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bookgeekgrrl · 1 month

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My media this week (17-23 Mar 2024)

incredible art by harrydarlington

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🥰 Oscar Wars: A History of Hollywood in Gold, Sweat, and Tears (Michael Schulman, author; Charlie Thurstonn, narrator) - definitely interesting and an enjoyable read. What mainly struck me was that things now are pretty much same as it ever was: the producers have always been horrible to the talent; the academy, despite two serious efforts to course correct, has always been conservative/racist/misogynist, etc.

😍 In Name Only (BootsnBlossoms, Kryptaria) - 84K, 00Q - reread of this fandom classic/forever fave where Bond is 007 & Q is a participant in The Marketplace - love the way this explores Bond wrestling with concepts utterly unknown to him but also his own desires

🙂 Not With a Whimper, But a Bang (emptydistractions, seleneheart) - 46K, urban fantasy AU, dragon!Bucky - read for stucky bookclub - satisfactory read, some intriguing worldbuilding

😊 red wine supernova (donderwolk) - 91K, hocky rpf, one of them had to retire early from the NHL due to a chronic migraine condition, the other's a ceramcist who teaches a local rec center class. Very entertaining read, good quality angst. I enjoyed the characterizations very much

💖💖 +200K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

Sourwood Mountain (Pennyplainknits) - Stranger Things: Munson Family Feels, 5K - great fic with a genius premise and badass munson family feelings

For Which The First Was Made (leupagus) - Agatha Christie's Marple: Jane/Gabriel, 35K - great Miss Marple fic; as I told the author, I never pictured Miss Marple with a boytoy but after reading this fic and watching the inspiration for it, my mind has been EXPANDED. plus I love an epistolary story!

Interrupted Heists, Dentist Visits, and Other Romantic Dates For Your Fake Husband (Kiraly) - Original Work: OMCs, 7K - very fun original fic with two (opposing) sidekicks hitting it off & getting married for insurance reasons

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

D20: Tiny Heist - s4, e4-6

D20: Fantasy High: Junior Year - "A Very Merry Moonar Yulenear" (s21, e11)

D20: Adventuring Party - "Chutes and Ladders" (s16, e11)

D20: Pirates of Leviathan - s7, e1-6

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

Under the Influence - When You're This Big, They Call you Mister

Vibe Check - Hey, Sis: featuring Regina King

Short Wave - A Tale Of Two Bengali Physicists

WikiHole - Leprechauns (with MUNA!)

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - A Mission to find a Meteor with Amir Siraj

NPR's Book of the Day - Christine Blasey Ford tells her own story in 'One Way Back'

Today, Explained - How gangs took over Haiti

Consider This from NPR - A $418 Million Settlement Could Change U.S. Home Buying. But Who Benefits?

99% Invisible #574 - The Monster Under the Sink

Short Wave - Syphilis Cases Are Rising In Babies. Illinois Has A Potential Solution

Vibe Check - Till The Wheels Fall Off

Throughline - Radiolab: Worst. Year. Ever

Imaginary Worlds - Mother-in-Law of Oz

Twenty Thousand Hertz+ - Hans Zimmer's Remote Control

Today, Explained - Can Congress ban TikTok?

Throughline - The Great Textbook War

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Marching through the galaxy with Dr. Moiya McTier

Shedunnit - The Tea Leaf

Ologies - Field Trip: Alie’s Mystery Surgery!

Dear Prudence - My Parents Are Flaunting Their Wealth While I’m Drowning in Debt. Help!

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Road House And What's Making Us Happy

It's Been a Minute - Brittany talks bad accents and bad sex

Short Wave - The Evolutionary Mystery Of Menopause … In Whales

Switched on Pop - Rhapsody in Blue, Reimagined

Strong Songs - Strong Covers, Vol. 3

Imaginary Worlds - Class of '84: When Cyber Was Punk

Consider This from NPR - Stephen King Has Ruled The Horror Genre For 50 Years. But Is It Art?

Worlds Beyond Number - WWW #2: The Naming of Things

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for WWW ep002 The Naming of Things

Art of History - Art History Horror Story: The Nightmare

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Eddie Cochran

CREDITS: Sharon Sheeley

My Baby Love

R&B Diva Classics

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definitelyisabella · 1 year

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Imma just-

I got more headcanons (I was scared to show my headcanons-)

CHUBBY MILLY!!1>>

Adyson is a tomboy obvi🙄🙄🙄

Isabella is a ally, slay

Uhhh I can explain about the milly and katie par-

#fireside girls #phineas and ferb #doodle #my art blog #isabella garcia-shapiro #i don't feel like adding more tags

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cantdanceflynn · 2 years

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FIRESEA GIRLS BELOVED <33

#IK IT DOESN'T LOOK AS GOOD AS IT COULD BUT I THINK IM ACTUALLY SUPER DUPER PROUD OF THIS ONE #EITHER WAY IVE ONLY GOT LIKE A WEEK LEFT ITS FINE LOL #PHINEAS AND FERB #PNF #MERMAID AU #ISABELLA GARCIA-SHAPIRO #GINGER HIRANO #ADYSON SWEETWATER #KATIE #HOLLY #GRETCHEN #MILLIE #FIRESIDE GIRLS #MERMAY #SOCIALBUTTERFLY #Candy-art

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nomorejust1ce · 1 year

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thinking about how in highschool basically everyone was waiting for me to come out as trans like i would wear 3727473 sports bras over a baggie hoodie and my friend would b like “huh whats this?¿” (which was my WORST NIGHTMARE btw) and id be like UHHHBBFFDUHH. ITS NOTHING. NOTHING.. and all the gay kids next to me would jusr sit in content silence like well alright then

#another time some kid was dragging me across the dirty ass cafeteria floor idk y i forget but my friend L (LMAO) was like #‘oh no his hat fell off!’ and this girl jaiden was like ‘his?’ LIKE DID IT FINSLLY HAPPEN. DID THE EGG FINALLY CRACK. and L was like ‘ohh ha #haha.. idk.’ AND THAT WAD THE END OF IT #life stories with just1ce<3 #uses tumblr name instead of any other name goes insane goes insane goes insane #fireside chats

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transxfiles · 1 year

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lost phineas and ferb episode where perry is called to investigate what dr doofenshmirtz is up to because carl the intern got ahold of some intel that doof has been seen speaking to lawyers and looking up the endangered species act at internet cafes and as major monogram says, "something fishy is going on"

meanwhile phineas and ferb's subplot of "i know what we're gonna do today!" is that isabella needs her environmentalist fireside girls badge so they start researching which species are in urgent need of help in the tri-state area so that they can use new cloning and gene therapy technologies to bring at-risk animals back from extinction

(yes there is a c-plot where buford and baljeet argue the ethics of this idea, i don't have time to explain it all for you rn)

we cut back to🎵doofenshmirtz evil incorporated🎵where we see perry carefully maneuvering around doofenshmirtz's lab scared he might fall into a trap but he hasn't set off a single booby trap and it's clear something is off

he runs into doofenshmirtz and goes to kick him in the gut action movie style but doof steps back one overly confident and says, "nuh uh uh, you see perry the platypus, you are TRAPPED! by the danville section of the endangered species act of 1973!"

doof goes on to explain his tragic backstory: "you see, perry the platypus, when i was a child my parents did not show up for my own birth! but you know that already, yadda yadda yadda they did not love me and then they loved roger more, ANYways i was raised by ocelots! i had a lovely foster mother who took me in and made me one of the pride, and so you see, perry the platypus, i am still legally considered an ocelot. did you know that there are only 50 recorded ocelots still alive in the continental united states? very sad for me as a member of a near-extinct species. it would be immoral for you to hurt someone critically endangered... in fact, you have made many attempts on my life this summer"

[montage of doof's security camera footage of their battles]

"which is why i have decided to bring you... TO COURT!" we cut back to phineas and ferb's back yard where they've decided to start cloning ocelots in their kiddie pool

candace storms outside enraged and says, "phineas and ferb are you cloning ocelots in my duckie momo kiddie pool!?"

ferb's one line of the episode is "well, i guess it's more of a kitty pool, now"

candace storms away saying, "i'm going to tell mom!" and isabella turns to phineas and says, "oh, does your mom have experience in wildlife conservation?"

we cut back to the doof and perry plotline where the two are now in the danville hall of justice and we learn that doof has spent his monthly alimony check on a defense lawyer and perry turns and sees the lawyer and then vanessa helping her organize her briefcase and perry chitters at her and vanessa shrugs and says, "i'm thinking about going into legal defense. sorry perry."

the rest of the doof and perry b-plot is spent in court and perry is about to ask for a public defense lawyer when carl runs into the room and explains that he's owca's official legal defense and perry looks at him like, "uhhh is that even allowed?"

it doesn't matter because apparently the judge is out sick today but because it's danville roger's the judge now because he's the mayor and everyone loves him.

the court case continues.

meanwhile phineas and ferb have successfully cloned multiple ocelots from the original ocelot dna they had on hand and isabella asks phineas if these clones will experience health problems like premature aging, phineas casually explains that ferb figured out the problem while they were experimenting with stem cell harvesting.

back in the courtroom, doof's ocelot foster mother has been brought to the stand along with an ocelot to english translator. doof gets emotional seeing her after so long. she says that he was one of her favorite child and he was as strong a hunter as anyone else in the family. it's incredibly sweet. the jury's in tears.

meanwhile, isabella has established connections with a group in texas who are going to release the ocelots back into their natural habitat and, using the cloned ocelots to prevent inbreeding, help establish an ocelot breeding program. the group explains that they are going to send a helicopter to retrieve the cloned ocelots from danville and bring them to texas soon.

isabella gets her fireside girls badge.

candace manages to get mom to see the backyard only after the ocelots have been helicoptered off to coastal texas, their primary habitat.

mom makes it into the backyard as phineas stares wistfully over the fence and says, "if you love something, you have to let it go." candace goes, "look mom look look look!" and points at the ducky momo kiddie pool, devoid of cloned ocelots, where baljeet and buford are now chilling out, having settled their philosophical debate about the ethics of animal cloning.

back in the courtroom drama, doof looks like he's about to win when an attendant walks into the courtroom and whispers something in roger's ear.

roger looks up, grinning, and says, "good news, everyone! my attendant here has just enlightened me that ocelots are no longer considered critically endangered!"

this settles the case, with perry being decreed not guilty and the entire affair being called off. the courtroom cheers, roger walks over to doof and personally congratulates him on his species' return from the brink of extinction.

doof shouts, "curse you endangered species classification system!" at the ceiling of the danville hall of justice.

perry arrives back home just in time for mom to say, "who wants pie?"

the end.

#cricket.chatterbox #phineas and ferb #pnf #dr doofenshmirtz #perry the platypus #phineas flynn #ferb fletcher #greatest hits

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myreygn · 9 months

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people my age who didn't grow up watching phineas and ferb are beyond me. you don't like fun? joy? british people? whimsy little boys with strangely shaped heads building weird machines? you never listened to award winning banger ain't got rhythm? you never got to experience the life-changing nature of squirrels in my pants? you're telling me the sheer existence of vanessa doofenshmirtz wasn't some kind of awakening for little you? you don't know about the giant floating baby head? the fireside girls? the ooca? the mustache aliens? the excitement and tension of awaiting the one line ferb is inevitably gonna drop by the end of the episode? whatever the platypus and the pharmacist got going on? you don't know who buford is?

#phineas and ferb #edit i was informed that there was a typo in this post because i'm too stupid to translate stuff #whoops

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tojii-fshiguro · 7 months

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b. barnes // 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓉ℯ 𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽ℴℴ𝒹.

bucky barnes × (femme) reader.

summary: ❝to keep your small village protected from would-be attackers, presented omegas must be sacrificed to the mysterious alpha in the woods.❞

genre: ⚠ dark and adult content below. minors, dni.

warnings: non-con, non-con touching, non-con kissing, dub-con, dub-con touching, dub-con kissing, smut, unprotected sex, hunting/stalking, a/b/o themes, forced bonding, loss of virginity, canon violence, physical violence, mentions of blood and human sacrifice, and strong language. 18+ content. minors, dni.

word count: 3,514

note: this story contains adult and dark themes. please, do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! i am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. you have been warned. *all grammatical mistakes are my own, not proofread.

*an: if you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help! i do not condone any of the actions described in this story, this is a work of fiction.

A cold wind blew in from the north, making the trees rustle like living things. It was growing colder with every passing day as winter began its arrival. Yule had transformed the fiery hues of autumn twilight to sparkled, frosted mornings and bitter winds. You went to the window. A fine glimmer of glossy frost formed intricate swirls on the glass, as sparkling snow softened the outside world into one flurry.

You looked on as the pale, cold light of winter moonrise illuminated your village as the townsfolk worked under the stars to prepare for the Winter Solstice. You couldn’t help but frown as you watched them place green garland on the fringes of rooftops, and light candles that led into the dark forest, in the shape of carved wolves. This time last winter, you were home with your family; sitting fireside as you and your younger siblings drank sweetened milk and almond honeyed toast. Life had been colorful, full of vibrant greens, warm reds, and soft dusky blues. Now, it was nothing but a black and white night of frost that crawled along the dark outline of barren trees and twig branches. Snowflakes swirled down gently in the ghostly moonlight, and iced shadows crept along the December ground.

“(Y/N)?” a small voice called out from behind.

You turned as Gervaise came to stand next to you, peering out at the snowfall that drifted against the window. Gervaise had been your closest friend since childhood, she had been a plump girl in her youth, but now she was the most beautiful woman in your village. She had long legs that complemented her slender figure, golden hair that shone under sunlight, and azure eyes as blue and clear as the sky itself.

She shivered against the winter-cold that seeped into your bones as she neared the frosted windowpane, “Aren’t you cold?” she asked.

You scoffed, “Warmer than I would be out there.”

Truth be told, you were burning from the inside out. A sheen sweat had started to form between your breasts and all of your folds and creases. Gervaise scooted closer and you unthinkingly flinched away, her heat was rolling off of her in waves and the strong scent of her made you lightheaded as tangs of jasmine, rose, and orange blossom overwhelmed your senses.

You moved away as you looked into the room you were being kept in. Women close in age all slept soundly with soft snores, their heated scents interlacing with one another to form a jumbled mess of musk, amber, bergamot, and warm sugar. It was a synchronous heat amongst the presented Omegas in preparations for the village’s annual sacrificial solstice to the White Wolf.

Gervaise nudged your shoulder teasingly, “It won’t be so bad tomorrow, (Y/N),” she tried.

You rolled your eyes, “We’re being sacrificed, Gervaise! How can it not be so bad?”

Her small smile fell as the weighted truth of your words settled on her shoulders, “I’m sorry… I was just trying to make light of it all.”

“I know,” you sighed, “You can’t make light of this, there’s too much darkness.”

You awoke hours later to the soft murmurs of falling tears as mothers dressed their daughters in traditional white hoods. White, the color of purity, innocence. You scoffed–the virgin’s color. Your own mother came to your bedside, a hood in hand and an expectant look in her eyes. You rubbed your cold feet together and reluctantly dressed.

“It’s not as bad as it seems, my love,” she spoke as she combed your hair.

You looked at the other Omegas in the room, most of whom you’ve grown up with. Idony, Meliora, and Sabine. You teared. You and your siblings used to play with Sabine as children. Idony taught you to weave dolls out of straw and vines. And you and Meliora would harvest wild strawberries together in early summer after long hours at the lake. The thought of never seeing either of them after today was heart-wrenching.

Your mother placed the hood over your head and tucked away stray hairs behind your ears as she took one last, tearful, look at you. She placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and took your hands in hers, pressing a small vial against your palms.

“Put this on once you’re away from the others,” she whispered against your hair, “It’ll hide your scent for a short time, then make your way across the stream, you’ll be safe there until the ceremony is over.”

Before you could ask more, the village mayor entered and ordered you and the other Omegas out into the square. The ceremony had officially begun.

Gervaise squeezed your hand as the mayor lit the great Yule log, the candles sculpted as white wolves. You looked around; Idony was pale in the face, Meliora shed silent tears as she held her hands in prayer, and Sabine’s chest rose and fell in shallow, frightened breaths. You held the vial tight in your hand as you stood stoic; though your pounding heart told another story.

The bells of the church began to toll as midnight quickly approached. The first toll the mayor led you all down the candlelit path that led into the mouth of the forest, the second toll you and the other Omegas were left alone as the full moon shone down on you from above, the third toll was followed by an echoed howl and the beats of your feet as you all ran through the thicket.

You ran and ran until it was only you, the full moon, and the trees. You stopped to rest against a frosted tree, your lungs burned with biting ice as you panted; your breaths coming out as vapored clouds that wisped around your head. You quickly took the vial and rubbed the liquid over your scent glands. The synthetic scent of cracked pepper, spiced ginger, decayed pear, and rotting leaves all toiled together to mask your natural, sweet and warm odor. You took a moment to calm your beating heart and collect your thoughts before bolting through the treeline. You needed to find Gervaise before the perfume wore off.

Bucky watched from the shadows as he tracked a pretty, golden-haired Omega. Her scent wasn’t unpleasant, but it didn’t ignite a fire deep within his groin, either. He followed the floral scent trail of this next best woman as she wandered aimlessly through the dense grove of pine. The woman’s face was rosy and tear-stained as the cold bit her cheeks and nose. It was pathetic, really. How she sniffled and hiccupped as she held herself against the winter winds or when she tripped and slipped over iced snowdrifts. Bucky was about to make his move when a sweet scent, carried on an icy breeze, caught his attention. The blood in his veins burst into flames as a deep desire awoke in him. Primal lust took over as he abandoned his former prey to hunt for the next. He bounded through the woods, ducking under long branches, and leaping across overgrown oak roots. It was the wildness of it that sent Bucky into a feral frenzy, in all of his years protecting this paltry village, he’d never scented anything as sweet and enthralling as this. Spun sugar, vanilla bean, patchouli, and white pumpkin with caramel glaze. His teeth ached as he took in the sweetness of your scent.

When Bucky finally found you, you were breathless and flushed with heat. Your hand on your stomach as a wave of tightness in your belly coiled and coiled. He scented the air, then. Groaning as he caught wind of your musky-sweet tang. The front of his buckskin breeches tightened uncomfortably as his rut took hold of his body. He wanted you, so he’d have you.

You whimpered as your cramps inflamed your insides. You were on fire, despite the bitter winter cold. You shed your wolf pelt that hung over your shoulders and loosened the front laces of your bodice, as you slumped against the nearest tree and focused on slowing your racing heart. The faster you calmed down, the faster you’d be able to find Gervaise and get across that damned stream to safety.

Just as your heart began to slow, a heady scent brought on iced winds set it back into panicked motion. An amber woody fragrance, with nutmeg, vanilla, and sandalwood ensnared your forebrain. You were frozen, scared like a hunted doe as you took in the masculine scent that seemed to scream “Alpha”.

Bucky watched as you looked around, trying to pinpoint his hiding spot. His heart skipped a beat in excitement as you took off into the thicket, leaving your pelt behind on the snowy ground. He chased you, then. Too focused on the hunt to worry about cornering you, too focused on you. He’d chase you down until you fainted from exhaustion if he had to.

You were faster than he expected, more agile and hellbent on escaping him than you had appeared to be. He felt an odd sense of pride as he watched you nimbly dodge and duck under and over every branch and uprooted oak that came into your way. But Bucky had the advantage, this was his territory, not yours. He knew his hunting grounds, not you. So when you came to a skidded stop at a broken bridge, he wasn’t the least bit surprised. But what did surprise him was the little snarl that left you before you broke away from him once more.

You ran and ran until your feet were numb with cold and your lungs frosted over with every breath you took. He was close, too close, and you were forced to abandon the plan on crossing the stream to safety. Gods–you didn’t even know where you were anymore. You could be going in circles and you’d be none the wiser, everything looked the same in this untouched part of the wood. You berated yourself for straying from the path, now you were lost, alone, and being hunted. You began to cry as you thought of your fate, you didn’t want to be sacrificed, you just wanted to go home back to your family. Back to your life.

You were ready to give up, your feet were tired, legs weakened, and your chest burned from the cold. You fell to your knees and looked up to the full moon, exhaustion taking over your thoughts. You were desperate and didn’t have the energy to be surprised at yourself when you began to pray to the moon above.

“Gods above… Please, please, let me live and I’ll devote myself to you. My heart, mind, soul, and body, please,” you prayed.

Just as you were about to laugh at yourself for your foolishness, a flickering candlelight in the nearby distance caught your eye. You mindlessly followed the light that pierced through the dense darkness of night, like a moth to a flame. As you got closer, you saw the lantern-light belonged to a small cottage fringed with winterberries and garland. You were uplifted as you believed the gods had answered your prayer. Without a second thought, your feet began to move on their own through the snow as you raced toward the home. You knocked once, then twice, then thrice. When there was no answer, you apologized to whatever being had heard you pray, before turning the brass doorknob and welcoming yourself inside.

The warmth of a crackling fire embraced you posthaste as you closed the door behind you. You made your way to the fireplace, rubbing your hands over the flame as you warmed yourself. The house was eerily silent as you looked around. You saw the carved candles from your village on the mantelpiece, vases of starry blue, pale pink, and white glory of the snow, and bright yellow winter jasmine were placed on the tabletops, and garland with holly flowers was wrapped around the railing of a small staircase that led upstairs. You made your way up the stairs as curiosity led you on. You called out for the owner of the home once again as you reached the top, but to no avail; the house was empty.

You crept along the creaking floorboards into a small room, illuminated by a single lantern with frosted glass windows. You explored the room. There was a bed, with an oak headboard, and thick, grey, and brown wolf and bear pelts. You sat down on the edge of the bed with a soft bounce as you rested your tired feet. Ahead of you was a wooden chest with intricate images of Yule logs, goats, and boars. Something deep within your gut urges you to go to it, to open it, and look upon its secrets; but the feeling made you uneasy, it made you afraid of what you’d find.

But you knew better than to ignore your gut, so you went to it, opened it, and looked upon its secrets. You nearly screamed as you pulled forth white hood, after white hood, after white hood. Your hands shook as you emptied the chest, white hoods covered the ground like the snow outside. There were more hoods than you could count, most of them much older than you. You sobbed as you slammed the chest shut, too focused on the white hoods before you to notice the slithering notes of amber, nutmeg, vanilla, and sandalwood that now threatened to constrict, and swallow you whole.

Your body sensed him before your mind did, your hairs stood on end, and your core tightened with primal, animalistic want. You only recognized his imposing presence after it was too late. Your throat dried as you slowly turned around to face the Alpha from the woods. He stood in the doorway, shirtless and steaming, as his heat fought against the cold of winter. To say he was big, would be an understatement. He was wordless as he strode toward you with an urgency driven by desire. You shuffled away, sobbing as he quickly crawled atop of you, trapping you beneath him. You fought against him, slapping and scratching his chest and face as he buried his face in your neck. Deeply inhaling your sickly sweet scent.

“I wonder if you taste as sweet as you smell, ‘Mega,” he said as he nipped the lobe of your ear.

Your heart dropped as he ripped at your bodice like an animal, tossing the ruined fabric aside as he bared your breasts to the air. The Alpha brushed his lips against your neck, your jaw, and mouth as he tasted you. You had never been kissed before, the feeling of it all was foreign as you felt his tongue explore your mouth. You squirmed as he palmed your breast, his thumb flicking and pinching over your sensitive nipple. Bucky let out a low snarl of disapproval as you tried to wriggle away from him, and when you ignored his warning, he bit down on your nipple. You yelped and beat against his back, clawing and punching as you flailed and thrashed. In your struggle you managed to slip out from underneath his body. Then, it was a desperate fight of him dragging you by your ankles, and you kicking wildly and blindly. With luck you landed a strong kick to his face that bloodied his nose. You ran, then. Practically flying down the flight of stairs as you made a beeline for the front door–to your freedom. You felt the cold snow on your toes as one foot met the icy ground, but the other foot was caught.

You fell on your face as Bucky dragged you back into his house. Blood stained his face and a dangerous fire was reflected in his blue eyes. He took you by your neck and forced you down onto the staircase, entrapping you under his weight. Your legs kicked out as he forced himself between your thighs, he snarled again, keeping a tight grip on the back of your neck. He ripped away the remaining pieces of your clothes, ridding you of the white garments, of your innocence, your purity.

He lifted your hips and placed a strong hand on your back, forcing you into an arch. You yipped as you felt a wet warmth lick up your sex. You tried to curl away, but his grip on you was strong and firm. A heat bloomed within your gut as Bucky dipped his tongue between your wet folds, fucking you with his hot tongue. Your brain hazed over as he stroked and rubbed your sweet spot of concentrated pleasure with his thumb. He was devouring you, and you felt your resolve melt away with every delicious flick and swipe of his tongue. You moaned and allowed yourself to arch into his mouth, desperately seeking more pleasure. You ground your cunt on his face and moaned at the feeling of him tightly gripping your hips as he gave you what you wanted–needed.

You clawed at the stairs beneath you as your voice grew shrill, the coil in your belly was beginning to unravel with every lick. Bucky felt you stiffen as he brought you to the edge of your pleasure, he sank his tongue deep inside you until he finally felt you shudder hard against him. You cried out as you came on his tongue, pure white fire ignited in your veins, consuming your thoughts, and burning away any fight you had left. The aftershocks of your pleasure left you shaking and wanting.

Without warning, Bucky buried his thick length in you with one hard stroke; mercilessly tearing through your untouched barrier. For a moment there was only a burning pain as he forced himself deeper. He pulled out a few inches, and then slammed back into you. Again and again. The Alpha above you howled with pleasure as he rutted into you hard and fast. You looked over your shoulder and moaned as you watched his narrow hips thrust against you. His eyes met yours and he bared his teeth as he indulged in his animalistic pleasure. With your mouth agape you felt another spark of pleasure ignite within you, you cried out for him, then, begging him to stoke the fire that threatened to burn, to consume you.

Your scents bled together, creating the beginning knot of your bond; his sandalwood and vanilla notes, duetting your patchouli and caramel glaze in perfect harmony. You whined as he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and clenching. He flipped you onto your back, spreading your weak legs wide as he entered you once more. He reached places that had you blaspheming as you chanted his title like a prayer.

Alpha, Alpha, Alpha…

He added fuel to your evergrowing fire as he reached down to your bundle of nerves, rubbing firm circles as he fucked into your wet cunt. He kissed you again, your lips following his lead as he claimed your mouth with his tongue. You moaned as you tasted yourself on him. His lips trailed down your jaw, peppering wet kisses down your body until he reached the scent gland on your neck. He scented you, then. A low growl left his chest as the base of his cock swelled, your pussy constricting in turn. Your howling moans clashed in dissonance as he pushed you over the edge into white-hot pleasure. Bucky thrusted into you, harder, faster, as his pleasure grew and grew until it finally exploded. As his warmth flooded you another sensation sent your senses into hyperdrive–his teeth sinking into your neck. Your arms and legs instinctively wrapped around him as he bonded you, marking you as his.

You murmured incoherently as your bodies locked together, you were so full of him that you could focus on nothing, but the feel of him locked inside you. Your head lolled to the side as your exhaustion set in, your bones felt heavy as sleep lulled you. You were vaguely aware of the man atop of you, too drunk on mated pleasure to fully acknowledge how his eyes began to once again devour your body.

He kissed your wound, breathing you in as he did, “What’s your name, Omega?”

“(Y/N),” you rasped.

“Bucky,”

As you sobered, the weight of your situation became clearer. All of those white hoods, all of those Omegas that never returned home… Your breathing picked up as panic sparked like lightning in your veins. You shoved on Bucky’s chest as you started to wiggle out from him, tugging on his knot. He snarled and snapped at you and you flinched as unshed tears glossed your eyes.

“Don’t hurt me, please,” you whimpered, “Please, I–I don’t want to die.”

“I’m not going to kill you, I’m going to keep you,”

Keep you? You trembled, “What about all of the other Omegas? What happened to them?”

He cupped your face and traced the bridge of your nose, then the cupid’s bow of your lips, “Them I killed,” he whispered with a ghost of a smile.

last updated: 10/5/2023. 10:59 pm, cdt.

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unexpectedstormy · 3 months

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My thoughts on the new update

Nice double vanishing point perspective! (This is what I'm learning about in art class right now.)

So Sky WAS running all around and that's why he was out of breath going down stairs in the last comic.

Holy smoking Sonic the Hedgehog that guy is fast. Also, can confirm: running with knife-hands does in fact make you run faster.

Close up of that face ehehehe >,'C

XD this is so funny. But who do you think said it?

It looks to me like it was Legend who said it based on where Sky and Warriors are looking. Here, let me make it clearer with laser eyes:

Also Warriors is Mr. Grumpypants. He's probably in army-intel-and-strategy mode. Or he he's just irritable after getting no sleep, wrangling a bunch of hot-blooded teens, and watching his friend almost die and miraculously recover.

Eyyy! Wild's got his new sword! He was probably just showing it to Twilight. From this angle, it looks like he and Twilight are holding hands. Also, Time has humongous hands.

Loving these dark spooky forest vibes. I'll definitely be doing a panel-background repaint of one of these.

Yeah! You glow girl!

(Teeheehee I just wanted to make that joke. That's the only reason why I put this panel here tweeheehee)

My face when I saw this sword on the ground: 😳😃 because oh my Hylia I want that sword so bad. I love scimitars. In other news, you know what I don't see on the ground? The Shadow's cursed axe of Horrible Evilness. I wonder if Sky noticed.

Yup. Portal. There we go! No one's surprised except for Sky. But check out what's in the foreground. That helmet. Wasn't that the Shadow's helmet when it/he was in [giant metal knight] form? (I can't remember what the name of the monster type was. Something nut I think.)

This face. Enough said.

Oh boy. Wild's face when he realizes that he didn't 'kill' it--or it resurrected. Also Sky, you drink up that stamina potion. You deserve it.

Time looking rather fine. Or like he's in an anime title sequence. And he's speaking like he swallowed an 1850's fireside poetry book again. (I think it's endearing.)

And there we go! My first thoughts on this comic. Oh! JK! One more thought!! VV

It doesn't say 'Dawn Pt 8' so does that mean the next arc starts in the next comic? 👀

#long post #kinda sorta #there' just a lot of pictures #linked universe #dawn pt 7 #analysis #lu erryone

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ursaribbon · 8 months

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WHAT THE FUCKKK

#IS THIS AN ANIMATION ERROR OR A VISUAL GAG #SHE STAYS LIKE THAT FOR THE WHOLE LENGTH OF THE SHOT UNTIL IT CUTS BACK TO ISABELLA #SHES JUST FUKCING DYING #fireside girls #ursa.txt #phineas and ferb #pnf

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tightjeansjavi · 4 months

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🎀 Unwrap Me 🎀

A blue jeans n’Texas dreams Christmas special 🤍

A/N: Merry Christmas, you filthy animals 🥵

~word count: 2.6k~

Pairing | horse dad!joel x f! reader

Summary: it's your first Christmas with your boyfriend, Joel Miller

Warnings: smut, fluff,soo much love between these two, so much kissing and soft touching, mentions of Christmas, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving) dirty talk, praise kink, teasing, sex by the fire, no age gap, pre!outbreak/no!outbreak Joel, soft! joel,horse dad!joel, boyfriend!joel, Ellie and Sarah exist in this universe, reader has no physical descriptions such as skin color or body type, +18 minors dni!

It’s Christmas Eve, your first Christmas spent with your Texas Tall Glass of water. A lot has changed between you and him since Fourth of July weekend. You had gradually moved your life into Joel’s. It had started off with sleepovers, more shared memories at the breakfast table that had become a part of your routine norm. Dinners, movie nights, date nights, driving Sarah to school. You and Joel were nervous that the transition period of living together would sour, but when you love someone, you communicate and make the appropriate adjustments so that you and your partner can both be happy.

So when you suggested separate rooms so that Joel could have his own private space, and you could have yours, he quickly realized there were more pros to this arrangement than cons. Plus, it created a healthy boundary, and the level of intimacy you shared together was heightened as a result. Who doesn’t love having sleepovers with your Texas Tall Glass of water? They were so fun.

You were becoming the definition of a happy family, and this Christmas was special for all of you, but especially Ellie and Sarah who were officially sisters. The adoption process went smoothly back in August, and Ellie finally knew what it was like to have a real family who loved her unconditionally.

The month of December flew by in a blur and you and Joel found yourself wrapping gifts last minute because everything had to be perfect for the baby girls. Joel was beaming with excitement despite the amount of times he had accidentally gotten a paper cut from the damn wrapping paper, or a piece of tape got caught on the table, or his ribbons didn’t turn out the way he had planned. But thank goodness you were there to help him with those gentle hands of yours. He watched in pure adoration while you fluffed up one of his ribbons before setting the wrapped gift under the tree.

You were both wearing matching plaid Christmas pajamas, working side by side while It’s A Wonderful Life played on the nearby tv.

You only stopped your shared wrapping duties when the scene where George Bailey and Mary Hatch were dancing together, having fun and being carefree.

Joel tossed the tape to the side before he gently grabbed your hands and playfully pulled you in front of the tv. He dropped one hand to your lower back, pulling you flush against his sweater clad chest. You danced in front of the tv like two fools that were madly in love, and by god were you in love with this man.

It wasn’t long before he was kissing you by the fireside, easing you onto your back and only departing from your lips to grab a few pillows and a blanket from the couch so he could create a little love nest for you and him to fuck on. It couldn’t be anymore romantic. A crackling fire, glittering lights on the Christmas tree that Joel chopped down with his own hands. (What a sight that was)

His lips and hot breath kissing your skin, fingertips dancing, sweaters being thrown carelessly so you could feel one another more easily. Always needing that skin to skin contact. The thick drag of his cock stretching you open, the gentle roll of his hips, a strong arm wrapped around you, holding you close. Calloused fingertips brushing your chin, easing your head back so you can meet his lips in a dance once more.

He licks into your mouth, hot, shuddered breaths of mutual pleasure. His beard tickles your skin as you feel yourself consumed with all of him. Eyes rolling back, dumb smiles planted on your lovesick faces each time he fucks into you with that steady rhythm of his.

You draw one another in closer to your peaks, praises tumbling from your lips, toes curling, his thumb strokes your clit with his own neediness to feel your clenching pussy milk him dry as he spills into you, hips stuttering, moans muffled by a bruising kiss.

He softens inside of you, fingertips dragging across your navel, drawing patterns against sweat stained skin.

Another kiss treasured before he slowly pulls his hips back, softened cock slipping out, glistening under the warm glow of the fire in yours and his come.

He leans over, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “hot chocolate or tea before round two?” He drawls warm and deep, that raspy post-sex voice of his sending another gush of arousal between your come painted thighs.

“Hot chocolate..splash of Bailey’s?” You hum, reaching for his jaw, pulling him back in for another kiss.

“I like your thinkin’, sugar.” You can taste his boyish grin on your tongue before he departs to the kitchen.

Your Texas Tall Glass of water has gained so much confidence in himself these past few months that he’s shared with you. You’ve always been there to gently remind him that he’s a good man, a good father. That it’s okay to be hurt sometimes and that his feelings are valid. That you’ll always be there to listen, to guide him because he’s done the same for you. He’s taught you what he knows best, filling your brain with his knowledge of contracting, showing you the ropes of his skill.

and in turn you have taught him everything you know about horses and in those short few months, Joel has found himself fully immersed in your world. The business of Dream Riders has significantly grown, and your little herd of six horses has since doubled, and Joel was there with you every step of the way. Javi P, the chestnut, antsy OTTB unlearned his hatred of men through Joel, and you never thought you’d see the day.

The quiet and reserved rescued mustang named Din has found himself a place in the herd with his little donkey friend, Grogu always at his heels.

In the low kitchen light, Joel finds himself thinking of his future with you by his side as he tops the steaming mugs of hot chocolate off with a few marshmallows. Meeting you was one of the best things that had ever happened to him outside the birth of his daughter. He really wasn’t one to believe in all that mumbo jumbo about soulmates, but here he was, smiling dumbly out the kitchen window because maybe they did exist; soulmates and all that.

He heard your sweet voice travel to his ears from where he stood, missing his presence already. The thought sent his heart swelling up like a balloon.

He found you sprawled out in the love nest he built, with only the blanket to cover your modesty. Your eyes drifted upwards, glistening from the glow of the fire, hand outstretched in his direction because you really did miss him for those short few minutes apart.

“Sorry, honey bun. Was jus’ addin’ a few marshmallows s’all.” He crouched down, setting his mug off to the side before he handed you yours, leaning down to steal a quick kiss before he made himself comfortable in the love nest once more with his legs comforting laid out near the fire.

Your hot chocolates were enjoyed in a comfortable silence as the fire continued to crackle.

He rested his weight back on his elbows while you found your head resting in his lap, fingertips tracing patterns along his bare thigh.

“Do you..think we got them enough gifts? Can’t believe how expensive a damn PlayStation costs.” He chuckled, shaking his head with a grin.

“Oh, I think we got them plenty of gifts, cowboy. I just can’t wait to see Ellie’s face when she opens up the PlayStation, and when Sarah sees the new custom tack set I got for her and Frankie?” You said softly, leaning into his touch when the warm expanse of his large hand came to rest along the exposed skin of your lower back, fingertips brushing the curve of your ass beneath the blanket.

“I’m gonna tear up just thinkin’ about seein’ their faces in the mornin.’”

“You stop that right now, baby. Cause if you start, then I’m gonna start too.” You giggled softly pressing your cheek further against the warm expanse of his thigh. “I hope you love what I got you, Joel.”

“Baby, I already got everything I want right here. What more can a man ask for than two loving daughters, and the most wonderful, gentle, loving woman by his side?”

“You’re such a sap, Joel. Who could have been the cause of that?” You teased playfully.

“Dunno. Who could it be? Hmm..let’s see here..perhaps it's the stunning gal laying fireside with my come still drippin’ between her thighs? Ring any bells for ya?” He chuckled, slowly letting his fingertips dip lower between your cheeks, dragging his fingers through the seam of your pussy.

Your thighs instinctively parted open so his fingers would have easier access while your own traced dangerously close to his hardening cock between his thighs. It didn’t take much for either of you to get going again.

“Ooh, look who’s being vulgar right before Santa’s gonna come right down the chimney. That kinda talk is gonna get you on the naughty list, cowboy.”

He chuckled, eyes drifting downwards to where your cheek was still resting against his thigh before they traveled across your bare spine, down to your lower back and between your thighs where his fingers were lightly teasing you. “Mmm..well, sugar, your Texas Tall Glass of water has been on the naughty list for years. Say, you think Santa would mind if I unwrapped my gift early? Think he’ll still bring me coal?”

You fought the warmth rising to your cheeks from the filth dripping so casually between his lips. However, you didn’t fight the crawling desire to feel his touch a bit more as you slowly rolled your ass back into the expanse of his hand. “Baby, didn’t you already unwrap your gift earlier?”

“Sure did. But I think I wanna unwrap it a little more..gotta make it count, y’know? And what better way to ring in Christmas than to pull a couple more orgasms outta my girl. Remember over the summer, when I went down on your sweet cunt for the first time? Do’ya remember what I told ya, sweet girl?” He shifted his weight, easing your cheek off his thigh so he could face you fully. His hand left the spot between your thighs only to then gently coax you on your back. He was attentive to fixing the pillows behind you so that you were nice and comfy.

“Fuck..you naughty, naughty man. I lost track of how many you’ve given to me today, baby. We’ve surpassed the three to four times a day already, Joel.” You giggled, thighs falling open so he could see just for himself how aroused you were just from his teasing alone.

“What can I say, baby. Now that we’re livin’ under the same roof..you can’t expect me to not be touchin’ ya every second that I get. Fuckin’ addictive is what you are. You and that sweet fuckin’ pussy between those thighs.” His voice dropped an octave as he lowered himself onto his elbows, looping his arms around your middle, yanking you down gently so that you were closer to his face. “Christ, all this dirty talk got you this wet?” He peered up at you through thick lashes. “Still sticky with my come..fuck.” He whispered, hot breath fanning your core, “what a sight that is.”

A whine crawled up your throat as the broad expanse of his nose brushed against your inner thighs, dancing across your neglected clit and settling against your pubic bone. “What was it that I called it? Oh, right, the Joel Miller pussy eating special..” he chuckled, sending vibrations racing straight through your core and down to the tips of your toes. You found yourself fisting the blanket in one hand, and the other tangling through his soft head of curls. His hair had grown longer, and now was curling at the nape of his neck. You already threatened him to never cut it because there was nothing you loved more than ripping his baseball cap off at the end of a long work day, and running your fingers through his sweat stained curls while you rode his cock.

“Fuck, yeah, of course I remember that, baby. You literally sent me into a whole new world after that..” you rolled your hips towards his face, desperate to feel his mouth already while your nails lightly scraped at his scalp. “Well, if you’ve been such a naughty boy as you’ve claimed to be, why don’t you unwrap your present a little more, cowboy.”

He had that glint in his eye, one that sent your pussy pulsing desperately around nothing because goddamn Joel Miller and his big brown eyes, and his ridiculously large hands, and his Texas twang, and the way he loved you unconditionally. That goddamn Texas Tall Glass of water that stumbled upon your website all those months ago seeing your pretty face, bright smile and your arm wrapped around your horse's neck in a hug.

“You most certainly don’t have to ask me twice, sugar plum.” Was all he said before you felt his lips press an open mouthed kiss to your clit, dragging downwards as he tasted yours and his come along his tongue. He drove his face forward, one hand splayed across your stomach and the other clasped around your thigh as he devoured his favorite meal. He unwrapped you like the pretty bow you were with his tongue. Jaw going slack as he suckled your clit into his mouth. His eyes were locked on your face, the way your lips parted when he swirled his tongue in a figure eight motion.

He watched the way your chest rose and fell, head tossed back wildly, thighs quivering around his head, clawing at the blanket, tugging on the roots of his dark hair. His hand dropped from your stomach only to find your own. He laced his fingers through yours, squeezing your hand tight before he brought them to rest along your stomach.

He mumbled praising words against your ruined cunt. I love you, I adore you, I cherish you. My girl. My girl. My sweet filthy girl.

The coil was pulled tight inside of you, so tight you were seeing stars as you struggled to keep your moans quiet, but your Texas Tall Glass of water made it increasingly difficult to hold them at bay.

He drank you in, drop by drop, savoring the taste of you along his tongue before he finally let you breathe. And there was your man again, lips, chin, and beard coated in your slick as he nipped playfully at your thigh. His hand that wasn’t wrapped around yours, rubbed soothing circles into your skin as he kissed his way up your body to finally meet your lips once more.

You lazily kissed one another knowing that you had all the time in the world together and that nothing had to be rushed. But especially now, here in one another’s arms while you reached between your bodies, hand wrapping around the base of his cock so you could slip him right back in, guiding him home.

His head came to rest along your chest, eyes closed in a peaceful bliss while you gently pushed back his sweat stained curls that were sticking to his forehead. A tender sweep of your lips across his temple followed.

“I sure hope that Santa comes down that chimney soon just so he can see what a naughty, naughty, boy I’ve been this Christmas.” Your Texas Tall Glass of water murmured against your skin before visions of sugar plums and you would dance in his head.

banners made by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

I no longer do tag lists so please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications!

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alien-magnolia · 1 year

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Soft dom! Tonowari headcannons :)

Tw: 18+ minors DNI, size kink, bj, major daddy kink, slight breeding kink, (hyperfem!clueless!sub reader x daddy!tonowari )

A/n: 520 follower celebration! My first Tonowari fic, excited to bring him to life hehe :)

If u like this post pls help a writer and reblog

-For such a big guy, he would be so gentle with you. He’d carry you when you asked! (And even when you didn’t) especially since he was just so entranced by your smaller form.

- His casual dominance drove you insane, actually. He’d always be so protective over you (well, he was the chief!)

-and he wouldn’t let you go out beyond the reef either, only with him (he argued with anyone else that tried to take you) “Fnu, ma tute,” (quiet, person) he would say to anyone that insisted otherwise. He was usually so calm and collected, except when he was jealous :) “Can’t have my pretty girl getting lost,” he would say to you.

-you loved going on swims with him through the Metkayina reefs, you’d both explore around underwater, his hand always holding yours :)

-You were his mate, his woman, his to be doted on and to be taken care of. He’d show off his hunts to you, his weapons, and you’d always be so proud. You didn't know anything about hunting or some weapons, but that was fine with him :) He’d also show you off at the communal fireside dinners :)

-Your favorite part about him taking care of you was when you get to give his throbbing fat cock some attention, it was just so big and wide, just like him. It was even better if that cock was inside you, his heavy balls pressed up tight against your cunt :)

-He loved it when you were on your knees for him, all doe eyed and so much saliva dripping from your mouth, with how long you’ve been sat with his cock in your mouth.

-"Doing such a good job, sweetie, taking daddy’s cock. Just a little more and I’ll fill you up. You like it when daddy takes care of you, ma yuey? (My beautiful) he would say as he trailed kisses all over your face.

-You loved it when he just spent a good hour rutting into you, you faced him with your legs thrown over his shoulders. He had you in a mating press, of course. He loved watching your fucked out face and he’d always be reassuring you, talking so so sweet to you, while you were getting pumped full of his hot cum :)

“ma yuey,” his words were so sweet and gentle compared to how roughly he drilled his cock into you. You were his precious little angel, and you deserved to be treated as such ! Your daddy just fucked you so good :)

Avatar taglist: @23victoria @jake-sullys-whore @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @aerangi @brioffthegrid

#avatar smut #avatar twow #tonowari x you #tonowari avatar #tonowari x reader #jake sully smut #jake sully headcanon #tonowari headcanon #tonowari smut #tsu'tey x y/n #liz writes 🖤#liz’s masterlist

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caffeinewitchcraft · 2 years

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Cinderella Doesn’t Believe in Fairytales (pt 2)

((Part 1 Here))

Magic won’t fix anything.

Cinderella holds onto words. Commands. Be patient. Be kind. One big loving family. Magic won’t fix anything. Her loved ones’ words ring in her head the entirety of the following month, soaring above and diving beneath each other.

Sometimes the boy’s voice says, Be patient.

Sometimes her father says, Be kind.

Sometimes her mother says, Magic won’t fix anything.

Cinderella’s rations are in order. A week’s worth of dried foods to sustain her journey into town. It’ll take her a week on foot, three days by carriage but she doesn’t have access to a carriage. Her stepmother will be taking it. Her mind whispers, the Capitol is a week by carriage. You could—

She lets her mantras drown the thought. Cinderella is too old for fairytales.

The mice watch her from the windowsills the day of the full moon. She is mending Anastasia’s stockings by the fireside. It is the last time she’ll do so and she attempts to summon some fondness for the chore. It’s her sister who trusts her with this task, she has spent so many evenings warm and cozy with a needle and thread, she has gained some skill in mending from so many years practicing—

No fondness wells. Instead Cinderella’s eyes burn from the length of time between blinks and her heart beats so slowly that she feels like time is moving backwards. The fire crackles and Cinderella breaks the thread with her teeth, finishing the mend as sloppily as she can. With any luck, it’ll rub and give Anastasia a blister while she dances with the Prince.

She’s horrid. Did her mother see this side of her when she made her daughter promise to be kind? Cinderella starts on the heel of the next stocking.

“Cinderella.”

Stepmother is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, one elegant hand presses to the rough stone, the other behind her back. Drizella peeks out from beneath her arm, hair piled up on top of her head. Anastasia hovers behind, swishing her emerald skirts from side to side.

“Yes, Stepmother?” Cinderella asks. Her voice startles her. Low and rounded and empty. She is deep inside her own head as Stepmother steps into the sunlight streaming through the small window above the preparation table. “Is there something you need assistance with?

“I have been thinking,” Stepmother says. Her chin lifts and her eyes glint when she eyes the basket of stockings. “You have…shown efforts in this household. I know the girls and I have not been as attentive as of late. Our focus has been entirely on the ball. Yet, I would not have you thinking your…help has gone unnoticed.”

“It was my idea,” Drizella blurts. She darts under her mother’s arms and pelts forward, nearly falling when she stops just short of Cinderella’s seat. She grins down at her. “This is my idea!”

“Our idea,” Anastasia says with a sniff. She steps around her mother with tiny, practiced steps. She’s using a strange accent, half Capital and half west mountains. She’s been attempting to blend into the upper nobility. “We thought of it together.”

“Yes, my girls are so kind,” Stepmother says. She reveals what she’s holding behind her back and Cinderella’s breath stills in her lungs. It’s fabric, beautiful, shimmering silver fabric. A hint of a lace sleeve peeks out from the bundle. “Here.”

Cinderella stands. This can’t be what she thinks it is. She doesn’t reach for the bundle even when Stepmother takes a step forward, hand outstretched. She swallows. “Is that a dress?”

“We had some money leftover at the seamstress,” Drizella says, leaning into Cinderella’s side. She tilts her head to rest on the taller girl’s shoulder. “Isn’t the color beautiful?”

“I didn’t want lace on my dress,” Anastasia says. She sits in Cinderella’s abandoned chair, smoothing her skirts like a court lady might. “So the seamstress said she could add it to yours. You’re welcome.”

Cinderella is staring at the dress. This can’t be real. Something in her chest trembles. Were they thinking of her at the seamstress’ studio? Her? “Why?”

“So you can attend the ball of course,” Stepmother says. She takes another step forward. “I am not so ungenerous as to ban you from going. Did you think I would?”

Yes. Cinderella’s hand trembles when she reaches for the dress. Her fingertips graze the smooth fabric. “It’s beautiful.”

“As beautiful as you are,” Stepmother says. Stepmother’s voice trembles. She blinks quickly as if holding back tears. “I have never told you so. It is not good for a girl of your…station to nurture ideas. However, I have come to regret my restraint.”

Don’t! Cinderella ignores the warning. Her heart is aching so fiercely that she can scarcely breathe. She takes the dress from Stepmother as gently as she would hold one of the mice. “You want me to come with you?”

“We’re all noble daughters,” Anastasia says primly. Her eyes are on Cinderella’s folded dress. “Wearing that, you might look the part.”

“Indeed. We leave in an hour,” Stepmother says. She holds out her hands to her daughters. “Come, girls. Let’s not get in Cinderella’s way. She must pack quickly.”

Cinderella feels light headed. She strokes the fabric and marvels at how cool and light it feels against her fingers. She doesn’t have anything else to wear to the Capital, not a stitch, but she has a dress. A dress her family gave her.

Don’t.

“But I want to see her open it,” Drizella whines. She walks backwards towards her mother. “Go on, Cinderella. Take a look. You’ll love the silhouette.”

Cinderella hardly notices Anastasia tiptoe around her. They bought her a dress. She doesn’t care what it looks like. It could be decades out of fashion. It could be completely bare. She doesn’t care. They bought her a dress and Stepmother acknowledged her hard work and—

Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t—

Cinderella unfurls the dress. Something so light she didn’t notice it in the folds of the fabric drops to the ground and rolls.

Coal.

The dress is streaked with black soot, the front wrecked by the stains. There is no lace on the dress except for the one sleeve. The hemline is unfinished and cut at an angle that can’t be salvaged. The silver fabric is ruined everywhere except for the back panel of a skirt which Stepmother had used to conceal the mess.

“Oh, dear,” Stepmother says as Cinderella stares at the wreck. The trembling in Stepmother’s voice isn’t regret. It’s glee. “My, Cinderella, your dress is a mess. You won’t be able to go to the ball after all, will you?”

“In that?” Anastasia asks. She presses a hand to her chest, once again safely behind her mother. “No, no, no, you could never go in that.”

“Maybe you can clean it,” Drizella says. She’s bouncing on her toes. “You’re good at cleaning, right, Cinderella?”

“Alas,” Stepmother says, shaking her head. She ushers the girls ahead of her. “We leave in just an hour.” She clicks her tongue. “Do hurry, won’t you, Cinderella? Of course, if you can’t save the dress, what’s the point? Perhaps you should stay here after all…entirely up to you, dear.”

Anastasia’s snorts and Drizella’s shrieks of laughter echo behind them. They’re off to pack, thrilled by their prank. Stepmother stays in the doorway. Cinderella can feel her looking. Cinderella can’t tear her gaze away from the dress. After a long moment, Stepmother speaks.

“It is not in my nature to be cruel,” Stepmother says. Her heel taps against the stone. “I see we have hurt you. Perhaps you think us unkind for this little mischief, hm?”

Cinderella’s head is bowed. She can’t bring herself to speak.

“Trust me,” Stepmtoher says, “that it is not even a tenth as cruel as it would be to have you come with us. You are beautiful, Cinderella. Does it please you to hear me admit it? I can concede that much at least in light of what you must be feeling. But my daughters have worked hard for this day. They do not deserve the cruelty of having you who have worked for nothing overshadowing their efforts just because you were born beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Cinderella tastes the word like poison on her tongue. “I—I am not—“

“Save me your false humility,” Stepmother says coldly. Her tapping heel stills. “You think yourself clever, but you are just a girl. I see how you lord yourself over my daughters. I have spent years attempting to curtail your excessive pride to no avail. In the end, you’ll see today as a favor to all parties involved. My daughters deserve this opportunity to rise above their station. You? You will have the opportunity see where you really belong.”

There is something interesting happening in Cinderella’s chest. Whereas before her heart beat so slowly it felt as if time flowed backwards, it’s the opposite now. Her heart is beating so fast and so loud that a river rushes through Cinderella at the speed of light.

“Beauty,” Cinderella says. She finally pulls her gaze from the ruined dress to meet Stepmother’s eyes. Stepmother’s mouth thins in displeasure, but Cinderella doesn’t care. “All these years over— over your perception? Your idea of what I am? Who I am?”

“Do not condescend to me,” Stepmother says.

It is not a denial.

Cinderella is a child again, perched on top of her father’s shoulders. The light is golden in her mother’s hair and she reaches for a strand that’s fallen free of her pins—

She is crouched in the garden, watching ants pull at a grounded butterfly’s wings. Sickened, she steps on them, pounds at them with her heels. Her name rings through the air as her mother hurries towards her—

Her father’s back is fading into the light as he leaves her mother in her window. Her mother’s shoulders shake and Cinderella is behind them both, clutching a doll—

She is holding her mother’s hand and it’s so cold. Her eyes are as pale and lifeless as the butterfly’s wings. Cinderella calls for her mother and the silence swallows her whole—

Cinderella is crying in the snow. She is dying or dead. Her legs are frozen, as cold as her mother’s hand, and she can’t tell if she’s even walking still. A bell rings through the trees and, half-mad, she follows it—

She lies in the warm grass of the meadow as the boy talks about stars and constellations and something beautiful unfurls in Cinderella’s chest for the first time in years—

She hopes. There is hope so bitter that it puckers her soul a little more with every letter she writes. She stands at the window and waits for her father or a letter or a sign—

You deserve more, the boy says. You’re strong, Cinderella. You have endured the freezing cold long enough. It is time to find somewhere warm—

When Cinderella is able to rip herself from the memories, Stepmother is gone. The dress is crumpled on the ground and Cinderella’s heart is loud in her ears.

“I,” Cinderella says to the empty room, “am more than beauty.”

Something in her chest cracks. A bone, maybe. A heart.

A dam.

Cinderella, not waiting for night, bursts out of the kitchen door. She lifts her skirts so that she can lengthen her strides and runs. The woods swallow her without preamble, the canopy glowing green in the afternoon light.

Be kind.

She leaps over fallen trees and dodges low branches, not caring as sticks fling up under her heels and leaves whip at her face. Her heart pounds.

Be patient.

How could she have been so blind? They were never going to love her. Stepmother saw only what she wanted to see, a part of Cinderella that is not who she is, something that’s never mattered.

One big loving family.

She poured love like blood into their mouths. She did what her parents taught her and loved with hands so open that her fingers bent backwards. For what? To be boiled down to nothing? To be pretty?

Magic won’t fix anything.

Cinderella, chest heaving, leaps into the clearing. She can feel her hair tangled behind her. Her hands are stained with soot and they leave black fingerprints on her skirts. A cut on her leg oozes. The wind whips at her in alarm. Cinderella doesn’t care.

She approaches the tree. The boy is waiting, still for once. How did he know she’d be there so soon? Why is his presence watching her like that? The rainbows of magic shiver like grass, bending away from her when she stalks through them.

“You promised me magic,” Cinderella says. Somehow she is not out of breath. She presses a hand to the oak tree’s warm bark. Her eyes spark. “Didn’t you?”

“I did,” the boy says.

“Then show me magic,” Cinderella says. “Whatever you want. Whenever you want. Just—keep your promise. Take me away from here.”

“Your wish,” the boy says, “is my command.”

The bark shifts under her fingers and Cinderella falls forward into the tree. She doesn’t have time to scream. Would she even want to? She drops into darkness so warm that her shoulders loosen as she plummets.

Out in the meadow, a single butterfly drifts across the top of the wildflowers.

——-

Thanks for reading! This is turning into a whole novella, but I’m having a blast writing it!

Part three will be posted next Friday (sorry this one was a day late! I’m traveling) and is already up on my Patreon for those who’d like to support me there :)

See you next week!

Patreon (X)

#my writing #short story #cinderella #Cinderella fan fiction

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everythingelseisextra · 9 months

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First Time

Part Ten: Stand Your Ground

Description: After being discharged from the hospital, you and Tommy visit the racetrack. Warnings: Language, brief mention of rape/trafficking Word Count: 2506 Tag List: @ttaechi @theshelbyslimited @weaponizedvirtue @majesticcmey @optimisticsandwichgladiator @zablife @princesssterek @mm0thie @callsignvenus @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul

Days turn into weeks turn into a month. As always, you wake before dawn and start your work up in that subliminal time between night and day, simultaneously both and neither. Your work drives you through the day. Eleven horses, each with different needs, different sensitivities, different opinions, and you, the center of their lives. You care for them accordingly. You don’t get days off or breaks, don’t get the chance to catch your breath, to relax, until dusk, when the cab rolls into your driveway to pick you up. You climb in, smelling of horse and sweat and hay, and rest your head back, eyes on the road ahead of you.

The darkening city flows past you, fluid in the falling night, and something like nostalgia washes over you. You remember the girl you loved, her pale green eyes like the hills that surround your home, her naked body trembling next to you, your exhausted bones leaning against each other for support. It was a broken sense of togetherness that came from a godless place, from being surrounded by cruelty and twisted minds. You found each other, and you helped each other, but in the end, you couldn’t save her. Only avenge her. You remember, before you could define the feelings that boiled inside of you, a sense of home, of feeling exactly in place with her, even though your circumstances were unnatural.

Love, you think, is like most other predators. It tries to warn you before it bites.

Before you’ve pieced the ragged bits of yourself back together, you’re walking into the hospital and nodding to the woman at the front desk. She knows you now, knows your alliance, knows the only person you ever visit, so she doesn’t have to ask. You reach his room and knock, receiving the answer to come in.This is his last day in the hospital, and the routine you’ve made is about to end, and neither of you will allow the elephant in the room to speak. And you sit and talk, mostly you, with his quiet eyes watching you with a glint inside of them, tracing the outline of your face, memorizing you. There are some days where he talks, and you listen, and you learn about his war in France, and the battles he endured, and how no one wins war, they just survive it. You learn more about Grace, about Campbell, about the guns and the horses. Tommy tells stories as though you’re sitting by fireside, with the flickering gold and orange light on your faces, an aura fending off the darkness, and evokes a life to his words that you’re not used to. You find yourself hanging on each phrase, completely under his spell.

Sometimes, there’s a holiness to your conversations, your words quiet and respectful, as if so precious that even the air could damage them. Other times, you’re revelrous, and laughter echoes up through the stone walls and bounces around off the slanted ceiling. Days like this lead to nights full of half-reluctant, half-exuberant movement; tossing and turning, standing up to pace, toying with the knife that lies between you, belonging to both of you and neither of you, now. You spend your days working and spend your nights with a comrade against the battle of loneliness, and for the first time in your life, you feel balanced.

But, days like today, where you’re quiet and reserved, lead to careful, quiet nights. You lay in bed and stare at his bare back across from you. Even though your fear has diminished, he still insists on starting off facing away from you, out of some form of respect, giving you something like privacy. The night curls in around you, chilly and peaceful, and your eyes trace the graceful curve of his back. You allow time to pass, and, when you’re brave enough, you speak.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah?” He responds still facing away from you, but his head tilts upwards, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“I’ve been thinking about how things change.” You start out slow, then your words cascade out of you, speeding up as you go. “I’ve been thinking about how I used to think I was a terrible person. For loving another girl and for being a victim and for killing a man. I used to think that I had no reason to go on, because I had nothing but skin and bones and muscle and even that didn’t always belong to me. Now I know I was never terrible, I was just fifteen and terrified. Now I think I’m terrible for other reasons.

“I have this body that doesn’t love me and has never saved me. I have this body that was used against me for years. And I am sorry I was born with it. But I didn’t used to be. When I had her, I used to want to be a body for her. I used to want to give her my shoulder to cry on, used to want to hold her hand as she walked me to the next hotel room or alleyway or basement, used to want to cradle her in the dark. I was thinking about her and it made me realize my body isn’t just for sex, or being abused. But, these days, all I do with it is work. And that made me think of you. Because what’s the point if it’s just work? What’s the point if you’re still being pushed to the brink, even when you’re not supposed to be?”

He’s quiet for a moment before he speaks. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t want to keep autopsying the body of who I used to be. I want to take this new shape and run with it. I— I want to be, unapologetically, without being held back by the fear of scarring myself again.” You take a deep, shuddering breath. “And I want— I want to do this.”

Slowly, with the awkward tenderness of someone who’s forgotten what it’s like to touch another person, you move towards him, hesitant, and lightly drape your arm over his side, so nervous that you barely touch him.

He takes a short breath, then his hand reaches up to take yours and gently pulls you closer. Your lungs seize and you fight the urge to pull away. Instead, with a streak of bravery you didn’t know you had in you, you bury your face in his back and tighten your hold, almost clinging to him. His bare skin is warm against you, soft and unburdened, not like yours. His hand stays resolutely over yours.

You stay like that, fighting with yourself, talking back to the fear in your mind that tells you he’ll take it too far. You know he won’t. You trust that he won’t. You will break the habit of being afraid. You will face the gargantuan monster of your past and insist that you will not become it.

A lump forms in your throat. Your heart beats hard against your chest, and you think he can probably feel it against his back. He’s warm. He’s holding you and asking you for nothing else. His hand tightens around yours, then relaxes, a silent communication; I am here. It’s been years. Only the sun has been this close to you. Only the sun. You close your eyes and a tear rolls out, and you don’t understand it but you think it’s relief.

“Don’t need to force your—”

“I’ve been thinking,” you say, voice slightly choked. “About what you said. About not having enough time.”

“And what have you been thinking?” His words are soft, gentle.

“I think that that makes this more valuable. We’ll never be here again. We’re just a moment, and then we’re gone.” You press your forehead against his back, closing your eyes. “And that’s comforting, isn’t it? We matter so much that we don’t matter at all.”

“I don’t want to be a moment. I don’t want to be limited.”

You smile faintly. “Thomas Shelby will live forever, won’t he?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe I will, too. The horses and you and I. Maybe there’s some kind of forever there.”

There’s a smile in his voice. “You’re dreaming.”

“Yeah, well, I never got to before.” Your breathing evens out, the lump in your throat begins to dissipate. “This is my first time.”

A few days later, you stare at the open stall in your barn, the weak morning light seeping slowly through the rafters. You cross your arms, then turn and head to your house, pushing the door open and going straight to the phone.

He picks up almost right away and you smile to yourself. “Hey, you up for an outing?”

“Where?”

“I still need to keep my promise to you, and I have an open stall.” In your mind, you’re begging him to say yes. You got used to seeing him daily, to spending your nights with him, and you’re starved of his attention.

“You want to do that today?”

“Are you doing anything else?”

He sighs. “Charlie asked for me this morning. Not Grace. For the first time.”

You nod. “Spend time with your son. There’s always tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow morning, then.”

“I’ll see you then. Bye, Tom.”

“Goodbye.”

The rest of the day passes agonizingly slowly, and you sleep badly that night, finding yourself in the hazy half-dream state of sticky thoughts and flashing images. You’re grateful when the morning comes, when you can rise and head out in the brisk air to feed your horses. They’ll get the day off from work, a rare treat for them. You’re almost done with their grain when Tommy’s car rumbles towards you. You nod at him, then continue your work. He steps out of the car and comes towards you, head slightly bowed to avoid the fresh brightness of the morning. You look him over once, noting that he’s back to being constantly impeccably dressed, back to the mask of professionalism.

“You need help?”

“No,” you chuckle. “I’ve got it. Thanks, though.”

He watches you as you walk from stall to stall, dumping the grain into the corner bins, the horses calling to you as you approach.

When you return, his eyes flick over your face, shadowed by his cap. “You spoil them.”

“I do.” You walk past him, heading towards the car. “They’re the only thing between me and the world, of course I spoil them.”

He tsks, following you. “Not the only thing.”

“No?” You glance back at him as you open the passenger door and slip inside.

“No.”

You nod vaguely, something like pride welling up in you. “Good to know.”

He sits down beside you and starts the car, deftly maneuvering out of the craggy driveway. “Pol wants to meet you.”

You let out a short breath. “How fucked am I?”

A small smile appears on his lips. “Depends on the kind of mood she’s in.”

“I can handle a thousand pound animal, but I assure you, I won’t be able to get a word out when she talks to me.” You shake your head. “At least she’s not a man.”

“It would be a tragedy for you to meet a man.”

You grin and look over at him. “Devastating.”

The rest of the car ride continues in the same manner. You reach the racetrack with a smile on your lips. You’re closer to the city, and the air leaves a residue on your skin, faint smog in every breeze. After you park, you lead the way inside, keeping your head down and on a swivel, and your attention on everything around you. Tommy follows close behind you, his hands in his coat pockets, shoulders back and head held high. You feel safer with him around, braver, more willing to glance up and acknowledge the people around you.

Under the arching gates, you walk into the general area of the racetrack. On either side of you, standards sit sentinel, completely empty, almost ghostlike in the overcast gray. Tommy pauses for a moment, and you notice him take a deep breath, his hands moving slightly in his pockets, flexing and clenching.

“What?” You stop, turning to look at him.

He shakes his head, a small movement. “Last time I was here…”

“You don’t have to tell me.” You step back to stand by his side. “There’s barely anyone here. We’ll be alright. I’m keeping an eye out, too. You’re not on your own.”

He glances at you, then inclines his head, suggesting you move on. You start walking, and this time, he falls into step with you, side by side.

You reach the stables. You pull one of the workers aside, and, as quietly as you can, explain who you are. She nods, says she’s heard of you, and goes to retrieve her supervisor to bring some horses out.

There’s a lull. You glance at Tommy. His eyes wander around the track, catching on the wooden standards, the makeshift bathrooms not far off, then to the entrance of the stables.

You nudge him with your elbow. “Where’s your mind going?”

“Nowhere good.” He looks down at you, blue eyes searching. “Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why?’” You chuckle. “It matters to me where you’re at. I can tell you’re drifting off somewhere.”

“I am.” His eyes flick to a few horses, tucked-up waists and gleaming coats, being led towards you.

“Just… try to be here. With me. Don’t go running off to play with the dead while you still have living to do.”

He nods, then gestures at the horses. “Let’s take a look.”

There’s a sleek black gelding with a star and four socks, flashy and brave, according to his handlers. He has a bone chip and would require surgery, which you can afford. There’s a bay mare with kind eyes and a blaze, with a deep tissue wound in her stifle, with a daisy-cutter trot and swift, clean legs. You see Tommy’s eyes narrow slightly when a small gray stallion is brought out, pink nose and pale body glistening. He stands with his head and tail up, alert and watchful. He broke his leg, they say, but stayed standing, not so severe as to shoot him on the spot.

“That one has spirit,” Tommy murmurs as they walk him past.

“Stallions tend to.” You look up at him, trying to read his expression. “The gelding would be the safer choice. Bone chips are easy.”

“They’ll shoot him if you don’t take him.”

You nod vaguely, eyes traveling over the compact white horse, getting an idea of conformation, of sturdiness. Then, your eyes fall on a man at the entrance of the racetrack, and your blood goes cold. You waver on your feet and Tommy looks down at you, confused. You grab his arm to steady yourself.

“We have to go.” Your breath hitches in your throat, your lungs contract, and you pant like a dog. “Please, Tom, we have to go now.”

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders imagine #peaker blinders fandom #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinders fanfic

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zuko-always-lies · 6 days

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Azula's Strong Emotional Empathy Skills

Often times, people assume that Azula is bad at empathy, or at least emotional empathy. However, I would dispute that, and argue that her compassionate empathy skills in particular are actually extremely strong and off the chart, at least when it involves someone she cares about.

ATLA gives several examples of Azula showing off her empathy skills. The first comes in "The Crossroads of Destiny":

Azula: We've done it, Zuko. It's taken a hundred years, but the Fire Nation has conquered Ba Sing Se. Zuko: I betrayed Uncle. Azula: No, he betrayed you. [She stands up from the throne.] Zuko, when you return home, Father will welcome you as a war hero. Zuko: But I don't have the Avatar. What if Father doesn't restore my honor? Azula: He doesn't need to, Zuko. [She puts a hand on Zuko's shoulder.] Today, you restored your own honor.

She notices Zuko is uneasy, and does a pretty good, if not entirely successful job trying to reassure him and make him feel better.

Next we come to "The Awakening":

[Meanwhile, back at the Fire Nation Capital, Zuko feeds turtle ducks in a lake with some bread. Azula joins him.] Azula: You seem so downcast. Has Mai gotten to you already? Though actually, Mai has been in a strangely good mood lately. Zuko: I haven't seen Dad yet. I haven't seen him in three years, since I was banished. Azula: So what? Zuko: So, I didn't capture the Avatar. Azula: Who cares? The Avatar is dead … [Zuko looks away.] unless you think he somehow miraculously survived.

It's easy to miss out on this with where the scene ends up going, but what's actually the inciting reason for the scene to happen in the first place is that Azula knows Zuko is out of sorts, and wants to reassure him. She knows exactly where he is likely to go when he's sad or anxious, the turtleduck ponds which reminds him of Ursa, and easily finds him there. However, in her attempts to reassure him, she begins to suspect that he's hiding something from her, and the scene gets derailed.

Next up is "The Beach":

Zuko: [Cut to closer view of Zuko and Mai. Angrily.] Doing nothing is a waste of time. [Rises from his seat next to Mai.] We're being sent away on a forced vacation. [Walks over and grips the railing of the boat.] I feel like a child. Azula: [Frontal view.] Lighten up. So Dad wants to meet with his advisors alone, without anyone else around. Don't take it personally.

Azula instantly tries to reassure Zuko here, although she's less skillful about it than in some other cases.

Next up is the famous "Azula apologizes to Ty Lee" scene. As I've argued elsewhere, Azula is very skillful in comforting Ty Lee there. She knows exactly what she needs to say and do to make Ty Lee feel better.

Then, after Zuko gets kicked out of the party, we get this scene

Azula: I thought I'd find you here. Zuko: [Side-view.] Those summers we spent here seem so long ago. So much has changed. Azula: Come down to the beach with me. Come on. This place is depressing.

Azula's empathy is really impressive here. She apparently not only realized that Zuko would end up in a bad funk and cared enough to do something about it, but she also knew exactly where he would go in his depressed emotional state.

We then have the famous "fireside" scene. Azula isn't always the nicest person here, but her ability to understand the emotions of others is on full display:

Zuko: [Turning around.] For so long I thought that if my dad accepted me, I'd be happy. I'm back home now, my dad talks to me. Ha! He even thinks I'm a hero. [Close-up of Azula, who smiles.] Everything should be perfect, right? [Aerial view of campsite.] I should be happy now, but I'm not. [Turning back to the others.] I'm angrier than ever and I don't know why!

Azula:[Frontal view.] There's a simple question you need to answer, then. Who are you angry at? Zuko: [Close-up.] No one. I'm just angry. Mai [Side-view of the three girls.] Yeah, who are you angry at, Zuko? Zuko: [Close-up.] Everyone. I don't know. [Becoming frustrated.] Azula: [Frontal view.] Is it Dad? Zuko: [Close-up.] No, no. Ty Lee: [Frontal view.] Your uncle? Azula: Me? Zuko: [Close-up.] No, no, n-no, no! Mai: [Close-up.] Then who? Who are you angry at? Azula: [Camera pans left, past Ty Lee, to Azula.] Answer the question, Zuko. Ty Lee: [Close-up.] Talk to us. Mai: [Extreme close-up.] Come on, answer the question. Azula: Come on, answer it.

Finally, we have this scene from Nightmares and Daydreams:

Azula: Hello, Zuzu. If you've come for a royal hair-combing, I'm afraid you'll have to wait. Zuko: So I guess there's a big war meeting coming up, huh? And apparently I'm not welcome there. Azula: What do you mean? Of course you're welcome there! Zuko: Oh, yeah?! I guess that's why no one bothered to tell me about it! Azula: Oh, Zuko. Don't be so dramatic. I'm certain Dad wants you there. You probably just weren't invited because it's so obvious you're supposed to be there. Zuko: Well, were you invited? Azula: Of course! I'm the princess. Zuko: And I'm the prince! Azula: Exactly, so stop acting like a paranoid child! Just go to the meeting. Zuko: Forget it! I'm not going!

Although Azula instantly moves to try to comfort Zuko, this is in many ways her least successful scene. She struggles to contain her frustration with Zuko's behavior.

Still, overall Azula displays an impressive record, and shows very strong compassionate empathy skills. However, it's only toward the people she's close to, as she has no reason to display them toward enemies.

#Azula #Azula meta #Zuko #Ty Lee

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