoonish evil villain caricature in your head of people going "hmm yes i will sign my humanity away and become an evil killing machine for us imperialism in exhange for money," and think we're asking you to sympathize because they're poor. you're fucking idiots. the people we are asking you to sympathize with are brainwashed children who have NO idea what they're signing up for and are only thinking about a future they were promised they otherwise couldn't have, and are trading what they think is honorable service for it.

if we can't address that, how are we ever going to start undoing it? how are we going to protect future generations of children from believing the same things? recruiters prey on the people who were raised to think that way, and it does extend even beyond the people who are poor and disadvantaged. propaganda is the root problem of militaty recruitment, and i refuse to be the kind of person who won't have sympathy for children who never were given the chance to unlearn actual brainwashing.

maybe it's just my background, growing up in a cult where i was subjected to an extensive amount of brainwashing since birth, but i know how ugly it is. i know how it can shape your whole fucking worldview, and how annoying it fucking is for people on the outside of that to say "oh but its so easy to see that x stuff is wrong, and if you didn't know that, you're just a bad person."

if you don't have a concept of what it's like to be brainwashed, you're priviliged. that's all I've got to say about that. pity for people who have been brainwashed is not military sympathy, or justification for soldiers. it's grief for the system of us imperialistic violence functioning as intended and manipulating children to do it. its bone deep sadness and anger that they're able to do that. its frustration that for all your anti military posturing, a lot of you don't actually give a fuck about reducing numbers of military recruitment by working to counter propaganda for future gens, because you would rather sit on your high horse and just feel superior for condmening anyone who actually gets recruited, regardless of why or how, or what any of us could have done to change things.

[bastart13]

I’ve had a lot of fun recently coming with with female mercenary characters for TF2. I really liked where the concept art was going with making them all individual characters rather than simply “if the characters were women”

The design style is fantastic for distinct simplicity so I tried limiting myself to basic colours and shapes to make these

and I’m pretty confident they pass the silhouette test!

Character names/bios under the cut!

Heavy

Name: Marie Jarrett

Age: Mid 30s-40s

Height: 6’5

Nationality: American (Hawai’i)

Bio: Raised in Hawai’i, growing up she developed more and more drastic measures to fend off the tourists swarming her home. Land mines, electric gates, guard dogs, none could stop them for long until she picked up her trusty minigun to send her message. But even still, she hears the click of cameras in the night.

Eventually, she left her home to explore the world. Enthralled with the image of seeing different wonders across different countries, she’s always disappointed. She’s travelled every continent and still finds nothing that lives up to her expectations. No place, no person. She’s outgoing and open to new experiences, only she usually hates them.

Mercenary life is a great opportunity to earn money, see sights, meet new people and kill them after they don’t meet your expectations. She hates New Mexico and takes every opportunity to destroy the buildings and insult her employer’s tastes. She finds some people she tolerates within the mercenaries as she hasn’t yet visited where they live. However much she hides it, she has a deep, instinctual fear of the Engineer.

  Soldier

Name: Linda Smith

Age: Early 40s

Height: 5’10

Nationality: Canadian

Bio: Canada’s perfect woman… or so she claims. The star of war propaganda posters and clearly decided for the role because of her great tactical assets. She’s there to motivate people into the fight. To spread the glory of Canada and inspire her allies. She believes she has higher orders than anyone else she’s working for (ignoring the fact she hasn’t heard from them for a good few years) and is determined to follow them to the letter. She may have lost the letter but she remembers it good enough.

She represents the ideals of Canada: polite, friendly, apologetic, and pacifistic. None of these are contradicted by how she throws around rockets. That’s not what Canada means. She’s superior to everyone around her and graciously educates them on how to improve through example. She loves her French and British allies and will kindly tell the Americans how to be better.

She’s motivating and actually fairly competent, it’s just that competency might be misdirected. She’s damn good at rocket jumping, shooting her shotgun, and supporting her team, it’s just that you really need to get it in her head when she’s meant to be doing it.

Scout

Name: Patricia “Pat” Herald

Age: 50s-60s

Height: 5’4

Nationality: English

Bio: In her years, Patricia has learnt fear… and she’s learnt to laugh in its face. She wakes up at the crack of dawn, ready to leave at the drop of a hat, boots polished and laced the night before. Her years have taught her that with a gun and Jeremy by her side, she can survive!

The postal route of Appleby-in-Westmorland.

She’s been chased by geese, dogs, cows, elderly ladies, and when her postal route had her delivering post during the war, she developed a taste for blood. Nothing will stop her from delivering her post on time. Every day before 6am, every postbox will have their letters and parcels. One chucked across barbed wire, another house jumped over a river, another house miles into the country with dogs on her heels, she WILL get there and she’ll get there FAST.

But after a couple of decades, she needs a change of scenery, and the Gravels wars are just the holiday she’s needed. With her trusty black and white cat by her side (ignoring the yowling and scratches) she reckons it’ll be great time to enjoy herself.

Quotes: “Oh, hello, Human Jeremy.”

“Bloody fucking Ethel! Building her house out in the country… surrounded by bloody hills and rivers!”

Pyro

Name: Nikephoros Papadopoulos

Age: Late 20s

Height: 5’11

Nationality: Greek

Bio: Survival of the fittest. Nature gives and nature taketh away. If you’re not prepared for that, well, Pyro is more than happy to teach you the lesson. They embody the old values of the Greek gods: f*ck or fire. She indulges her every whim and unfortunately for the people around her it often involves arson.

One year for the Olympic games, she was given the noble title of torchbearer. On complete coincidence, the Olympics shifted to primarily water sports. Underwater sprints became the hot new trend!

She’s merry and chatty, never missing the opportunity to talk to other people about herself and her world view. She can’t wait to spread her gospel to help other people improve themselves (though she always gets a laugh out of those who go out screaming in the flames). She can’t help it if she has a sadistic side.

Engineer

Name: Mikawo Kojima

Age: Early 20s

Height: 5’0

Nationality: Japanese

Bio: Japan’s early-rising industrial revolutions in technology are best exemplified in Mikawo, a young upstart determined to rise to the top, learning everything she can and building the best of the best. Unfortunately, she’s never been the most creative but when you happen upon other people’s blueprints and happen to construct them first, what does it matter who came up with the “concept”?

At first, she appears to be every bit the quiet and demure young woman people expect, only when silk hides steel, that steel is a massive automatic sentry gun. She’s motivated by a distinct contempt for the people who get in her way. Especially those who try to be better than her. She enjoys the flexibility of English, especially the cusses, and she has no reservations about swearing up a storm, even if she still refuses to give a straight rejection, preferring instead to give a small “I’ll think about it.”

Quotes: “This GUN is fair use on your head!”

Demo

Name: Qingzhao Zeng

Age: Late 40s

Height: 5’3

Nationality: Chinese

Bio: The Zeng family has a long-standing family trade in demolitions and explosives, traced down the line all the way to the Song dynasty. Luckily, Qingzhao has sisters so, you know, it’s not all that important. She doesn’t even have to stop smoking and drinking. She hasn’t blown herself up (that much) so clearly, it’s working. Precision is for other people to worry about. She’s apathetic to a T, having seen everything. Measurements come from the heart. A pinch of gunpowder there, a splash of paint there.

Her family has a deep-seated rivalry with the DeGroots. Long ago in ancient China, a Zeng matriarch woke up in a cold sweat, a message from the stars to let them know of their Scottish rivals. Due to being a continent away from each other, the families have actually met each other only a handful of times, but the hatred needs to be kept up because, what if?

Turns out, Qingzhao has met Tavish even before finding employment under the Mann brothers. One drunken night, the two of them had a short, whirlwind friendship, sharing secrets and declaring each other to be their best friends. Luckily for them, they both forgot the night, merrily hating each other as tradition dictates. However, headaches and flashes of this terrible night haunt them both. Could they really get over centuries of hate and become friends?

Absolutely not.

Sniper

Name: Ansa Aaltonen

Age: 27

Height: 6’2

Nationality: Finnish

Bio: Snow. Sugar. Cocaine.  Her life is run by many white powders. Ansa is a professional sniper, with a sharp eye and a steady hand… when she isn’t also high as a kite, lost in the snowy wilderness of Finland and screeching to the sky. When you’re up in the dark and cold, you need something to give you a little pep in your step. It just so happens Ansa liked having a bit more pep than most.

She’s there for a THRILL. There’s nothing better to get your heart pumping at 200 beats per second than a good headshot, embracing the chill, and a hit of sugar. She no longer feels the cold or heat or even pain, shrugging it off until she collapses. It just makes her feel alive. She’s efficient, fast, and determined to get her kicks.

She has an unusual taste, living off fermented fish and tree bark. To most people around the Finnish wilderness, she’s nothing more than an urban legend, but she’s very real and she’s looking for some excitement, happily found in employment in the Gravel wars.

Spy

Name: Yvonne Pleshette [Real name N/A]

Age: 30s

Height: 5’8

Nationality: American (California)

Bio: The silver screen calls to his woman and she’s happy to answer. She trains herself to act in every possible role she can, having a wide range of accents, body languages, and backstories. To truly test herself, she gave up her identity long ago. Lately she’s been going by the name “Yvonne.”

The world of Hollywood is cutthroat and full of backstabbers so she learnt to cut throats and stab backs. While some people tell her the terms are metaphorical, nothing else has given her more roles. Living the mercenary life is simply gathering research for her roles (and earning some much-needed money in the process).

She presents herself as a classic film star, despite being a minor name at best, mostly because she’s always changing it. She has high standards but a cheapskate personality. She’s a bit of a bitch, happily criticising others, especially if they’re working with her. What can she say? She’s a diva.

[Slutshames other spy]

Quotes: “Ugh, actors these days, they know nothing about getting into character. They still have names.”

“’AHHHHH—’ Wait, no. Once more from the top. Scream in agony.”

Medic

Name: Susan Monks

Age: 30-40s

Height: 5’7

Nationality: American (New Jersey)

Bio: The American Healthcare system. Is there a more glorious sight? The exploitation of pain. The money. The debt. The fear it strikes into the entire population it’s designed to help. To Susan, there’s nothing better. She squeezes every last drop from the people she helps, working on a purely transactional lifestyle. She’ll never help someone unless she has all of their insurance information and the payment secure in her bank, and god forbid she ever accept help. It’s not like she can afford her own prices.

She’s very self-aware of her own corruption and proud of it, though she refuses to be exploited in the same way, suspicious of anything “free” but also doing her best not to pay for anything.

That said, she doesn’t much care for how good a job she does. In her eyes, asking for surgery is one thing. Asking for successful surgery is another. She has a variety of skills in both cosmetic and military medicine. She just wishes the license board would stop sending her “malpractice” letters. Ugh, stick to your own business. “Disappearing” all their messengers is becoming a pain.

Quotes: “Why get someone else to do something for you when you can scrounge a way to do it yourself?”

#team fortress 2 #team fortress #tf2 #fem tf2 #tf2 heavy #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #tf2 soldier #tf2 demoman #tf2 pyro #character design #art #i'm very happy with how these turned out

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 7 - After Midnight [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s an extra chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Missions require stealth.

Series Masterlist

For a spy, working at unusual hours was nothing new. During your training at the academy they would wake you up at ungodly hours to drag you to exercise just so that you would get used to being ready to fight anytime.

So technically you weren’t supposed to be this tired, but you hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. To your surprise, at around 5 in the morning you were assigned to a new mission to capture and bring another member of HYDRA in. It was unexpected because your superiors had told you earlier that earning Bucky’s trust and getting information from him was the priority, and they hadn’t sent you after any target for days up until this morning. You weren’t exactly complaining anyway, other missions weren’t your priority.

Even if you kept telling yourself what you were doing was just business, somehow talking to him didn’t feel like it.

“God damn it,” you muttered to yourself when the sight of your reflection in the elevator mirror caught your eye, making you heave a sigh and push the button to your apartment. Your shirt was stained with so much blood that you could hardly see the white and you licked your thumb before trying to scrub off the dried blood on your cheekbone. The elevator made a small noise before the door opened and you stepped outside, dragging your weary self to your door.

“What’s up neighbor?”

You jumped out of your skin and turned to Keith who was watching you with a grin on his face, holding a cup of coffee.

“What the fuck?”

“Likewise. Why are you covered in blood, you normal civilian you?”

You opened your door and stepped inside with him following you suit.

“Mission.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Young lady, look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t kill the Winter Soldier.”

“What? No!” you made a face, “I could never- it was another kind of a mission.”

“You already have a mission, didn’t you tell them you’re supposed to focus on that one?”

“The target was heavily protected and it needed my expertise.”

“Nobody likes a brag.”

You rolled your eyes, “Keith, General literally told me that before sending me there.”

“You’re not supposed to get close to targets anymore,” he reminded you and you shifted your weight from one foot to other, biting inside your cheek.

“It got out of control,” you murmured, making him sigh.

“Y/N.”

“It’s not like I wanted to!” you defended yourself, “It was just necessary, that’s all.”

“If you get in close combat with a target you might end up with visible injuries, and that would compromise your cover as a civilian and tip Barnes off.”

“I know, I know…” you murmured as you walked to the sink to wash your hands, then switched the coffee maker on.  

“Do you?” he insisted, “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re looking for trouble.”

You grabbed a cup from the shelf and turned to him.

“I just wanted to get it over with,” you said, “Okay? I have other things in mind.”

He pulled his brows together, “Like what?”

“Like…” you waved your hands, trying to find the words, “Like other stuff. Like my main mission— by the way I couldn’t ask the other night, why did they locate you here?”

“General said your relationship with Barnes is progressing well. It’s better to have another agent close by, just in case he decides to make a late night visit.”

The innuendo wasn’t lost on you and you raised your brows, “I feel like I’m working in a dark alternate version of a matchmaking system where they hook you up with a date you can’t trust.”

“So every dating app out there?” he asked, making you laugh as you sipped your coffee.

“Speaking of dates,” you started, but was cut off your phone beeped and you checked the time, then cursed under your breath.

“What?”

“I can’t believe I’m working at a stupid milkshake shop,” you grumbled, “I need to take a shower and get to work, see yourself out.”

“You know, you could bring some milkshake home,” he said as you walked to the bathroom, “That’s what a good neighbor would do.”

“Goodbye Keith!” you called out and closed the bathroom door.

                                    ***

You really, really needed something to snap you out of this sleeplessness. Preferably coffee, preferably in an I.V. or something because you had a feeling drinking it wouldn’t be enough at this point.

“Thank you and bon appetite!” you smiled brightly at the customer after serving them their milkshake, then dropped the smile and pulled the small apron off your uniform.

“I’m going to take a break and get some coffee,” you told your coworker “You want anything?”

“No thank you,” she said and you fixed your hair before walking outside to make your way to the coffee shop.

Keith had a point. It was stupid to get in close combat with a target, especially now. General had sent you there with clear orders of you keeping your distance and using your sniper rifle, not your dagger and in the heat of the moment, you had decided to go after him when you couldn’t get a clear shot.

“Hi, can I get a hot red eye please?” you asked the barista, “Actually no- make it a black eye, largest cup you have.”

She smiled slightly, “Long night?”

“You have no idea.”

She swiped your card before giving it to you and you walked to the waiting counter to lean against it, nibbling on your lip.

You really, really wanted to believe that your sour mood was a result of you not getting enough sleep, but deep down you knew it wasn’t like you to take unnecessary risks.

It was the fact that you had been too distracted to take the shot at the right time because you were looking down at your phone when the target had walked out of his building.

But after all, it was your main mission, wasn’t it? You had to make sure to get Bucky’s attention to get closer to him. Maybe two missions at the same time had these kind of disadvantages, but it wasn’t as if you could walk there and tell them not to give you side missions.

If you wanted to be a handler, you had to prove yourself.

You took the lid off the cup, the scent of hot liquid filling your nostrils and you grabbed the sugar packets before tearing the top off to pour sugar into it. You dipped the thin stir stick into the beverage to stir it, then put the stick between your lips but as soon as you turned around and saw who had just gotten his coffee, you held your breath.

“Hi!” you said breathlessly, pulling the thin stick off your mouth, “Um- Captain—Captain America sir.”

“Oh God no, please call me Sam.” He offered you his hand and you shook it.

“Hi Sam.”

“It’s Y/N, right?”

“Yes!” you said, “Yes, it’s wonderful to see you again. Under much better conditions where I haven’t been shot at.”  

“Bucky just went to that uh….” He paused, “Milkshake shop right? He just went there to see you.”

You scrunched up your nose, “Oh no, I literally just went on my break.”

“That’s alright,” he said, “He’ll be back here. Would you like to sit down?”

Nope.

Nope, you did not want to sit down.

You had planned a whole strategy to pull the wool over Bucky’s eyes, but Sam’s file told you that he was an excellent judge of character, much better at reading people than Bucky. Everything that you had told Bucky to manipulate him had worked so far but persuading Sam wouldn’t be that easy.

Seeing that any small sign could tip him off, you had to put even more of an effort into the illusion.  

“I’d love to!” you said and followed him to the nearest table. You sat down and pushed your hair behind you ear, smiling up at him.

“I never got to say thank you,” you said, “For saving me back there.”

“Don’t mention it, really,” he said, “How’s your arm?”

“It got better,” you said, “I thought I was dying but as it turns out, it was just a graze. Only thing that’s hurting right now is my ego.”

“Oh it happens.”

“Even you have to admit, that was a bad first impression.”

He grinned, “For what exactly?”

“For—um… for a first—first impression. In general,” you stammered and sipped your coffee while he sat back.

“So how do you find New York?” he asked, “Bucky mentioned you just moved here.”

“It’s been a month, yes,” you said, clearing your throat, “I like it so far. I mean, aside from getting mugged, I enjoy it. It’s very different than where I grew up in but like— it’s very new.”

“Yeah, especially if you’re from a small town…” he mused, “Where did you say you moved from by the way?”

“Cannon Beach, Oregon.”

“I love small towns,” he said, “Very peaceful.”

“They are!” you said, “I mean sometimes a little too peaceful with nothing to do but…”

“You know, visiting Oregon has been in my list for a while now,” he said, “Any advice on where to go if I end up visiting there?”

Oh he is good.

If you weren’t a trained spy, you wouldn’t have even noticed that he was trying to see whether you could be trusted or not. Bucky, being secretive himself hadn’t even asked anything about your so called hometown but Sam knew exactly what to ask to see if you were hiding something.

You thanked Chloe for making you read everything about your file the other day in your mind before you pursed your lips, deep in thought.

“Well my hometown doesn’t have much to offer but— do you like hiking?”

“Sure, why not?”

“We have a state park,” you said, “I think you’d enjoy it. Natural view, all green and peaceful. Back in high school, every semester break my friends dragged me there and the there was this one time we were all there, I got stung by this huge wasp and it was just before the school dance and I ended up not getting asked out by my crush—anyway, it’s a long way of saying I don’t hike anymore.”

That made him chuckle and he seemed to be convinced that you were sincere, thankfully.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as his eyes went over your shoulder, making you look up and gasp.

Jesus, as it turned out you weren’t the only one with a mission who required you to get in close combat.

“Oh my God.” You covered your mouth with your hands, staring up at his bruised face half hidden by his hat. Sam pushed his chair back, clearing his throat.

“I should probably step outside,” he said as he stood up, “Gotta make a call, I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks man.”

“What happened?” you asked as Sam walked out of the coffee shop and Bucky sat down across from you to the seat Sam had just left. He tried to offer you a small smile.

“It’s nothing.”

“Bucky it doesn’t look like nothing…” you mumbled, your brows pulled together “Does it hurt?”

What?

“Does it hurt?”

You weren’t supposed to ask that, you were supposed to gather info on where he went and what he was doing on missions of his own.

“Not at all,” he assured you and you took a shaky breath.

“What happened?”

“There’s this thing me and Sam are working on,” he said, “Don’t worry about it. I went to the milkshake shop to see you but…”

You wanted to ask for more details but something told you it could create a problem to insist this early so you decided against it.

“Just tell me you’re safe?”

A soft light crossed his eyes, “I am,” he said, “I promise.”

You paused for a moment before you pushed your hair behind your ear. “I gather you’re kind of used to getting hurt then?”

“A little,” he admitted, “That’s why I couldn’t call you or anything. I got caught up in something.”  

Ah. He wasn’t giving you any details even if he thought you were a civilian.

He could like you, but he still couldn’t trust you. Maybe it was a precaution, maybe he wanted to keep you away from his mess, but either way, it was very clear that he had trust issues.

You took a mental note to put it on your report for General and shook your head.

“Of course,” you said, “You don’t need to explain anything, I’m just glad that you’re well and safe. Bruises aside.”

“Looks that bad huh?”

“No!” you said quickly, “No I wouldn’t say bad. Not by a long shot, you’re still pret—uh…dashing. Cute as a bug’s ear I’d say. Looking—looking aces. Dynamite even!”

He pulled his brows together, keeping his eyes on you.

“I may or may not have checked some early to mid 20th century slang just in case,” you admitted, making him tilt his head in confusion.

“Just in case of what?”

“Just in case you said something and I didn’t understand on the second date,” you said, “And let me tell you something, you guys spoke a completely different language back then.”

“You’re joking,” he said with a small smile and you crossed your arms.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Say one more term and I will.”

You thought for a moment, “Fine. Are you ready for this?”

“Absolutely, bring it on.”

“I will….” You trailed off, searching your mind for the right words you had checked online the other night, “I will snap my cap if you spook me showing up looking like you were about the buy the farm last night.”

A clear laugh escaped from his lips as it lit up his whole face and that was when you realized how rare it was to hear him laugh out loud. A warmth filled your stomach and you raised your brows, your nose in the air.

“See? Told you,” you pointed out and stole a look at him, “Was it—was it good?”

“It was great,” he said when he could pull himself together, “Absolutely perfect.”

“Why thank you,” you sipped your coffee as he cleared his throat.

“Speaking of the second date…” he said, making you bite down a smile, “Any chance you’re free tonight?”

“I am,” you said, “But you’re not.”

He pulled his brows together, “Hm?”

“Have you seen yourself?” you insisted, “You look like you—you almost died or something!���

“It wasn’t a big deal, really.”

“Well, those bruises say otherwise,” you said, “You need some rest. How much sleep did you get last night?”

He averted his eyes and waved a hand, “Some. Enough.”

“Bucky,” you said, leaning in slightly, “How much?”

Everything the government and your division had gathered on Bucky suggested the same thing; The Winter Soldier was basically created for war. He was the perfect soldier, and there was no way anyone could get any information from him. There was a reason why they had sent you into this mission, trying to get intel from him by force was absolutely impossible.

Even the government knew that.

But the same unstoppable soldier who would probably die before saying anything to the enemy caved in when you batted your lashes.

“Two hours.”

Your jaw dropped and you shook your head, “Nuh uh.”

“It’s enough, it’s more than—“

“Nope,” you cut him off, “You’re going to rest at home and—eat soup and watch garbage TV, mister. No dates for you on two hours of sleep.”

A soft smile pulled at his lips, “I can function with two hours of sleep darling.”

Your heart did not skip a beat at that, it was just you being very focused on your own cover and that was it.

“Well I don’t want you to just function,” you mumbled, “You need to take care of yourself too.”

Judging by his expression you could see that he wasn’t used to hearing that and you put your coffee on the table, then reached out to gently put your hand over his vibranium one. His hand twitched like a gun recoiling in your hand, even if you knew it was involuntary and a look of disbelief crossed his features, as if he hadn’t expected you –or anyone to touch that, as if he was afraid that you would be scared.

But of course, that was the spy in you speaking. Your cover wasn’t supposed to notice anything of the sort.

“How about…” you trailed off, “We have a date tomorrow? You go and get some rest tonight, and I’ll pick what I’m gonna wear for tomorrow and spam my friends with outfit ideas.”

“You sure?”

“Of course,” you said, “We have all the time in the world for dates. And I happen to live here, you know? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

He smiled and turned his hand to entwine his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Good,” he rasped out, “I like the sound of that.”

                                         ***

You should’ve known your superiors wouldn’t make it easy for you. This time, you were allowed to take your team with you because as it turned out, the right hand of the target you had brought in last night had gotten away, so now you had to take him down for your superiors to cut a deal with the target.

The first part of the mission had gone splendidly. He was alone and in hiding, so setting your gear up on the rooftop and pulling the trigger hadn’t been difficult whatsoever. You watched as a couple of agents burst through his door so that they could retrieve his body and fixed your ski mask before starting to dissemble your rifle to carry it easier.

“Anyone wants to grab some dinner?” Keith’s voice reached your earpiece and you yawned.

“Nah,” you said, “I’m going to go home and sleep for a year or something.”

“Deleting the security cam footage of the building right now,” Chloe let you know, “And I want dinner, I’ve been running on multiple cups of coffee.”

“You got it.”

“Are you buying?” one of the agents in your team asked, “If you are, we’re coming too.”

“Yeah man, I’m buying. Tacos?”

“Sounds good, just let me check—“ Chloe started but then gasped, “Shrike, get out of there right now!”

It was almost instinctual. You grabbed the small pistol out of your boots and turned around to point it at the person behind you but as soon as you recognized who he was, your heart started pacing.

Bucky had decided not to rest at home after all.

“Hi soldier,” you managed to say, “We have to stop meeting like this.”

Chapter 8

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #tfatws!bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x you #falcon and the winter soldier #bucky #marvel #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #burn the witch

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥Where Is Your Rider?🔥

A/N: HEY EVERYONE!!! So, I just wanted to thank you guys for the massive amount of support you guys have given me recently, I just managed to reach a pretty significant follower count!!! I don’t want to specify the number because I don’t want to make this into a competition, but I’m so happy and grateful for all of you guys and the love and support you have shown me! As promised, I plan to celebrate with a face reveal! I’ll specify when I’m going to do it (as I don’t know when I won’t be busy, lol) but it will happen soon! For now, enjoy this super angsty short one-shot I have written for you guys! This was supposed to be a really short drabble but because I have no self control whatsoever, this ended up being nearly 3,000 words instead of the 500 I planned for it. Also, this was inspired by the two songs, “Where is Your Rider?” and “Pale White Horse” by the Oh Hellos! I hope you enjoy, and again, thank you guys so much!!! ❤️❤️❤️

🐉 Song Recommendation: “Pale White Horse” By: The Oh Hellos 🐉

Word Count: ~2.8k

~~~

Levi braced his hands on his knees, panting so hard his throat burned with dry fire. That had been close. Too close. To say that the expedition had been a nightmare would’ve been an understatement. It had been an absolute disaster. What was supposed to be a simple mission to retrieve some supplies from an abandoned battle station outside the walls had turned into chaos quicker than anyone could’ve ever anticipated as abnormals had surrounded them on all sides. Levi had tried his best to protect as many of his soldiers as he could, but even Humanity’s Strongest Soldier had been overwhelmed by the vast number of titans. Erwin had called for the retreat only minutes into the expedition, and yet they had still lost more men on this mission alone than they had during the past six months.

Levi closed his eyes, willing the tears back against the images of his fallen comrades, their broken bodies and screams of his name as they were devoured right in front of him. He had to stay strong, just for a little while longer. As soon as he got back within the walls and was able to retreat to his office, he would be allowed to break, to let loose the torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. But for now, he had to be the pillar of strength that his remaining soldiers could look up to for hope and reassurance.

He sighed deeply, forcing down the bile that rose in the back of his throat, and raised his head, his eyes still closed as he prepared what he was going to say to his squad. When he finally felt ready enough to face them, he turned with his head held up high to the pitiful number of soldiers left on the field. He opened his mouth to talk when all of a sudden, he noticed something.

Her squad wasn’t back yet.

Levi’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, his mouth hung open as the words of his quickly prepared speech were immediately thrown out the window, his mind clouded with worry.

“Where’s Captain (Y/N)? And her squad?” Levi asked, prompting the men around him to stop what they were doing and look to their raven-haired superior. It was obvious that Captain (Y/N) and Captain Levi were together, that much was apparent from Levi’s subtle favoritism and soothed demeanor when she was around, but their relationship was often overlooked due to the professional manner in which they regarded each other when working during the day. Nobody was privy to what occurred behind closed doors - the clingy, loving nature that Levi adopted around (Y/N) when they were alone.

Levi felt a cold tremor trickle down his spine when nobody answered, some of their faces paling as they suddenly remembered their Captain’s relationship, panic laced in their eyes when they realized that nobody could answer Levi’s question. “Did anybody see where they went? Or could make a guess on which direction they could’ve gone?”

Levi tried to keep his voice steady when silence once again answered him, only the soft murmuring of the cadets asking each other for information filling the space. His breathing quickened and shallowed, making him feel light-headed, but he shook the feeling away. He needed to stay focused if he was going to find her. She was going to be alright, she had to be. He wouldn’t accept any other option.

“Alright then, everybody stay here. Commander Erwin should be arriving with the rest of you in a moment. When he gets here, someone tell him that I’ve gone to look for them.”

He whirled on his heel when he was met with murmurs of acceptance, aiming for his horse until a quick flash of movement caught the corner of his eye. He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized it was the movement of a horse racing for them, its hooves striking the ground with every beat as it galloped for them in a panic. Cold dread washed over Levi as the horse got closer, immediately recognizing the silvery white coat of (Y/N)’s stunning mare.

Levi was frozen in fear for the first time in his life as the horse came barreling towards him; riderless. He managed to snap out of it and quickly moved to intercept the horse, using his hands to jolt the frantic horse to a stop. Levi cooed at the mare, murmuring soft words of comfort as he approached her as slowly and non-threateningly as possible. When she had finally calmed down enough for him to touch her, Levi carefully curled his fingers around her reins and stood back to get a good look at the animal.

Her nostrils were flaring with every harsh breath she took, panting with both fear and exertion. Her eyes were wide enough to flash the whites around her irises at him, her gaze darting all around them as if expecting something to jump out at her. Levi felt his stomach clench hard enough to rip a whimper from him when he saw that her once gleaming silver coat was now soaked in sweat, mud, and fresh blood. Levi took a shuddering breath, his eyes closing.

“Danika, where is your rider?”

The mare’s only response was to jerk her head in panic, her ears pinned as she tried to rip herself from his iron grip. Levi bared his teeth, a few stray tears sliding down his cheeks. “WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR RIDER!?”

He knew shouting would only make things worse, but he couldn’t help himself, his fury and paralyzing fear driving him to the edge of insanity. Where was she? She had to be here, he wouldn’t accept this, couldn’t accept this. She was alive and well and perfectly fine, her horse was just acting crazy. It had to be some kind of trick, some kind of illusion meant as a punishment for the lives of the men he had lost.

He rubbed his eyes but to his horror, the image of blood soaking Danika’s fur didn’t disappear. He wanted to believe that it was Danika’s blood, that the poor animal had just been clawed up in battle, but he knew it wasn’t hers. She had no external wounds to speak of and the blood was pooled on top of her saddle and splashed along her flank rather than gouged from her flesh.

More tears started to stream down his face, the air in his throat hitching with every shaky breath he took. It wasn’t possible. No. She was alive. (Y/N) was alive. The love of his life was alive. Levi hung his head, his hair falling to curtain his expression as he choked on another sob. “Danika, please. Please. Where is your rider? Where is (Y/N)? She was with you, right? She has to be around here somewhere…”

He knew he must look deranged, talking to a horse and muttering to himself, but he didn’t care. All he cared about, in that moment, was finding out where the fuck his lover was. Another sob ripped through his body, his eyes squeezing shut even harder as more tears fell from behind his lids. He didn’t want to accept it, he couldn’t accept it, so why was his heart shattering as if he already had?

The sudden touch of a warm muzzle brushing against his face made him flinch and look up, only to be met with the sight of (Y/N)’s silver mare, watching him with a deeply sorrowful expression that mirrored his own, as if she too was grieving the loss of her rider. Levi wanted to scream, wanted to chase the mare into the woods, wanted to slash titans until his body gave out, but he knew he couldn’t do any of those things. It wasn’t the horse’s fault, no matter how much he wanted someone to blame.

“Please,” he whispered, his fingers coming up to curl against Danika’s soft muzzle. “Please tell me she’s alive. Tell me she made it back with you, you just got scared and left her behind. Tell me that she’s going to be okay. I-I can’t live without her, please.”

He was begging now but he didn’t notice. He just wanted some damn reassurance, some comfort, some support - all of the things that (Y/N) usually provided for him when he felt helpless. But (Y/N) wasn’t with him and he was floundering. His eyes were glossy with tears as he looked deep into the mare’s eyes, begging with both his voice and his gaze for the horse to give him something, anything to work with.

“Levi,” the deep voice right beside him made him jump, too lost in his hysteria to notice that Erwin had slipped up next to him, his face dark and grim. Levi’s eyes were frantic as they searched Erwin’s gaze. He knew the Commander had seen (Y/N) last, her squad had been flanking his during their initial departure. Erwin swallowed. Hard.

“Levi, I’m so sorry but…” The Commander dug around in his pocket until he found what he was looking for and pulled out a small piece of fabric with (Y/N)’s name written on the back. It was (Y/N)’s wings of freedom patch. Levi carefully took the patch in both of his palms, tears flooding his cheeks as his whole body started to shake.

“S-She saved her squad, Levi. They were being chased by a hoard of abnormal titans and she darted off to act as bait. Her p-plan was solid, but there were just too many of them and they overpowered her,” Erwin said, his jaw clenching when he stuttered a few times, fighting back his own tears. He lifted a hand and rested it gently on his friend’s shoulder, squeezing once. “Levi, s-she’s gone.”

Levi immediately shook his head violently in response, refusing to believe it. She wasn’t dead, she couldn’t be. She had promised him that she would stay alive, that she would never leave him alone, especially after all he had lost. She promised. Erwin walked forward, hands outstretched to keep Levi from doing something rash, but he wasn’t fast enough as the raven crashed to the ground, collapsing under the weight of his grief.

A loud, miserable howl tore from his throat and filled the valley, making the soldiers around him flinch as they silently mourned, a few of them even beginning to shed tears as they watched their normally stoic, steadfast Captain break for the first time since they’d met him. Levi ignored everyone as he sobbed out for the world to hear, his head buried in his hands and his body shaking violently with the force of his sorrow.

He didn’t want to accept it, didn’t want to acknowledge what everyone was telling him was fact. He didn’t want to think about anything but getting her back in his arms as soon as possible. It was all he wanted, to feel her warmth pressed lovingly against him, to hear her murmur gentle words filled with more love than he’d ever expected to receive in his life, to see her eyes light up brightly whenever she saw him. Without her, he was nothing. He knew that if he accepted this, that he would be accepting the loss of his very soul. It was too much for him to handle, he had finally been broken.

The pain was unbearable, he couldn’t take it anymore. Without (Y/N) by his side, he had no will to live. Fuck fighting the titans, fuck finding a new, better world, fuck being Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. Fuck everything. None of it was worth it if (Y/N) wasn’t wrapped safely in his arms.

“Levi…”

He heard Erwin coo at him, his hand outstretched to guide Levi to his feet, but the raven quickly ripped his arm from the Commander’s grasp, his eyes filled with an icy fire that would make Death itself shiver.

“Lead the retreat, take my men back to the walls.”

“Levi, what are you-?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Levi snapped aggressively as he tore his cape from his back and draped it over Danika’s blood soaked saddle.

“Levi, (Y/N)’s dead. You need to come back with us, if you don’t, you won’t make it.”

“That’s the point,” Levi said as he pulled himself into the saddle, once again avoiding Erwin’s attempt to grasp him.

The blonde’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his jaw dropping at his Captain’s words. “If you think for one fucking second that I am going to let you kill yourself over some girl-”

“Don’t you dare speak about (Y/N) that way,” Levi said, his voice a deadly calm. “She is not just ‘some girl’. She’s the love and light of my life and I’m not leaving without her. I’m going to bring her back, no matter what it takes.”

Erwin opened his mouth to argue, but wasn’t even able to get the first word out before Levi had kicked Danika into a gallop, aiming right for the forest she had come from just minutes earlier. Nobody could do anything but watch as Humanity’s Strongest Soldier tore off into the woods, dread settling in their stomachs at the thought of having to fight without his support. Because they all knew, even if Levi made it, he would never be the same. Unless (Y/N) was somehow magically still alive, Levi would never be the same man he once was. His responsibilities and future didn’t matter to him anymore, not if they didn’t include his love.

Erwin sighed and shouted for his men to retreat, knowing that sending more men to retrieve Levi would only end in more casualties, by both titans and Levi himself. All he could do was trust that his friend could hold his own and would make it back. The soldiers of the remaining squads did as he asked without hesitation but the air was thick with tension as they galloped back to the walls, unsure of how to process the loss of their two strongest Captains.

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot #attack on titan #aot levi #levi fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #captain levi x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan erwin #levi attack on titan #snk imagines #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #snk levi #snk #shigeki no kyojin #reader x levi #commander erwin #erwin smith

[im-a-mint]

the big gestiona difference i see between rottmnt splinter and 2012 splinter is that rottmnt splinter had his actions justified, called out, and was actually acknowledged he wasn’t a good parent, while 2012 splinter’s weren’t. to not cause that much confusion between the two im going to call rottmnt splinter “splints” and 2012 splinter well, splinter. (whole study under the cut(yes i am writing this on the computer))

lets start with splinter. splinter didn’t exactly act as a father in any way but more like a teacher who really cherished and cared of his students but who didn’t exactly see them as their children. of course, he called them “my sons” because he knew that he was pretty much the only parental figure the turtles had, but in terms of treatment, he did treat karai more like a daughter even though he didn’t raise her and didn’t even know she was alive until leo mentioned her, all while having actual fucking teenagers that he actually fucking raised with no one else other than him to look up to. kind of a jerk move. then theres also the fact that, even while caring for the turtles, he still abused them. yes, someone can love someone else and still treat them like shit have you not heard of toxic lovers. some of the stuff he did that caused a lot of were:

telling leo that, if he wanted to win the battle, he would have to either sacrifice himself or his brothers and that the world depended on him. basically saying “you have to end your life or sacrifice the lives of people you care about to save people who will never even know you exist”. what did this leave leo with? the atlas complex, which then led to the whole…mess he became by season 5.

neglecting donnie of stuff he enjoyed and ignoring what he had to say as seen in the episode where he created metalhead. the way he expected to receive a negative response is an actual leftover from emotional trauma that even i have from being constantly ignored and told no to even the slightest of things, which in the long run can lead to a complaint and toxically non-confrontational nature in the victim.

using humiliation therapy on raph and clearly showing a difference between the way he treated leo and helped him with his issues and the way he treated raph and helped with his issues. humiliation therapy can leave many consequences and leftover trauma on the victim, and can actually worsen complexes the person already had such as inferiority, superiority, or even god complexes. the first is a clear leftover that makes the person believe they are not worth enough like others, a clear sign of emotional damage, while the other two work as a defense mechanism to make the victim protect themselves to ever believe in what they were told. it also worsened raphs anger issues, too. ironic.

keeping mikey hidden up in his own bubble of everything will be fine, nothing is ever wrong type of world but then ignoring how much this ended up hurting him once he was set out into the actual world. the little we see of his personality from before being released to the surface is oddly similar to the personality we see across the show, but still has something off about it. i have a personal theory that once he began suffering from anxiety and night terrors because of all the traumatic things he was exposed to at just the bare age of 16, he began using this happy-go-lucky personality as a defense mechanism against what terrified him alongside his goofy dumb nature, which also explains how quickly he became an expert in dimension X since it was everything but the terrifying world he had been exposed to before.

and guess what? this is never acknowledged by anyone and actually excused by many just because of some clips where hes shown to care for the turtles. repeat after me: you can love someone, but also abuse them. and all that i mentioned that he did that hurt them dearly? yeah, thats just the top of the iceberg.

aNYWAYS, lets head over towards splints that's objectively a better dad in comparison to the absolute jerk of a bitch splinter is because yes i am biased and yes i will always be.

while splinter is...really fucking bad, splints is no saint. it is explicitly said and sometimes even shown that he neglected the turtles full on. no sugar coating. full on neglect. sometimes it is shown in a subtle way such as with the way that mikey's the one who does the cooking of the home while being *drum rolls* 13. 13 years old. hes the youngest and yet the one who has to do the cooking and all of that which is good since he can be pretty independent but concerning since, well, a thirteen yearold shouldn't be doing the cooking for a family of 5.

and then there's the explicit call out to his neglect from donnies part in that race car episode where he even cries after realizing that splints didn't want to spend time with him and mikey because he wanted to make up from the neglect, but just because he needed someone to use for his own selfish motivations.

but he actually shows that he cares for the turtles in the way a father actually cares for his children. he actually worries about them even a little and worries about them in a way a father does, not in the way a mentor does that. it is also understandable his neglect because, like many fathers in the real world, the introduction of children and the new big responsibility ripped him from his glory days, making him constantly ache for a way to get them back. in many cases this leads to substance abuse, and in splints it led to him neglecting his sons and constantly watching the movies of his glory days yet not losing the love and care he had for them.

anyways this is long enough already, love yall. live and let 2012 splinter apologists die

#valentine studies #valentine psychoanalyzes #kinda??? not really??? #oh well #anyways #tmnt #2012 splinter #rottmnt splinter #i fucking HATE 2012 splinter #but i dont condone rottmnt splinter #valentine talks #long post

[gojology]

Job Benefits. (Part One)

new beginnings ‧₊˚✩彡. - chapter one.

you can find part two here : part two : undesirable

pairing : ceo! gojo x female reader

warnings : cursing

wordcount : 1960

a/n : something that i’ve been working on for a while now. this is self indulgent as all hell and i’m starting a new series n idk when it’ll end necessarily but ceo gojo is all i need in my life. also i have like 300 million requests to go through but i PROMISE i’ll get them done! i just need to finish my valentines event thingy and i’ll be open! 

it has come to my attention that gojo is his surname and i’m too lazy to fix anything other then the first name basis part im so sorry LOl

         It’s no secret that you like working the office.      Even as a child you enjoyed the formal atmosphere when you walked into your parent’s workplace, and even better, you enjoyed organizing stuff. Growing up, your favorite pass time was cleaning and organizing which caused you to excel in school, coupled with your natural smarts. Your peers would constantly tease you, telling you that you were a boring kid- but hey, you’d be making lots of money, and what better job would there be for you, aside from being someone’s secretary?      Those were the first words that came across your mind as soon as you stepped into the prestigious building, heels rhythmically hitting the stainless floor, suitcase in hand. It was also the first lie that you’d tell yourself in there.      You had known about this company even as a child. One that sold just about everything, the most notable being luxurious clothing, but something the company was also well known for? How attractive the family was.      Sure it was a bit weird, but in defense of the general public their appearances were rare, only once in a while you’d see the family on TV. Waving in their limousine, blowing kisses and doing things rich people do, or maybe ignoring the cheering crowd of journalists and news reporters, hell like you knew.     Catching glimpses of the wildly white haired family was something every paparazzi threw themselves at, and picking up a magazine or going to search something on the internet would be sure to be chock full of pictures of the esteemed family. The highlight of the family being the son, just because of how handsome he was, and also happened to be the most publicly known and fawned over family member-     Gojo fucking Satoru.      Luckily for you, he was your boss, so you could probably reveal the tiniest of secrets and make major bank. Unluckily for you, he was childish as all hell, not to mention you found childish people incredibly annoying. The worst thing? You were his secretary.      That could only spell out doom for a man like him, and a woman like you, who only wanted to get business done and nothing else. You two truly did not mix.     Two months prior, you had gotten the job and was finally excited to have stable income after graduating. Your hirers didn’t tell you anything about having to babysit a manchild though.     And so, that’s how you found yourself sitting in the comfortable plush leather office chair, fumbling under the piles of paperwork and fan letters, cursing your boss’s name under your breath for being so unconcerned with work. Scheduling appointments, interviews, sending e-mails of unacceptance to eager authors asking to write an auto-biography, that was your life.      You’d be content with it if your boss was normal.      As soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s like he heard you think.     “(Y/N)-chan~!” you hear a familiar sing-songy voice down the rather short hallway. Your office resided right next to his, and it would only take him 30 seconds or so to walk down to your door, presumably to annoy the hell out of you. You grunt, blowing a stray hair out of your face.     This also meant that you could hear him sing from his office, even through the thick walls.      Choosing to ignore it, you instead furiously typed to another business executive’s secretary who had just emailed you about a meeting between Gojo and- well you weren’t quite sure who.      “(Y/N)-chan~ I know you hear me, don’t you know it’s disrespectful to not listen to your seniors?” his playful, deep voice was growing closer, and you straighten your back, sighing. You didn’t sign up to be a daycare worker, yet this was what you found yourself doing most of the time.      “I’m sorry, Satoru-sama, please instill me with your great knowledge, oh wise one.” rolling your eyes and rubbing your temples, you glance up from your laptop, bracing yourself for whatever would happen next. Gojo leaned on the frame of your door, head ducking slightly. He was way too tall to walk under it without any issue.      He was unnecessarily calm though, normally he’d be jumping around your office, making a mess of things, but his body language told otherwise. He was slacking off from his duties, obviously, so you weren’t too sure why he’d be acting so... Chill.     With his arms crossed, he gave you a mischievous side eye.     Growing impatient, you stand up, your knuckles grinding against the tabletop. Your brow knitted together as he peered down on you, almost tauntingly, and you hated it.  “Listen, boss. I have a lot to do today, for you, might I add as I am your secretary- and if you’re going to sit around I don’t think I’ll get to these emails and phone calls and everything fast enough. May I kindly assist you with anything? If not I’ll have to ask you to go back to... Whatever you were doing.”      Gojo looked at you, wide-eyed and unblinking, like he didn’t expect such a sassy remark. “Oh my, sweetie. Someone has a naughty mouth... To your boss of all people? How mean! I don’t think I remember putting, ‘allowed to be rude to the Satoru clan’ down on the job benefits.. What’s with the formal tone as well? So unnecessary, just be yourself when you’re talking to me.”     He sauntered closer to your desk, and your breath hitched, this was one of the first times you’d seen him up close like this, and you swore that you could hear your heart beating rapidly inside of your chest. You don’t know what that could mean; but what you did know was that you wanted to slap him or punch a hole into the glass window right behind you and throw him off the 15 floor building. Leaning in close to your ear, he whispered:      “Or, if you wanna stick with the business voice- call me sir. Got that?”     You nod before looking down at your desk, feeling your body heat up for seemingly no particular reason. Did this guy have any knowledge of a private bubble? Whatever, this was your superior. If it was any boss you’d probably be fired by now. You were lucky to be forgiven.     “Yes, sir. May I comment on something... Er, sir?”     “I’m all ears.” standing back up from leaning over your incredibly messy desk, you looked up at him, he looked down at you in response, with beady little “innocent” eyes through his circular shades.      “I didn’t mean to be sassy, I only wish for this relationship to be professional and nothing else.... I, um, truly do apologize and I ask for your forgiveness.” you studied the wall as you say this, fidgeting with your hands and the hem of your pencil skirt. It was a bit awkward to talk to him as if he wasn’t a kid, but it did feel certainly refreshing.      “Is that so?” you turn your head to look back at him as a sign of respect, an eyebrow of his is raised, and a smug smirk is playing at his lips. He talked with such an aura of arrogance around him, you instantly regret being respectful. Yet, you restrain yourself from slapping that stupid smirk off his stupidly handsome face.      Why did all the handsome ones have to be so annoying?      Fuck, no, that wasn’t meant to be a compliment. Even though it was only in your mind, you felt so embarrassed, and had no idea why. It wasn’t like he could read your thoughts, and it was just a mindless compliment, nothing flirtatious about it.       Finally, he spoke. “Aw. (Y/N), I knew we picked well when we hired you. So respectful and professional! What more can I ask for out of a secretary? I humbly accept your apology- but first please do something for me.” he whistled in the other direction as he picked up one of your cute stationary pens, hastily sliding it into his blazer’s pockets.     “Yes, sir?” you brace yourself for impact yet again. Not noticing that he stole one of your favorite pens.     “Slack off a little. None of my secretaries ever worked this hard. I’ll slide in an extra hour for lunch, you can go watch a movie or something-”      “No. Satoru. Contrary to your other secretaries, I actually enjoy work.” standing up now, you stomp over to Gojo, who was now giggling like a 7 year old girl. You hadn’t realized that you had called him by his first name, but honorifics wasn’t on your mind right now.     Your chest stuck out as you shoved him out of your office with your bare hands, maybe as a way of looking more threatening, as if that’d ever work against him.     “Get out of my office!” You hope your eyes are staring daggers, if he ever looked back at you.     Gojo looked at you like he was shocked, tipping his shades down just slightly as you were pushing him out into the hallway. As if he didn’t believe what he was seeing, so he had to see it with his actual eyes- but eventually laughed before accepting his eventual fate.      “On a first name basis now, aren’t we? You’re straightforward! I like straightforward girls though, it works out in your favor.”     “Shut it.”      He made sure to stiffen once in a while just to piss you off so that you couldn’t push him as easily, and before long he was back to his office.       “Cya (Y/N)!” giving you a wave and a wink, he grinned. “I’ll be sure to visit you again, your office is fun!”       That was just one of the unusual interactions that Gojo Satoru had with you, but you knew now that it certainly wouldn’t be the last.  ‧₊˚✩彡.      It didn’t take you long before you realized your favorite pen was gone.       Almost immediately, you figured out who the thief was.       It was evident by now that your relationship between you and your boss wasn’t normal, to say the least. You just couldn’t quite wrap your head around why he stole a cute carrot pen, it certainly wasn’t his style. Well, you weren’t quite sure honestly, but the way the magazine front covers posed him was... Sexual.       Maybe the hot guy liked cute carrot pens and was too scared to buy them by himself, but, it was 2021. Toxic masculinity was basically extinct.      This wasn’t on his mind when he stole your pen, though. Gojo Satoru was smart when he wanted to be. To be quite honest, he just wanted to annoy you more. It made him curious, how could one enjoy work? And be cute at the same time?     The logic made no sense to him. Attending meetings, doing interviews- this was all very boring work to Satoru, and he couldn’t wrap his head around that you enjoyed that. He hadn’t asked to inherit the company, but yet here he was now. Shit, maybe he’d ask you if you wanted the company.      He yawned before drinking his coffee, just how he liked it before taking a sip he straightened his tie, just to make sure he looked extra clean and fresh when you busted down the door, ruffling his fluffy white hair as he did so.     Gojo hated the work environment, just to be straightforward. One thing he did enjoy was the complementary luxury coffee machine, alongside several sugar packets. Placing his impossibly long stick-like legs onto the table, he sighed happily.      Cute girl being his secretary, drinking yummy coffee, the sun rays warming up the back of his head, he was truly living the life.     And then he heard it.      Loud steps against the tile floor.      And then, his door flung open.         

#gojo satoru #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #jjk gojo satoru #gojo satoru fic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x female reader #jujutsu kaisen fic #gojou satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo sensei #anime fic #fanfiction #fanfic #gojo satoru scenario #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you

[wh6res]

spectator | jeno

"don't cry, little dove. i'm not even done yet." — ljn

TW mafia au, blood, violence, mentions of prostitution and brothels, mentions of past torture, extreme power imbalance, dumbification, they used a tranquilizer

A/N first half is told in renjun's pov also this is for dino anon hehe thank u for the inspo babes!!

DISC i don't condone anything. this isn't love.

WC 1.4k

renjun was fairly new to the mafia but it didn't take him long to realize the outrageous things they considered are the norms here. one of the first things he noticed is a cute little bunny dressed in scraps that always seemed to tail jeno wherever he went. jeno was his superior, albeit they were the same age, so it sucked that renjun had to use honorifics.

oftentimes he ignores you when jeno stands before him giving orders, or when they pass by each other in the hallways and stop to exchange pleasantries.

as renjun quickly climbed the ranks thanks to his agility and cunning mind, you, unfortunately, remained in the same position—always sitting by jeno's feet like a puppy, a body, a plaything, a whore. there were rumors that the boss gave his executives a chance to pick from the litters before they're shipped off to brothels, kind of like peace offerings in exchange for their compliance.

people said the stoic, muscular young man never really indulged himself in such temporary matters. until probably two years ago, until jeno first laid his eyes on you and decided then and there you were too pretty to become a random whore in the chain of brothels the mafia owned. the petite boy believes maybe it's a disguised blessing on your part, at least you'd only have to deal with one man every night, right?

renjun can only look at you from afar, keeping in mind not to stare too openly nor too intrusively that your owner notices. he's seen the bruises. the purple and black patches of your skin and renjun never gets used to it. his stomach turning at the idea of jeno deliberately marking your skin where the oversized shirt you wear won't be able to cover. the chinese immigrant would be stupid not to notice what that meant—it's jeno's clear sign of dominance, of the severe power imbalance, and not a single man in this building can stop him from doing whatever he wants to you.

renjun managed to piece things together thanks to his naturally observant nature. jeno never punished you for what you did, he punished you because he knows he can't touch his subordinates for something measly such as bumping or staring at his whore. the young mafia executive decides to take it out on you instead, albeit the flawed logic and unfairness of it all—proof that every person in this criminal organization is fucked up in the head.

despite jeno's maltreatment, renjun never heard a single complaint from you nor can he detect a feeling of rebellion out of you. you were so eerily compliant that the chinese can't help but think of what other horrible means jeno did for you to become so broken. renjun tried thinking about it, once, but never again. he can be cruel if he wants to be, but not without purpose. not because he gets a kick out of seeing a face twisted in terror. he wasn't like jeno, who smiled and laghed after blowing someone's brain up in the mafia's torture rooms.

this is why jeno is the only man fit for the job, the reason he became an executive at such a young age—there's no man he can't break for information. renjun doesn't know what jeno does to the poor people in the torture rooms but the piercing screams are enough to decide never to go against his superior.

renjun never thought he'll live the day to hear your screams coming from one of those rooms.

"what?" he does a double-take, eyes wide and unbelieving. "what do you mean she's in there? that's her, right now?"

haechan shrugs, wincing when he hears another scream coming from inside the room. he'll never know why these rooms aren't soundproof, maybe it was a way for jeno to keep his subordinates in line—"hear that? just be grateful that's not you."—you wouldn't want to cross a man who has no moral compass. "yeah. i heard she tried to escape."

renjun doesn't like the cool, amused smirk on haechan's face as he leaned back against the door, looking like everything is okay when it's not. "heard she got like… what, ten feet? give or take—yeah, i think ten feet out the door before jaemin's men tranqed her so much she would have slept for a week."

it was easy for renjun to detach himself, disregard his own set of beliefs and sweep them all under the pretense of "it's just work, nothing personal" but with you, it felt different. he knows you. well, knows of you. it's different, personal even, when he can match a face to those gruesome, ear-shattering screams that wracked through his bones.

he wanted to help you.

renjun wanted to help you.

but no, he didn't want to get shot in the head for insubordination.

jeno manually props you against the wall, cringing at the trail of blood that stains the tiles and pools underneath you. your shirt—rather, jeno's—was soaked through with the crimson liquid, your hair sticking to the side of your head. it feels like you were burning from the inside with every breath you take.

maybe months, years, of compliance made you forgetful. after all, jeno is a man of his word, through and through. he can only threaten you so much until he snaps. maybe he deemed the swift punishments and his harsh words insufficient. but who were you kidding? with the stunt you pulled… fuck, why did you even think of making a run for it? you should've known you won't even make it across the street! stupid. stupid. stupid.

you swore never to make him angry enough to bring you back down here in the torture chambers—this is his domain, and you shivered in fear with every fleeting thought you have about what he does behind those cement walls.

the first time jeno took you down here had been granted by the boss himself (see, the man running the mafia has favorites). jeno's men held you by the arms and made you watch as he killed a poor guy with his bare hands. slowly, excruciatingly, bleeding out because of the wounds jeno inflicted with his fists alone.

the second time was because of your first escape attempt. ah, you had been so energetic back then. always talking back, snarling and cursing him out. after that second time, you've become more compliant and have thoroughly embodied whatever sick fantasy jeno had of you. his broken doll, unseeing, unthinking, who breathes and lives only because he wanted her to.

you've heard him countless times say how much he missed that energetic personality you had. but only because you knew at least then he'd think the cruel punishments are justified.

oftentimes, he'll say it when you two are alone, in his room at headquarters, too disgustingly intimate like lovers and not a whore and her owner. his cold lips leavees a sweet trail on your neck, blood-stained hands soiling your skin underneath the dirty shirt, before finally slotting himself next to you as the cot creaks with the extra weight. he reeked of sweat and metallic and his eyes hazy from that post-bloodlust high.

jeno's boots squelch when he steps closer. never crouching, he wanted you to feel that severe power imbalance between the two of you.

"i won't ask you to apologize. not when i know you don't mean it."

you don't bother to reply. not because you don't want to but because you can't, voice utterly hoarse and scratchy from screaming while jeno breaks and tears you down as if he doesn't whisper the words i love you at night. you're his lover only when he needs you to be. sad, that he rarely felt the need of a lover and more so needed a cunny to fuck.

finally, he crouches. slow and never breaking eye contact. he raises a hand to push a strand of hair away from your face probably. you flinch. he doesn't care. "jeno, please don't touch me." but he touches you anyway.

you feel the callouses in his palms as he caresses your face. the calm before the storm. the deep inhale before the plunge. jeno grabs your chin and tilts your head up, a serene smile ghosting his lips. he looked at peace. satisfied. and you have never been more scared of him than you ever did in the last four years.

"don't cry, little dove. i'm not even done yet."

jenoluck (c) all rights reserved

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #renjun imagines #renjun scenarios #jeno imagines #jeno scenarios #yandere kpop #yandere nct dream #yandere nct 127 #yandere wayv #tw mafia #tw mafia au #tw blood #tw mentions of prostitution #tw mentions of torture #tw violence #tw power imabalance #taeyong scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct headcanons #yandere jeno #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #lucas imagines #lucas scenarios #nct dream headcanons #nct 00 line smut #nct smut #00 line smut #tw dumbification

[rax-writes]

Family Man

Fandom:  MCU Pairing:  Baron Helmut Zemo x OC  [basically a reader insert, because the OC’s physical description isn’t addressed or anything, she just has a name] Warnings:  None Notes:  A Sokovian woman named Irina Molnár was born with the ability to teleport, and in time, she encounters the only man to gain her trust enough to show him. It just so happens that the man in question is the criminal mastermind Helmut Zemo. // So, as I said, it’s an OC but still basically a reader insert; don’t let the OC part deter you if you prefer x reader fics. It just worked better for me on the writing end to use a name, and I have an aversion to using “Y/N,” so I just threw in a pretty name. // TL;DR: Zemo as a dad just kills me & I wanted him to get a second chance at a family.

“I will assist you to the utmost of my ability, on one condition.”

“You’re in no position to be making demands, Zemo.”

“This is both for my own benefit, and yours, I assure you.”

If someone had asked Irina ten years ago where she thought she’d be at this point in life, her answer would have been incredibly far from accurate, for nothing could have predicted the path her life took.

Not that her life had been normal to begin with, being that she was born with the ability to teleport. Sokovia was not exactly a progressive country in the late 1980’s, so her parents had endlessly instructed her to conceal her ability, warning her of the countless dangers of her power being known to others. Her parents were so protective of her that when she teleported as a reflex at age thirteen, after walking along the sidewalk of main street in Novi Grad and a driver fell asleep at the wheel and headed straight for her, they packed up and moved to Russia in the middle of the night. Yet again, the same thing happened at age eighteen, when she was caught up in a hostage situation in a bank and the perpetrator caught her calling the police. Just as he aimed his gun at her and pulled the trigger, she disappeared. Irina and her parents fled to Germany in the dead of night less than twenty-four hours later, and she knew then that she needed to suppress her powers no matter what, being that her father was elderly, and her mother was too ill for them to ever travel again.

So, Irina settled into a normal life in Munich. She worked various odd jobs over the years to support her parents, made and lost a few friends, dated here and there. Her father passed when she was twenty-two, and two years later, her mother joined him. When living in the house where both her parents passed in their sleep became too unbearable, she packed up and moved to Berlin, getting a job at a high-security prison there. Less than a year after she began working there, a newcomer arrived: an inmate by the name of Helmut Zemo.

Being that he knew so much about HYDRA, from his extensive research on them, the American organization SHIELD wished to know more about them. A few psychiatrists and some professional interrogators tried for the first couple months, but they got nothing – quite literally, as he refused to utter a single word to any of them. Irina’s boss knew that she was Sokovian just like Zemo, so she was asked to extract any and all valuable information she could from the new prisoner.

Zemo was an intimidating man; calm, cool, and collected at all times, with eyes like a hawk that bore into Irina’s very soul each time he looked at her. She spent two months talking with him every other day, trying anything and everything she could to get him to talk, but he remained silent. At first, she tried asking him questions outright, but he wouldn’t ever say a word – just stare at her with those cold, calculating eyes. So, Irina changed her approach; they would chat idly in Sokovian to build rapport via their shared mother tongue, or she would ramble about her day, what book she was currently reading, her favorite movies, dates she went on. Those topics got him talking, chatting with her about the miscellaneous subjects she brought up, and both she and her supervisors took it as a good sign. She found that they shared similarities in terms of the loss of their families, and how the destruction of Sokovia hurt them both. Despite how frequently they spoke, he still never revealed anything of importance. After two months, her boss had a few interrogation experts give her some training, so she tried their tactics for another month, but she still got nowhere with him.

Three months after Irina began trying to get intel from Zemo, she sat down in the chair outside his cell, and huffed out a sigh.

“I’m afraid this will be my last visit, Zemo.”

“Why?” His voice held surprise, and a tinge of sadness.

“As you know, they assigned me to visit you for the sake of getting information from you. I’ve been consistently empty-handed over the past four months, so they’re giving up, assigning me back to regular patrol duty.”

“Will I still see you?”

“No. They’re moving me to the women’s side of the prison next week.”

Zemo simply stared at the ground in silence, hands clasped in his lap. Irina allowed the silence to linger for several minutes, then pulled something from her bag, unlocked the small opening on the side of his cell where guards gave him meals, slid the item through, and locked it shut again. He eyed it for a moment before standing and retrieving it, sitting back down on the bed as he looked at it.

“It’s that book I told you about last month, the one you said sounded interesting. Consider it a parting gift.”

He still said nothing, gaze locked on the book cover. Irina cleared her throat and stood, putting her bag on her shoulder as she looked to Zemo one last time.

“It has been nice getting to know you, Zemo. Take care of yourself.”

As Irina pulled open the door to leave, Zemo’s voice called out, “Wait!” She turned to face him and found that he was standing, clenching and unclenching his jaw as if he were thinking, before stating, “Tell your superiors that I will give them one piece of information on HYDRA every two months if you will have lunch with me twice each week.”

Irina’s brows raised in surprise, but she nodded in understanding. “I’ll pass the message along, Zemo.”

“Please… call me Helmut.”

The higher-ups were more than happy to agree to his terms, as long as Irina was okay with them as well, since it involved her. But she wasn't stupid. She told them that it felt like quite an undertaking to agree to such a thing, she had been considering looking for another job in the near future, etcetera. Naturally, they offered to double her pay to persuade her to commit to the arrangement, and it was then that she agreed. In truth, it was no skin off Irina’s nose to do it in the first place. As deranged as it was, Zemo had become her friend, her only friend, and she quite enjoyed talking with him. And even more deranged – bordering psychotic, really – she had developed a bit of a crush on him, finding him to be dangerously handsome and intelligent, so she certainly had no quarrels with agreeing to spend time with him.

Time seemed to fly when Irina began her twice weekly visits to Zemo. She found herself eagerly awaiting their lunches, and she always stayed longer than necessary. She would have rather eaten glass than admit it, but she frequently put a bit more effort into her hair and makeup on the days she would be seeing him.

God, I’m fucking pathetic, Irina thought to herself at least once a week, and yet it never stopped her.

It was another few months later when he said something that made her stomach drop to the pits of hell, and a cold sweat to break out on her skin.

“I know who you are, you know. I have since you first introduced yourself. Irina Molnár, the disappearing girl – at least, that’s what the headlines called you. I remember reading about it when I was a teenager, but the story was forgotten within a week.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Irina replied, but Zemo could hear the quiver in her voice.

“My apologies, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I have no intention of mentioning it to anyone besides you. I have simply been wondering… were the rumors true? Can you really just disappear into thin air?”

When Irina hesitated, he added, “Irina, no one would believe me if I told them, and even if they did, they would have no way to prove it. Besides, we have been acquainted for nearly a year now. You are my only solace in this living hell. I would have gone mad had you not came into my life. I would never do anything to risk you harm.”

She exhaled slowly, and looked at the ground when she said, “It’s not ‘disappearing.’ It’s teleporting.”

Zemo leaned forward in his seat, visibly invested in her confession.

“I’ve been able to do it since I was four. Scared my parents half to death when I suddenly appeared before their eyes, having been across the house mere seconds before. I learned to control it pretty quickly, but that day in Sokovia… I was only ten years old, and a car was coming right at me, full speed, so I panicked. I teleported home right before it crushed me, and it would have been a non-issue if my classmate hadn’t been a few feet away and saw the whole thing. He ran his mouth to the press about my identity, so we had to leave.”

“That was why you moved to Russia, not because your father got a job there,” Zemo realized, remembering when you initially told him about your move and falsified the reasoning.

“Yes. It happened again there, when someone shot at me. No one who was around at the time knew my name, so it never made it to the press, but my parents were overly cautious, so we fled to Germany. I’ve not done it since, besides in the comfort of my own home.”

“Show me.”

“You say stupid things for such a brilliant man, Helmut,” Irina said, nodding toward the camera in the corner of the room.

“After you get home tonight, teleport into my cell.”

“Did you miss what I said about the camera, or…?”

“The camera does not have a view of my bed. It only reaches the middle of my cell, not the very back of it where the bed is,” Zemo pointed out, and Irina realized that he was right. She had been in the camera room several times; the camera there did indeed only show the room and half of his cell, never the bed.

“I’ll think about it.”

Zemo smiled brightly, looking excited, like a little kid about to see a magic trick. That alone was enough to motivate Irina to do it, just for the opportunity to see that smile again. So, when she got home that night, she changed into a flowy, deep green sundress, touched up her makeup and hair, strapped on a nice pair of sandals, and then stood in her living room, hyping herself up to take such a risk.

There was a chance that she would get caught. Teleporting in front of anyone was always a risk, no matter what, her parents had always told her. But then that damned, dashing smile crossed Irina's mind, and before she had time to second-guess herself, she was standing at the foot of Zemo’s bed.

The book he’d been reading flew out of his hands as he practically jumped out of his skin, falling to the ground with a loud whack, and he pressed a palm to his chest as he tried to calm his erratic breathing.

“We really should have scheduled a specific time for your arrival,” he muttered, and Irina laughed softly. Thankfully, the cameras had no sound, but if a guard were passing by outside, they may have heard her. When he caught his breath a moment later, Zemo sat up in the bed, letting his legs hang off the edge as he patted the spot beside him. Irina took a seat, crossing her legs and leaning back on her hands.

“So, you were telling the truth. You can actually teleport,” Zemo observed, eyeing her with amusement and interest before he bombarded her with questions. “Can you teleport anywhere in the world? Are there parameters for your distance or location? How long does it take you to travel from one place to another? What does it feel like?”

“I can teleport anywhere I’ve been to or seen photographs of. I cannot do it blindly. The distance nor location does not matter, as long as I have seen my destination before. And it feels like… a slight tingling sensation, all over my body, but it only lasts until I arrive, which takes about a half second.”

“Fascinating,” Zemo whispered. He licked his lips before asking, “Are you capable of teleporting another individual along with you?”

Irina frowned at him. “I’m not breaking you out of prison, Helmut.”

“I didn’t ask that.”

“No, but you were alluding to it,” she countered, and he shrugged. “I can teleport another individual, but only over small distances. Each time I’ve tried, the most distance I’ve gotten with another person has been about ten yards.”

“Perhaps with practice, you could go further.”

“I practiced for years, and ten yards seems to be the true limit. Besides, the only others who have ever known about my ability were my parents, and since they’re gone, I have no test subjects.”

Zemo nodded solemnly, then asked, “What about teleporting repeatedly, in ten yard increments?”

“Tried that. Can only do it about three times before I’m too drained to do it again. Teleporting back-to-back with another person takes a lot of energy,” Irina answered, then added, “And again, even if I could, I am not breaking you out.”

“I am merely interested in your mutation, that is all,” Zemo retorted. Irina shot him a look that said ‘Really?’ so he relented with, “Perhaps also because I wanted to know if you could break me out, but that’s neither here nor there.”

"That's what I thought."

It was another month before either party made a move. They were sitting on Zemo’s bed, side by side, as Irina told him about her day at work, and the man who'd tried hitting on her in the grocery store earlier that evening.

"He thought he was very Rico Suave, but his execution was a nightmare."

"How so?"

"Well, for starters, he followed me around for nearly ten minutes while he worked up the courage to say something. He waited until I walked past him and greeted me with 'Hey, sexy lady.'"

"Oh no," Zemo said, grinning as he looked genuinely amused at this man's poor tactics, although his amusement was contingent upon whether or not Irina was actually interested in him. The way she poked fun at the man indicated a lack of interest, therefore, he was enjoying her tale.

"Oh yes. He then asked if it hurt when I fell from heaven, which is the most overused line in the book, yet he said it with such confidence. And then – get this – he leaned onto what he thought was a shelf, but it was actually a stacked display of cans, which toppled over and sent a hundred soup cans flying down the aisle."

Zemo chuckled, prompting Irina to continue.

"He played it off by saying that my beauty is just so distracting that he didn't even realize what he was doing, and then asked for my phone number."

"Did you give it to him?"

"Absolutely not," Irina said, laughing softly and shaking her head. Zemo was momentarily entranced by the way her beautiful hair fell around her face, and the sound of her laugh.

"Why not?"

"Not my type."

"What is your ‘type’?"

Irina leaned back on the wall behind her, looking up at the ceiling as she thought carefully. "Confidence, but not cockiness. Intelligence. Wit. Sarcastic senses of humor. Men with a sense of passion to them; some kind of fire and gusto about something, whether it be their work, art, music." She looked over at Zemo then, and allowed her gaze to travel slowly up and down his form. "Currently, my type seems to be men I can't have."

Zemo eyed her carefully, allowing himself to absorb her words fully for several moments. She was describing him – he just knew it. Or, he was too blinded by hopefulness and desire to realize that she wasn’t, but he figured there was only one way to find out. So, he leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and pressed his lips to hers.

Irina hesitated for half a second, surprised by his actions, but she recovered quickly and kissed him back. It was gentle, sweet, and explorative, both parties simply enjoying it while it lasts. Neither had any idea how long it lasted, as time stood still. Zemo was the first to pull away, eyes scanning Irina’s face as he looked at her with sheer adoration, as well as a touch of nervousness.

"I understand if you wish for me to never do that again, and I understand if you'd prefer to never see me again. But please know that I did not do that out of blind lust, or anything other fleeting emotion. I did it because my heart has yearned for you every day since first meeting you, and finally having you here next to me, where I can touch you… it was genuinely unbearable to hold myself back from kissing you. I have not felt anything like this since losing my wife, and I did not think my heart was capable of ever feeling it again. But you proved me wrong. I know I am risking an end to the only true human contact I have while trapped inside this cell, which truly frightens me, but the unyielding desire to tell you that I love you overpowers that fear."

Irina stared at him in shock for a few moments, before leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes. She exhaled slowly as she collected her thoughts before speaking. "Helmut… I love you, too, but I don't know how this would even work. You're never getting out of here. How can we have any kind of relationship when you're locked in a cell for the rest of your days?"

"We will make it work, my darling," Zemo said, sitting up straighter and turning to face her. "I will ensure that we mimic a true relationship as much as possible. I cannot wine and dine you as I would like to do, but I can easily bribe the guards to have lavish meals brought here for us to share on evenings such as these. I cannot take you out for birthdays or anniversaries, but I will ensure that you are showered with gifts on those days. My angel, I cannot give you a normal life, but I can promise to endlessly strive to make you happy."

Irina stared deeply into his eyes for what felt like an eternity, and she saw nothing but genuity, longing, and adoration there. She could feel the sincerity in his words, feel how desperately he wished for her to agree to his proposal. She was no fool; she knew that their relationship would be a struggle, and she knew that it would never be any resemblance of normal. But she also knew that he made her heart soar in a way no other man ever had, and that she would die feeling like she missed out on something incredible if she walked away from Zemo now.

“Okay,” Irina whispered, mostly to herself, before repeating it in a stronger, more self-assured voice. “Okay.”

For a man who always knew what to say, Zemo was at a loss for words, overcome with joy. He simply cupped her cheek and kissed her, far more passionately than before, allowing his triumphant and ecstatic feeling to flow through the kiss. Irina gripped the front of his sweatshirt in her fists, melting into him, before wrapping her arms around his neck as his free hand moved to rest on the curve of her waist.

Ages had passed by the time they broke apart, foreheads resting against each other as they fought to catch their breaths. Irina was the first to break the comfortable silence they created, laughing quietly in disbelief at the events that had just transpired. Zemo followed suit, a deep, velvety chuckle bubbling up from his chest. He pressed another kiss to her lips before leaning back and looking at her. They gazed at each other in sheer contented bliss for a few moments more, before Irina became the first to speak.

“I love you, Helmut.”

“And I love you, darling.”

---------------

The sound of the front door opening caused Irina to immediately look up from the book she'd been reading. She frowned, then stood and headed for the door as quickly as possible, calling out, "Nikolai! You know better than to open that door, young man!" When she reached the entryway, she stopped dead in her tracks.

There stood Helmut, wearing the softest, sweetest smile she'd ever seen as he opened his arms to her. She hesitated a moment, unsure whether or not it was real, before he murmured, "Hello, my love." His voice – that alluring raspy undertone, and the gentleness it took on as he spoke to her – broke Irina from her trance, and she ran to him and into his arms, careful of her rounded belly.

Zemo stroked her hair and held her, and her arms around his neck gripped him like a vice, to the point that it hurt a little, but he'd never tell her that. A small sob fell from Irina's lips before she even realized she'd started crying, and he whispered sweet nothings in her ear in Sokovian to soothe her, about how much he loved her and how happy he was to see her. When her crying quieted down a bit, he pulled away to kiss her, a kiss full of love and longing. When he broke the kiss a few moments later, she stroked his cheek lovingly, and he wiped the stray tears from her eyes.

"How are you here? What happened?" Irina asked, and only then did she notice the two men standing awkwardly by the doorway, their faces a mixture of suspicion and surprise. "Who are they?"

"They are the men who helped me escape. James was previously known as the Winter Soldier, and Sam is currently known as the Falcon, an Avenger."

Irina raised an eyebrow at him. "But… you… the Avengers… the Winter Soldier…."

"I know, I know. I am just as surprised as you are, but they need me for something, something very important."

"The Flag Smashers? I saw them on the news. They have Super Soldiers somehow."

"Yes, darling, exactly right. We'll find them, defeat them, and I'll be back before you know it."

Irina understood the implication of his words. He'd be back, but whether that would be in her home or in his cell was yet to be determined. But she knew him. She knew that he would not take his newfound freedom as a one-time opportunity. A storm of thoughts about what that would mean for them flashed through her mind, but Zemo’s hands on her stomach snapped her out of it.

"How is our daughter?" he asked, gently rubbing Irina’s baby bump, a bright smile blooming when the child inside kicked at his hands, as she always did. She had only been in existence for seven months, and she wasn't even born yet, but she already favored him over her mother.

"She's good, she's been moving around a lot today, as if she knew her Daddy was coming," Irina replied, earning a grin from Zemo. "The doctors told me this morning that her heartbeat is strong and she appears to be the picture of health."

"Good, good. And what about –"

"DADDY!" a tiny voice bellowed from down the hall, and they turned to see a small boy running full speed toward Zemo. Irina stepped back to allow him a clear passageway, smiling as Helmut crouched down to meet him, enveloping the boy in an embrace as he collided with his father's chest.

"Nikolai, I've missed you," Zemo stated, rubbing the boy's back as he stood, still holding his son. Irina caught the way her husband's voice wavered when he said that, and she laid a comforting hand on his back.

"I've missed you too, Daddy. Are you living with me and Mommy now?" Nikolai asked, leaning back in his father's arms to gaze at him with excitement plain on his face. Zemo gave him a smile, but Irina could see the sadness in it, knowing the future was uncertain.

"Not quite, buddy. Just here for a visit," Zemo replied, and Irina rubbed his back comfortingly before pressing a kiss to their son's temple.

Their family time was interrupted by Sam clearing his throat loudly, and when Zemo turned to face him, his smile faded.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Zemo, you've got some explaining to do, and not much time to do it. Don't forget we're on borrowed time here."

"Right," Zemo confirmed, then exhaled slowly. "James, Sam, this is my wife Irina and our son Nikolai…. He is five, and Irina is seven months along."

Confusion washed over both men's faces, and they exchanged a glance before the other, James, was the first to speak.

"But… you've been in prison for eight years. Have you been escaping every few years and no one's noticed?"

"I have not left my cell in eight years, consecutively. But my wife is capable of getting into my cell as often as we wish."

"So, what? You've just been having conjugal visits all the damn time? And the prison staff green-lit that?" Sam asked.

"No, not exactly," Zemo answered, then glanced at Irina. They shared a look before she explained further.

"I can teleport. I met Helmut when I was tasked with extrapolating information about HYDRA from him, and he refused to share anything unless the prison staff agreed to let him meet with me twice a week, just to chat, in which case he'd give them tidbits of information bi-monthly. They agreed, and before long, I revealed my ability to him. I'd visit him in his cell occasionally, because the cameras only show half of it. Over time, well… we fell in love. Nikolai came a few years later, and now…" Irina trailed off, then rubbed a hand over her pregnant belly.

"Why didn't you ever bust him out?" James asked.

"I can only teleport small distances with another person, and I can only do it twice at the most, so we'd have never made it off the grounds."

James and Sam were silent for a moment, absorbing the information they'd been given. Sam was the first to break the silence.

"Zemo, you said this little pitstop would benefit me and Bucky. But it's not like she can go with us," he said, sounding a bit irritated as he gestured towards Irina’s stomach. "So what the hell was the point?"

"It does benefit you. You now possess the knowledge that a teleporter exists. Congratulations," Zemo said dryly, then looked at his wife and son for a moment, before returning his attention to the men. "Sam, the point was that I lost my family when Sokovia was destroyed, and the family I have now has only ever seen me inside a prison cell. I wanted my son to have at least one memory of his father in his home with him."

James – no, Bucky, apparently – and Sam exchanged a look, before Bucky sighed and looked to Zemo.

"You have one hour. Sam and I will be guarding the exits, so don't try to escape. If you do…." He trailed off after glancing at Nikolai. "Let's just say it won't be pretty."

True to their word, Sam and Bucky remained stationed outside the home, one out front and one out back. Zemo milked that hour as much as possible, spending most of it in his son’s room with him and Irina, listening intently to Nikolai tell him all about what’s been going on at school, his favorite shows, the trip he took to the zoo the day before with Irina, etc.. He even told Zemo about each and every one of his toys, simply enjoying talking to his dad, and although Zemo was the one to send almost every one to him, therefore he already knew about them, he didn’t mention that. He simply listened intently as his son spoke, enjoying the quality time with him, exchanging smiles and occasional kisses with Irina. She showed him the nursery she’d been working on for their daughter, and he finished putting together the crib she’d started, Nikolai happily handing him parts and screws as needed. Zemo also moved the dresser and changing table to where she’d wanted them but couldn’t move them herself, then they settled into the living room shortly before the hour was up.

Sam and Bucky reentered the house to find the family sitting around the coffee table, playing a game of Jenga. They stood silently in the doorway to the living room, watching as Nikolai carefully drew a block from the tower before placing it back on the top with a triumphant look on his little face. Zemo commended his concentration, then drew a block himself, although he intentionally wiggled it a little so that the tower came toppling down.

“I won! Daddy, I won!”

“Yes, you did, my son. Excellent job,” Zemo said warmly, then glanced at Sam and Bucky before scooping the boy up into a tight hug. “Daddy has to go now, but I will see you again soon.”

“Do you have to go?”

“I’m afraid so. But I need you to promise me something before I leave. Take care of your mom for me, will you?”

“I will, I promise.”

“Good boy,” Zemo said with a smile, then kissed Nikolai’s forehead and set him down. Zemo stood and helped Irina stand up, hugging her tightly as he buried his face into her neck. Quietly, so that no one but her could hear, he said, “I will not be going back to prison unless there is no other way, but know that yours and our children’s safety is my utmost concern.”

“I know, Helmut,” Irina whispered back, and he pressed a long, lingering kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, my angel,” Zemo murmured against her lips, then stooped down to hug his son again. “And I love you, Nikolai.”

“I love you, too, Daddy,” the boy responded, and the way his voice quivered as he choked back tears broke his parents’ hearts into a million pieces. Reluctantly, Zemo let him go and he wrapped his arms around his mother’s leg, resting his head against her as he sniffled and she rubbed his back.

“Be safe, sweetheart,” Irina commanded.

Zemo nodded to her before walking over to join Sam and Bucky. With one last heartbroken look at his family, he left, closing the door behind him as he let out a shaky breath. He didn’t meet the other men’s eyes as he walked over to the car, and after they all piled in, they drove in silence to the airport, off to their next stop in Madripoor.

---------------

@henrysmorgan​ @clints-lucky-arrow​ @therenlover​

#apologies to therenlover if you dislike being tagged; you mentioned some dad!Zemo stuff recently so it made me think to tag you #if you'd rather not be tagged in anything just let me know; i won't be at all offended! #also the same goes for you Mack #Chase you don't get a choice bc you catalyzed my love for Zemo + you're my best friend so you are obligated to deal with me #zemo #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #zemo fan fiction #zemo fan fic #zemo fanfic #zemo fanfiction #baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo fan fiction #baron zemo fan fic #baron zemo fanfiction #baron zemo fanfic #baron zemo fic #baron helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo fan fiction #baron helmut zemo fan fic #baron helmut zemo fanfiction #baron helmut zemo fanfic #baron helmut zemo fic #helmut zemo fanfiction #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo fan fiction #helmut zemo fanfic #helmut zemo fan fic

[s-horne]

for @maguna-stxrk​ based on this prompt 💖

------

“For the last time, Tony, I am not going to ask them if they sell coffee by the gallon. I’m pretty sure that would kill you.”

“It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“But it does hurt to drink that much coffee. Even if they did, which they don’t, I’m not risking it. You don’t need any help in endangering yourself.”

“I resent that.”

“And I don’t care,” Steve said back. The queue moved forward and Steve stepped closer to the till, already feeling slightly more awake than he’d been before he’d been hit with the scent of fresh coffee. “I’m not helping you with a caffeine overdose.”

“Think of it as a science experiment.”

Steve huffed, moving with the line again. It was going quickly and his mouth was practically watering at the thought of his sweet morning pick-me-up. “I don’t do science.”

“Do it for me,” Tony wheedled, his voice not quite as convincing over the phone as it would have been in person, but still enough to make Steve wish he could do what Tony was asking. He was always weak around Tony. It was something of a problem. “Please.”

“Wow.” Steve paused mid-yawn. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.”

Tony let out an indignant huff. “I say please.”

“No, you don’t. It’s part of having the Stark charm – everyone just does what you want without you having to ask nicely. Or even ask anything, for that matter.”

“Ooh,” Tony said, smirk clear in his tone, “are you saying you find me charming?”

Rolling his eyes so hard he was almost worried for himself, Steve moved his cell to his other ear and reached into his pocket for his wallet. “You wish. Anyway, I’m nearly ordering. Did you actually want anything? A real order,” he said quickly before Tony could say anything to the tune of ‘all the coffee in the shop’, “nothing that could be fatal. Or illegal.”

“Spoilsport,” Tony muttered and Steve could just picture his pout. “No, I’ll be okay. If it isn’t 99% caffeine, there’s just no point.”

With another eye roll and a soft laugh, Steve shook his head. “Goodbye, Tony. Please make sure my computer is on. I know you’re sitting in my office to avoid Pepper. But please don’t be playing games on it – last time you downloaded something and the music started playing when I was on a conference call.”

“I have to hide; she’s on the warpath! I only forgot one piece of paperwork. I don’t deserve the punishment that I know she has lined up for me.”

“See you in 10.” With a laugh at Tony’s expense, Steve hung up just as the line moved and he was up to order. 

“Morning,” Steve said to the young woman behind the counter. 

“Morning,” she said back with a smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Mocha, please. To-go, medium, thank you. Oh, and a raspberry muffin,” he added when the girl started typing on the till. “I’d better get him something.”

“Is that for your partner? You two sounded so close.”

Steve fumbled with his wallet, fingers slipping on his card as he pulled it out. “Tony? Oh, no,” he said quickly. He felt his cheeks color and he looked down with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I wish. He doesn’t see me like that. We’re just work colleagues.” 

“Oh.” The barista sounded as disappointed as Steve felt on a daily basis, but gave him a smile and a shrug. “He talks to you like there’s something, from what I could hear.”

Steve didn’t know what to say and had only managed to splutter out a few nonsensical words before she printed his receipt and handed it over. 

“And you’re taking him a muffin. Well, that’s a guaranteed way to his heart.”

How Steve wished that were true. If that were actually the case, then they would have been together for years. 

Even with Tony being his superior in the office, Steve had quickly realised that Tony did not take care of himself and had felt an urge to do it for him. More evenings than not, Tony would be the last person in the office and at lunchtimes Tony would stay in his office, long conference calls trapping him as everyone else went off to eat. 

It was in Steve’s nature to provide for people. He couldn’t see someone not taking care of themselves and just walk away. His mother hadn’t raised him that way. Despite the slightly uneven feeling and his colleagues gently teasing him that Steve was only trying to get a salary increase, Steve had started adding to his morning order at the coffee shop and doubling his lunches. They had only been boring sandwiches and the occasional salad back then, but Steve reckoned it was better than nothing at all. He’d left them on Tony’s desk at the very beginning with nothing but a sticky note telling him to take a 5 minute break to eat. It hadn’t taken Tony long to warm up to Steve and, before Steve had even realised what was happening, he had a new best friend to share his lunch break with every day, the two of them alternating whose office they sat in and who paid for their meals. 

But that was all. Colleagues turned best friends. End of the story.

 “Order for Steve?”

Steve jolted out of his thoughts and lifted a hand as he hurried over to the counter. 

“Go get him,” the barista called from the till with a wink and Steve laughed, ducking his head when most of the customers turned to look at him curiously. 

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Steve heard as he left the shop and fell into step with the crowds on the street. 

He nodded and huffed a short laugh before he realised whose voice it was. Tony?

Panic flooding him, Steve fumbled with the cup and takeaway bag in his hands to look at the phone screen sticking out of the top pocket of his jacket. Tapping it frantically, he was met not with his lock screen photo of his baby nephew, but with the call screen informing him that his connection with Tony was still very much live. He was also somehow on speaker. 

“Does the whole shop know now?”

“Fuck!” Steve transferred the pastry bag and hot cup to one hand and jammed the phone between his ear and shoulder. “Tony?”

“Yup. You didn’t hang up.”

“I never do!” Steve answered, voice betraying his panic. “Whenever I used to, you threatened to tell our boss because you said it was rude to hang up on a superior! So then I just stopped – it wasn’t worth the teasing. You were meant to hang up!”

Tony laughed. “Still can’t believe you fell for that. Anyway, I think we have something to talk about, don’t we?”

Steve could say no. He could brush it all aside and pretend that it had all been a joke or a big misunderstanding. It would be so easy; it would save him from any awkward conversation, from a broken heart when Tony let him down gently. 

But, he didn’t want that. He wanted to take a chance, didn’t he? What if there was something there? 

Didn’t he owe it to himself - to himself and Tony - to at least try? 

He wanted the hugs, the kisses. He wanted the late nights and the lazy mornings in bed; he even wanted the arguments and the yelling that would no doubt be inevitable one day. 

“I think so,” Steve finally said, voice quiet but sure. “I’m on my way now.”

“I’m in your office,” Tony said and Steve smiled. 

“Aren’t you always?”

“You love it,” the smile was clear in Tony’s voice, any hesitation gone as he fell back into his familiar teasing. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Steve said immediately, automatically, whether Tony had been expecting an answer or not. “Stay there. And stop playing games on my computer!”

“Never! See you in a bit. With my muffin.”

Steve grinned even wider. He was getting predictable, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. “Yes,” he said, fondness that could be heard a mile off seeping into his tone, “yes, I got you a muffin – that you never actually said you wanted.”

“My hero.” There was a pause. “Hurry?”

Wild horses couldn’t have stopped Steve when he knew what was waiting for him at the office and he clutched the phone tighter, dodging a dog sniffing at a streetlamp and a cyclist hurtling towards him. “I’m coming. Five minutes. Less than, even.”

“Good. I’ve already been waiting too long.”

#you are an enabler who reblogs things that make me want to write even though i gavethat all up #i wrote a thing #well attempted a thing anyway #stony fic #stevetony fic #stony au #stevetony fic rec #stony fic rec #stony #stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #BASED ON A WRITING PROMPT #I hope you enjoy this #you deserve fluffy things

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 11 first part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Goodness)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Okay! This episode is a real slice of healthy family dynamics, not triggering in any way. [Uh if this is your first Restless Rewatch: that is sarcasm, dear readers]

Goodbye to You, Goodbye to Everything We Knew

Nie Huaisang asks why Meng Yao has to leave and Meng Yao says "I killed a guy without permission, so your brother fired me." 

Ha ha ha ha no he doesn't. But he does give Nie Huaisang a sweet, sad smile; he seems touched by NHS's distress. 

Meng Yao carefully removes Nie Huaisang's hands from his shoulders and bows to him, wordlessly signaling the change in their relationship from intimate friends to formal strangers, while Nie Huaisang looks crushed. 

They will return to intimate friendship in the future, but falsely. Meng Yao believes that truly loving a person can include destroying their family and using them as an instrument in your murder plots as long as you don't directly harm them.  Nie Huaisang eventually learns to use people just as brutally, but he doesn't lie to himself about what he's doing. This farewell may be the last harmless moment between these friends. 

Jiang Cheng is distressed by what's going on, while Wei Wuxian crosses his arms and watches, fully in Sherlock Holmes mode, instead of his more usual concerned-for-my-friend mode. This may signal mistrust of Meng Yao, who refused his initial attempt at friendship, and not in a sexy, slice-your-face-off way.  Or it may mean that he's reserving judgement on a complicated family situation. He maintains his uncharacteristic reserve through the entire encounter. 

(more behind the cut!)

Nie Huaisang runs in and asks his brother WTF happened. Nie Mingjue says "he killed my subordinate without permission, when he knows perfectly well power must flow from the ruler; it's like he didn't even read that Foucault book I gave him."

Ha ha ha actually he just yells at his brother, as if NHS doesn’t have his own relationship with Meng Yao after being wonder twink powers with him for probably a couple of years now. NHS has to sit and process his loss and confusion in silence.

As a younger sibling who would make friends with my older siblings' girlfriends and then lose those friends if they broke up, for reasons having nothing to do with why I liked their girlfriends, I super feel Nie Huaisang's pain here.

OTOH, older siblings are entitled to have break ups and not explain themselves to anyone besides their lover because that's the nature of intimacy. The moral is, uhh...don't have a family curse that makes you unreasonably angry. 

Jiang Cheng steps up to advocate for Meng Yao, because Meng Yao is injured, and because Jiang Cheng is actually a born leader who knows better than to throw away a useful subordinate. For example, even when Wei Wuxian is at his drunkest and most defiant, Jiang Cheng tries to reform him, not kick him out, only drawing the line at having unpopular zombie friends.

Wei Wuxian continues to keep his mouth shut, waiting for Nie Mingjue to calm down, and speaking only about the tactical situation. He clearly knows there's more to this story but he's pretty good at keeping his head down in a family ruckus, and we're about to learn why.

Yunmeng Town

The Yunmeng bros go home to Lotus Pier, where they are greeted in town with bows, smiles, and free stuff.

We've mostly been seeing them in their roles within the cultivation community, where Jiang Cheng is grumpy and anxious, and Wei Wuxian is sassy and iconoclastic. Here among common people, they are both charming, friendly, and polite, like the imaginary good kind of gentry.

They hear the news from a local lotus seller that the small clans are coming to the Jiang Clan for shelter, but that otherwise everything's ok, which doesn't sound like everything is ok at all. He gives Wei Wuxian a giant bag of lotuses for his sister to make soup from.

Home to Lotus Pier

All the disciples practicing in the courtyard at Lotus Pier are excited to see them, and one girl goes running to tell Jiang Yanli. Thanks to the admittedly beautiful design of Lotus Pier, she is running for a long time.

A long, long time. Getting around on all these insane walkways must be a real drag if you're not the flying sort of cultivator.

Discipline and Punish

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian immediately go and kneel while they wait for their official punishment. Jiang Cheng is kinda worried about the punishment and Wei Wuxian is like, I'm good at being punished, just let me do it. 

Much later, and for a really long fucking time

He also tries to get Jiang Cheng to stop being mad, even giving him skritches while he says they should be brothers after they die.

Which they will, as it happens, although Jiang Cheng after the Wen torture is only mostly golden-core dead, while WWX dies for real.

When Jiang Fengmian shows up Jiang Cheng starts to explain that they were with Lan Wangji, but Wei Wuxian hushes him; he is still keeping the secret of the Yin Iron. Although he's keeping it in exactly the manner that a teenager keeps their weed stash secret: immediately tell literally every teen friend about it, but keep it extra secret from everybody's parents. 

Happy Families Are All Alike

Now we get to meet Yu Ziyuan, who is generally styled Madame Yu but who I'm going to call by her name just as if she was a male character. More on that concept in a minute. She rolls up looking, smelling, feeling like a million yuan, with her two murder bitches in tow.

Her marriage is an unhappy one, and her husband does his best to avoid her and avoid conflict, lying to the kids that she's tired and then sending her away later with the same line about being tired, which is a particularly gendered kind of gaslighting. She is obviously not tired, other than being tired of Jiang Fengmian's shit.

I'm not going to say she's the worst mother ever, because parenthood in a feudal society entails a wide range of skills, many of which she has in abundance. She starts off with a relatively tender greeting to Jiang Cheng, tuning up his always-amazing sartorial style, which is exactly like her own. They are all ready for the mommy & me fashion show.

That said, she dishes out hellacious verbal abuse to everyone in her family. She targets each one in turn, making Wei Wuxian the focus of most of her ire, but without ever directly speaking to him. He is not, in her view, part of her family. 

The Stages of Family Dinner

1. Try to fix it and defuse the situation

2. Yeah no

3. Just keep your head down and be glad it’s not your turn in the hot seat

This family meal hammers home how much Wei Wuxian is not, actually, part of the family. Jiang Fengmian adopted him into the clan, and told A-Cheng and A-Yi to treat him as a sibling, but he didn't give him the Jiang name, and he didn't get his wife's approval. He also doesn’t expect him to dress like any other clan member, apparently. 

Compare this to how Lan Wangji, actual good parent, fully integrates his own adopted son into his clan and family, starting with giving him the Lan surname.  

The hits just keep coming as she goes after Jiang Cheng for being less gifted than Wei Wuxian, Yanli for performing labor for Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Fengmian for possibly begetting Wei Wuxian.

On first watching this scene I took her question "Is this how you raise someone else's son?" to mean that she thought Jiang Fengmian was being too nice to a kid who was actually an outsider, taking resources away from the real kids. But on rewatching, it's pretty clear that she's saying his favoring Wei Wuxian is evidence that Wei Wuxian is NOT someone else's son; that he's Jiang Fengmian's bastard. 

Jiang Fengmian doesn't say a thing to this, or to her mentioning WWX’s mother. This shit is why WWX is running around in the world desperate for any crumb of info he can get about his Mom; he hears about her all the goddamn time at home, but only as insults to her character.  

A Bitch is Not Wrong

Here's the thing, though; a lot of what Yu Ziyuan says is correct. 

Jiang Fengmian should be a lot more concerned about the danger to the children, and should not leave it up to the kids to decide who's going to bear that danger.

Yanli does a lot of food=love, which is ok in the right doses, but causes her to pretty extremely lose face during the whole "soup for Jin Zixuan" debacle. And her doting on Wei Wuxian is...kinda excessive. I mean, yeah, she’s more like a mom than a sister to him, but still. Running out onto an active battlefield to look for him, frex, will be a skosh too much. 

I have a dictionary too, mom

Jiang Cheng, as the future clan leader, shouldn't let his attachments affect his decision making, and should let Wei Wuxian, who's the superior cultivator, fend for himself more often. We love Jiang Cheng for those moments where he puts himself in harm's way to protect his loved ones, but it's not a good strategy. He constantly yells at Wei Wuxian for the exact same thing he does all the time himself; he just limits who he does it for.

After she roasts the shit out of everyone for these failings, she leaves, and everyone sits around being miserable and not talking about what just happened. 

Not to be gender studies-y on main but: the awful things she says to her children are really not very different from the things that Jiang Cheng says to Jin Ling, although her targeting is more adept. JC also says a lot of mean things to WWX when he’s angry. When a man says cruel or insulting things, it's often presented as real love hidden under a rough exterior. When a woman does it, she's a monster.

If you enjoy this sort of interaction you should definitely have a look at Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf and the plays of Eugene O'Neill.

Road Runner

Oh thank god, moving on

Lan Wangji is headed back to Cloud Recesses, and gets ambushed by the roadside with the most ridiculous trap this side of Wile E. Coyote.

Wen Chao thinks the "rug over a hole" trap is a good idea for someone who can literally fly.

Lan Wangji doesn't faff about with sword riding, he just fucking goes up in the air and stays there until he is good goddamn ready to come down. A hole in the sidewalk is really not going to be a problem for him. 

Wen Zhuliu does get in one kick before Lan Wanji yeets backwards away from him, in a moment that's scarier on rewatching, now that I know what Wen Zhuliu is capable of.

Wen Chao talks some smack to Lan Wangji, hilariously complaining about "your patronizing tone" to a man who has literally never spoken a word to him, IIRC, and certainly isn't speaking now. Maybe it's a mistranslation and should be "attitude," or maybe Wen Chao is just that dumb.

Apparently Wei Wuxian made a stack of talismans for Lan Wangji to take on the road with him. This talisman is a twin to the one Lan Wangji brings out way, way later in Yunping, when Wei Wuxian says "you even have kept it until now." Missing scene alert! What else did he make for him?

In Yunping this talisman is used to distract some random harmless street bullies. Here it is used against a seven-man murder squad.

This works.

Assault on Cloud Recesses

Forgettable disciple #1, Su She, comes rushing in to tell Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen that Cloud Recesses is under attack.

I'm pretty sure these dudes already know it, because they are meditating extra hard with a buttload of incense, and Lan Qiren is about to cough up some blood. So I think they're trying to hold the ward, rather than just, like, chilling while their disciples get stabbed.

Cloud Recesses is super on fire, you guys; it's going to totally burn to the ground; look at that conflagration, oh the humanity, etc.

Lan Qiren Rises to the Occasion

Ok, I like to rag on Failmaster Qiren and he is definitely an authoritarian dick a whole lot of the time, but in this scene he is fucking amazing.

He starts off worrying about Lan Wangji, not just out of affection but out of strategic planning, probably in equal parts. All three of these Lans take their clan responsibilities extremely seriously.

Then he calmly assesses the situation while imperturbable Lan Xichen freaks the fuck out. 

Lan Xichen is right to be alarmed, because he knows his uncle, he knows one of them is likely to die, and he knows that Lan Qiren will choose to take the hit.

I love, love, love Lan Qiren's physicality here; how centered and assured he is, as he holds his nephew steady and explains what is required of both of them.

Lan Xichen knows Lan Qiren is right. He is utterly fucking devastated, and all he can do to show his love...

...is to obey. 

This whole scene just. kills me.

Su She and forgettable disciple #2 are in the room for this whole conversation, and they join Lan Xichen in this deep bow. Note: I will be reminding everyone of this fact in Part 2.

Whew. This episode is a LOT. Part 2 Coming Soon!

Writing Prompt: What other goodies did Wei Wuxian put in Lan Wangji's care package before Lan Wangji hit the road without saying goodbye?

Soundtrack: 1. Michelle Branch, Goodbye to You 2. Ludacris, Stand Up

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #wei wuxian #yu ziyuan #lan qiren #restless rewatch the untamed #the untamed spoilers #lan xichen #canary3d-original #my gifs #the untamed meta

[o-king-of-suns]

Hi ^^ I've recently found ur blog and read ur meta. Ur analysis is great! I'm kinda new here but I've seen so many ppl talk about Levi's guidebook page, referring to it as "the confirmation of what Levi was solely fighting for in the final battle i.e revenge by fulfilling the promise" I'm sorry if this has been pointed out before but as a Levi fan who believes otherwise, I'd love to read ur interpretation. Also u also believe the GB is implying this? I think ppl are having the wrong impression.

Hi! :) Thank you so much! I am glad you liked my meta! English is not my first language, so I try my best to express what I want to say.

Almost everyone agrees that the final guidebook is just an ABSOLUTE hot garbage! xD At this point that no one is taking seriously anymore! xD It straight up contradicts what happens in the manga, has VERY reductive and nonsensical descriptions of the characters and is FULL of errors.

The main reason to why many people have issues with Levi’s part (apart from it having nothing new or because it mainly focused on the promise) is one word that was used in the text that has been translated by some biased people into “obsessed”.

I asked 3 Japanese people (including my teacher) about the word that was used in the text and the meanings that I was given were: (be) dedicated to; have an uncompromising commitment to ; to really focus on; to be determined to; etc. From what I understood, this term is always a headache as it truly depends on what the writer wants to convey and what it “feels” right in the context. "Obsessed” is like, the most reductive reading of that word, and it's the exact word that Er_ris chose to use xD

Japanese is often qualified as vague, and it CAN leave room for interpretation. For example, the word (きれい) Isayama used to say Levi was the opposite of Rorschach could mean "pretty" or "clean" based on the context, but here's the thing: Rorschach is notoriously ugly, so it makes sense that Isayama meant that Levi is "pretty" (and it IS officially translated to "pretty" ), but I have seen MANY Japanese people say that Isayama meant "clean" not “pretty”! This word meaning in the text literally and solely depended on Isayama's intention even causing translators to get confused and translate it to “pretty”! If we look at the context of Levi’s character description in the last gb, the last line mentions that after his final mission, Levi “meets his friends with a calm heart”. Why would Levi be able to meet his friends with a “calm heart” if his entire arc was about him being “obsessed” with a personal goal and revenge?! Is this why he salutes them and they salute him back in the final chapter?! I am 100% sure that the word “obsessed” was not the one that the person who wrote the description wanted to use.

Now let’s stop talking about language translation and focus on Levi in the manga xD Is the gb version Levi the same Levi whom Isayama described as "as an existence more superior to myself" during Levi’s statue reveal just last March?!

You know, when I asked my native Japanese teacher to help me translate Isayama's statement about Levi, she sent me a 4 minute voice note breaking down the terms Isayma used and explaining how much respect the person speaking (Isayama) has for the person he's talking about (Levi). I was embarrassed to tell her that the person he’s speaking about is actually a fictional character lol

Isyama used 頭 の上がらない which literally means “can’t raise someone’s head” but it actually means “can’t raise someone’s head in front someone else for how much respect they have for this person”

Now let’s look at Levi’s actions in the manga to see if we can reach to the same conclusion.

Levi is one of, if not the most, perceptive characters in SNK. In one the official short stories, he was described as a person who is able to “know the true nature of Man”. For Levi, Zeke is a man who cheered with satisfaction as he threw rocks through fifteen year olds. He’s the person who nonchalantly explained to Levi the process of gassing an entire village of unsuspecting civilians and flinging them into an eternal nightmare in order to weaponize their bodies. Zeke’s manipulations are the origin of almost all of Paradis’ problems, whether it’s encouraging Marley to ramp up aggressions or pulling shady shit with Kiyomi, Yelena and the Jaegerists that destabilizes their already vulnerable island. And what’s worse - because we’re reading a story where torn-up characters are often excused by circumstances of coercion or perceived necessity - he doesn’t care. He feels no remorse. He wants to do this. Levi doesn’t know Zeke’s ultimate reasoning of course, but he recognized through the smoke of the campfire a man who doesn’t give a fuck about the wishes and agency of others. Who will force his own will on a race of humans and call it mercy. AND YET, Levi stays with him for  A WHOLE MONTH in the forest bringing him books, drinks and a pillow to sit on. He keeps asking him about what happened in Connie’s village trying over and over to understand him. And then the guy transforms Levi’s own teammates in front of him, forces him to kill them and taunts him with their suffering. Levi perceives a person who’s arrogant enough to consider his cruelty compassion as he decides whether the lives of their children are worth living.YET, Levi decided to keep him alive because he believed that it is what’s the best for Paradis; a decision that eventually caused Levi’s severe injuries and the activation of the Rumbling!

During the final battle, Levi offered to act as a bait for Mikasa so she can try to bring back Armin and risks his life TWICE to save Jean and Connie risking his chances to ever fulfill his promise to Erwin.

Please tell me now that these are actions of an “obsessed” man who is only focused on killing Zeke and revenge.

The first time Levi mentions the vow after the time skip, he says: “Erwin, I think I will be finally able to fulfill the vow I made to you that day. Your deathS had meaning. At last I will be able to prove it”  Levi clearly associates giving meaning to his comrades’ deaths WITH fulfilling his vow to Erwin. This is the line that proves that the vow has always meant something more.

Levi made a promise that came to represent the fulfillment of the goal all his former Survey Corps comrades laid down their lives for. Slaying the Beast Titan took on symbolic stature, a tangible way of giving their sacrifices meaning - especially in a world where the circumstances had drastically shifted and enemies, allies, and other were suddenly seen from a completely different perspective.

In Ch. 136, Levi remembers his friends and reflects upon their sacrifices and what they meant. They did not sacrifice their lives to “trample the lives and hearts of others”.

We never got a SINGLE panel in which he says that he fulfilled his promise! In the last apparition of his fallen comrades, Erwin isn’t even in the center. He salutes his fallen comrades for devoting their hearts for humanity and they salute him back for honoring their sacrifices.

If there is one thing that Levi was “obsessed” about, it is him trying to give meaning to the deaths and sacrifices of the people who truly devoted their hearts to humanity and whom he truly loved

#anon ask #ask

[yoonpobs]

manners maketh women | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: kingsman!AU (loosely inspired lol), enemies to enemies basically (some sexual tension)

warnings: mentions of blood, enemies, dismantling the patriarchy

words: 2, 637

summary: kingsman or alternatively you trying to dismantle the patriarchy by pissing off your partner

“You’re a fucking psychopath!” Valentine spits at you with bloodied gums while he lays on the floor with all the will to live beaten out of him.

You’re much better off. Of course you were. You wouldn’t let someone as vile or unimportant as Valentine ruin your pantsuit because while you thought the establishment was exorbitant, it was still costly and made you look like a bad bitch.

“Says the one who planted chips into people’s head only to blow them up.” You roll your eyes, tossing your blazer over your shoulder as Merlin sighs at the scene behind you when you cock your head towards the pitiful soon-to-be prisoner.

“I thought we said no damage.”

You shrug.

“This is no damage. Couldn’t help that my hand slipped.” You return.

Merlin is about to retort but your teammate stomps out of the abandoned church with his eyes narrowed to your figure that retreats to the comfort of your car.

You almost forget that you weren’t on this mission alone until the presence of your partner appears by your side and you’ve worked with him long enough to know that he’s shooting daggers on the side of your forehead.

“We agreed to bring him back in one piece.” Jungkook snarls at you.

You see that he’s way worse off compared to you. But it could have alluded to the fact that he warded off the rest of the guards that ambushed the two of you when you first arrived. The priority was finding Valentine and making sure that he was captured and under your scrutiny, so you agreed to head off first while Jungkook did the dirty work.

“His limbs are still attached to his body, I don’t see how I didn’t uphold to the end of our agreement?” You stop in your tracks, causing Jungkook to skid in his steps as his chest makes contact with your back.

When you turn around, he’s absolutely furious but that only spurs on the wide grin that appears on your face.

“Valentine looks like he’s been through six wars and a botched plastic surgery attempt!” He hisses.

You roll your eyes, folding your arms across your chest as you take in Jungkook’s growing rage. He’s never been the level-headed one between the two of you but you were also the more infuriating one. You were fully aware of that and you were going to use it to your advantage. You didn’t beckon your way through the misogynistic Kingsman system to be bossed around by some stereotypical posh man who didn’t know how to take no for an answer.

“And that’s what he deserved. I did what I had to do, Jeon.” You retort as venomously as he had.

Jungkook literally growls and you know you’ve annoyed him further because he was the typical Kingsman agent that attempted to uphold all the core values and paraded around the base with the manners maketh man phrase that he loved to milk. You, on the other hand, didn’t believe in that shit at all because you were not mannered and neither were you a man. Jungkook walked the ground like he had a stick up his ass half the time and you had no time to deal with his uptightness.

“We are on a mission, Lancelot. I go by Galahad.” He reminds you but you wave him off, turning around to head towards your car.

Jungkook grits his teeth as he sees Merlin drag a detained Valentine—who leaves a trail of blood in his path—to the van where he’d be brought back to the cells. He couldn’t believe that you had the audacity to go against direct orders from your superior like that! But at the same time, you’ve pulled things like this more than once and rubbed Jungkook the wrong way every time you’d brush off any lament that came from him.

He doesn’t think you were incapable of being a Kingsman agent, although it hasn’t always been that way. But he did believe that you should at least uphold the fundamental values that made Kingsman the reputable secret service it was.

“You act like Jeon is the worst of the names I call you.” You snort.

Jungkook wants to remind you that it’s not and he’s aware but he’s highly exhausted after fending off numerous men on his own while you got to catch the largest bait of the day, your pantsuit hardly creasing in the process.

“Would it kill you to follow orders?” Jungkook snaps.

The two of you reach the car and he snatches the keys from your palm before you can step into the driver’s seat. You raise an eyebrow at his gesture and look him up and down before your bored eyes rest upon his still pinched expression.

“If we get pulled over the police are going to think you’re a runaway.”

Jungkook scowls but enters the car anyway. You follow him shortly into the passenger seat as you immediately tug off the band that kept your hair in a ponytail as you ruffle your hair, slipping off the heels off your feet. You found it absurd that the agency demanded you wear heels onto a field mission purely because it was the Kingsman brand. It wasn’t like you couldn’t fight in them but obviously, it made you slightly slower than you’d like.

“You’re going to shut up and not say a single word during the ride back because I’ve had enough of that smart ass mouth of yours.” Jungkook snaps.

“It’s cute that you think I’m going to listen to you, Jeon.” You pat his thigh in consolation and he just curses under his breath.

Jungkook doesn’t have the energy to argue back because, for every remark he makes, he’s sure you have at least ten responses phrased in different ways to respond with.

“If you called me in for a staring contest then I’m afraid we have to reschedule. I’ve got a bottle of wine and some fried chicken waiting for me in my quarters.” You deadpan.

The man who sits in front of you is unnerved and you expect no less from the current Director of Kingsman. It also wasn’t the first time you’ve sat before him with the very same look marring his face. You know what the conversation is going to be about and he knows that you know.

“Agent Lancelot—”

You scoff when you lean forward, narrowing your eyes at your superior before he purses his lips at your gesture.

“How many times did I tell you to ditch the alias? It’s unnecessary especially since we’re in your office which is debatably the most vaulted place in all of the Kingsman quarters. It isn’t like Valentine is going to come crawling through the vents and demand for my birth certificate.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose because when he hired you after you—impressively—passed the most gruesome and intense interview process with a blink of your eye, he didn’t know what to expect when he took the risk of recruiting the first-ever woman Kingsman.

But now that it’s been years since you’ve made a name for yourself and all other keen women who were looking for the opportunity to train as an agent, he realised that you were not just a skilled agent but a sharp and impenetrable fortress that would never let anyone tell her what to do.

Which was frankly—inconvenient—given the nature of Kingsman work that often relied on partnership and collaboration. But those words weren’t in your dictionary and Namjoon can see the way you look bored before the conversation started as you sit in front of him with a blank expression on your face.

“It’s nice to see you, ______,” Namjoon says dryly, clasping his fists together before leaning forward on his elbows that your faces are closer.

“Are you going to call me out for disobeying orders and bringing back Valentine like butchered meat? If you want an apology then you know you’re not going to get it,” You say blankly before turning in the swivel chair; already halfway off before Namjoon stops you.

“Jungkook has been telling me that you’ve been harder to work with recently.” Namjoon points out.

You scoff.

“Of course he’ll say that. I’m the better agent in the partnership and it bruises his puny masculine ego. Tell him to shove it and deal with it because it’s going to get harder.”

Namjoon shoots you an unimpressed glare before he wills himself to maintain a decent amount of level-headedness as he reasons with you.

“The both of you are talented agents—” Namjoon says slowly and you know he’s only saying that to appease you and not break his neutrality when it came to agents so you roll your eyes at his attempt, “—and because the two of you are always going on the most important missions it’s imperative that you work together.”

“Namjoon.” You blink, “Jeon is the most infuriating individual I have been condemned to meet and I literally have no idea why you won’t just switch me out with—I don’t know—Jin or something. He isn’t as mouthy or pretentious as Jeon.”

Namjoon sighs.

“Firstly, why can’t you ever call him by his first name? And secondly—you know why I can’t do that. Jin is in-charge of international operations and we need you here on domestic land. You and Jungkook are the most qualified agents of the region and it is in my best interest, as well as the nations to have you two work together.”

You wave him off before you push yourself off the chair completely, offering a sloppy salute out to his direction and you see Namjoon’s shoulder deflate at your stubbornness. But before you’re even able to make your way out of the door, you see a face that makes you scowl.

“Talking shit about me behind my back, babe?” Jungkook narrows his eyes at you.

You snort.

“If I wanted to talk shit about you, I’d do it to your face so I can watch your fragile ego shatter in front of my eyes. And—if you don’t want your balls detached from your body and served to you as a door gift then I suggest you never call me babe ever again.”

You’re about to push past him but his hand reaches for your shoulder and stops you with a tight grip as you snap your head to glare at him. You’re about to throw him off you, literally, but Jungkook is also skilled and he sees the telltale signs of your anger for him to defend himself against your attack.

When you pull his arm to lug his body over yours, he manages to lock your grip and bring you into a headlock—chest pressed to your back as he breathes down your hair while you feel the cocky smirk of his spread across his face.

“Let go of me you fucking shithead.” You snarl.

Jungkook snorts and only tightens his grip on you, twisting your chin between his thumb and index finger so you’re glaring directly at his face that is only a mere inches away from yours to give you a taunting grin that you want to slap off his face.

“You’ll never outdo the doer—” He whispers so low that it almost seems like it’s just the two of you, “—baby.”

You take that as a chance to knee him in the stomach and shove him away before you dust your hands on your pants, only to remember that you were still in Namjoon’s office and he likely saw the show that the two of you put on.

“I … I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that,” Namjoon clears his throat before gesturing to the two of you to take a seat as if you weren’t seconds away from walking out that door.

“Look, Namjoon—we—I—don’t need this group therapy session with him, okay? The two of us can work together but that doesn’t mean I’ll listen to what he says. His judgement is clouded by the systemic oppression that Kingsman entrenches to their agents and I won't stand for that.”

Jungkook’s fists tighten at your blatant disrespect to the organisation that employed you, and he remembers every reason why he hates you so much.

“_____,” Namjoon sighs, “I don’t understand why you walked into that interview years ago if you hate everything that Kingsman stands for.”

You clench your fists by your side because of course, he didn’t understand. And of course, Jungkook, Jimin, Jin and even Merlin didn’t understand. They didn’t need the luxury of understanding a system that favoured people like them.

“Then let me spell it out for you both,” You say emphasise each word with a spit.

Jungkook clenches his jaw but remains silent.

“I walked into that interview knowing I was going to ace that shit because I owed that first step to all the women that were used and abused by your Kingsmen. The women that were offered comfort for sex to only be shunned and disposed of by the esteemed agents you call Kingsmen. I am not a Kingsman and I am not Lancelot. I am ______ ______ and I’m a woman who fucking owned every single one of those male agents that day who decided to snicker and laugh at me when they wouldn’t be able to ever walk a mile in my shoes. I’m here because I have a point to prove.”

Namjoon is stunned to silence and you don’t know what triggers your outburst but you suppose its years of repression and having to work alongside a male peer that only sees you as impressive because of your gender and not because of your skills. The comments rubbed you the wrong way and you never looked back since.

“_______ …” Namjoon begins but you glare at him and that’s enough to send him silent.

But you see the way Jungkook’s jaw twitches and you know that sign well enough to know he’s about to say something you won’t like.

“That’s it? All the anger, bitchiness and attitude for you to prove a point?” Jungkook scoffs, “You’re that pathetic?”

“Jungkook—” Namjoon warns.

“You walked into this life and you need to deal with the consequences. I don’t give two shits your intention in Kingsman but you’re here and you’re working for the Kingsman so you better suck all that bitterness up or leave. Don’t you dare disrespect the foundation of what a Kingsman is.” Jungkook hisses.

The expression on your face is thunderous and Jungkook has never seen you like that, ever. Not even when the two of you were arguing head to head and everyone else thought someone was going to end up hurt. No, this is much more … threatening. A look that’s so unfamiliar but familiar enough because it’s the first time he’s seen it directed to him.

“I wonder why you’re so overprotective about the Kingsman name, hm?” You say blankly, “Is it because that your entire identity revolves around it? That you’ve never seen a world with eyes when you weren’t a Kingsman? You’re pathetic, Jeon. You’re nothing without the title but at least I know what I want. You don’t. You’re just hiding behind the suit and weapons to make you feel like a man but you’re just a sorry excuse of a human being that only sees the world through a bigoted lens.”

Jungkook is about to retort but you’re faster, and the action alarms both Namjoon and Jungkook when you—

“I quit.” You smile.

The badge and your key weapon with nothing but a slam to the table.

“______—“ Namjoon stands up but you don’t spare him another glance before you’re out the door.

#bts imagines #bts fic #bts fics #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #kingsman!au #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook enemies to lovers