#just give better evidence its right there in front of you the actual point just flew past your head like a fucking truck

[centrally-unplanned]

For a bit of a left-field materialist moment, people have been mentioning recently (due to an ACX post) the fact that people in the ancient world did not have PTSD from war. I think this result is quite robust; war was a nigh-universal part of life for many people, writings about war and its aftermath were the most popular topic of writing around, and we have robust documentary evidence about every other negative impact of war that people did experience. Certainly someone in the ancient world had some equivalent, but if it was at all as common as it is now it would have been discussed, and probably even named and addressed as part of martial culture. Instead its a complete ghost.

I do feel like reaching towards "martial culture" as the explanation is a bit weird though? It plays a role, for sure, I do agree that a society that raises someone to know that killing and fighting is Good, Actually, is going to be better mental prep for said activities. But a lot of societies today, and way more within "modern war" memory, had martial cultures! Virtually all societies fighting in WW1, where PTSD was first widely observed, had very similar values to the Romans; fighting is noble & good, and it is right to kill for your country. Those values just broke down in the conflict itself. And I think this too is giving the past too much monoculture; wars like the Second Punic War or the Thirty Years War had intense levels of population mobilization, which meant they were tapping manpower from every sector of society, and a lot of those individuals or communities had their own values that were less martial (think Jewish communities in Europe, for an example). And those wars don't show much new evidence. That evidence could be lost, its the kind of evidence that would be lost ofc, but it still points in that direction.

And its weird to point to culture when technology seems like the way bigger cause? Its why we called it shell-shocked after all! War in the older days was very concrete and typically concentrated. You marched at more-or-less peace for months, saw an enemy, arrayed for battle, and fought right up against a guy in front of you. If you won it was on your own strength against dudes in eyesight swinging metal; if you lost you ran away or were dead and so don't get PTSD. I can see how this isn't a recipe for flashback triggers, it wasn't that different an environment from your day to day 99.9% of the time. Meanwhile modern war is massively loud explosions, people randomly dying next to you, and in contexts like trench warfare or counterinsurgency its constant levels of awareness for the idea of metal cracking your skull in every direction. And we do get reports of PTSD-style symptoms from earlier WW1-style conflicts like the Russo-Japanese War. I think war-based PTSD is in some part a literal noise issue, and modern war is much louder.

Both probably play a role, but I think technology is the main one. War is now a factory for breaking one's sense of place in the world, almost by design (that works better for killing the enemy), so it really isn't even that surprising.

[f1-stuff]

sex 👁️👄👁️ competition 👁️👄👁️

Pls tell us more

Ask and you shall receive 🫡 Have the first 700 words... -> WIP game

Really, it’s all Alex’s fault.

It starts because of a question he poses during the drivers' parade in Spain, a group of them waiting to be interviewed as the float makes its slow procession around the circuit. 

They’re in the middle of a conversation about how Pierre and Esteban can’t seem to get along lately, their competitiveness reaching new volatile heights, when Alex says, “Do you reckon they fight over who’s better in bed?”

“Probably,” Logan snickers beside him.

“They’ve definitely argued over who’s got a bigger dick,” Lando adds.

For some reason, everyone looks at Charles.

“What? You think I know?”

“You’re friends with them,” Alex says, then adds, “Kind of.” Because he knows stuff with Esteban is complicated.

“Did they ever fight over the same girl?” Lando asks, nudging him. “Like, when you were kids?”

“I don’t know!” Charles insists, huffing.

“My guess is Pierre. For better in bed, I mean.” And then, they all hum, like they’re in agreement. 

Charles rolls his eyes, glancing around for Pierre as if the conversation will manifest him. He’s still at the other end of the float, waiting for Esteban to finish his interview in front of him. Charles smirks, betting he’s pissed off even about that.

“Okay, who’s better in bed: Max or Checo?”

“Max,” Oscar and Logan say in unison, then fist bump each other.

“I am saying Checo,” Charles speaks up, feeling bad for the guy. “This conversation is very stupid.”

“No, no, you could be right,” Lando chips in. “Max is really impatient, but Checo could have the whole passionate Latin lover thing going on.”

“That’s racist. I think.”

“Shut up.”

“Magnussen or Hulkenberg?” Alex chips in.

“Well, K Mag has one more kid than Hulk,” Logan says, as if this is evidence to be weighed.

“Does that mean he’s better or worse?” Lando mutters, smirking.

“Lewis or George?” 

“Lewis, are you kidding? Have you seen the chicks he’s gone out with?”

“Point.”

“Charles,” Alex says, getting his attention, a devilish smirk on his face. “You or Carlos?”

Charles laughs awkwardly, shaking his head. “Mate, come on.”

“What? Look at him, he’s blushing.”

“I am not.”

“I reckon it’s Carlos-” Lando starts, then gets shoved for it.

“Yeah, you would say that,” Oscar teases. “He’s, like- your hero.” 

Then, while Lando sputters about how, ‘I meant ‘cause he’s older,’ Alex says, “Carlos had the same girlfriend for like six years. I doubt he’s actually that good, ya know? Reckon he’s probably got complacent.”

“Oh, big word. Have you gotten ‘complacent,’ Alex?” Logan asks, nudging him. Alex gives a good-natured eye roll.

“‘Kay, fine. That’s probably fair...”

Someone sweeps up behind Charles, and he can immediately identify who it is from the duel hands that squeeze the side of his neck and his bicep, along with the scent of a familiar cologne. (Charles doesn’t really want to examine the fact that he can recognize his teammate by his cologne...)

“What are we laughing about?” Carlos asks, crowding up against Charles, who makes space for him in their circle.

“Who’s better than their teammate in bed,” Lando offers, reaching out to clasp hands with Carlos in greeting. “We were just debating you or Charles.”

Carlos makes an inquisitive noise, his gaze sliding to Charles, who gazes back stubbornly.

“Obviously, I am better-” Carlos starts, overly cocky, inspiring Charles to huff in indignation.

“This is obvious?”

“Well, I-”

“‘I,’” Charles interjects. “The only obvious thing is that, of course, you would think you are better. Just like I will think I am the best. We are not good judges.”

“Okay, then what do you suggest, my friend?” Carlos asks, a competitive arch to his brow that’s accompanied by an amused tilt to his lips. “Who should be the judge?”

“Oh, God,” Alex groans, laughing at them. “We shouldn’t have talked about it with them both here. Now, they’re gonna argue about it.”

“Charles,” Carlos says, ignoring the others. “What do you suggest?”

Charles feels overly warm all of a sudden, rubbing his clammy palms against his jeans, as Carlos regards him with all of his single-minded focus.

“A competition,” he says. Before he can stop himself.

#suffice to say that this quickly becomes homoerotic lmao #WIP tag game #rpf #charlos #anon #ask #sex competition AU

[mirrormazeworld]

TWST Theory : Deep Analysis Based on Alice in Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass - Crowley The Mad Hatter (part 1)

⚠️WARNING⚠️

⚠️CONTAINS SPOILER CHAPTER 6 AND 7⚠️

⚠️VERY COMPLICATED TWST THEORY, MIGHT GIVES YOU HEADACHE, PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK ⚠️

Note:

You've read this far, congratulations! Beware that this is the longest and most difficult part to understand out of all parts it might give you headaches if you're not ready. (It's ok, I can't take it as well myself that I almost cried when I wrote this) Keep in mind that I have little to no evidence, therefore this theory is my original theory and purely just my assumptions so please take it with the grain of salt (as usual).

Before I explain, I want to say that I did this analysis and research purely because I want a base to make a hc for Crowley for my own fanfic/yumeship since we have little to no information about him. I just feel the need to get it all off my head and share it here because of how complicated it is and to better understand what kind of Crowley he is in my lore that I created, since how I see of Crowley is very different compared to how most people see Crowley. Most people see him as the mastermind, a very evil villain to the point most people in the fandom hate him unreasonably. I can guess it's because of almost all people in the fandom, both JP and EN side doesn't know what twisted he is and he is just mysterious and ambiguous that he is misunderstood.

Crowley has been believed for a long time as twisted from Diablo, Maleficent's raven because of his name. Some also suspected he's the crow in Snow White. Even so there's no telling of what he is twisted from. And don't you think it's a bit weird when both Diablo and the crow in Snow White role actually doesn't really have that much significance in their respective stories while we know Crowley would play a great part in twst as he is still the Headmaster of NRC. I'm sure twst fans have been dying to know what he is supposed to be for almost 3 years including myself, but I've always believed he is actually also twisted of something else other than Diablo and today I'm going to share my own analysis and hc of Crowley that hopefully would help you understand him and his character better, and that is :

Dire Crowley : Twisted of Mad Hatter

A long time ago I was just thinking, if Yuu supposed to be Alice that comes to a Wonderland, surely there should be Mad Hatter somewhere...? And then I remembered someone that seems to wear hat everywhere no matter the circumstances...

That's right, it's the Headmage of NRC, Dire Crowley.

And isn't it kind of weird that his hat is similar to that of Ramshackle ghost's? As if the clue is there in front of your eyes.

So I decided to look at it further and found something interesting....

Alice in Wonderland : The World of Math

Alice in Wonderland is a children's book because of its fantasy like story, but if you're a true book lover, you'll know that Alice in Wonderland is a book full of riddles. There are a lot of english wordplay but what not many people know is that most of the riddles in Alice in Wonderland are related to Math, as Carroll is also the Math Logician.

I won't explain much but this is an example of the math riddle in Alice in Wonderland (you can skip this part if it's too much. I just want to show you) :

In the chapter of "Advice from Caterpillar", Alice has fallen down the rabbit hole and eaten a cake that has shrunk her to a height of just 3 inches. The Caterpillar enters, smoking a hookah pipe, and shows Alice a mushroom that can restore her to her proper size. But one side of the mushroom stretches her neck, while another shrinks her torso, so she must eat exactly the right balance to regain her proper size and proportions. The word "hookah" is of Arabic origin, like "algebra", and the original Arabic term for algebra, widely known and used in the mathematical community in Carroll's time, was al jebr e al mokabala or "restoration and reduction" - which exactly describes Alice's experience. It's Carroll's view of the absurdity of symbolic algebra.

The reason why I strongly believe Crowley is/was the one who looped/rewind the time is because I suspect he is the Mad Hatter. I have always been drawing him based on this thoughts in my mind and of course it's not without reason. Every scenes in Alice in Wonderland contains riddles in it and most of them goes by math logic. And from all of those riddles, the "A Mad Tea Party" from Alice in Wonderland and "Wool and Water" from Through The Looking Glass are the only scenes that tells time in wonderland specifically that made Alice realizes time in Wonderland goes differently from her own world.

In one interview, Yana said it herself that she learned so much from Lewis Carroll's style of story telling. Carroll's background in Math and his interest in literatures allowed him to criticize ideas at that time through his Wonderland stories. This is what his story telling style is like when he made "Alice in Wonderland" and "Through the Looking Glass". Doing analysis on Dire Crowley means that I should solve the riddle first and then do an actual analysis on him.

Now you know that Alice in Wonderland is about Math, so from this onwards, I'm going to do explanation how to solve the riddle while also explaining about Crowley along the way

Note : I'm not a Mathematician nor a Physician so there might be other things that I have no idea about but I'll do my best to explain the math riddle to you...

Mad Hatter and His Relation to Time

-Time for a T-Party : "A Mad Tea Party"- (Alice in Wonderland)

“It began with the tea,” the Hatter replied.

“Of course twinkling begins with a T!” said the King sharply. “Do you take me for a dunce? Go on!”

When you read "Tea Party" it sounds the same as "T-Party". "T" is the math symbol of "Time" in mathematics. At the time when Alice in Wonderland was written and published, a mathematician, Sir William Rowan Hamilton (1805–1865) invented "quaternion", a four dimensional extension to complex number that also represent rotations and orientation happening to the four dimensional object in three dimensional space.

To put it simply, quaternion is a four number system in mathematics that shows what happened to 3D objects if they are in timespace (4th dimension)

Note :

To make it easier to understand :

...-2.5,-2,-1, 0, 1, 2, 2.5...-> is real number

3.14 + 1.59i -> is complex number

3.23 + 8.46i + 2.64j + 3.38k -> is quaternion

The 1st dimension that represented by real numbers system is line.

The 2nd dimension that represented by complex number system are two-dimensional shapes (ex : rectangle, trapezoid)

The 3rd dimension that represented by adding one more imaginary dimension are three-dimensional shapes (ex : sphere, cube)

The 4th dimension that represented by adding two more imaginary dimension to complex number is timespace.

Quaternion is a four number system in the form of

q = a + bi + cj + dk

Where a , b , c , d are real numbers and i , j , k are "imaginary" unit hence why quaternion is also called "imaginary mathematics".

In Crowley's voice clip, he said :

Not only "imagination" is the key to use magic in Twisted Wonderland, this "imagination" might have relevance to something else as well but I'll skip this part for now and will explain it later in the last part. Just remember that this "imagination" is the key word to this theory and will guide you when you read further.

In 3D, 3 dimensional consist of 3 axis : length, width, and depth. In 4D, there's a fourth axis : Time.

Hamilton spent much of his life seeking a three-dimensional number system analogous to the complex numbers. He added two imaginary dimensions, (2.64j)and (3.38k) to the complex number (3.23 + 8.46i). Three imaginary dimensions describing spaces, and the real numbers sitting perpendicular to that in some kind of fourth dimension.

Hamilton said, if you take this time parameter out of these numbers, then the numbers would just keep rotating around － they won't go anywhere, like the characters rotating round and round the tea party, round and round the table.

“Ah! that accounts for it,” said the Hatter. “He won’t stand beating. Now, if you only kept on good terms with him, he’d do almost anything you liked with the clock. For instance, suppose it were nine o’clock in the morning, just time to begin lessons: you’d only have to whisper a hint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past one, time for dinner!”

(“I only wish it was,” the March Hare said to itself in a whisper.)

“That would be grand, certainly,” said Alice thoughtfully: “but then—I shouldn’t be hungry for it, you know.”

“Not at first, perhaps,” said the Hatter: “but you could keep it to half-past one as long as you liked.”

“Is that the way you manage?” Alice asked.

The Hatter shook his head mournfully. “Not I!” he replied. “We quarrelled last March—just before he went mad, you know—” (pointing with his tea spoon at the March Hare,) “—it was at the great concert given by the Queen of Hearts, and I had to sing

‘Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!

How I wonder what you’re at!’

You know the song, perhaps?”

“I’ve heard something like it,” said Alice.

“It goes on, you know,” the Hatter continued, “in this way:—

‘Up above the world you fly,

Like a tea-tray in the sky.

Twinkle, twinkle—’”

Here the Dormouse shook itself, and began singing in its sleep “Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle—” and went on so long that they had to pinch it to make it stop.

“Well, I’d hardly finished the first verse,” said the Hatter, “when the Queen jumped up and bawled out, ‘He’s murdering the time! Off with his head!’”

“How dreadfully savage!” exclaimed Alice.

“And ever since that,” the Hatter went on in a mournful tone, “he won’t do a thing I ask! It’s always six o’clock now.”

A bright idea came into Alice’s head. “Is that the reason so many tea-things are put out here?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s it,” said the Hatter with a sigh: “it’s always tea-time, and we’ve no time to wash the things between whiles.”

“Then you keep moving round, I suppose?” said Alice.

“Exactly so,” said the Hatter: “as the things get used up.”

“But what happens when you come to the beginning again?” Alice ventured to ask.

“Suppose we change the subject,” the March Hare interrupted, yawning. “I’m getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story.”

Related to this scene, Hatter, Hare and Dormouse represent three terms of a quaternion, and the fourth term, Time, is absent because Hatter was upsetting the Time. Time won't allow those three to move past tea time and they can only move round the table in a loop, just like Hamilton attempts to calculate motion before the 4th dimension of time was added.

- Wool and Water - (Through the Looking Glass)

‘That’s the effect of living backwards,’ the Queen said kindly: ‘it always makes one a little giddy at first—’

‘Living backwards!’ Alice repeated in great astonishment. ‘I never heard of such a thing!’

‘—but there’s one great advantage in it, that one’s memory works both ways.’

‘I’m sure mine only works one way,’ Alice remarked. ‘I can’t remember things before they happen.’

‘It’s a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,’ the Queen remarked.

��What sort of things do you remember best?’ Alice ventured to ask.

‘Oh, things that happened the week after next,’ the Queen replied in a careless tone. ‘For instance, now,’ she went on, sticking a large piece of plaster on her finger as she spoke, ‘there’s the King’s Messenger. He’s in prison now, being punished: and the trial doesn’t even begin till next Wednesday: and of course the crime comes last of all.’

‘Suppose he never commits the crime?’ said Alice.

‘That would be all the better, wouldn’t it?’ the Queen said, as she bound the plaster round her finger with a bit of ribbon.

Alice felt there was no denying that. ‘Of course it would be all the better,’ she said: ‘but it wouldn’t be all the better his being punished.’

‘You’re wrong there, at any rate,’ said the Queen: ‘were you ever punished?’

‘Only for faults,’ said Alice.

‘And you were all the better for it, I know!’ the Queen said triumphantly.

‘Yes, but then I had done the things I was punished for,’ said Alice: ‘that makes all the difference.’

‘But if you hadn’t done them,’ the Queen said, ‘that would have been better still; better, and better, and better!’ Her voice went higher with each ‘better,’ till it got quite to a squeak at last.

Alice was just beginning to say ‘There’s a mistake somewhere—,’ when the Queen began screaming so loud that she had to leave the sentence unfinished. ‘Oh, oh, oh!’ shouted the Queen, shaking her hand about as if she wanted to shake it off. ‘My finger’s bleeding! Oh, oh, oh, oh!’

Her screams were so exactly like the whistle of a steam-engine, that Alice had to hold both her hands over her ears.

‘What is the matter?’ she said, as soon as there was a chance of making herself heard. ‘Have you pricked your finger?’

‘I haven’t pricked it yet,’ the Queen said, ‘but I soon shall—oh, oh, oh!’

‘When do you expect to do it?’ Alice asked, feeling very much inclined to laugh.

‘When I fasten my shawl again,’ the poor Queen groaned out: ‘the brooch will come undone directly. Oh, oh!’ As she said the words the brooch flew open, and the Queen clutched wildly at it, and tried to clasp it again.

‘Take care!’ cried Alice. ‘You’re holding it all crooked!’ And she caught at the brooch; but it was too late: the pin had slipped, and the Queen had pricked her finger.

‘That accounts for the bleeding, you see,’ she said to Alice with a smile. ‘Now you understand the way things happen here.’

The Wool and Water chapter from "Through the Looking Glass" is another chapter that gives a hint to Alice about time, particularly how time in the mirror world goes (it's moving backwards). Similar to how "A Mad Tea-Party" chapter in "Alice in Wonderland" does.

This chapter also mentioned the "King's Messenger" who is in prison and is being punished, which later in chapter "The Lion and The Unicorn" turns out to be "Hatta", the "Hatter" in "Through The Looking Glass" (and he is still drinking tea just like the "Hatter" in "Alice in Wonderland"). This chapter is the first time where Hatter (now Hatta) being mentioned in "Through The Looking Glass".

Mad Hatter, Crow, and Raven : The Key to Time is the Corvid

The first thing Hatter said when he met Alice for the first time was :

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

Carroll said, all the riddles in his books aren't actually meant to be solved therefore he never gave an answer to it for the readers of his works. But interestingly later, from all of his riddles this one riddle became the only riddle that has an answer from Carroll himself since his readers were so persistent. Here's what he said :

Enquiries have been so often addressed to me, as to whether any answer to the Hatter's Riddle can be imagined, that I may as well put on record here what seems to me to be a fairly appropriate answer, viz:

'Because it can produce a few notes, tho they are very flat; and it is nevar put with the wrong end in front!' This, however, is merely an afterthought; the Riddle, as originally invented, had no answer at all.

He wasn't actually giving the answer, but he was giving a hint on how to solve the riddle by ourself.

The answer to the riddle is like his other poem riddles where each sentence has a single word meaning – a charade.

'Because it can produce a few notes, tho they are very flat;'

This first sentence in a single word describes a ‘letter’.

'and it is nevar put with the wrong end in front!'

The second sentence in a single word is simply ‘backwards’.

The word ‘Letter’ has a double meaning of one you send in the post or one in the alphabet.

When you read the letters in the word "nevar" in backwards, it will be "raven"

This answer related to Hatter's riddle on Carroll's first publication had never intentionally misspelt with a letter ‘a’ which is Raven spelt with the wrong end in front. He was describing the word ‘backwards’ in his second sentence just like his other charade poems.

Carroll is good at saying something with double meanings so the hint doesn't end there in the charade just like that. The second sentence, when you read the sentence just as it is 'and it is nevar put with the wrong end in front!' with your focus on the word "nevar" means that "The wrong end in front isn't the same as the end in back"

This refers to the order of multiplication in quaternion which is non-commutative. Quaternion represents rotations and orientation happening to the four dimensional object in three dimensional space. Swapping the order on how you do the multiplication will changes the answer.

If you do the multiplication clockwise, it will gives you positive answer : i x j = k

If you do the multiplication counter-clockwise, it will gives you negative answer : j x i = -k

Hence in quaternion i x j is not the same as j x i

( i x j ≠ j x i )

This non-commutative order of multiplication in quaternion later implied by what Hatter said after he asked the riddle to Alice.

“Not the same thing a bit!” said the Hatter. “You might just as well say that ‘I see what I eat’ is the same thing as ‘I eat what I see’!”

“You might just as well say,” added the March Hare, “that ‘I like what I get’ is the same thing as ‘I get what I like’!”

“You might just as well say,” added the Dormouse, who seemed to be talking in his sleep, “that ‘I breathe when I sleep’ is the same thing as ‘I sleep when I breathe’!”

“It is the same thing with you,” said the Hatter, and here the conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while Alice thought over all she could remember about ravens and writing-desks, which wasn’t much.

Additionally, in "Through The Looking Glass" (the scene in 'Wool and Water') where Alice finally realized how the time goes in the world behind the mirror was happened when a giant crow covered the sky so it feels like it's nighttime, and the crow goes away after White Queen explained how time goes in through the looking glass.

By this time it was getting light. ‘The crow must have flown away, I think,’ said Alice: ‘I’m so glad it’s gone. I thought it was the night coming on.’

The giant crow appeared at the last part of the previous chapter of Wool and Water, 'Tweedledum and Tweedledee'

It was getting dark so suddenly that Alice thought there must be a thunderstorm coming on. ‘What a thick black cloud that is!’ she said. ‘And how fast it comes! Why, I do believe it’s got wings!’

‘It’s the crow!’ Tweedledum cried out in a shrill voice of alarm: and the two brothers took to their heels and were out of sight in a moment.

Alice ran a little way into the wood, and stopped under a large tree. ‘It can never get at me here,’ she thought: ‘it’s far too large to squeeze itself in among the trees. But I wish it wouldn’t flap its wings so—it makes quite a hurricane in the wood—here’s somebody’s shawl being blown away!’

In 'Wool and Water' White Queen said to Alice:

‘I’m sure I’ll take you with pleasure!’ the Queen said. ‘Twopence a week, and jam every other day.’

Alice couldn’t help laughing, as she said, ‘I don’t want you to hire me—and I don’t care for jam.’

‘It’s very good jam,’ said the Queen.

‘Well, I don’t want any to-day, at any rate.’

‘You couldn’t have it if you did want it,’ the Queen said. ‘The rule is, jam to-morrow and jam yesterday—but never jam to-day.’

‘It must come sometimes to “jam to-day,”’ Alice objected.

‘No, it can’t,’ said the Queen. ‘It’s jam every other day: to-day isn’t any other day, you know.’

‘I don’t understand you,’ said Alice. ‘It’s dreadfully confusing!’

‘That’s the effect of living backwards,’ the Queen said kindly: ‘it always makes one a little giddy at first—’

She said 'That's the effect of living backwards'

If we look back at "A Mad Tea Party" from Alice in Wonderland, these chapter are related to each other and those are :

‘Twopence a week, and jam every other day.’

The King’s Messenger (Hatta) who was in prison and being punished when this dialogue happened, White Queen said his trial doesn’t even begin till next Wednesday. Wednesday is the 3rd day of the week. If you multiply twopence by 3, you'll get 6 pence, which can be refered to the cost of the Hatter's hat, the price tag on the hat he wears. 10 shillings, 6 pence (10/6)

‘No, it can’t,’ said the Queen. ‘It’s jam every other day: to-day isn’t any other day, you know.’

The word 'jam' in english can also means 'stuck'. And in addition to the 6 in sixpence and how the White Queen talks about the King's messenger who is in prison afterwards, this is referring to the Hatter in 'Alice in Wonderland' who is stuck in time and becomes the prisoner of time, since he can't move past 6 o’clock (tea time)

And then the 'to-day isn’t any other day' part once again refers to the order of multiplication in quaternion which is non-commutative.

Interestingly In chapter 6 of twst, Crowley also get "arrested" to the Island of Woe along with overblot students and got stuck there. He is helpless and can't do anything about it. Just like Hatter in mad tea party and when Hatta is imprisoned.

Crowley's name, "Dire Crowley" was formed from the wordplay of Japanese katakana just like how Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass are full of wordplay. When being translated to Japanese, his name becomes

" ディア・クロウリ"

read : "Dia Kurouri"

Crowley's first name, Dire, has been retconned to be pronounced as "Dia" for katakana wordplay that makes it extremely similar to "Diablo", the name of Maleficient's raven in Sleeping Beauty when being read.

ディアブロ = Diaboro (Diablo)

ディアクロ = Dia Kuro

The riddle "Raven like a writing desk", particularly the word "Raven" is the key that refers to the never-ending mad tea party. Is this why Crowley always says he is kind because the collective name for Ravens is an Unkindness which is also Hatter's personal remarks about Alice's hair?

The name "Dire Crowley" also contains the word "Crow" in it. In addition to the crow being a hint in Through The Looking Glass that refers back to the Mad Tea Party, in the chapter of "A Mad Tea Party" from Alice in Wonderland, Hatter said :

“Well, I’d hardly finished the first verse,” said the Hatter, “when the Queen jumped up and bawled out, ‘He’s murdering the time! Off with his head!’”

Here the Hatter was being accused of 'murdering' the Time rather than just killing time, and hence the tea party being stopped at tea time. You know what is the collective noun for Crows? That's right, a murder of Crows.

Seeing how his name can form both "Crow" and "Raven", the key answer to the Mad Hatter riddle that relates to time and 4th dimension means that the key to another dimension (which also means a way for Yuu to go back home) is actually Crowley himself.

All this time, it's not that he doesn't know how to send Yuu back home and doesn't want to find a way for Yuu to go back. He knows from the very beginning ever since Yuu came to Twisted Wonderland because it was Crowley himself who summoned them. There's really no need for him to search a way for Yuu to go back to their world because he already knows. But just like every unique magic which has their own condition to work and its limitations no matter how powerful it is, Crowley's unique magic also has its limitations and can only be done in certain condition, which I'm going to explain later.

Also, if you didn't skip anything when you read this part, you will notice that Hatter/Hatta seems to always has trouble with laws. Just like Crowley does.

Crowley and His Connection to Blot : Mad Hatter Disease

The idiom “mad as a hatter” was around long before Carroll started writing. Colloquially used to describe an eccentric person, “mad as a hatter” is based on a problem that arose in the 1800s when hat companies used mercury in the hat-making process. The mercury got into their systems and they went insane, hence the term “mad as a hatter”.

The real milliners (hatters) in the old days used mercury at cluing the felt in hats making. During that process some of that mercury vaporized and the felt maker/ milliner accidently breathed some of that. And when they were exposed to mercury for many years it really started affecting them: skin began to pale down, nails began to gain some "yellowish" color, hair started to become fuzzy. Even pupils could become dilated. This is what later is called "Mad Hatter Syndrome/Disease"

The effect of Mercury on human bodies seems to be similar with overblot in Twisted Wonderland, since those who are overbloting will have change in their appearance (skin began to pale down), changes in behaviour and goes insane.

When this theory is written, we still don't know whether Lilia's magic is depleted because of old age or something else, but if it's because of old age, why does Crowley can still use magic in game (refer to Ortho's R vignette) while it seems like he is at the same age as Lilia or maybe even older?

Paler skin is one of the change in appearance for those who are overbloting. The fact that Crowley's skin tone is paler than even for normal faes (his skin shade is more of grayish rather than brownish when being compared to Malleus and Lilia) means that he might have been exposed to blot for a very long time just like the hatter in 1800s.

There're two possibilities why Crowley covers upper half of his face:

1. He is immortal.

This refers to Mad Hatter when he sings at the great concert given by Queen of Hearts and later accused for murdering the time by her. He should have been beheaded at that time, but somehow managed to escape and still alive and later having tea party with March Hare and Dormouse and can't move from there.

In "A Mad Tea Party" (chapter 7 of Alice in Wonderland) :

“Well, I’d hardly finished the first verse,” said the Hatter, “when the Queen jumped up and bawled out, ‘He’s murdering the time! Off with his head!’”

And in "Who Stole The Tarts" (chapter 11 of Alice in Wonderland) :

All this time the Queen had never left off staring at the Hatter, and, just as the Dormouse crossed the court, she said to one of the officers of the court, “Bring me the list of the singers in the last concert!” on which the wretched Hatter trembled so, that he shook both his shoes off.

2. It really is just my guess but if Crowley's magic has been depleted a long time ago just like Lilia, what if, the reason why even until now he can still uses magic is because he reuses magic excess, blot to perform magic and constantly poisoning himself with it just like hatters in 1800s?

As Mad Hatter, he might have immunity to blot just like Idia with his burning hair (his body can burn and cleanse blot) that it won't affect his mental state because his logic is already beyond comprehension and thus, technically he can't overblot (that's why he doesn't have phantom with him) since he is already "mad" even before he poisoned himself. But even though the blot doesn't affect his mental state, it still affects his body and his body starts to resemble those who overblot. His skin becomes paler, his lips turns black, and blot mark appears around his eyes so that he will need to cover it to hide it. That would also explain why in the prologue when he brought Yuu to Twisted Wonderland he says he is running out of time because his body is already at its limit.

Below is the explanation of blot by Crowley :

And explanation by Idia indicating that blot is a toxic substance.

Yeah, I know this is not the only explanation from Idia about blot. I chose this one for this part because even though I want to explain further since there's still something more about Crowley I need to explain, Tumblr decided to say no as I can't upload more photos(already reaching its limit). I want to explain my personal opinion about Crowley's intention based on my endless research on him for years but I guess this is it.

End Note : Originally I intended to explain it in one go and finish it all here in this part because it still connected to each other but I guess I'll still need to split it into two parts. I promise I'll explain the rest on the last part of this theory/analysis. Besides I'm afraid I might really break your brain if I do explain it all in one go so this is all for now.

#twisted wonderland #dire crowley #twst crowley #twst thoughts #twst theory #It's no longer a twst theory it's an academic paper #The fact that Crowley made me write a thesis about him- #but this is why I love him

[jd-loves-fiction]

Teasing war

➢  kisses where they push you against the cold wall, their hands tracing your curves as they nibble on your lower lip, hands teasing every edge as you moan into the kiss + gently tugging at their collar, out of breath, they ask, "do you want me to stop?" you hurriedly say, "just the opposite, please" (DEWDROP)

➢ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Dewdrop x GN!Reader

➢  𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: fluff (borderline smut, nothing happens but it’s pretty steamy)

➢  𝖜𝖈: 721

➢  𝖆/𝖓: I was unconscious writing most of this, by that i mean i was on autopilot so no clue if its good or not, let me know :)

Teasing Dewdrop is undoubtedly a stupid thing to do, despite how amusing it may be.

Sure, seeing Dew so silently frustrated and red in the face that steam might start coming out of his ears soon, is certainly entertaining. But it is not without its consequences. As messing with a fire ghoul usually is.

Walking the abbey halls unhurriedly, you are none the wiser to all the schemes currently being cooked up by Dew as he watches you from the shadows. But as you pass right by his hiding spot he realizes something - that he’s never been one for patience or plans.

So he leaps out of the shadows, one clawed hand around your rapidly contracting throat and the other behind your head to protect you from the wall he slams you into.

“Think you can get away with teasing me like that? You should learn to finish what you start, sweetheart.” His grip tightens for a second to drive his point home as you gasp, still blinking away the shock that clouds your vision.

“Fuck, leaving me after all that… That was real fucking cruel. Aren’t you going to take accountability?” Someone less knowledgeable on Dew's particular temperament would think he's seriously upset. But you know better, that wavering in his voice is fake, meant to get you to want your punishment.

The biggest giveaway would be the fact that he's done it countless times due to the fact that he's constantly looking for reasons to punish you. It's just that this time you decided to give him an actual reason to do it. 

"I don't know what you mean." You’re really pushing it, you know you are, but he’s so cute when he’s frustrated, so surprised that you aren’t immediately going along with what he says. Until a smirk covers his lips, that is.

“Oh, really?” His smirk becomes somehow sharper, pleased that you did exactly as he’d hoped, “You don’t know anything about how you’ve been bending down in front of me all day, even when you didn’t drop anything? Or how you keep kissing my neck in that special spot in public? Or even all the naughty things you’ve been whispering in my ear? None of that ring a bell?” His sharp claws dig into the skin of your neck just enough to mark but not enough to bleed.

“Maybe some of it…” Your attempt at further teasing ends in a gasp as Dew shoves a leg between yours.

“If your plan is to act as if your own teasing didn’t affect you at all, then I’m afraid it was for nothing because it’s very clear that it does.” Dewdrop laughs in delight at your hot cheeks, trembling legs, stuttering breaths, twitching fingers and large pupils. The evidence of your own excitement abundantly clear to the fire ghoul, whose body temperature just keeps rising to a near concerning level - which certainly doesn’t help with your own rising body temperature.

“I suppose it’d only be fair for me to tease you back. Don’t you think, sweets?” A clawed finger of his other hand trails down your neck and as far as your collar allows, leaving goosebumps to rise in its wake.

You keep your lips sealed, neither willing to give in nor able to come up with a clever retort. Such an answer doesn’t please Dew, he frowns, snarling to intimidate before his smirk returns in earnest. An idea forms within his devious mind, you can tell just by looking.

Without warning he smashes his lips against yours, hands finally releasing your neck to trail over your body, every dip and every curve, while his sharp teeth bite at your lower lip, lightly but still it bleeds. He drinks up the red droplets as you gasp and moan, hands clutching at his frilly collar to pull him closer, "Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head vigorously, not able to part from his heated kisses long enough to speak, but he pulls away anyway, waiting far more patiently than you thought possible for him, for your answer, "Just the opposite, please."

For a moment you think he might give in to your request, to finally reach the culmination of all this teasing and mischievous, but alas, that’d be no fun at all.

“Well, that’s too bad.”

#dewdrop #dewdrop ghost #dewdrop x reader #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band x reader #ghost band fanfic #ghost band fic #sodo #sodo ghoul #sodo x reader #sodomizer ghoul #nameless ghouls #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghoul dewdrop #nameless ghoul sodo

[pompadorbz]

you obivously like taka but what do your think of ishda both as a concept and in the story proper

Ok prepare yourselves for this one, because I need to go on a full-scale rant and analysis over this actually. I think that Ishida is perhaps one of the most WASTED concepts I have EVER seen in my life. There are so many directions he could've gone in as a character and the writers decided that the best option was for him to just stop at a screeching halt before he ever got even a MOMENT to gain momentum. It's a decision that both angers and fascinates me, because not only is it shrugging off an entire character for practically no good reason, but ALSO, there's even some table scraps of evidence pointing to the possibility that he was meant to have even just a LITTLE more to his character. For starters, he not only has unused gift dialogue for when you give him a present before a free-time event, but an entire (albeit INCREDIBLY short) event.

Meaning that at some point, there was likely going to be more of an attempt to flesh him out that they just didn't end up going through with. Another thing that will forever fuck with me, is. Why does this splash art exist?

Like it's cool. It's raw as hell. But what reason does it exist? Like really think about it for a moment here. Ishida as a character doesn't have much more than. I'd say about 1-2 hours of screen time. And this isn't a Syo kind of situation, either. Syo appears fairly early on and then CONTINUES to front on multiple occasions. No offense to my guy Ishida but he literally eats dirt and then dies. SO WHY DOES HE HAVE AN ENTIRE PIECE OF SPLASH ART?? AND WHY IS HE WEILDING MONDO'S PICKAXE? AN ITEM THAT HE NEVER RECIEVES (and if I recall correctly, you only ever see in the chapters FOLLOWING his death)??? Why go through all the effort for a character that is around for only a tiny portion of the game if there weren't MORE PLANS for him initially? And like. No matter how you choose to look at Ishida's existence there is always SOMETHING that just doesn't add up or is never explained. Is he possessed? Or is this just a really poor coping mechanism? If its the latter, then why does his hair turn white? Why do his eyes light on fire? If it's the former, then why is the fact that A GUY GOT POSSESSED BY A REAL ACTUAL GHOST NEVER EXPLAINED, NOR EXPLORED??? Really, the only thing Ishida is used for is just a quick fix to nearly everything left unaddressed in chapter two's climax. A band-aid over a bullet wound. SO IM GONNA PERFORM FUCKING SURGERY RIGHT BEFORE YOUR EYES. CHECK THIS SHIT OUT. I'M GONNA WRITE A BETTER ISHIDA, AND BY PROXY, A BETTER CONCLUSION TO KIYOTAKA RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW (spoilers: I literally cannot think of a SINGLE way for him to die that doesn't work to the detriment of any other character. I am a firm believer that for his character to even WORK to a well written degree without using other characters as fodder, he needs to end up in the survivor roster)!!! This isn't gonna be like. INCREDIBLY detailed, um. I'd love to write this in full form someday but for now I'm gonna just do a sort of synopsis. BUT FIRST!! I need to talk about Kiyotaka as a character and the silly, funny, and interesting little things that are done to establish him because weirdly, Kiyotaka has this like, air of importance to him for both the first and second chapter. Like I might even go as far as to say that he could've been written as a red herring for BOTH the chapter 1 and 2 murder trials if the writers really wanted to go in that direction. Ok so with the prologue and chapter one, obviously every character is going to be given at least a little bit of time to have their base personalities established, and Taka isn't exempt from that by any means. He honestly gets a LOT more establishment than others in this chapter since he ends up becoming this sorta de-facto leader of the group right off the bat (and btw, I don't consider his eventual downfall and death to be a subversion of his character by any means. To me, a subversion implies that there's going to be at least some sort of attempt to tie in the subversion to his previous actions somehow, and no effort is made here. Chapter one already gives a great character subversion of the childhood friend trope with Sayaka, so if Kiyotaka's death is meant to be a subversion of his own character trope, then I'd say that it's comparatively much weaker). Kiyotaka even ends up being the one to set the morning meetings into action, which Is kept up for the entire rest of the game with little to no breaks in that formula if I recall correctly? Can you believe it guys. He started that. He started that and nobody thanked him. Anyway.

Then in chapter 2, things start to get a bit inch resting. The obvious one is Kiyotaka becoming friends with Mondo to then set up the events of the trial and how they relate back to Mondo, while simultaneously not making the culprit and victim completely obvious. Which by the way. Mondo's friend didn't necessarily HAVE to be Kiyotaka. It could've worked with multiple other characters but they chose SPECIFICALLY Kiyotaka. Absolutely fucked up. Anyway. The OTHER thing that happens to establish Kiyotaka in chapter two is. This.

fucking!!! oopsie!!! I fucking guess!!! Kiyotaka is the one to suggest revealing the secrets, which other than Monokuma himself dropping the motive, ends up being the domino that sets the entirety of chapter two's murder in motion. In a really fucked up in evil way, you could technically say that Taka blaming himself for Chihiro and Mondo's death actually has some merit if you pin it back to this! Fun! I think something about the second chapter that I don't see people discuss a lot is that while Kiyotaka is obviously being put into horrible grief over Mondo and Chihiro's deaths, blaming himself for both and even going as far as to vote for himself due to the amount of responsibility he feels, there's also this underlying second. thing. That I think acts as the nail in the coffin for his entire mental state once chapter 3 rolls around. Kiyotaka is somebody who at his core, has an INCREDIBLY black and white understanding of morality as a whole. In his mind, a person is either good, or they're bad. With him befriending Mondo, we see his morality take its very first major deviation. Almost. Mondo is somebody that Kiyotaka considered to be wholly bad at FIRST, but upon learning how similar the two of them were, he came to the conclusion that he made a lapse in his judgement, and that Mondo was actually wholly good. And THEN he commits real actual murder. Kiyotaka JUST made a friend for the very first time, and now he's learning that said friend committed murder. But not only did he commit murder, he committed ACCIDENTAL murder, and is still being punished. Meanwhile, Togami, someone who tampered with Chihiro's corpse for the sillyfunnies, and Syo, a wanted serial killer, BOTH go free completely unscathed, lacking any sort of further consequence for their actions. So not only is Kiyotaka in a state of heavy and immediate grief, but in addition to all that, his entire perception of morality as he knows it, and the BASIS for how he's lived his ENTIRE LIFE, has just crumbled in front of him in under an hour. This bad boy can fit so much PAIN and CONFUSION. This was so life shattering that I will once again remind you- he was suddenly willing to give up his, AND everybody else's lives to let Mondo go free. AND THIS IS ALL JUST TO PREFACE THE ISHIDA STUFF!!! So now we've hit chapter 3. I think pretty much everything goes as it does up until Kiyotaka becomes Ishida. THEN there are some substantial changes. I figure to start, I could think up a fun little reason for Ishida's hair to be white, although it's really just a metaphor. Once again, bro's entire understanding of morality has just crumbled, and I think that in his head, he tries to justify where he went wrong. Instead of just being the Mondo-possessed Kiyotaka, I think he becomes more determined than ever to fix the mistake that he 100% swears he must've made for chapter 2 to transpire the way it did. He begins to believe that he must've been acting too much out of pure logic, and that he should instead switch gears to a more emotional way of thinking through issues, hence his hair going from black to white. it's cute (it's also a nod to this lil line here).

When it comes to the chapter 3 murder, I think that Kiyotaka is vocal enough about his change of heart that Celeste susses him out in no time flat, and realizes that he's in a very vulnerable and easy to manipulate state. I think that he essentially swaps places with Hifumi here, and she's able to convince Ishida that Hifumi plans to hurt alter ego, or rather, that he hurt Celeste in one way or another. She's able to sniff out that Kiyotaka still feels spite towards everybody else, so if he can be convinced that she is the only good person left in this entire killing game (or grow a bond to Celeste), then he could end up helping her commit her murder. Except I don't think he needs to be convinced that he'd be making an escape with her (I didn't mention how he was willing to vote for himself in chapter 2 for no good reason). Rather, I think that he would play the roll of a red herring in the trial along with an unwilling Hiro, pretending to be the murderer as a last resort to cover Celeste's tracks. However at some point I think he would end up slipping (possibly in a similar fashion to how Mondo did with the colour of the tracksuit, which also ties to Celeste's own account, funnily enough), and that ultimately leads to Celeste's death. In Ishida's mind, i think he feels like he'd failed a second time to keep someone he cared about alive. He doesn't catch onto him being manipulated to begin with until later I think. Chapter 4 rolls around and I think things start to calm down, BUT. I think he remains INCREDIBLY silent during the entire thing, maybe only making a comment or two during the trial. I think as the truth gets slowly revealed it's like looking in a mirror. A. Very Hina shaped mirror. Watching somebody else also go to incredibly extreme lengths for the sake of someone they care about and trust strikes SUCH a chord, I think. It's perfect timing for alter Ego's execution to happen as well, I think. It's all a giant metaphor for something, probably. Anyways the reason I didn't go into depth with chapter 4 is because. There is a fic that I love that does that already. When I read it I was in a voice call and I had to refrain from actually losing it because it just??? happened to share a brain cell with me??? thank god??? Anyways it's called Stage 3: The Chrysalis (Also Known as Pupa) and it changed me forever. Go read it. That's an order. BUT ANYWAY after chapter 4 ends I think Kiyotaka would be fully back in form (now complete with emotional damage but hes working on it), and he'd end up taking a backseat so that the major endgame plot stuff can kick into high gear. Him and Hina are best friends now (real), and Ishida as a concept is fixed. This took like two hours to write, Spike Chunsoft should hire me so that I can write them a better game.

#syd spiels #backtalk #danganronpa #danganronpa thh #danganronpa 1 #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #kiyotaka ishimaru #ishimaru kiyotaka #i wrote an entire essay of course it's going into the tags #who else is gonna get this guy into the top characters on tumblr in 2023 if not me???? #kiyondo ishida #ishida kiyondo #its 1 am goodnight

[cremationstayshun]

Kiss with a Fist - Chreon

Summary: If one thing was certain, is that Leon S. Kennedy knows how to push buttons. Something from the beautiful man that was Chris Redfield was better than nothing, right?

Right?

Trigger Warnings: Implied sexual assault/rape

AO3

Leon sneered at the lone double bed in the hotel room. He could hear his roommate for the night lumbering in behind him.

"Well at least it's a king," Chris shrugged trying to maintain neutrality with the prickly DSO agent standing next to him. He received a scathing look as a reward for his efforts. Chris took a deep breath to simmer down his exasperation. Their flight back was delayed due to a blizzard, which was currently screaming at the windows outside. While the sleeping situation was not ideal, it was better than staying the night at the airport. As much as he tried to remain civil and gain favor with Leon, the man seemed to push back harder and harder. He looked back to the man who was eyeing up the couch against the opposite wall, his face barely giving anything away. It was enough for Chris to know what he was thinking.

"Oh, come on, are you serious?"

Sharp, blue eyes cut over to him, "what?"

"Why are you so dramatic? We can just share the bed, Kennedy."

Leon did not answer right away, but the pause was barely noticeable. A crease formed between his brows in thought and his eyes darted across the other's face before his face hardened. A vicious smirk fell over his face, instantly setting Chris on edge. He practically sauntered across the room, reminding the BSAA captain of a predator. He came up to where Chris had moved closer to the bed and met the larger man's eyes defiantly. Chris shifted quickly into defensive. He was not about to put up with the DSO agent's shit.

"You that desperate, Redfield? Valentine isn't around, so you gotta shoot your shot at the nearest warm body?"

"The fuck? That's not what I am asking for and you know it. You're so fucking difficult."

"Yeah unlike you. Evidently, it's easy to get in the pants of the great BSAA Golden Boy."

"Better than being the bitch of the DSO who crawls around for any scraps that they throw your way!" Chris' voice has risen in volume at this point, and he was chest to chest with Leon and he felt a prickling in his face as his anger grew. The little fucker remained perfectly calm with his stupid perfect hair and that just pissed Chris off more.

The calm was downright eerie when Kennedy responded, "Yeah, they fucked everything out of me like a cheap whore to keep her safe, and I let them. But at least I was able to protect her because I wasn't hung up on my boss betraying me instead of fucking me."

CRACK

Leon felt the impact but could not register the pain as he was losing his balance. The backhand sent his body into a spiral and he would blame it on exhaustion that Chris actually got a hit on him. His ribs which were bruised from their mission slammed into the arm of the couch which was barely padded. He could definitely feel the sharp edge of its frame jam into his tender flesh. He was thankful that he kept himself from making a sound. It took him a moment to breathe through the pain and when he finally looked back up Chris was hovering over him, hands up and not touching him, and his face pinched in guilt and worry. He opened his mouth, probably about to apologize or ask what he needed or some other dumb caring thing that will just make Leon love the man more. He could not let that happen when he was already so vulnerable. He easily cut the other off, still keeping his cocky persona, "That all you got? I've been hit harder while getting railed on some nice fat cock."

It’s like your pretty boy face was made to be bruised, kid. 

The man cycled through many emotions which were etched clearly in his expressions. Shock, confusion, a strange grimace that Leon couldn't read, and then a grim determination that almost made the smaller man regret his words. Chris pulled him up easily by the front of his shirt. Grip so tight, that Leon can hear the fabric creaking in strain. His eyes burned with a frightening determination. His gaze flicked down to Leon's mouth, but he made no move to press his own against them. He took his other hand and shoved three thick fingers past those slightly parted lips and down his throat, making the DSO agent gag and moan around them. Fuck. Yes. His tongue quickly worked against the digits, trying desperately to memorize Chris' flavour since this will likely be his only chance with how furious the man seemed. His breath was being cut off in a delightful way and he decided then that he would take whatever he got tonight.

"You're right about one thing at least. You really are a cheap whore huh?" He pulled his fingers out of Leon's throat. He coughed and gasped for air, his legs shaking with arousal and something he couldn't quite explain. Drool dripped down his chin but that was the last thing on his mind as he looked up at Chris through hazy vision. The other man looked harsh, cold in a way he had never seen before. Leon's entire body trembled, help up only by the hand gripping his shirt. Leon was struggling with catching his breath, but Chris didn't seem to care, "absolutely pathetic. The great Leon S. Kennedy is such a slut that it just takes the promise of cock to make him listen."

Leon's world tipped off balance as Chris shoved him onto the bed, his back hitting the soft mattress. The plushness off it was a pleasant surprise but he did not have enough time to think about it as Chris' voice sliced through his thoughts.

"Strip."

Leon stared up at the other man for a moment, absently not believing this was happening. Chris, however, was out of patience, "Strip or I'll cut them off."

You’ll do anything to be stuffed full on a nice dick.

The threat was very serious from what Leon could tell. He scrambled up onto his knees and started undoing the buttons of his shirt. Apparently, the man was really fed up. As soon as the buttons were undone, he yanked the material down to Leon's wrists and deftly twisted it so that the man was trapped. He could easily get out if he tried but before he could he was pulled down the bed with the force of the tugs on his pants and boxers. He was quickly exposed to chilled air drafting from the windows. He wasn't sure if it was that or Chris fully clothed and towering over him that caused shivers to wrack through his body. He figured he probably went from predator to prey for the other man, his eyes wide and anxiety forming deep in his gut. It was quickly forgotten, though, as he was flipped onto him stomach and his ass pulled into to air. He tugged at the shirt tangled around his wrists. Leon managed to free then but not without leaving friction burns behind.

"Spread your legs." The command was simple, and Leon could not do anything but obey. Apparently, it wasn't good enough and Chris took a moment to jerk Leon's legs further apart, forcing him to bow his back unnaturally. He knew Chris was still fully clothed and that did so much to make Leon feel even more vulnerable beneath him. A large hand grabbed one cheek and spread it to expose the tight pink hole there. The feeling of cold air sending another shiver through his body. He had to force himself to remember that this was the only way Chris would touch him. He gasped as a dry thumb pushed against the tight ring of muscle, forcing it open. The dry pull of it thrusting in and out soon followed and Leon had to clench his jaw to hold in the sounds that wanted to pour out. He realized he was painfully hard which caused his face to redden. The flow of blood warring between flowing north and south made him dizzy. He felt like everything was swaying around him, adrift at sea and lost in the own torrent of his mind. The sharp pain of Chris' other thumb pushing into him was like the beam from a distant lighthouse.

You’ll spread your legs for anyone, won’t cha?

"If I didn’t already know how much of a slut you are, I do now that I see how loose your cunt is."

Leon could barely believe the words coming out of Redfield's mouth. They were filthy and caused the thump of his heart to be deafening. Leon hadn't had sex since-- well it's been a long time. Either way the words still made feel cheap and dirty, but the arousal was undeniable. In his embarrassment there was no words that he could say to fight back.

"Bet a whore like you doesn't even need lube."

He didn't take the words seriously until he felt Chris lean forward and spit harshly onto his spread hole. He wanted to cry but would not allow himself. As much as he did like it rough at times, this is not what his first time with Chris was like in any of his fantasies. This Chris was someone that he had only seen directed at his most heinous enemies. He was ripped out of thoughts when the larger man pulled his thumbs from his hole and quickly replaced them with three thick fingers. It was all too much at once and the sound that tore from his throat was a strange mix of a moan and sob. He rested his cheek on the bed and breathed raggedly through the painful stretch, pleasure still burning through his veins despite everything. He was given a few rough thrusts that provided no pleasure before they were yanked out.

Tense silence pervaded the room only disrupted by Leon’s ragged breath and the jingle of a belt being unbuckled. Leon could barely move except a slight adjustment to be able to watch Chris over his shoulder, sure the other man could see how much of a mess he was. The larger man’s eyes were impossibly dark, and lust was clear even through harsh downturn of both his brows and lips. The anger was clearly visible. Leon swallowed even though his mouth and throat had long gone dry.

C’mon comrade, I know a slut like you can take it. Don’t you disappoint me, now. 

"Fuck, Kennedy," the words were punched out between thrusts and clenched teeth, the man below him practically sobbing into his arm. Leon felt like he had lost time somewhere, but it was hard to tell with the miasma that was his psyche. His heaving chest was pressed into the bed and hips held in the air by a bruising grip. He was tight, not prepared nearly enough before he has speared on the obscenely large cock of one Chris Redfield. He practically wailed when a large hand came down on his ass.

"You just can't shut the fuck up, can you?"

The words pierced through his haze and doused him in shame.

"Such a whore. Bet you'd let anyone fuck you," Another harsh slap. He had stopped thrusting at the bruising intensity as he leaned down and pushed his mouth near Leon's ear, "You get passed around the office as a cocksleeve? I bet the reason you won't shut that slutty mouth is cause you need a dick down your throat to satisfy you."

I always knew you were mouthy. How ‘bout I teach you how to use it?

Cold was creeping through Leon, taking over the pleasured delirium he was previously in. Chris' comforting warmth, despite the previous harsh treatment, (and really that was Leon's fault anyway) was replaced with a familiar and oppressive weight of a body on top of him, taking what it wants. He wanted it to stop. His throat had closed, and it felt like his jaw was wired shut. He couldn't get a sound out. What had felt so euphoric moments ago speeding towards nightmarish. His chest was tight. He couldn't breathe. Was he even breathing? A hand on the space between his head and neck pushed him deeper into the bed and terror alike. He couldn't even fight back. This is what he had wanted wasn't it? He decided to piss Chris off and goad him into sex. Of course, the man would be rough. He hated Leon and he wanted the mouthy agent just to shut the fuck up.

When Leon tried to speak, all he could get out was a thready and pathetic whimper. He felt so small and weak with spots dancing in front of his eyes. He still couldn't tell if he was breathing, focus having closed in to racing thoughts and flashing memories. Rough, battle worn hands, a gun pressed to the back of his head then those hands around his throat pushing him down, a cold gravelly voice in his ear.

That's it comrade. You're so loose, you fuckin’ cocksleeve.

"Leon?"

Chris had been working up into a good rhythm, enjoying watching the gorgeous agent beneath him squirm on his cock. He never thought he would have a day when he would be able to fall into bed with Leon S. Kennedy of all people. Well, it was more like he had pushed the man, but it seemed that he liked it rough and mean and Chris was trying his best to do that for him. His concentration was broken by a small sound from below him. It sounded different from his previous noises, without a hint of pleasure. It was like ice went through his veins as he looked at his bedpartner.

Leon was barely moving. He was practically panting, and his breath wheezed out of him harshly. His eyes were distant and unfocused with tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Blood oozed from his lip where he seemed to have bitten it at one point. Chris instantly loosened his grip on the back of Leon’s head as his protective instincts took over. This clearly was not right to him. Even if he had never been with Leon in such an intimate way before, it felt off. He pulled out from the man, dick already softening as his panic overtook him. When he released Leon’s hip he fell limply against the bed. It reminded Chris sickeningly of a marionette with its strings cut.

“Leon?” He crawled up the bed to lean over the man. He did not seem to notice Chris. He tried calling his name again, but there was no response. He lifted his hand to place it on Leon’s shoulder, and before he could the man flinched violently, another small whimper whistling from his throat. His gaze locked on the larger man’s form. Chris still was not sure that Leon was completely seeing him. He reached out again, this time carefully telegraphing his movements. He could tell that the other was tracking his movements sluggishly with his eyes, but the flinch when Chris made contact was much more subtle.

He just rested his hand on Leon’s shoulder and let the man work through his panic with silent support. It took a painfully long time for the smaller man’s breathing to slow to a even a marginally reasonable pace. Chris didn’t think he was fully back to the present, but the panic seemed to dull enough for him to be comfortable with bundling Leon against him. He ripped the blanket from where it was tucked into the bed as an afterthought and wrapped it around both of them. Leon hadn’t lashed out or freak out more, which Chris decided to take as a good sign. He settled in to wait for Leon to come back to reality, the silence leaving space for an unbearable guilt.

#Resident evil #chris redfield #leon kennedy #chreon #chris x leon #leon s kennedy #CryptaCrematorium

[horizon-verizon]

Rhaenyra's children have never been legitimised. Even though the king has claimed them as his grandchildren, even though corlys claimed them as velaryons. And even though laenor claimed them as his children. Even though they were claimed in front of multiple witnesses including the entire court, they’re still not legitimised. because they were never acknowledged as bastards in the first place. They have always been claimed as 'true born' children, not as bastards, and of course you can’t legitimise a true born child.

This better be about Fire and Blood, anon. I’m working from the assumption that it is.

I get your point, anon. I’ve both heard it and debated about it myself many times.

You're saying that even though Viserys and Corlys accepted them, by the rules of legitimization and acknowledgment they are and always will be bastards and illegitimate. People would have to have the official revelation for Viserys to publicly legitimize them.

My thing is that:

in real life, what determined a child’s legitimacy in Europe was nebulous right from the start and had to do with property and changed according to the needs of the people involved. In Wales–before the Norman conquest of it and its incorporation into “England” around 1093–had “bastard” meaning a child whose father doesn’t acknowledge them. All children acknowledged had equal legal rights. That included the right to share in the father’s inheritance. The real-life House of Tudor, Elizabeth I’s house, was a house that ruled England after Henry VII took the throne through conquest and after presenting himself as a candidate to those opposed to the Plantagenet York House. The Tudors weren’t a “big” house compared to these houses. And yet it produced notable people…. including Elizabeth I. William the Conqueror was not mocked for having unmarried parents, but specifically for his mother not having a good or illustrious lineage.

In Westeros, riverman Benedict Rivers/Justman/”the Bold” and Orys Baratheon (last one rumored bastard) loyally or dedicatedly lead armies for other lords or lead loyal soldiers themselves, completely negating the idea that bastards are inherently “monstrous” or “treacherous”, which is the bulk of disdain and trepidation for illegitimate people. Benedict Rivers, a bastard born from a Blackwood and a Bracken, became a King over all the riverlords and lead the riverlords into years of prosperity and peace. Orys founded the very house that currently rules Westeros (the irony is not lost on me, but that’s because Robert himself is a fucker and patriarchy).

illegitimacy doesn’t exist as a reality and an independent fact without political context; it must be actively enforced by the active decision of the people around to have any actual true effect

Rhaenyra, as a woman giving birth to children not her husbands’, would be getting a stronger even maybe deadly punishment for something that a man would get off scot free for, and her kids -- through no fault of their own -- would also have their lives taken or ruined. And for what? Something that has no real substance in of itself and is more conviently hidden for power if done right? [go to point #4] -- the further political and personal ramifications are is why the V boys’ parentage will never be admitted....just as her adultery would never be admitted (we don’t know if Book!Rhaneyra did the arrangement with Laenor of HotD)

both women and men have had affairs and lovers for millenia in ancient and medieval cultures....why? Because marriage is about resources and joining families together for power/security, not love or intimacy. And both men and women want love and/or real intimacy, or just horny. This means that there is a higher possibility for there to be "unexposed" "illegitimate" children on either side than you might think or have clear archealogical or otherwise historical evidence for. 

Sometimes affairs and illegitimate kids were tacitly and publicly known already ( @the-king-andthe-lionheart), but if a person were to want to gain something from a princess', noble lady's, queen’s reputation falling or outright removal...then whether or not she actually cheated on her husband or slept with others, they could engineer claims of her “ruination” and “treason” 

Jon Snow. Enough said.

Power is the thing that is really sought for, not moral righteousness. Alicent & Criston both are so out of the loop for this. Bastardy is a societal excuse and invention. It is a tool to be used, to flaunt, to slice others, to hide, etc. How you use it and for what purpose determines your ethical status. Add in circumstance and that will determine whether you will “win” or not.

EDIT: As what la-pheacienne says HERE, Viserys I, Corlys, and Laenor all tacitly/silently accepting Rhaenyra's sons is legally valid, as it is in all legal contexts, so yes they are all legitimate.

Aside from how Viserys and Corlys both voluntarily decide so, never revealing anything.

#asoiaf asks to me #westerosi bastards #westerosi culture #westerosi society #rhaenyra i #rhaenyra targaryen #westerosi nobility #we're not supposed to be on the greens' side! #bastardry is nothing #but a device invented to create a social hierarchy #fire and blood comment #Fire and Blood #asoiaf

[ordinaryschmuck]

I want to talk about Knives Out and Glass Onion

Because f**k you, I want to talk about Knives Out and Glass Onion.

I cannot stress enough how much I loved these two movies in the way that they subverted the mystery genre while still playing to its key strengths.

Also...slight spoilers for both? You really can't talk about a mystery without giving away SOME spoilers, mainly because what makes them fun is seeing things with fresh eyes. Sure, if the characters are entertaining enough and the story is just as strong, you'll still have a fun time rewatching it or when you already know all the juicy details. But when it comes to the genre, the real fun comes from seeing what the mystery is and trying to solve it.

But when it comes to Knives Out and Glass Onion, both movies pretty much start out by telling you there is no mystery. At least, not at first.

With Knives Out, we see that someone died, but after some time, we get to see what happens. The truth is told to us and why the character would want to keep it secret, making everyone believe that the actual plot of the movie is about the mystery REMAINING a mystery. But as the story continues, some facts don't add up, and some stones are left unturned. It's then that we realize there IS a mystery. Not about what happened, but HOW it happened. We just weren't looking for it because we assumed that all the evidence was given to us when, in reality, there were clues everywhere, hidden in just plain sight.

Speaking of plain sight, that's what Glass Onion is about. Once again, we're initially told that there is no mystery. But, also once again, not at first. There is something to be solved, but the answer to it is so apparent that even the movie shows you how it happened in plain sight. Not only that but by the second act, we're told that there's another mystery. One that connects to the first by recontextualizing it and by giving new information we missed in the first act. Sure, it involves some retreading, but it's all for the sake of the mystery. I honestly don't think Glass Onion wouldn't have been as engaging the first time if it was plaid out with the audience knowing right away who a certain character was and why our fabulous detective Bennet Blanc was there. It'll be fun a second time now that you already know everything, but to leave an audience to solve a mystery for themselves, you can't give them all the clues at once. You got to take your time, show off the characters, present what they need to know, and when it's time for the big twist, the one that reveals the REAL mystery of the thriller, they'll be engaged now more than ever, and look more for what the big reveal could be. Even though, just like with the first mystery, the reveal is the simplest, easiest answer, and that's the point: We were looking for something complex when the truth was right in front of our eyes this entire time, and we couldn't see it. That is unless you're like me, and Scooby-Doo taught you to always look for the most obvious answer.

Yeah, as much as I adore these mysteries being well-written, I will admit that, almost right away, I knew who the culprit was. In both cases, it really was as obvious as the writers wanted you to think it was, but that's part of what makes Knives Out and Glass Onion so great. They show you the obvious answer but direct you away from it with great plots, better misdirections, and mildly entertaining characters.

Speaking of which, I adore Benet Blanc. You can tell the actor is having the time of his life in this role, and those kinds of performances make a character all the more likable.

And as for the movies themselves, if I had to pick which one I like more, it would be Knives Out. I adore Glass Onion and the message it tells, but Knives Out has a better structure and comedy. In Knives Out, the humor felt natural, whereas Glass Onion seemed to stretch its humor like a bad MCU movie.

Still, I love both of these movies, and if there’s ever a third one, you’d better believe that I’ll keep my eye out for it.

#knives out #glass onion

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

anyways so moon and pooh are heading over to the lost and found and then chica just steps in front of them and she's also acting all virusy and so because moon's just hangin around lookin at her like 'wtf' pooh takes it upon himself to try to act cordial and he walks up to her and is all hallo there i've never seen a bird like you before and chica just tilts her head like what on earth is this thing doing approaching me and while she's momentarily distracted moon yoinks pooh and takes him to the daycare instead cuz that's closer anyways

and when they get there they find out that a bit of pooh's stuffing has fallen out cuz some thread ended up unraveling and so moon puts pooh down and grabs a needle and thread to sew it back up so they can be on their merry way except

WHOOPS he doesn't know how to sew and so one flick of a light switch later sun's out and staring at a little stuffed bear grabbing stuffing off the ground and trying to keep it from falling out of his stomach and then

pooh looks up and goes oh there's a sun too and where did the moon go is it already morning and he should really be heading back now you see because he has an outing with roo and tigger later today (they were going out to catch a woozle because tigger swore he saw one the other day) and sun asks what a woozle is and this kicks up a whole new conversation but anyways

sun patches pooh up and since its morning pooh needs a smackerel of honey to start the day so naturally he asks for some and unfortunately sun says there isn't any so

back out into the plex they go to find him some honey but since sun turned back to moon then its nightime again and so pooh supposes he doesn't really need honey anymore and they go back but then sun comes out and they leave again and then moon comes out and

by now poor pooh bear is very confused and now has to ask what time it is because he's a bear of very little brain and can never remember the time of day unless the light is showing and so moon explains that the light levels control whether sun or moon is out and pooh starts think think thinking because he thought the sun and moon determined how light it was outside and now both of them are very confused but they're snapped out of it when roxanne wolf comes out and rounds the corner and

oh NO pooh exclaims it's a WOOZLE! and he hides behind moon who's also looking a bit perturbed because this does not look like roxanne-last he checked the wolf had her eyes but evidently not and poor pooh is shaking because he left his woozle equipment at home and he's never had to face one without his supplies before but then

the woozle starts crying about her eyes and how she's not pretty and so he decides that that isn't right because she's quite pretty actually even woozles are pretty so he walks right up to her and tells her that she's a lovely woozle and she shouldn't cry about her looks anyways but she howls again and then points to her eyes and mutters something about a kid ripping them out and pooh finds that a bit strange because the only kid he knows is christopher robin and christopher robin would never do such a thing but

anyways he offers to give her some buttons he found stowed in the pocket of his shirt until she can get her eyes back and she stops her howling and starts crying for a different reason and moon's just watching this go down while pooh consoles her and helps her feel better and then they go on their merry way to find some honey again

#winnie the pooh au #fnaf au #random #no context

[dexholderr]

hands u the callie n vin oneshot wip (below the cut cause its kinda long); thinkin abt maybe callin it somethin like 'The Perfect Conversation Starter: Not Being Able to Sleep'

+a messy doodle from 2am :]

Beyond the sound of the wind that the cabin thankfully blocked, all was quiet in Tentakeel Outpost. The sun had set a few hours ago, and the only light came from the moon, and the few lanterns scattered across the area around the cabin.

It was just enough for Vin to be able to see their breath in front of their face in the just-cold-enough air with every exhale. Despite the visible evidence right in front of them, though, they barely processed the chill, far too focused on keeping watch on the sleeping DJ in his snowglobe, set in a far corner of the outpost.

Vin almost wished they were asleep as well, Tyde, Marie, and Callie having settled down to rest not long after the sun went down. They knew they wouldn’t be able to sleep, though, not in their current state.

If their nerves about leaving Octavio alone with no one to keep an eye on him wouldn't be enough to keep them awake, then the stinging, burning pain along the left side of their head and shoulder and seemingly endless ringing in their left ear would be more than enough.

Their right ear twitches slightly when they hear the faint creak of the cabin’s front door opening, and they turn to see who else was awake at this hour. A vague look of surprise crosses their face when they realize that it was Callie stepping through the door, turning to make sure it closed quietly. Vin tilts their head in confusion as they spot the hoodie she was carrying, despite already having a pink jacket on.

Callie gives them the faintest hints of a tired smile as she meets their eyes, moving to sit next to them on their right as she holds the hoodie out towards them. They don’t take it, still confused, and Callie huffs lightly, deciding to just drop it on their lap instead.

“It’s freezing out here, and you’re wearing a t-shirt and shorts.” Callie supplied before Vin could ask about it, “Please just put on the hoodie. It’s one of Marie’s, if that makes you feel any better?” She tactfully does not point out the fact that she could see the other squid shivering through the front window.

If Vin wasn’t so tired, they’re sure they would have been flustered by the idea of wearing one of Marie’s hoodies, but instead they just give a small nod and quiet hum in thanks as they pull it on. They honestly hadn’t really felt the cold when they stepped out to keep an eye on Octavio, hero hoodie left on a stool inside to be cleaned and mended later.

Thinking about the state of their hero hoodie just made them more aware of what happened to land it in such a state, and they failed to hold back a small wince as a fresh wave of pain stabbed through their left side.

They close their eyes for a moment as they scooch back to lean against the front of the cabin, waiting for it to dull back to the ache they had slowly been getting used to. They’re grateful that Callie doesn’t comment, though they don’t notice the flash of guilt that crossed her face as she watched them. One of her hands grabs the bottom of her jacket tightly, the rest of her just as tense.

She quickly schools her expression back into something she hopes is more neutral as they focus back on her. She didn't, couldn't relax, but she hoped the other agent wouldn’t notice. They look exhausted, but their gaze is still sharp and focused, occasionally glancing towards the large snowglobe that Callie refused to acknowledge. She notes that Vin was mainly focused on her, though, looking as though they were contemplating something.

Callie braced herself, preparing for whatever they might have to say, be it distrust, accusations, asking her to leave, or whatever else it might be. But as they actually started to speak, she could only blink in surprise when it was none of that.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Vin asks, tone curious, but not prying. They don’t want to make her more uncomfortable than she already seems to be, but they can’t deny being slightly curious as to why one of the NSS members that seemed most in need of proper rest once they got back from Cephalon HQ was currently awake. They weren’t about to say that out loud, though, knowing that she could fully point out their hypocrisy.

Callie doesn’t respond for a moment, still reeling from the fact that Vin wasn’t being even remotely hostile or negative towards her (not that she would blame them…). A quick shake of the head though, and she turns her gaze to the stars as she thinks about how to answer. How does one even respond to such a simple question, when taking the events of the day they’ve all had into account?

She decides to answer with a question of her own, one she’s had since her head was clear enough to understand what all had happened with Octavio and what had happened to Vin as a result. With the way they’re both sitting and the bandages Tyde had used to cover everything, Callie can’t see their wounds, but she can clearly remember the sight of Vin’s shredded left ear and torn up shoulder. Clear evidence of being too close to a too large suction bomb as it goes off.

She remembers feeling sick at the sight, guilt sitting heavy in her stomach. Were it not for Marie clinging on to her so tightly, Callie was sure she would’ve crumpled under the weight of it. The worst part, though, was the look Vin gave her when their eyes met for the first time.

They looked… content. Not scared, or angry. Sure, the pain Vin felt was clear on their face, but they still smiled. A soft thing, almost like they were happy to see the very same squid that had hurt them now standing not even twenty feet away from them. She couldn’t understand it, couldn’t understand them.

“Why are you still here?” She asks, voice giving nothing away towards her feelings about the question and their possible answer. She still hasn’t relaxed though, so Vin can guess well enough about how important it is to her. They give a quiet hum, also turning to the stars as they think over how to answer. They could say so much, but in truth, the answer was easy.

“Because I want to be.” They reply, a small grin crossing their face as they turn their gaze back to her. The simple answer again leaves Callie reeling, surprise and confusion clear in her expression before being quickly replaced by doubt.

“But why? I’d get it if it was just Marie and Tyde, but I literally tried to kill you! You got blown up because of me! How are you so calm about all of this?!” Callie’s voice slowly gets louder as she goes on, all of her doubt and fear and lack of understanding pouring out, no longer being able to be held in. The only thing that stops her is Vin suddenly shifting to lean against her, their head resting on her shoulder.

Vin lets out an almost inaudible sigh as they feel Callie somehow get even more tense, and they slowly reach down to take her hand, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to. She doesn’t, and Vin grabs her hand and holds it with far more tenderness than Callie felt she deserved. They give a gentle squeeze, a silent act that they hoped was comforting. Another beat of silence, and then they speak, voice soft.

“I don’t blame you for that. I know it wasn’t your fault. Sure, I got blown up, but it’s not like you specifically were the one to launch the bombs at me. Octavio was the one taking all the shots at me, controlling every attack made towards me. The way I see it, is that at worse, you were just an unfortunate third party.”

Callie looked like she wanted to disagree, but Vin didn’t even give her a chance to argue as they gave another small sigh, followed by a weak chuckle before they continued, “Plus, it probably would’ve happened even if you weren’t there.”

Now it was Callie’s turn to tilt her head in confusion as she stared down at the top of the other agent’s head. She wishes she could get a better view of their face from their current position, but she had no intentions of asking them to move. Her voice is a soft murmur as she questions them. “...What? What do you mean?”

Vin turns their head up a bit to meet her eye, flashing her another grin. “Cause I also was there to save the Great Zapfish. Saving you became my priority as soon as I learned about what happened, but Marie originally recruited me under the guise of returning the Zapfish. So even if you hadn’t been involved at all, I still would’ve ended up fighting Octavio, and been just as likely to be blown up. So genuinely, I don’t blame you at all. If anything, I’m just glad I could help bring you back home, away from him.”

Their last word comes out as a hiss, their gaze sharp as daggers as they glared towards the DJ’s current residence. Callie gives their hand a light squeeze, hoping to return the favor in hopefully providing comfort as she tries to process everything they said.

A large part of her doesn’t want to believe them, wants to insist that they’re just trying to be kind and spare her feelings. Another, smaller, quieter part of her desperately wants to believe them, though. Wants to believe that the squid that seems to have made themself quite comfortable against her side truly didn’t blame her for what happened, didn’t hold it against her.

And in truth, how could she tell either way? She had just met them today, and this was the first time they had actually talked, what with them needing medical attention for their wounds and Marie not wanting to leave Callie’s side for even a second once they got off the top of Sheldon’s truck, so scared of something else happening to drag Callie away again. It took the convincing of everyone, even Sheldon, to just get her to sit down and rest for even just a moment, despite the fact that she was swaying on her feet by the time they got back to Tentakeel Outpost, exhaustion clear.

#foxtrot writes #vin(four) #thoughts n feedback are vv appreciated if u end up readin :] #still tryin to figure things out #like keepin the right tense n dialogue #so sorry if its kinda scuffed jfbxwvdh #i think its kinda ok so far tho :]

[ocd-kenobi]

Hi friend, are you still doing posture asks? Would love to hear your thoughts on Master Yoda! Your advice in one of the previous posts about projecting lasers from the nips was so helpful, I can walk straighter now without hurting as much, thank you <3

Lasers from the nips you must shoot!

Looking at Yoda and Grogu (and Yaddle) it's safe to assume that their species has a spine with cervical (neck), thoracic (attaching to ribs), and lumbar (low back) regions, as well as shoulder and hip joints. Their hips don't seem to function like ours do, though. Notice how even the young, healthy specimen moves without much bending in the hips:

So it's difficult to say what exact purpose Yoda's cane (gimer stick) serves. It probably just helps support his weight when doing this pivoting motion with every step, which could point to a weakened abdominal support system, but we can't be sure.

There's much to learn from his neck posture, though.

Notice how the cervical spine is crunched into a permanently curved position. This is evidence that he has spent 900 years with his head forward or looking down. Take a moment to notice the strain in your front and back neck and shoulder muscles when you tilt your head down to look at your phone, versus when you look straight ahead at the wall at the spot where your nipples are shooting lasers. That increased strain, over time, will give you a neck like Yoda's. You were born with a neck more like this one:

Obviously the clothing doesn't give us a clear view of his spine, but by the angle of his chin we can see that his cervical spine is straighter and stronger than Yoda's. His pelvis is a solid base beneath him for his spine to raise straight up out of, providing a solid core for his whole body. In contrast, Yoda's whole spine is curved in a seated position, pulled on both ends by the weight of his forward head and his tucked pelvis. Council seats are not ergonomically sound.

Yoda's cane is not OSHA-approved either. It encourages the unhealthy bend in his spine, probably contributing to spinal deterioration. Notice how in the prequel picture, he uses it as a prop to hunch over, instead of using it to hold his spine upright as he walks. In the Dagobah picture, it is unclear whether it's the same stick and he's sitting or it's a better stick and he's standing, but either way, it is actually serving its function of support aid.

Morals of the story: if you spend a lot of time looking down, make sure you spend a lot of time relaxing those neck muscles by looking straight ahead; if you use a mobility aid make sure it's the right height; and DON'T spend all day sitting in a Jedi Council chair.

#asks #posture things #posture #yoda

[ganbreedings]

HOW TO IDENTIFY AN IMAGE FROM MIDJOURNEY, DALLE-2, OR STABLEDIFFUSION & WHY YOU SHOULDN’T CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN

people are pieces of shit and pretend that their “art” is actually theirs and not from AI. i like AI and find it fascinating and as someone with any inkling of a following, i want to let people know of this.

i am not affiliated with any of the AIs i talk/post about and i am not being sponsored by any of these to put down one and prop up another. i am trying to spread information on how this works and why it’s not okay to claim AI “art” as one’s own.

all images used in this post were either generated by me or were publicly available.

---

WHY SHOULD PEOPLE NOT USE AI TO CREATE THEIR “ART”?

the way AI pictures such as the ones from these websites and apps is by taking images from around the web to combine into one image based on prompts. this is accomplished by finding images attached to descriptions and putting them in a GAN; i have more information on that here. 

so essentially, by generating new images, you are ultimately taking someone else’s work and smashing it all together to create something new, most likely without permission.

this is also how artbreeder works, which was more evident in its old name of “ganbreeder” (which contains “GAN”).

since this is technically at the end of the day someone else’s work, this is also why they shouldn’t be sold as NFTs (not to mention the complete lack of effort put into them; you just come up with a prompt and type it in and the ai does the work. at least with stuff like bored apes someone had to draw all of the initial variables individually so an AI could mash them all into a single image with no rhyme or reason).

---

HOW TO IDENTIFY AI-GENERATED IMAGES FROM MIDJOURNEY

midjourney images have a very specific look; they tend to look very painted with sort of... muted colors a lot of the time. youtube channel SolarProphet has many videos that feature midjourney. they all tend to look like paintings and i’ve found that the AI very much likes to make portraits with a character front-and-center.

---

HOW TO IDENTIFY IMAGES FROM DALLE-2

dalle-2 images can be harder to identify because the AI is very advanced with many data points.

it is able to generate images with multiple art styles, but also may generate things that look like photographs.

the best way i can describe dalle-2 images is just looking... off. if you look carefully, something will look wrong. in the picture below the top eyes are mismatched, etc. something would be subtly off. you have to look carefully.

in this one: one of the eyes looks smudged and the spoon handle doesn’t seem to be leading to anything.

dalle-2 can also generate rather convincing clipart at times, but they also may have something off about them. this picture of a frog looks normal at first glance, but if you look carefully, you can see that it’s missing a toe, coloring on the far arm is wonky, the lineart on 2 of its fingers is bulging out, there is an extra line on the top shirt pocket that cuts off a yellow band, the legs are oddly shaped, etc.

yes, some artists may draw like this, but most likely they would keep proportions consistent, no? (saying this as an artist myself btw)

---

HOW TO IDENTIFY IMAGES FROM STABLEDIFFUSION

stablediffusion is a lot like dalle-2. due to lack of resources i can’t really give the best answers on it. it is much more customizable than either midjourney or dalle-2. the web apps can go up to 150 steps on dreamstudio and 50 on the huggingface website, which affects quality (unlike midjourney and dalle-2 where the number of steps is fixed (to my knowledge, anyway)). 

my computer struggles to run stablediffusion locally due to my graphics card (i CAN run it but it basically eats all my memory). i also don’t know how many steps midjourney and dalle-2 use to make their images, so i can’t make pictures with exactly the same amount of steps to compare it all to.

i got these using both web apps and as you can tell, they are off and not quite right, though i expect with more steps, they would be better. i expect the way of telling that they are AI generated is similar to dalle-2?

---

it’s hard to explain how i personally tell when an image is generated by ai, and of course my method is not foolproof and it will never be. humans are imperfect creatures, after all. these are just patterns i’ve noticed personally.

#midjourney #dalle 2 #dalle-2 #stablediffusion #stable diffusion #ai #ai generated #sorry about ben shapiro i was just using the stuff i already had lol #hopefully will get back to posting soon fingers crossed emoji #not ganbreeder #long post #info

[xxruinaxxmcu]

Jack Thompson x Reader

What Lies Before Us 

Masterlist (previous chapters, previous book)

Chapter 14

The one advantage of doing a job in an aera that was under a military government, and that military was American, was that at least Thompson’s clearance level made it more or less easy to get to the required documents. To the question of the Air Force’s intelligence officer as to why they needed the aerial reconnaissance pictures, he replied that they had information regarding stolen tech that was being hidden in the area. After all the stuff that was stolen from Stark, that sounded at least believable.

Taking an initial picture, he held it in front of Y/N’s face. “See these dots all across the streets?”

She nodded.

“Those are cave entrances. The ones that are hard to make out are probably the ones that were sealed up in 45.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. If all these dots were caves, then he had not exaggerated when he referred to the place as a honeycomb. They were literally everywhere.

“So if the coordinates are correct”, Y/N said, pointing at one area of the picture, “our target should be somewhere around here. Probably one of these dots.”

The images they had covered the last four weeks, and the shots were about two to three days apart. Again, one of the advantages of it being a very well-observed area.

“My money’s on the one to the left”, Jack eventually announced, “if you compare week one to week four, it seems like the threes around the entrance were cut down. The others seem undisturbed.”

Y/N looked through the pictures herself, just to confirm. But he was right. Whilst most dots showed little to no change, this one did.

“Right”, Y/N muttered, “So, what now? Confirming by infiltration is out of the picture. Hard enough to storm a building, I’m not storming a goddamn cave. I’d say we head down there, take a look around and find a place to set up a camera, whilst we hide further away and check the monitors.” Theoretically, she also thought about going there themselves and observing it in person, but she wanted to minimise the risks involved. And the target was stationary, which made using a camera possible.

She observed Jack’s face when she suggested the next steps. He seemed to ponder for a while, clenching his jaw as he did habitually, before nodding.

“Yeah. But after taking an initial look around, we better bury one of our explosives at the entrance before starting the surveillance. If we see anything, we can use the long-distance detonator.” He was aware that this would mean they’d never find out what actually happened in the cave, but he banked on it being in the files of some of the Arena Club people back in the states. The only other option would have been to throw in poisonous gas, and he really didn’t want to take his chances on the wind blowing in the right direction. Whilst he was less hesitant about blowing up the cave in its entirety, even if people were still inside, he really didn’t want to be held responsible for accidentally killing a bunch of civilians or American servicemen. One war crime was enough for one island.

“Agreed. You ever dealt with high explosives before?”, Y/N asked. Jack gave her a funny look.

“What do you think I do in my free time?”, he asked, tilting his head.

She rolled her eyes and grinned: “I didn’t mean your free time. But anyways, I have. We had to blow up some railways and factories for sabotage. Meaning, I’ll be the one to get the explosive in position.”

Though he wasn’t really comfortable at the thought of Y/N running around with a bomb in her hand, he realised that she had – evidently – done her fair share of incredibly dangerous missions, he had just not been there to see it.

“Right.”

“Fantastic”, she said, giving him a sarcastic smile, “seems like we’ll be out of here in no time. Which is good, considering the humidity is terrible for pin-curls, it appears.” She pointed to her hair – the normally neatly curled strands of hair stubbornly falling. “I can’t get my hair to behave here, no matter what I try.”

With a smile, Jack kissed her forehead: “You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s a lie, or you’re just biased”, she retorted, “You’ve watched movies with Rita Hayworth!”

“Yes, but I’ve never seen her in person”, he shrugged, “who knows how she looks like at five o’clock in the morning?”

“Probably lacking the makeup, but I’d wager she’d still look stunning.”

“The last actress I spoke to turned out to be a maniac with space goo oozing out of her head, so I think I’ll stick with you”, he said jokingly and Y/N raised an eyebrow in sarcastic amusement.

“How very kind of you.”

Changing their clothes into something that more resembled the gear worn by the US personnel in the area, they got ready to venture out as soon as possible. Y/N took notice of the nature, which was a dense jungle in those parts that had not been levelled by artillery or aerial or naval bombardment. It looked nice, but given the warning of snakes and giant crabs, she was still rather apprehensive.

Initially, they surveyed the street by car, which meant they couldn’t stop indefinitely to take a closer look without arising suspicion. The entrance to the cave was far enough away from the street so that they hardly saw anything. Anything besides some trail that had been created by nothing but the times people having walked to and away from it.

Thompson’s eyes scanned the area from behind the wheel. Some locals walked past them, many of them with groceries in hand. Once they had seen Y/N and Jack, they would look to the ground and hurry to get away, which might have been suspicious if not for the fact that presumably they expected them to be with the army, and hence, they didn’t want to offend them or behave incorrectly.

Jack parked the car away from the presumed cave entrance, looking over to Y/N. They had prepared their cover – two biologists taking pictures and collecting samples of the local flora. Y/N had a good laugh when Jack briefed her – as the last job on earth he would and could possibly do was that of a biologist. Nevertheless, it offered an explanation for walking around with a camera. She, unfortunately, would have to pass as his assistant. In the bag she carried for him, she had different lenses, and beneath them, casually, the bomb that she would have to plant whilst he installed the camera. In total, they spent nearly five hours in the area, as to not appear to simply walk over to their desired position. That would have been highly suspicious. Rather, they slowly made their way towards the target, whilst on the way pretending to do what biologists would do.

For the first time ever, she envied Jack for his short hair, as despite having it tied up in a ponytail, she could feel the sweat in the nape of her neck as they stepped over scrubs and tree trunks towards the cave. They didn’t need to use words, when they spotted the cave entrance, which was covered up by a makeshift layer of leaves, Y/N simply looked at Jack, then they got to work. Y/N focused on burying the bomb deep enough for no one to see it, and for there to be enough soil on top of it that one could walk over it without feeling it. The bomb wasn’t sensitive to external forces, it was reinforced well-enough that a car could’ve driven over it without causing an explosion. It took some skill to position it correctly, but Y/N had enough experience to do it in under two minutes.

Jack hid the camera beneath branches and leaves, until it was nearly invisible. It was fortunate that the trees were fairly dense in the area nearby, meaning that it wasn’t that likely that the sun would hit the lens in an angle that would give its position away. They nodded to confirm the other was done, then, they continued their cover mission for another hour. Now, they were just biologists collecting stuff. Lacking a camera.

“You know what?”, Y/N huffed when they entered their car again, “I think I was unfair to L.A., at least in terms of weather.”

“You think this is bad? Wait until it rains every single day”, Jack replied with a grin and turning on the engine, “I tell you, might be great for holiday, but for digging foxholes? Absolute nightmare.”

Y/N shuddered: “But hey, we didn’t encounter snakes. I count that as a massive win.”

……….

Back in the apartment the military had assigned them, they set up the monitor to watch the scene.

“I’ll take the nightshift”, Jack offered, “I’ll wake you at five.”

“I can do the nightshift, too”, Y/N replied, “our sleep schedule is messed up from flying anyways.”

He waved his hand: “Really. I don’t mind.”

She tilted her head, intently looking at his face.

“Oh no”, he said dryly, “do I get another reading?”

“Reading?”, she asked back.

“Yeah”, he huffed, “of you reading my thoughts.”

Y/N shrugged: “I was just wondering whether you were being nice, or if you don’t like the thought of going to sleep here.”

“On Okinawa, you mean?”

She raised her eyebrows as a ‘yes’.

“Maybe”, Jack said quietly, pulling over a chair to settle in, “Maybe I just want another chance at actually doing a nightshift properly.”

Y/N sighed silently, but decided to let it go. There was no point in arguing whilst on a mission. So instead, she got ready for a few hours of sleep. The morning would come soon enough, anyways.

Surveillance sounded incredibly thrilling on paper, whilst in reality, it basically meant looking at a screen or a building for a very long time. It meant that you had to figure out a mechanism to remain focused, but not get tired easily. It gave you a lot of time to think, but you weren’t allowed to get lost in your thoughts.

Jack was delighted that the lab boys had managed to alter the lens so that he could still see what was happening, despite the lack of daylight. He had no idea how it worked, and truthfully, he did not care one bit.

He thought back to the night in spring 1945. It was L-Day plus two – two days after the invasion had begun, April 3rd. Tsuken Island was in the near the south of Okinawa prefecture, and they had made more progress in the first two days that they had anticipated. The fighting had been fierce, just two days later they would have managed to secure the entire Katsuren Peninsula. The island was under immense fire barrage, from the sea and air, and obviously from the now landed troops. Though the progress was good on paper, it was hellish for the men on the ground. They had landed in a freaking jungle, and most of the men who were here now came from rural America, more familiar with tornados than with monsoon. They had hardly slept, knowing that they had to secure the northern part of Okinawa as soon as possible to join up with the army down southeast to assist with the capture of Naha.

It had only been the third day, but Jack felt absolutely spent. Another invasion. And it would turn out to be another bloodbath. It would take 82 days to secure Okinawa. It would turn out to be 82 days in hell. And nights were terrible, anyways. The Japanese were proficient at silently infiltrating their ranks at night to ambush soldiers in their foxholes, which is why so many had forced themselves to push through with practically no sleep. Jack included. He had experienced multiple such attacks on Iwo Jima – unlike some of the other Marines and soldiers now making their way through Okinawa, he knew the enemy. After he had realised what he had done, after he had buried the flag and had gotten the praise from the men around him, which had made him sick to the stomach, he was right back in the mud. And it really turned into mud. After the initial days, the rain started to pick up. When they joined up with the southern force, the progress grinded to a halt. They hardly managed to gain an inch, and the hygienic conditions in their lines became abysmal. Not only were there the dead that could only slowly be evacuated, there was also human waste everywhere. However, what stuck with him forever was the civilians committing suicide. Mothers throwing their babies off cliffs before jumping themselves. All because of the propaganda that had been fed to them which told them that being captured by the Americans would be a fate worse than death. Hundreds of people must’ve died that way.

Iwo Jima had had one advantage. It hadn’t been populated. No civilians died there. And knowing how the Japanese treated their own citizens, it made Jack dread the next operation. Everyone was sure that the next stop would be Japan proper – they didn’t know about the atomic bomb yet. That was unknown to even high-ranking military officials. And seeing how much blood was shed over a tiny, uninhabited island, and now Okinawa, which was still tiny in comparison to mainland Japan, Jack had been convinced that America would run out of soldiers to send there before securing it. That they were spared that mission, well, it came at a great cost, too.

It was shortly after three in the morning when Jack noticed movement on the monitor. At first, he thought it was simply a wild animal or the bushes moving in the wind, but then, he saw two men carrying something to the entrance.

“What the hell”, he muttered, squinting at the screen. No, he wasn’t mistaken.

“Y/N, wake up!”, he bellowed, causing Y/N to practically jump up from the bed.

“What?”

“You recognise that?”, he asked, pointing at the screen.

She dashed over, and her jaw drop.

“That’s the goddamn gamma cannon”, Y/N said in a hollow voice.

“Either Vernon must’ve given blueprints to them, or Hugh Jones got a hold of them somehow”, Jack guessed, damning his godfather to another century in hell.

“Well, I guess that means they’re Arena Club associates”, Y/N stated, “And given that they’re collaborating with a fella who’s HYDRA, I’d say terminate ASAP.”

“You got that remote detonator?”

“You bet I do.”

Thompson gave her a quick nod. Better blow them up now where the gamma cannon hadn’t yet opened another rift, rather than having to rely on Howard Stark to help them restore the universe again.

Y/N didn’t have to search long, the device was in her purse.

“I’d say cover your ears, but I suppose we’re clear”, she said, looking at the device. It was strange. Knowing that she’d end the life of some people she hadn’t even met from relative safety. But that, 100 percent, had been a gamma cannon. She activated the device.

The blast dislodged the camera, and when it settled again, they couldn’t see the entrance. They just saw demolished nature.

“Good to know it can withstand a freaking bomb”, Jack commented cynically.

“This is rather anticlimactic”, Y/N stated, “But that cave’s collapsed now, for sure. That was enough TNT to take out an apartment block.”

Jack turned around to look at Y/N, standing there, in her dressing gown, and pin-curls in – which she still did, despite having said they wouldn’t last due to the humidity – and just started grinning.

“What is so funny?”, she questioned, “I unfortunately hadn’t had the time to get physically ready for a kill-mission!”

“You look fantastic”, he replied with a laugh, “Just… we’ve come halfway across the world, to the place I perhaps hate the most, to hunt down some Japanese allies to HYDRA, after we’ve gotten engaged like two weeks ago, my ma wants to talk to you so damn badly, and here we are, blowing up caves in the middle of the night whilst you found the time to pin-curl your hair. I think we give Peggy and Daniel a run for their money in terms of strange relationship.”

“Oh honey”, she said sarcastically with a grin before bending down to kiss him, “We’ve never done normal.”

……………...

They drove to the position that had just blown up, where the military was already on scene.

“What the hell happened?”, Jack asked the lieutenant in charge.

“Hell do I know”, the man shrugged, “Looks like they stepped on a mine. Or a bomb went off from the war.”

“Anyone injured?”

“Hard to say”, the lieutenant used a flashlight to illuminate the area that had formerly been the entrance to the cave, “there’s at least two feet of rubble burying anything. Looks like it hit a cave, though. A shame it only went off now, I’m sure that bastard could’ve been more useful in 45.”

“Yeah”, Jack said with a humourless grin, “I agree.”

“You were there?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you, Agent Thompson.”

Jack looked at the lieutenant, confused. What did he thank him for? “For being on Okinawa then?”, he asked irritated, “I just did what needed to be done. We all did.”

“Sir!”, a soldier yelled from a few yards away, “We found human remains!”

To call them ‘humans’ would’ve been an overstatement, as it was hard to make out what exactly they were. It was the number of hands that they could identify that made them realise that they had discovered two casualties. Nothing else was identifiable – age, height, nationality – they were blown into bits.

“What the hell were they doing in a cave, in the middle of the night?”, the lieutenant asked, frowning, “soldier, step away! What the hell is that?”

He pointed to a piece of metal that reflected his flashlight.

Carefully, Thompson, L/N, and a handful of soldiers got off the debris burying the item. Y/N looked up at Thompson, who was himself looking at her.

The gamma cannon.

“What the hell?”

“Lieutenant”, Jack said, leading the man away from the group so that not every soldier could eavesdrop, “that thing is a highly volatile machinery that can manipulate molecules. It was first invented by Howard Stark to aid the SSR with a domestic threat a few months ago. If those men got their hands on the blueprints, I’d say we can all be damn grateful that they were blown to Judgement Day.”

The lieutenant looked at him visibly taken aback by the story: “Agent, you’re telling me some down-the-street Japs got their hands on blueprints by Howard Stark without any American office noticing it??”

“We are currently looking into multiple such cases, unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?”, the lieutenant snorted, “Sir, we’re fucked if the reds get their hands on these weapons!”

Jack nodded: “Believe me, lieutenant, that’s what the SSR, the FBI and the CIA are working on to prevent. Keep this low-profile, though. Best our enemies don’t know about this incident.”

“You bet.”

“And if you find anyone alive in there”, Jack pointed to the cave with his chin, “do yourself a favour and shoot. To kill. They ain’t civilians.”

“I can’t just kill people, we’re not at war-“

“Oh, we are”, Jack interjected, staring down the lieutenant in front of him, “I’ll contact your supervisors. This is an order straight from DC.”

Y/N had watched the interaction from afar, knowing that the military was arguably even more male-dominated than the SSR and her presence would only have been seen as intrusive. After they had secured the remnants of the gamma cannon, Y/N and Jack removed themselves from the area, heading back to their apartment.

“The goddamn gamma cannon”, Y/N said in the car, “would you have believed it?”

“Honestly, why is Stark’s security so freaking bad? His butler could do a better job protecting these items!”, Jack lamented frustratedly, “And why do we always end up running around the face of the earth to collect them again?”

“Because… we’re paid for it?”

“Severely underpaid if you ask me”, he snorted, making a turn.

Y/N tilted her head, thinking. “What strikes me as unusual is that the only one who was around the cannon closely enough when Samberly worked on it, was Vernon. Why would Vernon pass this on to Jones or someone else in that club? I thought he wanted zero matter to go away.”

“Do I look like I understood that old muckety-muck?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow and causing Y/N to laugh at his choice of words.

“No, and I think that’s also a good thing”, Y/N replied with a grin. She saw from the corner of her eyes that Jack was supressing a yawn. Though the sun was up by this point, that didn’t change the fact that unlike her, he hadn’t slept for a single hour since coming to Japan. “Alright, when we’re back, I’ll do the paperwork”, she announced, referring to the documents and reports that would have to be written to wrap up their mission, “and you get some sleep.”

“I can-“

“No.”

“You didn’t even hear what I was about to say!”, he complained.

“Don’t have to”, Y/N shrugged, “This isn’t a negotiation. And before we’re going on our journey back, I want this paperwork to be done and you to sleep.”

Jack sighed. “Yes, mother.”

“Your mother would agree with me, and you know that.”

He scoffed: “That doesn’t mean you have a point, though. Ma would want to agree with you just because she adores you. I mean, she probably would’ve put that ring on your finger for me if I hadn’t managed to do it before you see her the next time.”

Y/N laughed: “Well, now she won’t have to do that. Which reminds me, we will have to squeeze in a visit between now and hunting down every last Arena Club member.”

………..

They returned to their apartment at around 8:30. At 13:00, Jack woke up from his nap, joining Y/N at the desk.

“You’re already done”, he realised when she handed him a stack of papers.

“It was blissfully quiet”, she said with a smile, “and it wasn’t that much.”

He sat down, flipping through the pages. Now, the next target were the members back in America.

“Jack”, Y/N said, her mood visibly darkened.

“Hm?”, he looked up, realising that something was headed their way. Something he didn’t yet know about.

“Before we left”, Y/N began, “Sousa called. We were in the office, and afterwards, surrounded by people we didn’t know. I didn’t want to have it affect our mission, as it has no effect on it. But now I need to tell you.” She didn’t give him time to say anything before continuing: “The L.A. office caught a lead regarding Keller’s whereabouts. They sent four agents to arrest him. Apparently was supposed to be an easy task. Three of the men are dead. The fourth is missing. So is Keller.” She watched his eyes, which darkened, and his jaw tightened.

“HYDRA.”

“We must assume that the SSR itself has been compromised. Whether it was just this one agent or multiple, I have no idea.”

“It’s a cancer”, he said darkly, yet surprisingly calmly. “Sometimes, the only way to kill it, is for the host to die.”

Y/N stared at him in shock: “What are you saying?”

“If the SSR is compromised, it has to be reorganised.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair: “You want to reorganise the SSR?”

“No”, Jack shook his head, “That’s beyond my level. That would be Colonel Phillips’ job. He’s still the director. I’ll send word to him when we’re back.”

“We might lose our jobs if the entire branch is restructured.”

Jack gave her a curious look: “You say that because you think that’s what I’m concerned with?” Before she could answer, he added: “You know, all screwups aside, we were decent at our jobs. Who knows, even if the SSR doesn’t give us a job, we might find one within the FBI or the CIA.”

Y/N silently nodded. Perhaps, he was right. Perhaps, there was a new era ahead of them.

“I will inform Sousa when we’re back”, she said quietly, looking outside the window, watching the dense forest outside swaying in the wind. It still struck her as odd – staying in such a tropical landscape just didn’t seem right for what they had just done. For what Thompson had done here years ago. It looked more like a place for a beach vacation, rather than a bloody battlefield. “Seems like we can go back. And this time, we had no losses. No complications.”

“Yeah.”

There was a moment of silence between them. “There’s just one thing I have to get, first.”

Y/N looked up, whipping her head around. “Jack-“

He raised his hand to interrupt her. “I can’t keep it here. I should be back by tomorrow, we can fly back then.”

“Jack Thompson”, Y/N said slowly, standing up to stand right in front of him, lowering herself down to the desk he was sitting at to be on eye-level with him. He expected her to tell him to just leave it, that there were certain things one keeps buried. But she didn’t. “Like hell you are going there by yourself. I couldn’t be here in 1945, but I sure as hell will be here with you, now.”

……..

Approaching the island by boat, Y/N saw the coastline approaching through her binoculars.

“That’s Tsuken Island?”, she asked, looking over to Jack.

“Not much left after we were done with it.”

“It’s… it looks like it was firebombed!”, Y/N pointed out. Jack raised an eyebrow.

“In many ways, it was.”

The island was tiny – just over 2 kilometres in length and over 1 kilometre in width. Only in the north one could see a couple of palm trees, the centre section of the island was completely burnt to the ground. Craters scarred the earth, and the only semblance of life was another military base in the island’s south.

“You know where we have to walk? There are hardly any landmarks to orient us from”, Y/N pointed out when they left the boat.

“I know. We had to know the coordinates from our camps.”

Of course they did. Y/N clenched her jaw. She wished there was a way for her to know what Jack was going through right now, but he had closed off. As he had for the initial months they spent working together after the war. There was nothing in his eyes or on his face. He looked like the poster-soldier, steely eyed and tough, solely focused on his mission.

They walked for what felt like ages, but really, it probably was just under half an hour. They reached a field that was in an area that was relatively well-protected, and ideally suited for a makeshift camp site. He didn’t have to say that they were here, she knew it. Jack’s eyes scanned the area. To the side of the field, there were a few tree trunks that had survived the war, and the weather. Jack walked towards them, bent down, and started to search the soil beneath them with his hands. Y/N simply stood back and watched him. It didn’t take long. The flag wasn’t buried six feet underground, it was covered by maybe two inches of soil.

Holding it in his hands, Jack could only stare at the piece of cloth. That cloth had haunted him for years.

He didn’t cry. He didn’t even feel sad holding it, after all, it wasn’t like he had ever forgotten it. It didn’t bring back any memories he didn’t already have on repeat in his brain.

No, there was almost a certain solace in holding it.

“I’m sorry”, he said, quietly, he wasn’t even sure Y/N could hear it, “You weren’t meant to die that day. I’m sorry I made the wrong call that day.”

He folded the flag neatly, folding it small enough for him to be able to put it in his pocket. Then, he stood up and turned to Y/N. “Come on. Let’s start a fire.”

Quietly, the two of them assembled enough wood to ignite a small fire. Jack watched the flames, thinking about their faces. He hadn’t been able to figure out their names, they had no name tags on them. They remained nameless, but their faces would forever be with him.

Then, he pulled out the folded flag.

“Rest easy.”

Y/N watched him throw the flag into the flame, catching fire instantly. “Rest in peace. At last, it did arrive in Japan, too.”

Without another word, she took his hand as they watched the flag turn to dust. When it had gone, Jack finally looked up. Looked at Y/N. They had been to hell in their own ways. She in Europe, he in the Pacific. They had killed people in front of each other, they had killed for the other. They had come face to face with their darkest past in front of the other. She had followed him to his own personal hell.

“Why are you crying now?”

Was he- he was. He shook his head aggressively, really not wanting to cry right now and rubbed his tears away with the back of his hand.

“Nothing”, he said and cleared his throat, “Just. Thank you.”

She smiled. “Always.”

A/N: One more history lesson about the Pacific War, and the final stage of World War Two, which is often neglected by simply jumping to the result of the atomic bombs. It’s crazy to think none of the soldiers had an idea that they WOULDN’T be asked to invade Japan proper. From their testimonies it becomes clear: They were certain that this would have been a suicide mission. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always, I ask for nothing but a little comment or something that stood out in the chapter! It really helps any creator out there, let me tell you! Also, I hope you enjoy the little story arc with Jack’s reckoning with his own past. First the Navy Cross, now the flag. The two reminders of his most severe mistake. 

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[firstaidspray]

Birthday Countdown Revchase Snippets - Day 4

To celebrate Valentine's month as well as my birthday month, I'm going to post a snippet of Revchase every day until my birthday, using these prompts- there are 25 so it leads right up to my birthday!! I'm caught up now!! Here's four.

4- Write about your ship holding hands in a happy moment. 

Pairing: Robert Chase/Reverie (oc)

Media: House MD

Word Count: 634

Rating: T

CW: Brief mention of suicide/self harm

“Can't believe you really have to speak at this thing. I'd rather kill myself than go talk in front of a crowd like that.”

Everyone at the table– Chase, Wilson, Cameron, Foreman, and Cuddy– all look at Reverie with disapproval. Some of them flick their eyes from the scars on her arms, as if to explain silently why that was an inappropriate thing to say.

And she recognizes it, especially when Chase is the one to give her a look. Blush tinges her cheeks and she apologizes, “I mean, uh, good luck with your speech, Wilson. Couldn't pay me to get up on that stage.”

Chase looks at her as if to say, “that's better,” and takes a sip of his drink. Wilson smiles and shrugs, an air of boyish shyness about him.

“Oh, they're not paying me,” Wilson laughs. “This is just an honorary thing. And I'm honored. I'm especially honored that all of you guys showed up.”

Reverie nods, scanning the room, and then asks, “speaking of “all of us,” where the Hell is House?”

This earns sighs from everyone at the table. Foreman is the one to tell her, though. “House probably isn't coming. He's not good with things like this.”

“I see,” Reverie replies, chewing on her thumbnail. “By that I mean I see that House wouldn't be good with this.”

After this, the emcee begins announcing the upcoming speeches. And Reverie groans internally that she has to sit through three of them before Wilson's. Between the other doctors’ presentations, Reverie talks with Chase and the others in hushed tones– though they seem to be the ones who prefer to have a conversation over actually listening. Foreman even gave them a look to stop at one point. Cameron did, but Chase and Reverie didn't.

Finally, it's Wilson's turn– the Princeton-Plainsboro table begins clapping for him as he walks onto the stage. This time, she and Chase are quiet, and pay attention to what he's saying. Wilson's speech is much less boring to hear than the rest of the presenters, though the fact that he's their friend may form that bias.

“...and I'd like to thank our surgical staff, all of whom oncology would be nothing without,” Wilson mentions Reverie's department in his speech.

On the table, Chase reaches his hand over to Reverie's and links his fingers through hers. She looks over at him and smiles, which he returns.

“In particular, we have some surgical staff members who strive for perfection, for patient satisfaction, and their love of the work is evident in every action they take in the OR.” His big brown eyes seem to gaze directly at Reverie.

“He's talking about you,” Chase whisper-yells, an overjoyed smile on his face. His fingers squeeze her hand tight against his, their pulses nearly palpable through their palms.

“Without people like an enthusiastic, bright surgical assistant RN, for example,” Wilson begins, now very evidently looking at Reverie, “the surgical side of oncology would be so much more difficult, painful, and tedious. So, thanks to people like that nurse, oncological surgery is smooth sailing at Princeton-Plainsboro, and I couldn't be more satisfied with that.”

Reverie is blushing, her smiling face cherub-like with its rosy, round cheeks and sweet smile. Chase rubs a thumb across her knuckles and she tightens their grip on each other– holding hands while she's being indirectly praised feels like walking on air.

Until Wilson reaches the end of his speech, Reverie and Chase's hands remained intertwined, placed atop the table for all to see. Only when the presentation ends and they must unclasp fingers to clap for their friend do Reverie and Chase's hands leave each other, but after that, they end up in the exact same place. So tightly locked together, and displayed for all to see.

#birthday countdown revchase snippets #revchase #reverie #robert chase #my writing #x: gee angel

[ohbuckie]

FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT II

college!bucky x fem!reader (first part isn’t a necessary read prior to this one) summary: bucky fucks you in the back of his car at a drive-in. warnings: smut, semi public sex, implication that reader has hair long enough to pull word count: 2k masterlist

(pls dm me for credit or removal of this gif)

Your hand is on Bucky’s thigh.

It’s customary for the boyfriend’s right hand to be on the girlfriend’s left thigh, but his only real hand is occupied by the steering wheel, and he can’t hold the wheel with only his prosthetic. So, you fill the role, fingers tapping against the inside of his muscular right leg.

He looks pretty when he drives—with his arm outstretched to display his sculpted muscles. His hair is fluffy and shiny and soft, and his lips confidently mouth the lyrics to the songs that play through the car. He was wearing sunglasses before the sun disappeared below the horizon, and they’re now atop his head, holding his hair away from his forehead, with the exception of a stubborn strand that dangles between his eyebrows.

You stare down at Bucky’s phone, held by your free hand, adding music to his Spotify queue. Just enough to bring you to where you’re going. “How much longer?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe ten minutes.”

It takes twelve.

He pulls the car between two posts in the very center of the dirt lot, parking it and unlocking the doors so that you can hop out. While he sits in the front and tunes the radio to the channel indicated on the slip of paper that the teenage girl at the front booth gave you, you spread out the plush blankets and soft pillows, making the trunk—and backseat, with all of the seats down—mostly habitable, at least for a few hours. Pillows are pushed against the backs of the front seats, a small blanket covering the area beneath you, leaving the comforter that he brought from his bed against the side to be put over your laps once you’re both ready to sit.

It’s already dark, and the cold air bites at your nose, nips at your fingertips. Bucky turns the headlights off and climbs over the center console, laying over the setup you’ve created. You lift yourself into the trunk, kicking off your shoes onto the ground beside the car, settling beside him. He looks at his phone for the time, and announces that the movie won’t start for another ten minutes.

He says it with a suggestive smirk and a hand on your waist, and you roll your eyes playfully just before he captures your lips with his. You lay on your back with your arms around his neck as he hovers over you, leaning on one elbow and using his other arm to hold you close to himself. Your fingers twirl around the thick hair at the back of his head, dark brown and intentionally unkempt.

“I’m not doing this during the movie, you know.” You breathe against him, and he pulls away.

“Why not?”

“We paid thirty dollars to get in here. We can shove our tongues down each others’ throats at home.”

“Then we should probably get it all out now.” He doesn’t wait for a response before kissing you again, hand slowly trailing down your back to grab your ass. The old-timey drive-in commercials play in the background of the hot, wet kisses that he delivers to your mouth, and your jaw, and your throat. He sucks a mark into the side of your neck, most definitely too high to cover with the collars on any of the shirts that you own.

The screen goes black suddenly and the opening sequence starts; a rumbling storm, birds chirping, Echo and the Bunnymen. He sighs, pecking your lips a last time and letting you shift to get more comfortable. For you, that means pushing your back against his chest and pulling the thick blanket over the two of you, putting your hand over his, which rests on your waist.

“All good?”

“Mm-hmm.” You put your arm under your head for a better angle of the big screen. He kisses the crown of your head sweetly.

It doesn’t take long for him to start fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. He pulls at the fabric, twists it, inches his fingers beneath it. You squirm in response to his cold touch, and feel him smile against your shoulder, soon finding your neck with his lips.

His fingers trail down your stomach and nestle underneath the waistband of your sweatpants—his sweatpants, actually—stopping to ask for permission.

You nod, but he makes a gentle demand. “Words, sweetheart.” “Do whatever you want.” You say softly, almost shyly.

His hand slides down your pants, teasing you over your panties. He presses his middle finger against your core, making you grind against him for more friction. With pressure on your clothed clit, he kisses down your neck, leaving goosebumps in his wake. His lips are dry from the chilly air, but his kisses are delicate.

He removes his hand and taps your lower lip with two of his thick fingers. You take them in your mouth, tongue slithering around them, coating them with saliva to help him out. They nearly touch the back of your throat when your lips reach the knuckle, and you pull off slowly when they’ve been properly lubricated.

He pushes his hand down the front of your underwear, finally making contact with your skin. His fingers are warm now, from being between your legs as well as in your mouth, and you’re grateful not to be shivering anymore. He rolls your clit between his fingers, moving down to your entrance to spread around your wetness, which is already abundant.

You inhale sharply when a fingertip probes you, slipping in carefully and letting you accommodate. “Bucky.”

“Gotta be quiet.” He reminds you, mouth against the shell of your ear.

“I know.” You squeak.

“Shut up, then.”

The words go straight to your center, making you tighten around him and swallow hard. He gives a couple of slow pumps. “Another?”

“Mm-hmm.” You whine, and he takes his hand out for a moment, pulling it from your pants. He shoves it in again, down the back this time, and stretches you around two of his fingers. You bring your hand to your mouth, biting on your sleeve to keep quiet. “Fuck.”

He moves his hand with purpose—which is, of course, to make you cum—while the giant screen in front of you plays a movie you’ve both seen before. You can hear the words in your head before the actors even say them: Oh, please, tell me, Elizabeth, how exactly does one suck a fuck? You want me to tell you? Please, tell me.

It takes your mind off of the fingers breaching your entrance; helps you last at least a little bit longer. He pushes and pulls, twists and curls, while you writhe beside him, trying desperately not to make any noise.

It makes an obscene noise—a wet slurp that serves as evidence of how quickly he can drive you crazy. “You’re so fucking wet.” He mutters against your cheek.

You swallow a moan, whining somewhat loudly. “Bucky.”

“Yeah?”

“Please fuck me.”

“You don’t wanna cum first?”

You shake your head. “I need you.”

He pulls his fingers out slowly, making sure you’re looking behind your shoulder at him when he sucks your taste off of them, releasing them from his mouth with a pop. He gets up on his knees, reaching to close the trunk for at least a little bit of privacy.

He tells you to get on your stomach in front of him, and he shoves a pillow beneath your pelvis to prop your hips up. With two hands, he yanks your pants and underwear down and over your ass, exposing you to him. You point your ass upwards, giving him a view of your wetness.

You hear rustling, and assume it’s him shoving his pants down his thighs. A crinkle and a rip alert you to the opening of a condom.

“You seriously had a condom in your pocket this whole time?”

“Of course I did.”

“You’re such a tool.”

“Yup.”

He spreads your ass and spits on your pussy, putting his painfully hard cock against your entrance. He pushes into you, bottoming out quickly and holding onto the driver’s seat for leverage.

“Fuck.” He whispers.

“Shit, Buck.”

He pulls his hips back, far enough so the head of his cock threatens to slip out, before slamming forward again. You slap a hand over your own mouth, feeling him find his rhythm.

It’s safe to assume that everyone around you knows what you’re doing. With the trunk closed and the inside lights off, they can’t see anything, but the SUV wobbles on its suspension in the loose dirt and alerts everyone of your activities. You try to keep quiet, because nobody needs further confirmation that you’re being had in the trunk.

This position makes it easier for him to hit all the right spots—more specifically, the one deep inside of you that makes your legs shake and your toes curl. The stretch you feel with every thrust stings only a little bit, but doesn’t hurt. You always need a minute to get used to him, anyway.

You moan quietly, lips sealed, and arch your back so that you’re pushing back into him.

“You’re so tight like this.” He says, and rests his metal hand on your lower back.

“Bucky-y.” You whine, unable to conceptualize any other words.

“Lift up your hips up for me.” He requests. “On your knees.”

You do as he asks, bracing your hands on the floor in front of you when you rise to your knees. He puts a foot up to balance himself after he removes his hand from the seat and grabs hold of you, using your hips like handles to hold onto while he slams into you barbarically.

He pulls you backwards with every thrust, but your clothes—still covering as much as possible, since it’s cold and this was meant to be a quickie—muffle the sound of you hitting against each other. It’s only a soft clapping; much more innocent than the usual slapping of damp skin that’s shared between you.

You hear his necklace jingle with every movement—a ball chain with a pendant on it that reads your first name, hammered crookedly into a circle of aluminum, letter by letter, with a small mallet and metal stamps. It hits his clothed chest and rings like a bell as a sort of reminder to you that it’s him who’s making you feel this good.

You feel him tangle his flesh fingers in the hair close to your scalp, balling up his fist and tugging. You moan, and he allows himself to do the same, all the while holding your head back at an uncomfortable angle.

“I’m close.” He mumbles, releasing your hair suddenly and quickly finding your clit. He briefly pulls away and spits on his fingers, pressing against you again, this time letting his saliva cover you. He rolls the sensitive part between his fingers, and soon starts tracing circles. They’re small, and fairly gentle, at first, but he quickly heats things up. He adds more pressure, and increases the size of the circles that he draws like his life depends on it.

Your breathy moans that you try hopelessly to conceal grow louder with every passing second, and you’re soon being dropped over the edge. Your head drops between your shoulder while you cum, and you clench around him unwillingly, triggering his own release. His hips falter and he spills into the condom, staying inside of you until he’s milked dry.

When he’s ready, he pulls out, ties up the condom, tosses it in the bag of trash that he keeps dangling from the shifter in the front seat. He pulls your pants back over your ass, and does the same to his own, waiting for you to maneuver yourself around to face him so he can kiss you.

It’s much gentler than the sex was, and his pink mouth seems to melt against yours while he holds your face, breath fanning over your cheek. You pull away, glancing at the foggy windows, dripping with evidence of your actions.

“Let’s get outta here.”

“Is that you asking for round two?”

“Uh-huh.” He smiles. “Just not in the car. My knees hurt.”

“Tell me about it.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan

[druigswhores]

something more

(originally posted by alpha-bug)

summary: where pietro confesses his feelings to you without actually confessing them to you, through a necklace. inspired by this prompt list.

content warning: pietro maximoff x fem!reader (i’ll try to write more gender neutral fics in the future!) obviously set in a world where he survives and civil war doesn’t happen. (friends to lovers, mutual pining and pietro being a sap.)

note: okay so this is my first fic in a while so i’m sorry if this sucks </3 i want to write more pietro/peter fics so please send requests ! (also lemme know if you can guess the movie bucky was confused about !)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

masterlist

"You're staring." Wanda points out, idly watching the older twin stare at the person who clouded his thoughts, not that Wanda needed to read his mind to know that.

"Don't you have something better to do?" Pietro scoffed, unwillingly looking away to glance at his sister. She chuckled, turning away from her brother to check on the pot on the stove, before continuing to chop the vegetables scattered on the chopping board.

"Don't you?" She simply asked, humming to the song playing out loud from her phone, Pietro's eyes were drawn back to you.

You were explaining the plot of a movie to Bucky who stared at the screen in pure confusion. "I don't get it? He killed her but he loved her?" Bucky asked you, in response you shook your head exasperated. "You saw her give birth right after, how could she be dead if she was naming her kids Buck?" You asked, glancing up when you heard the footsteps of someone approaching you.

"You're not replacing me with this old man, right?" Pietro teased, moving to sit next to you, reclining back on the couch, arm around your waist. You rolled your eyes at what he said, automatically leaning into him as the three of you continued to watch the movie playing on the big screen in front of you. The two of you barely noticed when Bucky decided to leave, too caught up with one another to bother caring about what's going on in your surroundings. You pushed him away from you when he tried to steal the m&ms you were currently snacking on only for him to pour most of the packet into his mouth.

"You disgust me Maximoff." You scoffed, biting back the smile forcing its way up. "And you love it Prinţesă." Pietro retorts, his eyes meeting yours. You opened your mouth to say something but nothing could come to mind, it was common for Pietro to randomly call you nicknames but that doesn't mean you were used to it, especially when he'd use pet-names.

Your friendship with Pietro came as a surprise to the rest of the Avengers years ago due to the differences in your personality but if you asked any of them what they thought about your friendship now they'd complain about how clueless the two of you are to the other person's feelings.

Somehow in the chaos that the two of you called your 'friendship', the line between platonic feelings and romantic feelings blurred. Pietro isn't the type of guy to steer away from romance but this situation was entirely different to anything he experienced. He cant just tell his closest friend that he loved you, he couldn't tell you how when he holds you in his arms it pains him to let go. How could he tell you that? After everything that happened to him in the past, the wall he built around his emotions to protect himself began to crumble and you were the cause of it. Pietro always struggled to talk about his feelings, his past. He felt the urge to protect himself and his twin from anything that could hurt them, he didn't want to make the same mistake again.

The unintentional movie night led to the two of you continuing to hanging out in Pietro's room hours later. It was your nightly ritual to watch an episode or two of a show that Pietro usually wouldn't want to watch before the two of you go to bed. Pietro was in the far end of his room, fumbling with something in the palm of his hand while you sat comfortably in the middle of his bed, head resting on one of his pillows as you set up the show on the laptop.

"For someone as quick as you, you sure are taking your sweet time doing whatever it is you're doing."

Pietro glanced back at you in surprise, almost like he forgot what he was supposed to be doing, too busy staring at the dainty chain tangled in the palm of his hands, with a small engagement ring at the end, in place of a pendant capturing all of Pietro's attention. It was fit for a petite woman. The silver was slightly scratched. Two slightly larger silver stones surrounded a slightly larger stone, although quite dull at first glance the engraving on the inside showed was still noticeable.

"I'm in no rush, dragoste mea." He chuckles, shoving the necklace into his pocket before moving to take his shirt off to put on a different one while continuing to speak. Your eyes followed his movements, subtly admiring his body as his muscles unintentionally flexed which resulted in you feeling your cheeks heat up, quickly looking away to not get caught checking out one of your best friends.

"You know I still don't know how I feel about Vision hanging around my sister." Pietro confesses, his overprotectiveness towards his younger sister evident as he continues to replay what occurred during dinner hours ago, Wanda confessing she wouldn't mind moving to a rural neighbourhood with Vision instead of staying at the Avengers Headquarters.

"People can't control who they fall in love with Pietro." You sighed tiredly not realising the irony behind your words, it wasn't the first time Pietro mentioned his hesitation towards the Android.

"People can't, robots can." He scoffed, walking to the dresser to put away his shirt, now wearing a pale blue shirt instead of the charcoal grey T-shirt he was previously wearing.

He moved to the bed, sitting beside you before shifting around to get comfortable. Your hand reaches out to the laptop to begin the episode only for Pietro's hand to place his above yours, stopping you.

"Since we're on this subject..." he paused to pull the necklace from his pockets before holding the necklace out towards you, letting the ring dangle from the chain between the two of you, twisting and turning because of the sudden movements.

You glanced at Pietro in confusion, eyebrows furrowed. He then pulls the hand that was covered by his own and turning it so your palm faced upwards, dropping the necklace in your hand. You held the necklace between your fingers, admiring the gems on the ring before noticing the engraving etched on the inside of the engagement band.

"I+O?" You read out the engraving in confusion, eyes meeting Pietro's soft gaze. He paused for a bit, struggling to put together a sentence that wouldn't cause the wall he created to completely collapse.

"Irina and Oleg, my parents. This was my mother's engagement ring. It was apart of the few belongings they've managed to find after what happened." He gently takes the necklace from you, signalling you to turn away from him so he can put it around your neck. Gently pushing all your hair to the side you felt goosebumps rise wherever Pietro's fingers grazed on your skin, the familiar heat rising in your cheeks once again.

You were secretly relieved that he couldn't see your reaction, the unspoken tension between the two of you currently was unbearable. You looked down at the ring, twirling it around with ur fingers while Pietro continued to speak.

"We decided that Wanda should keep our father's ring since he barely acknowledged me as his son, let alone a person." Pietro chuckles dryly.

Pietro turns you to face him, palm resting on your left cheek. "It looks good on you Draga Mea." He compliments you, eyes glancing down to your lips ever so often. "Why did you decide to give it to me?" You whispered, struggling to find your own voice.

Pietro's mouth curved into a smile, his thumb gently stroking your face

"Can't you tell?" He asked.

"Hmmm i think I'm going to have to hear you say it." You teased, smiling up at him, arms sliding around his neck pulling him closer towards you. He rolled his eyes feigning annoyance before telling you what you wanted to hear.

The next morning Wanda lightly knocked on her brother's door, wondering why he wasn't at breakfast. Waiting a couple moments for a response Wanda slowly opened the door only to be met with with the two of you lying in bed in each other’s arms,  the laptop ended up at the edge of the bed as you completely forgot about it after the events of last night. Pietro had his arms tightly wrapped around your waist while your head rested on his chest, the two of you smiling contently.

"They're good for each-other." Wanda whispers to her partner who stood beside her.

"They are indeed."

#marvel #MCU #Wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #wandavision #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #aaron taylor johnson #avengers #avengers assemble #peter maximoff #peter maximof x reader #pietro maximoff fluff #aou #quicksilver fanfiction #pietro maximoff fanfic #pietro maximoff Drabble #MCU quicksilver #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #avengers one shot #marvel imagines #avengers age of ultron #marvel blurb #maximoff #pietro x reader #quicksilver headcanons