#to a fight he didn’t start with a person whose issues have nothing to do with him

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

#dpxdc prompt #dpxdc au #dpxdc memes #dpxdc crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dead on main #dead on main ship #alcohol

[its-your-mind]

Tbh I??? Really love these Bell’s Hells Company Retreat Activities???? Bc like. It’s not like any of them have been overly cagey this whole time, or actively hiding big secrets from each other. (someone at some point mentioned how BUCKwild it would have been to watch the M9 try to play What The Fuck Is Up With That within the first ten episodes of c2, with all the shit all of them were hiding and how much their early relationships were based on a mutual understanding that no one would expect each other to bring up the past unless it became a danger - the only one who ever poked that particular bear was Beau with Caleb at the start when she traded access to the Archive for the reason why Caleb gets fucked up by fire, and that private conversation shaped their relationship for the rest of the campaign BUT I digress.)

Nothing anyone confessed during the Honesty exercise was… a surprise. The only one who hadn’t shared the entirety of his past (that he remembered) was Chetney, and his was never the past that felt like a threat - that revelation was more along the lines of FCG’s type of “tell me about your family trauma so I can fix you” line of questioning.

The truths the Hells offered up to each other… they were significant (Fearne, I was disappointed in you for being afraid of your power), and scary (deep down, both Delilah and I kind of want the shard), and hard to say out loud (even on the nights I bunk up with one of you, I feel so lonely), but critically, so little of it was surprising. No one was sharing anything earth-shattering about their pasts or previously unknown plans for future betrayal.

And during the Communication exercise - none of them - Chetney, Imogen, Ashton, or Orym - doubted that their directors were leading them the wrong way. They listened, and paid attention to instructions, and didn’t try their own path because they felt like they knew better.

And then during Trust! The part that should have been the hardest!! All of them were obviously distrustful of each other, shooting around stressed looks, sending familiars to dive-bomb to check for flesh, but like… none of them actually turned on each other. None of them ganged up, or broke off, or stood in opposition - they were wary of each other, and they got the task done.

So… it didn’t really lead to any huge shifts in the dynamic. But that was never really what they needed! The Hells have trusted each other since the beginning, and even when they’re actively having to fight each other, it’s always with a desperation born from a place of concern. They really do care for and love each other. I don’t think any of them, if they sat down to think about it, truly believed that one of them was going to betray the others.

But they haven’t had time to sit and think about it. They have been actively fighting the literal end of the world since like… ep 45 (first irl Ludinus sighting/convo). The apocalypse happened. Has been happening. For thirty episodes now. They spent a good chunk of that time apart from each other, and then the rest of it desperately reaching out to anyone with more power than themselves to beg for their help.

So yeah! It’s not a big surprise that they’re all bottling up a lot of their own shit right now! There aren’t that many personal issues that feel like they deserve more attention than the literal end of the world.

It was inevitable something was going to give. And since Ashton’s shit was up next for dissection because they had a past that brushed up against the Primordials? Of course they were the one whose internal lockdown broke first. And of course when it did, it physically shattered Ashton, too, right along those same fault lines where Milo put them back together the first time. It’s so good that they had friends who were there, past and present, to make sure none of the pieces got lost. To put them back together.

We watched Laudna break down right after, specifically because she was back home, in this place where Delilah had first tortured and killed her, where she had lived as a wraith haunting a castle. Delilah had been slowly picking the lock on the cage the Hells had forced her into, and Ashton’s “betrayal” was the last tumbler Delilah needed to snap into place to break the lock in Laudna’s mind. And her mind shattered, fragmented in the same way it had been after she was first brought back as Delilah’s vessel. How beautiful that it was Laudna’s love of children and her desire to make Ashton a gift (meant to be part insult, “because you’re a child,” and declaration of her care for him, “I like children.”)

And Fearne… Fearne almost broke down after them. Slamming the hammer down next to Ashton’s head over and over and over, screaming at him, wandering away through the city, sleeping alone in the woods… She saw the cliff’s edge coming. That’s why she asked them if they could stop at her Nana’s first.

Because she needed it. And the rest of the Hells say, “Why? Do you think Nana Morri can help us in this?” And Fearne says, “Well, I don’t know, but…” And Imogen says, “Do you need it for you?” And Fearne says, in a small and shattered voice, “…yes.”

And that’s the end of the discussion.

They go home, to a place where they are safe and have time, for the first time since Ruidus was locked in place.

And so they have time to be Honest - and they are. Fearne likes to watch them all and play with their hair while they sleep. Orym has thought through how he would neutralize them if he absolutely had to. Ashton thinks it would be better for him to be dead than for Fearne to be hurt. Imogen is scared to face her mom. Laudna dreams of leaving this behind. FCG is jealous of the people around him with a heart, because they have possibilities he doesn’t. Chetney hasn’t settled down once in 400 years because he’s scared he’s cursed to drive away any family he has.

Behind all of this - I want to know everything about you. I need to make sure you don’t hurt each other. I would sacrifice myself to keep you from pain. I don’t want to choose between my blood and this family we’ve built. I want you all to be safe. I want you to pursue happiness. I don’t want to lose you.

And then, Communication - follow along this path. Listen to my voice. Keep calm, keep quiet. Stay the course. I will keep you safe. Keep walking, keep walking, and… you’re there, honey.

And finally, Trust. Two of them are going to be replaced by fae beings bent on preventing them from completing their mission, and they have to complete this task without letting the infiltrators stop them. Okay. Let’s all stick together. Keep eyes on each other. Wait for the doppelgängers to give themselves away somehow. Do you remember these small, banal details about our mutual history? There’s a possibility that action you took was malicious, but I know you well enough to know that might have been a mistake you made on your own. Here, I’ll walk into traps to show that I’m not going to stop you. I’ll get out of your way and take out the threats. I’ll be eyes in the sky and send my familiar to poke you to test if you feel like you should. But nothing you’re doing makes me see you as a real threat - just the possibility of one. I trust you. I trust in you. I trust myself to know enough about you to identify if you’re doing something differently than normal.

And the result of those exercises? No new information, but maybe some things that we all had lost track of amongst the chaos. I am not shocked by your Honesty. I know deep down that I can rely on your Communication. I do Trust you. I know you. I care for you. I know you care for me, too. Even when I have doubts, even when you fuck up, even when things break bad and you make the wrong call…

We are a team for a reason, and no matter what we said in the beginning, it is not just out of necessity or convenience. Are we a bunch of fucked up, broken people? Absolutely. Are we going to continue to fuck up? Probably. Does that change how we feel about each other? No. Never. As long as you’ll have me, I’ll be here, fighting alongside you. Helping you up when you stumble. Offering a shoulder when you need to cry. Standing over you to protect you if you fall. Laughing with you in good times, kicking ass for you in bad. This is our family, damn it. It is strange, and broken, but it is ours, and it is good.

#critical role #bells hells #c3e80 #cr3 #c3 #this got away from me a bit maybe??? but fuck!! I was feeling so many damn emotions this episode!!! this is obvs a v watsonian take #I also wanted to add the doyalist take that the players needed some role play that was like… thematically appropriate (shit be fucked) #but without world-altering stakes #it’s been a stressful time!! #I am glad that they were having fun with the dnd mini games matt made for them #but anyway the post got too fuckin long so there it is in the tags #fuck I love this story

[darsynia]

Hand(s) Off | Ch1: Agony

(Steve Rogers/f!Reader sex pollen-esque multichapter)

STORY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | NEXT

Summary: Bucky Barnes is the most important person in your life. When he confesses to you that he lives at the Avengers tower, and the 'Steve' you've been hearing about for months is actually Steve Rogers, you think that nothing can top that revelation-- and then you find yourself trapped in Captain America's bedroom getting a second-hand dose of NYC's favorite new aphrodisiac, Mistress.

Length | Warnings: 3,271 | None this chapter; story will contain explicit sex descriptions and situations, MINORS DNI

Note: I want to make clear that I'm treating the issues of consent with sensitivity. This is not even a dubious consent story in my eyes; the choices these characters make are kind, as clear-eyed as possible under the circumstances, and respectful-- in fact, that's what causes problems for Steve and Dee in the long run. I do want to be clear though: there will be sexual stuff in this story. I'm not teasing you. It won't be clinical or tortured :)

Fill: Adoptable 'Pheremones' from @allcapsbingo

Tags (please request!): @starryeyes2000 @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @nekoannie-chan

Excerpt:

“You grew up with Captain America?” you ask, impressed. Bucky Barnes can really keep a secret.

“Not at all. I grew up with Steve. Skinny, brave Steve. Never backed down from a fight, and now he doesn’t have to. C’mon,” he says, nodding toward the Avengers tower that’s visible in the distance.

There’s something in the back of your mind that’s important, something-- “Oh my God, Bucky!” you gasp, almost stumbling in your shock. “I dragged you to that trivia night, and you did so badly on the Avengers questions! You let me answer the all Captain America ones myself! I totally went on and on about how wonderful and handsome Steve Rogers is. I talked about his ass-- and he’s your best friend?”

“You squeak any higher you’re going to start catching the attention of every purse dog in the city,” Bucky teases gruffly. You shoot a look over, noticing that he’s trying not to grin.

“You jerk!” you say, nudging his right arm with your left elbow. “Were you feeling me out?”

Bucky starts cough-laughing. “You’re going to have to define that one for me.”

Chapter One: Agony

He’s falling and you can’t do anything about it.

Bucky’s shirt catches on a stub of a branch on the way down. You, the child whose balloon he was retrieving, and the kid’s mother all rush over when he lands in a heap.

“Oh my god, are you--” the mom starts to say.

“Here you go, kid. Hold tight, I’m not going after it again,” Bucky interrupts, hauling himself to his feet. 

“Wow! That looks like it didn’t hurt at all!” the kid says.

“It hurts. Everything hurts. I’m just trying to impress her.” He nods in your direction.

Even though it makes you crack up (because he’s absolutely not), this seems to do the trick. The mom takes a minute to tie a more secure knot in the balloon string before smiling nervously at the two of you and leading her son away.

“I’m sorry,” you wince, taking a picture of the hand-sized rip at Bucky’s armpit that reveals the metal of his arm underneath. You’ve never seen the whole thing, but you’ve felt the arm through his sleeve a couple of times.

“Why are you sorry? You told me not to do it.”

“I’m sorry to have been right?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says grimly, scowling at the phone you handed him and reaching around to feel the edges of the tear. “It shows the join, doesn’t it?”

You’ve been trying not to look, because, yeah, it does. The skin edging the metal graft looks burned and painful, definitely not appropriate for your museum plans. Bucky takes in your uncomfortable nod and his jaw clenches.

“We don’t have to go,” you offer.

“We’re going. I just have to…” He trails off, twisting the shirt around to get a better look. The two of you had decided to take the long way through the park. There’s about an hour before the interactive exhibit opens, but it’s the last day. He wouldn’t even tell you how he got the tickets.

“Okay, what if we swing by a corner store so I can grab a sewing kit--”

Bucky interrupts in a firm voice. “No need to waste the money. I’ll head back home to change; we can get a taxi from there. It’s a bit of a walk.” He shrugs the shirt back into position and starts back the way you’d come.

You have to jog to catch up. “That works.” There are a million things you want to say, but it’s Bucky who speaks first, after fifteen minutes of silence. The two of you reach a crosswalk, and he stops you with his left arm, which in your opinion is a choice.

“Spit it out.”

“You were keeping things separate. You shouldn’t change your mind unless you want to,” you say quietly. He’d said he wanted to keep this friendship to himself for a while, with no connection to the past, and no expectation for the future. You’d found that unexpectedly refreshing at the time, and you still do.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Bucky says. “It’s time. I probably would have sat on it for another month anyway.”

It’s been a six month journey from friendly to friends to close friends for the two of you, and it’s only been two months since he’d opened up about his agonizing past. You don’t know everything yet, and that’s okay. You might never know. As long as Bucky knows he can trust you, that’s what matters.

The light changes, and he guides you across, his body language more relaxed now. Still, you want to make things as easy for him as possible.

“I can wait in the lobby--”

“Shit. That won’t help,” Bucky says, coming to a complete stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “Did you ever look me up?”

“No! You asked me not to.”

He looks at you like you’re some sort of rare creature for a minute, and a slow, appreciative smile grows on his face. You get it-- when he’d told you his actual birthdate, that he’d gone missing in the 40’s, you’d been tempted. But… when someone with a medically engineered metal arm asks you not to poke around in his past, you don’t. Not if you care about him.

“There was a good reason for that, I’m assuming?”

Bucky’s chuckle is deep and amused. “Yeah. I ah, live with the Avengers. Steve’s last name is Rogers. Steve Rogers.”

You’ve heard all about his best friend Steve, enough to feel affection for the man without ever having met him-- but this is not what you were expecting. At all.

“You grew up with Captain America?” you ask, impressed. Bucky Barnes can really keep a secret.

“Not at all. I grew up with Steve. Skinny, brave Steve. Never backed down from a fight, and now he doesn’t have to. C’mon,” he says, nodding toward the Avengers tower that’s visible in the distance.

There’s something in the back of your mind that’s important, something-- “Oh my God, Bucky!” you gasp, almost stumbling in your shock. “I dragged you to that trivia night, and you did so badly on the Avengers questions! You let me answer the all Captain America ones myself! I totally went on and on about how wonderful and handsome Steve Rogers is. I talked about his ass-- and he’s your best friend?”

“You squeak any higher you’re going to start catching the attention of every purse dog in the city,” Bucky teases gruffly. You shoot a look over, noticing that he’s trying not to grin.

“You jerk!” you say, nudging his right arm with your left elbow. “Were you feeling me out?”

Bucky starts cough-laughing. “You’re going to have to define that one for me.”

“--stop by, that’s all I ask. Redwing would love it,” Sam grins as he opens the door to Tony’s lab.

“I’ll try, but did you have to say it like that?” Steve groans before heading into Dr. Banner’s workspace right next door. A new street drug named Mistress has been causing concern, and with SHIELD still in transition, the government has called on the scientific wing of the Avengers to help figure out how to combat the substance. 

Mistress is an aphrodisiac, a potent one. Banner’s preliminary tests show that it’s likely not of Earth origin, which has slowed down their testing considerably due to safety concerns. That’s where Steve comes in; Bruce thinks his fast metabolism could be the key to figuring the stuff out without putting too many others at risk. That and his lack of a romantic partner. 

Apparently the drug enhances a person’s desire to have sex to a strong need, strong enough that there’s no data on what happens if they don’t. The stuff reportedly burns through people, causing dangerous fevers that have officials fearful that someone’s going to get dosed and killed, not to mention the consent issues.

“Hey, Steve,” Banner says. “I don’t know if you’ve met Doctor Lyonne?”

“I haven’t. First or last name?” Steve asks the attractive female doctor.

“Oh, nice one. ‘Lyonne’ is my married name, though. Sorry to possibly disappoint,” she says easily.

Banner smiles at Steve’s wave-off gesture and says, “I’ll leave you two experts to the interpersonal stuff.” He ignores them in favor of a large glass jar with a bunch of warning labels stuck to it. The liquid inside is clear, and all signs point to it being the drug in question. “All right,” Bruce finally says, stepping away and scratching out about four things on his clipboard. “The plan is to expose you in measured doses and observe the results. It’s pretty volatile-- works if ingested, soaks into the skin, and we think it’s capable of being aerosolized under certain conditions. Drinking it will be the most controlled method, so Dr. Lyonne is setting up dosing cups for me. She’s got a class to teach in about forty minutes, so--”

“That’s his delicate way of saying I’ll be out of your hair and unable to observe anything you’ll be going through over the course of the tests,” Lyonne interrupts.

The door that joins the two labs swings open before Steve can respond, and Tony leans his head in. He’s wearing one of his Iron Man suits. “Before you ramp up Icy Hot here, can I show you my new toy?”

“This is a segue to a sex toy joke, Steve. Retreat, retreat!” Sam calls out from behind Tony.

“I’m wounded!” Tony says, muttering, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that first.” He walks in and grins, holding up his left arm. “Check it out. Nav is still a little spotty, but--”

Steve watches as a shape lifts up from Tony’s bicep area on the suit, similar to Redwing but oval and smaller. 

“Tony, I’d be happy to look at it pretty much any other time, but--”

“You have the whole rest of the day blocked out, Bruce, just give me this!”

The friendship between Stark and Banner always makes Steve nervous. They are the closest aligned in terms of work ethic and smarts, but farthest apart in temperament-- and that’s before the Hulk is brought into play. Steve inches closer to the large glass jug of Mistress as Tony gesticulates wildly, sending the drone careening around the room.

It starts beeping.

“Shit!” Tony shouts. “Uh… apparently something I did set the self-destruct?”

“Why does your drone have a self destruct, Tony?” 

Bruce sounds incredulous and angry, and Steve doesn’t have his shield. As though Tony had set up the whole situation for maximum drama, the thing is headed straight for the jug. Steve lunges to protect it as Bruce maneuvers himself to take the explosion for the team. Someone screams for JARVIS to lock down the building.

Steve lifts the drug container high, meaning to leap out of the way with it, but there’s nowhere to go. The drone’s explosive impact brings forth the Hulk-- which sends Steve and the jug flying backwards into the lab equipment.

Things turn a bit surreal when you enter the tower. Bucky takes you to a secret side entrance (to avoid the press, he says) but when he gets into the elevator, he seems confused when he can’t talk to it. You’re just about to make a Star Trek joke when he explains there’s usually an artificial intelligence that runs the building, but it’s not responding.

You’re used to pretty much anything apartment-related being out of order, so you’re not fazed. Once inside his apartment, you point out that there’s a sticky note on the opposite side of the door, and Bucky grabs it, his brows furrowing as he reads.

“Shit,” he grins, holding up the note. “Stay here? You’re not authorized for this area.”

“Better hurry!” The tickets for the exhibit are for 1:30, and it’s already 12:50. With a nod, he jogs back into the hallway toward the elevator, and just like that you’re alone in Bucky’s apartment.

It is immediately apparent that he doesn’t live here alone. Underneath a coat rack with multiple jackets is a shoe tray with at least five pairs of shoes in two different sizes. The living room is cozy and lived-in; you see the familiar sight of a bottle of Bucky’s favorite beer sitting on an end-table-- right beside a coaster.

You’re about to reach for it when an alarm sounds, accompanied by an urgent voice.

=Tier One protection activated. Retreat to an interior room and wait for further instructions. Attention: Tier One protection activated. Retreat to an interior room and wait for further instructions.=

You freeze in fear for a few seconds, but when the instruction repeats a few seconds later, you hear a grinding noise in the wall. It’s frightening enough that you dart into the hallway and inside the first open door. The reason for the sound becomes terrifyingly clear a few seconds later as a metal panel encased in the doorframe slides down, too quickly for you to slip out underneath it.

The room turns pitch black in the space between one frightened breath and the next.

After taking a minute to listen for danger, you make your way by feel to the far wall, looking for the light switch. On the way, you trip over something that turns out to be a pair of men’s slippers. You’re glad to let your eyes adjust to the light as you put them back, but when you straighten up, you immediately feel like you’re trespassing somewhere you do not belong.

The room is neat as hell, the kind of tidiness that must come from enjoying a clean space rather than a sense of obligation. However, you soon reassess: this is lived in, less frighteningly neat than well-designed. Everything has its place. It’s different from the easy chaos that Bucky has shown on the few times he’s slept over after movie marathons, so you’re pretty sure this isn’t his room. That, and the white cat plushie you gave him that he swears lives on his dresser? Isn’t there.

Instead, the tray with grooming materials in front of a small mirror are the only objects on the dresser top. There’s a low bookshelf next to an easy chair whose footrest has a worn-in divot. The nightstand is equally neat and functional, with a slightly askew sketchbook hinting that the room’s occupant is an artist.

Unfortunately, these observations are making you more nervous, not less. An intrusive thought that the alarm could be about a fire and there’s literally no way out sends you into a frenzy of banging on the inexorable metal slab. 

“Hello?? HELLO!? Please let me out, please, please let me out!” you scream, slamming your fists against the damned barrier until your hands hurt. You’re crying and frantic and yelling, and suddenly there’s someone else on the other side of the door also yelling, and in the next few minutes everything happens at once. 

You can’t see anything through your tears and fear; all you know is the feel and sound of strong hands and a soothing voice that isn’t Bucky but it should be. That thought sends you into more frightened tears, because he’ll be worried, he’ll be upset, and it might send him into a spiral like the one from a few months ago when he finally explained about his past.

Then, awfully, the grinding sound is back and the warm hands are gone.

You hear several shouted, imperative commands before the man falls silent. He’d set you down in a huddle on the bed wrapped in a blanket, and you kind of… drift back into awareness surrounded by the strong scent of coconut, with a not-unpleasant buzz of awareness deep in your gut.

You pull the blanket closer before you recognize it. You’d been working on it during the first few movie nights you and Bucky had shared, and he’d bought it as a gift for his best friend. That’s what brings you fully back to yourself: you’d handmade the thing that’s warming you up. You’ll be able to tell Bucky that. It’ll help, when the time comes.

Taking in a long, deep breath, you look around, expecting, since you’re no longer alone, to see anything but a metal panel completely covering the door. You’re wrong. There’s damage to the frame, as though someone had pried the previous slab out of the way-- but there’s once again a solid-looking metal barrier between you and freedom.

“Are you okay?” It’s Captain Am-- Rogers. Steve. Bucky’s Steve.

The unreality of your situation is fully hitting you now.

“That’s what you’re going with? Not ‘who are you?’ or ‘funny story about the door…’”

Rogers says, “I did. You were too upset to answer.” He’s tense, clearly uncomfortable, and his clothes are soaked. You wonder if that’s the source of the strange fruity smell. 

“Dee. I’m Dee.” It’s short for Chickadee, your stage-name-turned-favorite-nickname. You think you see recognition in his eyes. “Bucky needed to change his shirt. I didn’t mean-- you have to believe me, I never would have come in here, but he said he would just be a minute, and then a voice told me to hide and…” You’re babbling, but you feel like you’re out of your mind. Of all the people in the world, you’d probably pick Captain America as the one person you’d want to know that you’re eating your vegetables and being polite to your elders, that you wouldn’t invade someone’s private space. “Did something happen to the building?” you ask in a small voice.

“No, this--” Rogers winces. “Bucky asked for extra security or he wouldn’t move in. To slow him down.”

“The Soldier,” you whisper, closing your eyes tightly.

He makes a noise of understanding, then a louder, angry sound. “Everything has gone the exact worst-- I’m sorry,” he grits out. “I’m sorry.”

The depth to his voice prompts a heated curl of attraction that warms you from the inside out. It’s unexpected and strange, given the fear and confusion that’s ruled your reactions in the past minutes.

“I think I should be asking if you are okay.”

Rogers is looking at the floor now, his hands fisted in his pockets. “I was exposed to a… chemical. Tried to do everything right: activated security protocols, set the apartment Dark so I didn’t say or do anything I’d regret before the brain fog set in.”

“What happens when the brain fog sets in?” you whisper, sensing that the answer is what has this man’s body stiff as a board, in contrast with his broken and worried tone.

“How close are you with Buck?” Rogers lifts his head and the intensity in his eyes shoots you with an arrow of concern.

You lift your chin. “Truthfully? I consider him my best friend, why?”

“There’s nothing… more?”

There have been times, multiple times, when you’ve thought about it. But Bucky Barnes is a multifaceted man, and you don’t want to sully his progress towards becoming whole again by making things complicated.

“No,” you say, feeling heat in your chest from the look of understanding in his eyes. Your pause was unintentionally illustrative. “Why?”

“It’s important that I be honest with you: the building is on lockdown, its governing AI is too busy monitoring the Hulk to get us out of this room, and the chemical I was exposed to is Mistress.” He sounds like a soldier reciting battle parameters.

The name sounds familiar, but you can’t place it. Suddenly, you feel too vulnerable on the bed, his bed, so you slide over to the edge in preparation for getting up. The action bares your legs to mid-thigh, and Rogers immediately turns his back on you and hits the wall with the flat of his hand. 

That’s when you remember where you’d heard that name. Mistress. The aphrodisiac is the reason many women have flocked to your cousin’s restaurant to hang out, instead of at bars. Many establishments are offering complimentary test kits so their customers can ensure there’s no residue in their food and drinks. It’s become fashionable to carry around your own cups, just in case. Some bars are actually trying to skip requiring women to pay a cover charge, desperate to return to the status quo. Drinks containing coconut aren’t even served anymore, thanks to the scent association.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” you blurt out, rushing over to the easy chair and covering yourself with the blanket. Jesus, the whole room reeks of coconut. He’s practically steeped in the stuff. “What can I do?”

Steve Rogers’ voice is husky, but pained. “Don’t let today be your first impression of me.”

Next chapter...

#allcapsbingo2023 #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america x reader #captain america smut #captain america x f!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #captain america x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #mcu smut #mcu fanfiction #sex pollen #humor #romance

[zuko-always-lies]

Have you considered that Zuko is just a bad friend?[This will not be a Zuko friendly post]

While this title is a bit of a joke, the point remains: there is a very strong argument to be made that canon Zuko is just not a very good friend, that he’s someone who doesn’t treat his friends very well. Obviously there are many events in Zuko’s life which negatively affected his interpersonal relationships, so I don’t intend this to be an exercise in blame. I’m merely noting a pattern that I think Zuko will need to work on in the future:

Ty Lee: Zuko is extremely vicious in what he says to Ty Lee in “The Beach,” which stands out because it’s about the only substantive thing he ever says to her, and because Ty Lee is extremely kind to him that episode. He never apologizes for it. He also deliberately tries to provoke a fight between Ty Lee and Mai.

Mai: Let’s us just say that Zuko treats Mai very poorly in “The Beach,” and never really apologizes for it or recognizes what about his behavior was wrong. This includes getting into fits of violent jealousy the moment Mai even lays eyes on another boy.

Now let’s turn to the Gaang. In all cases, Zuko starts off eager to please and gain their approval. However, once he passes this initial hurtle, his behavior doesn’t necessarily measure up.

Toph basically approves of Zuko from the start, and he has to do little to win her friendship. As a result, he largely although not entirely ignores her. He feels comfortable dumping his emotional issues on her, but when she tries to do the same to him, he’s dismissive of it. All things considered, Zuko isn’t a terrible friend to Toph, but I wouldn’t say he’s a great one, either.

Aang rapidly warms up to Zuko, particularly through their field trip in “The Firebending Masters.” However, we see some questionable treatment of Aang later on. Zuko twice mocks the culture of Aang, a genocide survivor whose culture was murdered by Zuko’s ancestors, in “The Southern Raiders.” Worse, Zuko, in the series finale, decided it was a great idea to try to light Aang on fire in order to terrify him into submission, because said best friend didn’t want to train and Zuko didn’t feel like reasoning with him.

Sokka is an interesting case. Zuko tries hard to win his friendship in the “Boiling Rock” episodes. However, once this is accomplished, Zuko starts behaving differently. In “The Southern Raiders,” Zuko uses Sokka to find out about Kya’s death. However, although Zuko emphasizes the importance of revenge, it doesn’t occur to him to offer the opportunity to Sokka. Zuko doesn’t directly tell Sokka what he found, nor does he give Sokka the chance to join on the little “vengeance expedition.” The fact that Sokka already forgave Zuko means that Zuko has no reason to care about giving him an opportunity for closure.  And of course, when Sokka, who also lost Kya, says that he thinks killing Yon Rha is a bad idea, Zuko ignores him.

Zuko’s treatment of Katara is a whole mess of its own, although it’s largely confined to one episode:

1. Zuko feels entitled to Katara’s forgiveness.

2. Zuko ignores Katara’s very clear and reasonable explanation about why she doesn’t like or trust him to instead decide it must be all about her mom.

3. Zuko decides to manipulate Katara into liking him by giving her the opportunity to murder someone she hates. That someone is a bad person who did something truly awful, but whose actions are not necessarily much worse than what Zuko himself did, much less what Zuko’s believed uncle Iroh did. Zuko claims this is all about “justice,” but the fact that he had no interest in giving Sokka an opportunity to come along and participate shows the real character of Zuko’s actions here.

Zuko is mostly nice to Katara after “The Southern Raiders,” but his treatment of her in the episode always feels terrible to me.

Zuko and Suki don’t seem to have any significant friendship, so there’s nothing to say here, one way or the other.

#Zuko critical #anti Zuko #tagging the last to be safe

[lesser-mook]

Miles isn’t bad, just overrated

”wild to me”, as in how could you not like him?

  Mind you they’re leaving out continuity, origin differences, the fact some aren't mantles but actual RANKS (GL), Fate/Nabu is more an Entity than a mantle. (debatable, yes)

Barry to Jay is Jim Hammond Human Torch to Johnny Storm’s Torch- existed in different times

 Hammond was an Allies soldier

Johnny is a modern Superhero whose power is cosmic in isolation

Leaving out context to make a moot point. 

I was there day one Miles’ story began, and i loyally bought his stuff. 

He ain’t all that, the main selling point is the cultural modernization that he represents, he’s an urban, black Spider-man and that’s mainly why people latch onto him.

Not that he’s in anyway compelling or interesting in a unique sense, cause he is an individual person, but the urban aesthetic mainly is what people fell in love with. And that’s 100% fine-

But it’s when you start deflecting that fact and start acting like people have an issue when they don’t like him and you just can’t for the life of you understand “why why why, don’t you like him” vs other knockoffs:

Mind you, i’m probably one of the lesser yet avid Supergirl criticizers on the net, and i’m not even talking about the show, that’s too easy, comics 100%. That requires research.

So there’s no double standard, Kara Zor El is a blue eyed blond haired girl next door archetype cosplaying as Superman, her entire appeal is to get women into the lore but she ended up being taken in by straight men as a fanbase, majorly. 

Why? 

Because she’s got a dynamic character arc? (She’s had some decent runs, nothing phenomenal)

An arc that at one point changed the landscape of DC? 

Her tragic downward spiral of self-destruction and wrapped up in a beautiful act of redemption & sacrifice?

NOPE that would be someone else, who i often WISH was Supergirl in the first fucking place.

But despite Clark Kent-PRIME being a better character, somehow hasn’t gotten a single chance in the animated media.

Young JUSTICE didn’t choose him. They chose Kara to end off S4, because we haven’t had enough of her the past 15 years, she’s so deep like that.

I DIGRESS.

As you can tell, i cannot stand her despite her innate general appeal. Why? Writing, purpose, originality and lack thereof. 

The takes of Kara that land, FOR ME, are the ones that say or do something different from the version mainline canon, and allow her to be her own thing off of Clarks coattails in some way, minor or major. 

*DC Nuclear Winter Kara Zor El, i like her.

And the fact that she’s a cutesie R63, usually. Is the only reason why she remained relevant for this long, same with Powergirl, up until people literally forgetting she existed because her contribution to the picture was big tits and a litle bit of ego.

Injusitce 2 brought her back, attitude and all.....aaaand then she went back into obscurity, WHO saw that coming? 

Same with Miles, token.

Miles not bad, not a bad kid, not the worst take on Spider-man. Just overrated.

Some people need to just admit what they like about him is the aesthetic surrounding him, and stop pretending we just don’t get what it is that’s wrong with other people regarding him.

Cause i guarantee you majority of people stanning this kid has NEVER read that issue where he fought that nobody villain: Kangaroo- which is technically where his first fight as a masked hero began.

Doesn’t mean you have to read every single issue to speak on the matter (Because i need to catch up on some of his stories myself), but the point is with all this support for this character, how invested are you really in this boy beyond what’s fed to you by Hollywood.

It means: Do you actually give a shit? Are you invested, or are you just talking?

It means don’t act stupid for the sake of feigning confusion when you know exactly what’s up. 

Like he should be or has to be liked and anything less is a problem or something.

Most people big him up because he’s a POC Spider-Man, period. 

If they (Marvel/Bendis) had any balls they would’ve made Miles more like Kaine, give him some anger issues or SOME kind of major flaw that made him having powers a serious problem- and how he uses his powers, is different enough from Peter in sheer application to where he’s not your average Spider-Man by just how he moves:

Like Deku & Allmight having roughly the same power, initially, but Deku uses his strengths so differently by S2-S3, he literally moves & fights nothing like All Might anymore. He’s his own aesthetic.

Even Full Cowling isn’t something Allmight’s really known for, it’s a visual distinction between the two.

And that’s one of few things i can actually praise of the franchise without a complaint.

That should’ve been Miles.

And no, some sparky fingers ain’t unique cause Jessica was doing that shit decades before Miles was a concept, but nobody talks about that tho.

The Invisible Woman shit? Sure i’ll give him that i guess. It’s pretty cool.

Moreso this alternate Miles’ arc is moreso learning the values of a hero in his own way, at his own pace, while maintaining enough moral differences from Parker to be a different situation. 

Say he’s 18 when he gets his power, slightly older than when Peter got his,14-15. 

Have the first 9-12 months be him using his powers for himself, a “fuck the world” attitude, until he does something deathly serious in a fit of rage or self defense, that he can’t undo and regrets for the rest of his career. 

Anything like that would’ve been more compelling.

You can’t tell me that doesn’t sound like a more interesting story, i didn’t say “better”, i said “interesting.”

Not just Peter Parker but recolored.

Again, I was there since the beginning, 2012, day one i was buying Morales comics “Because he looked liked me”, and guess what, i was NOT impressed.

The staying power wasn’t there, the justification of his looking like me (and yes he looked just like me) WAS NOT enough to warrant long term investment because while he did look like me, Miles was NOT me. Period.

I liked that both his parents were alive, ofc they weren’t an entirely black family unit, of course. 

But i liked his pops, Jefferson being a cop. His mom was good peoples, and what happened to her was...something.

But the kid overall was boring, he didn’t speak to me, he just mirrored my melanin, big deal.

Lo and behold, just looking like a person isn’t enough to justify staying power, who knew? Just being black doesn’t mean i relate to you, who knew?

That was the day i realized, true “Representation” is NOT skin deep. It’s about character, who you are as a person. Period.

Between Kaine and Morales, it’s not even a Contest. 

One has enough distinctions moral & mental to be a completely separate franchise and SHOULD'VE been in movies by now, R Rated ofc.

And the other is just a glorified What If DLC.

But ofc guess who gets a honorable mention, twice in the MCU. The Black Spider-Man ofc: 

Because he’s compelling, interesting, a long standing character in the Spider-man lore? 

No that’s KAINE, hell i’m still looking for Madam Web’s respect, on god..

I’m STILL waiting for MAYDAY to get her big break! The fact that Miles was able to skip the line in front of her, is insane to me.

Miles is likely going get to the MCU first before BEN, Web, Mayday and KAINE combined, because he’s the black Spidey.

Again, you can like him if you want, but don’t pretend for a second why people don’t like him is some mystery.

Miles looks exactly like me, i repeat and i cannot stand him as a concept- i gravitate to Venom, Kaine, Miguel, Spider-Man NOIR, Mayday, etc.

And Miguel is technically the POC Spider-man BEFORE Morales, half Mexican, but Miles is black+latino in current day, so let’s just forget all about O’Hara until some corny Spiderverse movie makes him relevant again in the post credit scene, now everyone’s going to love Miguel because he’s going to be in the next movie.

Mapping out the main reason i can’t normies sometimes, bandwagon mentality.

And it sucks cause we got him in Ultimate Spiderman XD, Edge of Time, Shattered Dimensions, so the man had some momentum getting off the pages. So what was the hold up with getting this cat in a movie? Or a Mini series like TNAS Spider-man most people forgot?

Miguel is a legit cool dude, careerman, sly, very different aesthetic, different time, different Spider-man. He is NOT Parker, trust me. 

Miguel O’Hara should’ve been gotten his own show or movie. And on that note, that obscure underwritten Spider-man Unlimited, was a Spider-man 2099 cartoon that didn’t know or it 100% knew it was trying to be 2099

But our boy Miles gets to skip the goddamn line in front of established more interesting characters that have done their time since before the Century turned, get mentions in the MCU and 2 animated movies, if that’s not AA energy i don’t know what is. 

NOW THAT’S wild to me.

#token black #spider-man #miles morales #kaine #marvel comics #knockoffs #off my mind #representation #poc #token morales #miguel o'hara #scarlet spider #ben reilly

[bowl-of-shortness]

For the young leaders AU 👀

"What did you just say to me?"

Sure! :)

This is a small one so bear with me here, anyways Eira go offfffffffff

An Ember

After a while of putting up with Ozymandias’s constant ridicule, Eira finally works up the nerve to say something after the king let’s a particular comment slip.

They were walking back from another training session in Mr. Rose’s class. Or, well, he was walking, Ozymandias was floating alongside him.

He was scowling, Eira was looking away from him.

Once they reached the quieter side of the school is when Ozymandias started in on his usual tangent.

“It was one singular punch! And you managed to screw it up somehow. You can’t even throw a damn punch right, what makes you think you can fight without me?”

“Leave me alone…”

“Yes, because that’s worked with me and with the countless others you let walk all over you.”

“I’m not in the mood. I already know what you’re going to say. I’m too weak, I’m too fragile, I’m too much of a doormat, too much this not enough that. Just save it, I’m already tired from class…”

He feels his wrist be yanked, and he’s spun around to face the man, whose now enraged.

“You have the audacity to speak to me that way you fool?! You will follow my guidance or you will get yourself murdered. And I wouldn’t so much have an issue with that if it wasn’t for the fact that you would merge with me!”

Eira yanks his wrist out of Ozymandias’s hand. He then turns around, and continues walking.

Ozymandias scoffs, “It’s no wonder you ran. You run from everything, just like this time. You probably even ran from your parents just because they said something you didn’t like. I hope they find you eventually.”

An image of a beaten and battered Eira, curled up in the corner of his room, shoots through his mind before disappearing as quickly as it came. Ozymandias is stunned into silence, not knowing where it came from.

“What did you just say to me?” He’s stopped walking.

Ozymandias stays silent as Eira turns around, a rage filled look on his face. He’d seen many negative emotions from the boy, embarrassment, fear, sadness, but never anger.

“You know nothing about how my parents treated me. You know nothing about how my life was before I ran.”

“. . .”

“But because I’m an actually decent person, unlike someone else I know, I’ll tell you, seeing as you apparently have the respect to not go digging through my memories. My parents only had me because they needed an heir to their stupid weapons company. Yes, I heard them say that, to my face. They permanently disabled me by fucking up my right leg, they beat me within an inch of my life any chance they could, and forced me into studying so debilitating and hard to do that I would pass out from exhaustion because they wouldn’t let me rest.”

“…I-“

“I don’t need your input. As you said, in your own damn words, I am in the same position that you and the others were in when they found out they were another incarnation. You’d think you’d have a little compassion to that. But no, you just are a sad pathetic excuse for a king who gets off on harassing a kid when you know nobody would believe him if he told anyone of the literal abuse you put him through.”

Ozymandias looks away.

“Leave. Me. Alone.”

Eira promptly begins blocking Ozymandias out of his mind after that. No emotional empathy between them, no memory sharing, nothing. He watches as Eira leaves, unable to discern where he plans to go.

It would be better if he didn’t follow him, that’s what he thought.

It would seem both of them have some thinking to do.

#alchemy brews #Eira ozpin #ozpin #king Ozymandias #king of vale #YL! Ozymandias #YL! ozpin #young leaders au #rwby

[phoenixkaptain]

I want an animated series between A New Hope and Empire Strikes Back, but I’d like it to start with a two-parter that takes place just before a New Hope. The series, in my mind, would star Leia, Luke, and Han as the main trio, of course, but with side appearances from characters like Rex and Ahsoka.

Anyway, series premiere two-parter that follows Rex and Leia. They’re doing something (I am here for funnies not for plot) and Leia does something and Rex just goes “haha, wow, just like General Skywalker used to…” only this happens like five times. Rex, by the end of part one, is like “…is this a miniature General Skywalker?”

And, in episode two, he’s like “no. No! This couldn’t be! General Skywalker didn’t have any kids, he would have been unbearable if he had any kids, and furthermore, Organa is Bail Organa’s kid. She acts like Skywalker, but there’s no relation.” But then, as the episode continues, he just keeps getting more evidence to the contrary. Like, she’s adopted, her birth mother died in childbirth, the only thing she knows about her birth father is that he was, at some point, a pilot, Bail Organa was Padme’s friend, etc, etc. But Rex is still like “There’s no way. It’s impossible.” Because he’s holding out hope that Anakin Skywalker did not manage to procreate.

But then, big finale moment, there’s some big fight and he watches Leia closely and sees her turn into just the coldest person as her whole face goes from warm and comforting to absolutely livid. They’re losing the fight and there’s nothing she can do, and Rex recognizes that expression because it’s more than just the same as Anakin’s, the motives behind it are the same and the feelings she has of hopelessness and anger and a craving to run out and carve through literally everyone who dares cross her path is all just like Anakin.

And the episode ends with Leia and Rex and a few others escaping. All the while, on her ship, Leia mutters about what she could have done better, never the sins of the soldiers, only her own issues and the episode ends with Rex realizing that it’s not impossible for her to be Skywalker’s blood kid, it’s impossible for her to be anyone else’s blood kid.

Episode two starts a few weeks later (Rex went on a vague mission, okay, he wasn’t here for a bit) and he’s finally come to terms with Leia being related to Anakin “I’m Going To Run Into Danger” Skywalker. He comes back amidst the excitement of the Death Star blowing up. Leia is there to greet him (she doesn’t know why this particular Clone War vet has started trying to talk her out of danger, but she likes him) and she’s unusually cheerful, even for the Death Star blowing up and Rex is immediately on edge.

Leia is like “I’m glad you’re back, there’s someone you should meet.” And it’s very ominous and only made more so by how wide she’s smiling. But Rex has never been able to say no to her, so he follows her to the mess hall or somewhere and he notices that there’s a big group of people around one specific table and he is filling with dread.

Leia calls out: “Hey, Luke!”

Rex watches as a blond boy in the middle of it all looks over automatically. A blond boy who is almost the spitting image of Anakin Skywalker and whose likeness to Anakin does not lessen as he comes over. Leia smiles at him, fond, then tells Rex, “This is Luke Skywalker. His father was a general in the Clone Wars. He was wondering if you knew anything about him- oh, and also, he is the one who blew up the Death Star.”

Luke: waves

Rex: “…I just remembered I have to go do something I’ll get right back to you on all this I’ll be right back I’ve just got to be gone for one moment-“

And the rest of the season is Rex coming to terms with the fact that there are TWO miniature General Sywalkers running around

#star wars #star wars original trilogy #leia organa #luke skywalker #captain rex #anakin skywalker #there is too little #of rex realizing his buddy had children #please #disney hire me i can make the fans’ dreams come true #i can fix all the problems you made with luke #sign here #on this dotted line #in blood #i mean #in ink regular ink not blood haha #the inane ramblings of a madman

[kasunex]

Honestly in repose to your fate hot takes I’ve become more supportive of Shirou x Saber on each successive rewatch of the anime. Let me start by saying I’m not a huge part of the fandom Tsukihime, Fate Stay Night and Today’s Menu For The Emiya Family is the limit of my Nasuverse knowledge but on my first watch of FSN I also thought Saber x Shirou was forced and seemed to come out of nowhere to make the final fight more dramatic but on my last watch I honestly changed my mind. In the anime at least a big theme of Saber’s route seemed to be that she didn’t ever want to be King Arthur and her goal at become a servant was to go back in time and not become King Arthur because she failed, I think this is meant to contrast with Shirou whose idealism in becoming a hero is so strong as to make him purposefully pick fights he can’t win and fight them anyway. They’re actually pretty interesting mirror images of each other in that regard like other ships I’ve liked, then after Shirou starts to learn from the mistakes that turned him into Archer he becomes obsessed with saving Saber from herself since he thinks she did everything she could during her life time and wants her to choose a second life with him, something that the admittedly non canon cooking manga spin off shows that she really enjoys being a housewife in Japan as opposed to being king, but I digress at the end before the final fight against Kotomine Shirou and Saber end up with a common goal to prevent the grail from materialising again and plan to win the fight even though doing so will keep them apart and end with Saber’s death but Saber I think at that moment understands Shirou’s father and Shirou understands why Saber will never consent to shirk her duty as king which I understand was your main problems with the ship but I think are covered in canon at least implied to be resolved.

Yeah, I think most would more or less agree with that take.

My issue with the ship is the concept of pairing a shonen with the ghost of a pre-medieval King of England. I struggle to see how the two could ever really be on the same level, and nothing I've seen of the pairing can move me past this impression.

Seeing a badass, legendary, ancient king reduced to a blushing mess by someone as plain as Shirou just doesn't sit.

It also doesn't help that Fate/Zero establishes Saber pretty much hated Kiritsugu, Shirou's adopted father and role model. That they have such dissenting views of the most important figure in Shirou's life is a conflict that's never really addressed, and just further gets in the way. I don't know how much of that is on Fate/Zero and how much of it is on Stay Night, but even in Stay Night, Saber makes clear in Heaven's Feel that she was not a fan of Kiritsugu.

I think there's a lot of comparison to be drawn with my favorite Fate pairing, Nero x Hakuno. Why does that work for me when Shirou x Saber doesn't? I suspect part of it is the tone difference, Stay Night is much grittier and more grounded compared to the more over-the-top Extra. Part is also that Nero is established to have never had a geniune bond in her lifetime - her own mother tried to kill her - so it makes more sense why she'd attach herself so strongly to Hakuno.

Artoria, on the other hand, had a seemingly normal childhood, friends and allies in Merlin and the Round Table knights, and even Irisviel as a close friend in Fate/Zero.

I get why Shirou x Saber has some appeal, but personally I just don't see it.

#Fate/Stay Night #Fate/Zero #Artoria Pendragon #ShiSaber #Shirou Emiya

[flydotnet]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled).

Papa’s a liar.

New fandom, new bazillion questions I ask myself about whether or not this is even worth finishing - and thenI do anyway because I'm stubborn and my card looks prettier with one more character on it. I'm not sure how I can still stress myself out over my characterization being at least serviceable when - and I counted - this is the fourth time I'm writing a new fandom with this card alone*. At this point, it's just to cause myself issues. Anyway! I love Twilight/Loid. He's the best spy of Westalis but he's also the dumbest idiot I've ever seen. My man buys his daughter a dog first because she wants it and then because something something Operation Strix. It was also funny to remove like 70% of his agency but that's because I'm a horrible person. And also it's fun. The prompt itself wasn't very fun up until I realized I could use "Crutches" as in both the actual item and emotional crutches - aka Anya and Yor, who are absolute units at disarming a spy, apparently! Have I mentioned I love this manga yet? I hope I don't regret this fic man

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Break a Leg, See If It Brings You Luck

Summary: It’s a good thing the only bullet he took was in the leg. It’s an easy thing to take care of and hide for the most part – far easier than on the chest or back, at the very least – as long as one finds a way to justify the slight limp it may carry with it, they’ll find themselves doing just fine.

Except this just had not to be an ordinary gunshot wound. No, the bullet just had to strike in right the perfect way to fracture the femur.

This is going to be a very long month.

Fandom: Spy x Family Characters: Loid, Anya and Yor Forget, the whole fam’s here (with a cameo from Bond too!) Ship: The eternally mutually pining TwiYor, you know how it is

Wordcount: 2.5K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version.

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Getting shot at is nothing new. It comes with the job, one could say: dismantle a smuggling network, or fight off human traffickers and you have a good 90% chance to get attacked with firearms in retaliation. In fact, it’s an exception when you’re not – which has also happened to him, of course – so you must be prepared to patch up a gunshot wound in case thing take a turn for the sour.

He’s not above admitting, at least to himself, that he’s sometimes not been able to avoid bullets as well as he should’ve. Most of those times are so long ago that the details of it are starting to lose their edge (kind of like him, at the moment, and he still has to take care of that issue too…), but they’ve all reminded him that, in the end, they’re simply bigger flesh wounds: they merely require a bit more tending to than your regular scratch or cut.

A bullet fracturing the femur is a new one, though, even to him.

 What’s also new to him is the dependency that comes with such a fracture. Despite his best efforts, he didn’t manage to pretend like it didn’t exist in front of his fake family. He should’ve seen it coming, in retrospect, considering how much of his edge he keeps losing in front of both fake wife and fake daughter – but to Anya’s credit, she seemed to have realized on her own even before he could lie to her about this not being a big deal.

Sometimes, he wonders about the sharpness of this little girl’s instincts. For a child whose grades in school are nothing to write home about, she’s able to get through most of his smokes and mirrors, as if she could read what he meant to hide behind them. It’s… surely just his edge getting dull, though. What else could it be, huh? Surely this child who he found in some dump-like orphanage that barely deserves the name of one doesn’t read minds.

(If she somehow does, then Twilight must apologize, because exposing such a young girl to spy affairs could be considered child cruelty, he’s certain).

 At least, it’s perhaps the easiest gunshot wound in the world to explain. After all, breaking a leg can happen for a wide variety of reasons and he doesn’t have to blame a crazed patient to get away with it. It made him look somewhat stupid when he had to tell both Anya and Yor that he had tripped in the stairs because they had just been washed and he had conveniently forgotten about that, slipping on a step and tumbling down the stairs. (As long as neither of them sees the bullet-shaped hole under the cast, it’s fine).

On the flipside, it’s handicapping him more than a regular bullet hole in that area. A bone takes longer to heal back to usable capacity than flesh and skin. That’s not even getting into the fact it’s his right leg that he can’t walk with: it means he’s even limited in his movements. A broken arm, as bad as it is, at least doesn’t prevent him from running and shooting; a broken leg, on the other hand, severely limits his options for walking and, by virtue of doing so, also prevents him from using his arms when moving around.

Crutches are a pain. How did he even forget?

 Having to use both arms to move an immobile leg means he can’t even take care of chores at home, despite those being the only thing he has to worry about at the moment, aside from Operation Strix: WISE, for once, gave him time off from his usual missions, albeit only because he physically can’t handle them, he’s sure). He can’t cook dinner, he can’t walk Anya to school, he can’t walk the dog—

 “Papa, can I walk Bond today?”

He jumps – he really needs to stop losing himself in thoughts, this is smoothing his edge – and faces a concerned-looking Anya.

“We should wait until your mother is home, Anya. You’ll get carried away by his strength.”

“Mama said she’d come back super late from work today,” Anya replies.

That’s true, yes. Yor proposed to stay home and take care of housework for him, but he refused. His broken leg shouldn’t impede on her professional life. Still, this is an issue, and the fate of his undercover operation relies on Bond being happy… Right!

“I could ask Franky to take care of Bond.”

“Yay, Uncle Scruffy to the rescue!” Then Anya freezes. “But, Papa, how are you gonna use the phone? You can’t stand up and use the phone at the same time!”

Dammit, she’s right… Well, partially, at least. He’s not that powerless, is he now?

“I assure you, Anya, I can maintain my balance on one foot and use the phone with my available hand.”

“That sounds dange’ous, Papa.”

Well, it’s not like he didn’t portray himself as a klutz no later than yesterday, he supposes.

“It’ll be fine.” She looks around for a moment, then walks to the phone. “What’re you doing, Anya?”

“I’m calling Uncle Scruffy!”

“What did I just—”

 Anya, ever the free soul, grabs a chair and, with every single fibre of strength in her tiny body, puts it next to the phone.

“Papa?”

He sighs as he grabs the crutches at the foot of the couch.

“How do you use a phone again?”

With an annoyance he can’t even bring himself to hide (he doubts Anya would be convinced he doesn’t hate having to rely on sticks to walk around anyway), he gets up, sighing. Walking on those things is more tiring than it should be allowed to be.

“Let me at least input the number before you try calling at random, Anya.”

 This is going to be a very tedious month, he can already tell – and it’s only been two days.

  If you put it in a certain way, this entire fiasco benefits Operation Strix. Sure, it’s at the detriment of every other mission WISE is on, which means it’s detrimental to the peace between East and West because he’s stuck on pretending to be a psychiatrist (driven to work by his wife, of all things) and paperwork duties; but it means he can decipher documentation that may’ve taken longer to getting understood and he can watch over Bond. After all, the dog is part of the family, so taking care of him and making sure he’s well-fed and happy is of primordial importance.

(Maybe less so than Anya’s grades or his cover as a psychiatrist with patients so violent one has to wonder how it’s even possible, but important nonetheless).

Anya seems happy that “Bond has a friend”, at least, and to be fair, at least, the dog doesn’t ask about if he should be moving around the place, unlike Anya and Yor and every single one of his fake and real workmates. Maybe, if he could talk, Bond would ask to; but as it stands, Twilight doesn’t speak dog and Bond doesn’t speak human, so it’s fine.

 In that way, it makes interacting in woofs a much better thing than constantly telling Yor that, no, he’s fine, just moving slowly compared to usual (and not having his hands free for most of it).

 Do crutches really make you look that much like an invalid? When he listens to her, Twilight can’t help but think he’s actually lost his damn leg when, no, Anya just keeps asking if she can draw on his cast –he keeps telling her no, but each time comes out with less strength than the previous one, it’s a war of attrition and the child is winning – and it’ll be fixed. He’s not even tried walking on the damn thing (from experience, it only works when you’ve got enough adrenaline to cover up most of the pain).

Since coming back home with that gunshot wound (which, he’ll admit, he did underestimate quite a lot), Yor has been more insistent than ever on handling any chore that isn’t cooking, insisting she must get the groceries and see Anya off every day to school, among a shopping list of things Twilight isn’t even sure they’ve actually done at (Loid Forger’s) home like dusting bedsheets outside.

Yor’s help at home, as excessive as it is at the moment, is good for Operation Strix: it makes their fake marriage seem this much more realistic to outsiders, as Yor is regularly seen shopping for groceries with or without Anya, while giving him more time to gather intel for other WISE agents. These past few days, he’s been able to crack about a dozen ciphers that had been bothering the agency, catch three secret correspondences between Ostalian pro-war factions and repair very exactly fifteen tears in Yor’s and Anya’s clothes.

This is less of a net negative than expected; Twilight’s sure of it.

 Still, he should set things straight with her again, and he has the perfect opportunity: Anya is sleeping at Becky Blackbell’s mansion today, which she referred to as “a mission for Papa’s peace” (she really must love spy cartoons), so it’s only Yor and him at home tonight. He was supposed to have a side-mission, but it got cancelled due to those same unforeseen circumstances that have been biting at him all week – and no matter how much he tried to insist, Handler refused to let him take care of it. Training to be able to conduct an operation while having one leg amputated really had no use, it seems.

Yor is also available, which is very convenient, in this case. They decided, like most of the time these days, to order something and eat it at home. To his misfortune, and almost as a bad omen, as soon as he goes to grab his crutches from the side of the couch, Yor picks him up like a glass statue of some kind and sits him to the table, going as far as to slide the other side to put his leg on another chair.

This really isn’t starting the right way.

 They both pick at their dish until, finally, he decides enough is enough. He won’t be dependant on human crutches, be it a young girl or a strong woman who can absolutely bench-press over twice his weight.

“You don’t need to concern yourself with doing everything around home, Yor,” he tells her in almost a clinical tone.

She, however, stares right back to him like it wasn’t obvious.

“But you’re…”

“Partially incapacitated, I know. I wish to assure you, this isn’t as cumbersome as it looks.”

She looks down, eyes fluttering and cheeks reddening.

“But, Loid… I’ve seen how frustrated it’s made you to… have to compose with this.”

“It’s nothing I can’t manage, I assure you.”

A heavy silence settles between the two of them, only broken by bites of food and sips of water. It’s a deeply uncomfortable one – which Twilight rationalizes as silence never being a good sign for spies. Something about calm itself being a sign a threat is hiding beneath the surface. Yes, something like this, not about how he seems to have let Yor down or made her feel uneasy… (Uncertainty is also a lethal enemy).

 In the end, she breaks the silence, fiddling with the hem of her red sweater (which matches her eyes oh so well – no time to think about that, Loid).

“I don’t mind, you know… In fact, I really like it! I’ve always liked helping people, I suppose, but it feels… different, when it’s you.” Her cheeks grow red as a poppy. “U-unless you really mind, of course! Then I can just let you be or wait until you really need something from me!”

Loid sighs. How is he supposed to say no to this, really? This is going against everything he’s ever learned, and yet he finds himself walking headfirst into it. Dangerous business, really. (The blur of mask and reality should worry him much more than that).

“I’d usually prefer handling myself, but if you say it doesn’t bother you, then I don’t think I can quite go against it.” He clears his throat to regain some seriousness. “Albeit, I don’t want it to be a burden on you. Think of yourself first.”

“Oh, of course! You’ll probably still have to at least help with dinner, but don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything else!”

She didn’t quite get what he meant, he’s pretty sure, but she’s got the spirit.

 Crutches really are a spy’s worst hurdle to overcome.

  There’s this one sentence that keeps getting on his nerves, no matter how he thinks about it.

Oh, no, let me take care of this for you!

And there’s this other sentence that triggers… something within him that he doesn’t quite get, but which doesn’t feel bad per say.

Oh, no, Loid, let me take care of this for you!

 …wait. They sound the same.

 Yor is nothing if not well-meaning (and a special brand of impossible not to stare at) but having to rely on her has felt horrible all week and he’s not sure of how much longer he can last with her insisting to do anything for him, from cooking to taking care of Anya, without forgetting driving him up to work (and that still stings). The feeling grows worse with each day passing too: like a poison, it sinks into every last cell it touches, no matter how unrelated, and it makes hard to focus on ciphers and intel gathering.

Loid Forger’s a lucky man, Twilight supposes, to have such a caring spouse ready to help him with so much for something as little as a broken leg and what it causes. Loid Forger, in fact, must absolutely relish in being able to take a break from violent patients and working graveyard shifts every single night of the week. Twilight? Not so much.

He thinks.

Maybe.

 Okay, truth be told, he needed the break from the late-night, about-to-get-shot-multiple-times missions. He had already thought about it even before getting shot in the femur, but this has only confirmed his need for a breather, no matter how short. This, of course, comes at the price of his peace of mind, because he shouldn’t be taking it easy while WISE is going through such an intense staff shortage, but it does come with the main perk of not wavering on his feet so frequently.

Relying on civilians still doesn’t sit right with him but considering he too can’t sit properly at the moment, it may sound hypocritical of him (who is he kidding? He’s always a hypocrite, it comes with being an undercover agent and like a second nature to him). Some part of him doesn’t even hate it, per say; being able to spend time with Anya and Yor, not having to manage everything, taking his time… It doesn’t sound so bad. It goes against everything he’s ever known, but it feels… maybe not quite right, but quite agreeable. Or, at least, less uncomfortable than anticipated.

He’s even sure letting Anya draw on the cast was a good thing for Operation Strix. It makes him look like a good family man, which he needs for the sake of the mission.

 This… might not just be about Operation Strix, though.

Just might.

#bad things happen bingo #spy x family #loid forger #anya forger #yor forger #crutches #dont be scared by the tag this is fluff #bthb #this is all for operation strix y'all

[dr-drckken]

Day 12: Background NPC - Drakken’s Cellmate

Author’s note: just wanted to give the cursory: I’ve never been to prison and don’t know anyone who has. All the information I gathered was from the internet, so obviously it’s probably not at all accurate to what actually goes on in a prison. I don’t pretend to know what I am doing ever, esp on big button issues like this!!

Frugal Lucre, or as God knew him, Francis, had been in prison for about…eh? What had it been? 5 years now? About that much, yeah, he couldn’t really remember. Some people were always keeping time, counting down the days until their sentence would be up or when their lawyer had talked about parole or something. He still had a ways to go, figuring he could start counting when he got closer. It may not have seemed so hopeless that way. 

He’d done pretty well for himself in the pen, being a man of economics and pretty good with computers, he had started a little side business. People would bring them his requests from commissary, because heaven knew that was the only edible food in this place, and in exchange he would get them what they needed. Mostly stuff online, things they couldn’t access without a little help. 

It was a monotonous life, prison. A very controlled form of hell was how he liked to describe it. He got up, waited for count to be done, went to breakfast, went to the yard, came inside for down time, he read mostly or went about his business until lunch. After count he went back to the yard, took a few laps, enjoyed whatever the weather was whether it was a bitter cold or hotter than hell, catch up on what he missed with the other inmates. Count, dinner, more yard time, count, sleep. 

Wake up, do it again.

Sometimes there were small divergences. Fights, that he would ignore since he was not the kind of guy who used his fists nor the type of guy stupid enough to think stepping in would do anything to help. Work, which was tough since the wage he got wasn’t worth a damn by the time they got to head to the store with what they had left, but he had been working in customer service all his life. That’s what had led him to being in there, hadn’t it? 

And sometimes there were large discrepancies, stuff that would keep the whole block occupied for weeks with something to talk about. 

Like when his cellmate, Kyle, had gotten transferred and some new guy had come to take his place. 

“Hey,” Frugal said, when he’d come back from afternoon yard time to find someone in the cell. “I know you.” 

“What?” the guy scoffed, eyes flickering over his person in a very judgemental way. 

“You’re the blue guy!” 

The man, whose skin was, in fact, blue, frowned. “I don’t-”

“Dragon? Right? Oh no! Don’t tell me, don’t tell me!” Frugal slapped a hand to his eyes, the other one waving at the man to keep him from talking. Then it hit him, eyes opening, smile wide as he declared, “Drakken! Right? Dr. Drakken?”

The man, who Frugal knew was Dr. Drakken knew, duh, it was sooo obvious!, was still frowning but his shoulders had slumped a little. Frugal didn’t blame him for being suspicious, he’d probably just gotten out of reception, thrown from the preparation stage right into the real thing. It had been pretty jarring for Frugal, too. Even though reception was pretty close, nothing could really prepare someone for what it was like on the inside. Especially since they kept you so occupied in there, going from one medical appointment to the next, counselors trying to pry into you as much as they could before your time was up and off you went. 

“I’m a huge fan! I completely saw your vision. You know not everyone has the guts these days to think about taking over the world. You’re probably the scariest person in here! Well, aside from the guys who, you know, like hurting people,” Frugal tried to convince him, walking further into his cell so he could sit on his bed. “I was following your trial as best I could. Tough break, my friend. They said some kid tattled on you?” 

Drakken nodded, movement stiff. Frugal blew out a low whistle. Tough break indeed. 

“Well welcome! I can’t say it’s a great place to be but once you get used to it, you’ll get through it. Especially with me!” he grinned, patting the bed beside him for Drakken to sit. He did not. Just kept standing there, arms crossed over his chest. 

Fair enough! Frugal’d break him eventually. 

–

The first month Frugal watched Drakken go through what everyone went through when they got to prison. The guy hid it well but Frugal could tell he was scared. The way he would flinch at any tiny ding of the bars or hard footsteps in the yard. It was a pretty scary place! All the guys around you had been deemed criminals by someone, it was why they were there. That meant they were probably violent, right? That they were looking for trouble? 

Sometimes that was true. Some guys came in looking for it because they thought if they could assert themselves as the dominant stereotype that no one would want to mess with them. Maybe that worked with some people but for the majority of them, they were just trying to live their lives until they could get out of there. They didn’t want trouble. They were already in a place they had no freedom in. 

“Don’t worry, so long as you don’t piss anyone off, they aren’t going to mess with you,” Frugal told him one night after count. Drakken looked up from where he was reading, eyes squinting at him from over the top of the book. “The guards are really the only ones you’ve gotta worry about. Seriously. It’s just like the outside world, really. You don’t know them, they don’t know you, so long as you’re not being disrespectful to someone, they aren’t going to come get you for no reason. Usually. No one’s trying to extend their time in here, you know what I mean?” 

His cellmate had nodded and went back to reading. 

Frugal studied him for a minute longer. Everyone had been talking about Drakken for a while now, mostly due to the whole skin thing. It was hard not to. Blue skin? Come on, that was for the smurfs, that one guy who had the iron whatever going on, and Avatar. 

The guy was smart, if very clumsy. He dropped stuff a lot, tripped and flailed out of his bed almost every morning. Drakken picked up on stuff faster than most of the new guys, and, honestly, faster than some of the people who had been in there for most of their lives, too. 

Frugal liked him even if it did not seem like Drakken liked him very much. But, like he’d said, Frugal would make him warm up to him eventually. 

–

Eventually meant a few months later, a lot of bribing with chocolate milk, and playing chess a lot. Which Frugal didn’t mind, actually. It wasn’t as boring as he thought it was going to be. After he learned what he was doing, with the help of Drakken’s teaching, it was pretty fun! They got a lot of the other guys to start playing, too. So many that when spring rolled around, while the other guys were out playing softball, they had a chess tournament out in the yard. 

Drakken wound up winning, much to no one’s surprise, but it had still been pretty exciting! Frugal hadn’t seen that much buzz around the block since he’d been there. 

“Let me give you and that big brain of yours something to keep it occupied,” Frugal insisted when he would find Drakken spending his time alone, taking notes about some science stuff that Frugal had no idea about. He didn’t like to see him sequestered. People liked him well enough, he was funny and quick, gaining him a certain amount of respect.

Not everyone liked him, though. He had a temper, would mumble to himself and glare. It made Frugal nervous. 

“What do you mean? They’ve got me rebuilding computers, isn’t that enough?” Drakken complained. 

“Yeah, but that’s not where the real moo-lah comes in!” he insisted. “You know Spanish, don’t you? Come on, I heard you talking to someone on the phone!” 

“So?” 

“So? So! You can be a teacher!” 

“...what?”

“Lots of guys in here only speak Spanish,” Frugal said, then rolled his eyes. “Which, you know, sucks and says a lot about society but we all know that. The point is that some of them want to learn English. You’d be perfect to teach them since you know both. They’d pay you!”  

“I’ve never-”

“Nonsense! You’re a smart guy, doc, you can figure it out. And then maybe you can teach other stuff. Like science!” 

–

Frugal helped him, of course. He convinced the first couple of guys to actually talk to Drakken about it until, eventually, there was a whole tutoring system going on. It was fun to watch the guy teach, his movements big and expressions comical. Sometimes he would go on long rants about stuff that no one could keep up with, mostly self indulgent, but he would pull it back around eventually. 

The guards noticed. At first they didn’t seem to like it but, after sensing that it wasn’t a meeting for anything other than learning purposes, they backed off. Marginally. 

–

They talked a lot. 

Or, well, Frugal did! Drakken complained about that, among many other things, in the first few months. 

“Don’t you ever stop talking?” he’d asked Frugal one day, running a hand down the side of his face, blue skin pulling. 

“Not really,” Frugal answered with a grin. 

Which was true. It was a fault, he knew, but it was just who he was. He filled up spaces in every way he could. Silence with his voice, boredom with tasks. Keeping busy was a part of who he was. 

He liked to share stuff about himself because it seemed like the more he shared about himself the more comfortable people got with him. No matter how annoyed they got, they always had some sense of trust in him, whether that was because they thought he was too sincere to be a threat or because they thought they could use that information against him if it came down to it. Even Drakken seemed to get that way, no longer seeing him as a threat of any sort. 

“You never told me what you did,” Drakken said one night. There were a million conversations going on outside their cell, everyone having one on their block. The speaker kept going off, too. It always did. There was never a moment's peace in a place like this, whether you liked it or not, someone was always awake. Someone was always making noise. You either got used to it or you went a bit crazy. That was sort of the point. 

“What do you mean?” 

“To be in here,” Drakken huffed. “You don’t seem the type to be in here.”

“No? You think that about a lot of people in here?” 

“Well, yes actually.” 

Frugal chuckled, turning to lay on his stomach in his bed. He bunched up his pillow, stuffing it under his chest so he could fold his arms on it and rest his chin on them. It kept him at a good angle to look at Drakken where he was sitting at the desk, writing whatever it was he did at night. 

“I tried to steal from the big man.”

Drakken frowned, glancing at him. “Who?”

“You know, the big man. The guy with all the money. Bald. Owns the big corporation that has everything you could ever need. Exploits his employees and deserves a pie in his face.”

“Jeff Bezos?”

“No, the other one.”

“Martin Smarty?” Drakken concluded after a small moment of silence. Frugal grinned, snapping his fingers. 

“That’s the one!” 

“How were you planning on doing that?” 

“Well-!” 

He launched into his whole plan. Frugal had worked for Amazon for a while, hated every moment of it! And he figured it would be easy enough to just take what he wanted, so long as he did it right. For a moment he thought he had gotten away with it, but, of course, a hitch in his system had brought his plan to a crash and burn. 

As soon as he was finished telling his tale Drakken cracked up laughing. 

“That was you?” he asked, turning in his chair, one arm hanging over the back. “Didn’t you have a mustache or something back then?” 

“Ah, so you do know of me! Yes, I did, but it wasn’t real. I was trying to be in disguise.” 

“Maybe you should have gone with a full mask instead if you weren’t looking to get caught by your employer. Who has your face on record every time you enter one of their facilities. And invested in a voice modulator, that accent was horrendous.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I know,” he waved a hand. “But, uh, other than that, what did you think?”

“Of what?” 

“Of my plan! I know I didn’t build a death ray or anything exciting, but I thought it was pretty good!”

Drakken nodded, “The end goal was sound, but I don’t think you would have gotten what you wanted.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Revenge, right? On Martin?”

“Sure.”

“Well, he wouldn’t have probably even noticed that money was missing unless you hadn’t sent that video,” Drakken said. “If you really wanted to hurt him, you’d have thought of something bigger.” 

Frugal frowned, brow pinching together as he thought this over.

Maybe Drakken was right. 

It also made him wonder who the guy who wanted to take over the whole entire world wanted to hurt. 

–

Drakken was getting out! 

It was great news, even if Frugal had no idea how the guy had managed to pull it off. 

“I’ll have to look you up when I get out,” Frugal told him on their last night together as cellmates. 

To think, he was going to have someone new. Two new people in the span of 2 years. Crazy. 

“Sure,” Drakken said and then smiled. “If you can find me.” 

“Oh, hoo hoo,” Frugal pointed at him, knowingly. Drakken had never seemed like the kind of guy to give up. If the life of crime was what called to him then it was going to be what he continued doing, even if he had gotten caught. That was the thing about prison, wasn’t it. It had a lot of people coming and going. Some vowed to stay away from it, never to return, but sometimes it was inevitable. Life was not always the perfect story of getting to turn it all around. Most of the time this place made it worse. Made it hard to go back to society, the life inside having become all you know and getting back out there with a black mark next to you name advertising where you had been for a few years instead of on a sabbatical made it impossible to get a job. Friends. People to trust you. 

Frugal didn’t doubt Drakken, though. 

“Hey, if you’re in charge before my times up, promise you’ll come get me out?” he asked. 

Drakken nodded. “I’ll replace Smarty with you in here, Lucre. Promise.” 

He laughed. “Hey, maybe you could teach me. I can be, like, your criminal apprentice or something.”

“If you get out and are able to find me, we’ll see.”

When Frugal left for breakfast that morning, someone came to escort Drakken out. They waved goodbye to one another in the corridor. 

“Hey, where’s Blue?” someone asked as he sat down with his food. 

“He’s getting out today,” someone else filled in for them. 

“Damn, what made him so special? He was only here for, what? A month?”

“A year.”

“Must have had a good lawyer.”

“Something like that,” Frugal smiled. 

Or maybe someone with some good computer skills had done a little finagling, a little black mail, and gotten a good man another chance.

#swynwrimo

[anna-scribbles]

yeah so the line “hey you, show me that solvable problem/we can get though this, i’ll do the hardest part with you” still hits like absolutely nothing else

#i might have listened to the steven universe soundtrack tonight #this show is just. i am filled with so much joy whenever i think about it #it’s so good #this line sums up so much of the movie and steven’s character in general #endlessly impulsively painfully helpful #the hardest part is on him. it’s always on him. #show him that solvable problem (every problem is solvable because it has to be. every problem is his because he is the Problem Solver) #and just.. the vision of him singing this bit while climbing up that impossibly high geoweapon #with nothing but his fading humanity and desperately bleak grasp at optimism #to a fight he didn’t start with a person whose issues have nothing to do with him #and he just. he goes anyway. every single time he goes anyway #every problem is a solvable problem because it has to be #because who is he if not the problem solver. what is he for if not to go through the hardest part of everything with everyone all the time #his helpfulness builds him up and eats away at him in the same stride #su is not perfect but man do i love the way they pushed steven’s ‘good’ character qualities to their extremes #helpfulness is good until it is all you know how to be. problem solving is important until there are no problems left to solve. #selflessness is good until you lose your sense of self in all the years you’ve sacrificed to someone else #i love steven’s character a lot. he is so important to me #okay that’s all #i painted a deck with my dad and brother tonight and we listened to su songs and i had a great time #what a good show #su #anna rambles

[teatimeweirdo]

Not just a puppet

note: THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE CURRENT ARCHON QUEST! also I’m adding a content waring for self-hate (not on S/Os part but on scaramouche’s part)

heavy rain, thunder rowling, lighting crashing, it’s days like these that hit scaramouche the most. he might not want to admit it, but even the almighty balladeer has his lows.

not only that but his recent trip to inazuma had brought up some memories, he’d much rather forget and the recent death of his co-worker also weight  down on him. scaramouche might not want to admit it, but he likes his colleagues more than one might think. although he would never admit it.

days like these make him remember the reason he shuts everyone out, why he’s always so rude to everyone, it was his defense mechanism. people who don’t know him would ask  why he would need one. the reality is scaramouche is scared, scared of being thrown away like the puppet he is.

sometimes scaramouche wonders how he managed to get so lucky and have his s/o tolerate him, lucky that he wasn’t left alone like a doll whose owner has long forgotten. he loves the way his s/o looks at him, with pure adoration in their eyes. he loves the way they call his name in a voice filled with love.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

the balladeer was used to being the first one awake, early in the moring before the sun was even up, but today was different. maybe it was the thunderstorm outside that kept him in bed. 

stirring wake from his deep slumber, scaramouche noticed something, or rather someone, was missing from bed. imediatly he started to panic, the blue haired man remembered the fight he and his partner had the night before. 

of course his first thought was that they might have left throughout the night. after all who would want to put up with him for this long? if he was in the postion of his beloved, he would have left a long time ago. all these thoughts kept bothering him, as they progressed he wanted to cry, just cry, nothing else.

scaramouche’s train of thought was interrupted by the front door slamming shut. wiping his tears, which he didn’t even notice leave his eyes, away the young man tried to get a clear view of the intruder by looking through the crack of the bedroom door into the hallway.

deciding he couldn’t get a clear view the balladeer got out of bed, ignoring the fact that he still was wearing his night clothes, slowly making his way out of the room. the blue haired man was baffled when he saw who the person in his house was.

“oh hey, you’re awake. i thought you might sleep a little longer, so i wanted to make you breakfast, but i noticed that we ran out of eggs so i went out to get some and on my way there i ran into............” as they continued rambling scaramouche was trying to figure out his feeling on the one hand he felt relived that his long time partner didn’t leave him after all, but on the other hand he was angry because they just went to go out without even leaving a note and because they scared him half to death.

 without even thinking the balledeer pulled his lover into his arms, it was pretty unusual for him to iniciate affection, in fear of rejection, with the warmth and comfort of his lovers embrace, he started sobbing. 

now scaramouche never was the one to openly show his feelings, but around his s/o he felt save enough to show them, he might not want to talk about his feelings but he will show them.

“is everything okay? do you want to talk abut it?” the young man just shook his head ‘no’ and continued to into their shoulder.

the balladeer’s partner knew about his origin, yet they do not and will never care where he came from or how he came to be. they know about his insecruitis and fears.

“you know, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. you always help me with my issues, now it’s my turn please let me help you.” they said as they lead the crying man into the living room, to help him sit down on the couch and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

“go back to sleep, I’ll wake you up when breakfast is ready. sleep tight, i love you”

feeling much better, but also tired out from all the crying, scaramouche went back to sleep but not before uttering a quiet “i love you too”

#is this good? #does this count as angst to fluff #i may have cried a lot today #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche

[cherienymphe]

Cruel Intentions (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, manipulation, mentions of abuse, therapist!Steve, silverfox!Steve, drugging

! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !

➥ Image by @angrybirdcr

      ➥ dividers by @firefly-graphics

This is for the “For the Fic” challenge whose winner for my fic was @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​

The entire plot was her request and I hope that you like it!

summary: after escaping an abusive ex, you find solace in a therapist recommended to you by a friend. 

~

“...I know I shouldn’t...but sometimes I blame myself. In Harry, I know that I was looking for what I never had in my family. I think it made me quick to rush into things...to ignore what I should have seen.”

Your eyes remained on the dark carpet, the man before you humming as the scribbling sound of his pen reached your ears. You fought hard not to fidget, a horrible habit you’d picked up in the last 3 years. You finally lifted your head again when the room was bathed in silence, eyes meeting familiar blue ones as he studied you.

You were used to these short moments of silence by now.

You’d been recommended to Dr. Steve Rogers by a friend, a friend who’d helped you escape your violent ex in the dead of night while he’d been away on business. She had grown worried when it became obvious that the effects of your tumultuous relationship would be lasting if you didn’t do something about it. Oddly enough, you’d been receptive. For 2 whole years, you’d wanted to tell someone, have anyone to turn to and talk to, but fear, a very valid fear, had stopped you.

Not only had you been worried for your life, something that was threatened on a constant basis, but you’d also been afraid of judgement. You worried what your friends would say, if they’d blame you for finding yourself in such a predicament, if they’d look down on you for no longer fighting back. It was only by a stroke of luck that Nakia had seen Harry slap you right across the face when he thought she’d left. You were grateful that she’d waited for him to leave before rushing towards your trembling frame, pulling you into her arms as she shushed you.

She had demanded to know how long this had been going on. She had been horrified and confused and angry. It didn’t take her long to come up with a plan, and within 2 weeks, after waiting for Harry to leave the city for 2 days, she’d gotten you out and into her place across town. You didn’t stay for long, maybe a few weeks, wanting nothing but to put it all behind you, and although she was sad to see you go, she understood.

It was how you found yourself in upstate New York, in a secluded tiny thing of a house. You hadn’t even realized that you’d become something of a recluse until Nakia had pointed it out during one of your weekly calls. It had never hit you that you went to work and to home and that was it. You barely ate anymore, so grocery shopping was never a frequent affair. That was when she’d told you about a well known therapist in the area, Steven G. Rogers. You had been shocked by how much you weren’t opposed to the idea as she went on listing all of his credentials. 

It was only moments after she hung up that you found yourself researching him yourself. You remembered noting how handsome the man was, even more so in person. His bright blue eyes and silver tresses complimented his strong features nicely, pink lips pulled up into a polite smile. You didn’t find yourself put off by the stranger, thinking to yourself that talking to someone you didn’t know, an objective listener who was paid not to judge you, might be for the best.

You soon found out that was easier said than done.

The first visit had been rocky, barely mumbling a thing and constantly fidgeting. You had hardly been able to meet his eye, and the session had abruptly ended when you’d left early, stumbling over your words as you gave some half assed excuse for your sudden departure. He was far more understanding than you deserved during your second visit. Wracked with guilt and anxiety, you’d written some things down that you wanted to talk about, and thankfully, the man hadn’t laughed at you. In fact, you remembered how fondly he looked at you as you unfolded it.

As it turned out, you didn’t need the slip of paper at all. Notes forgotten, you had rambled on for an hour. It was like once you started, you just couldn’t stop, and Steve simply listened the entire time. The next time he spoke to you was only to tell you that your time was up, and both embarrassment and disappointment had flooded through you. It must have been obvious, plain as day on your features, because Steve reassured you that it was normal to ramble. 

You had been reluctant to leave. After years of biting your tongue and living in fear of even making the wrong sound, you finally found someone to listen. Even if it was only a stranger getting paid for it, it was still something. There was someone to express your fears to, and although it had taken some time, terrified that you’d say the wrong thing and upset him, eventually, you started to express your anger too.

“...and then I get angry all over again,” you continued when he said nothing. “...because I’m smart, because red flags in others’ relationships have always been so obvious to me. I’ve always been the mom friend, the one who can spot trouble before it even starts. I’ve helped friends get out of situations before they even had the chance to turn sour…”

You shook your head.

“...and yet...it took a slap to the face to realize just how deep I was in? Not the jealousy, not the anger issues nor the way he’d isolated me from just about everyone in my life...but a slap? It should’ve never gotten to that.”

“You can’t blame yourself for the actions of others.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard that. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time he’d told you that, and yet here you were again.

“We can go in circles analyzing your own behavior and the things you did and the things you said, but the truth is that you could play it out in your head a million times. You could do every single thing differently, and it still wouldn’t change a thing.”

The corner of his lips lifted into a crooked smile, a familiar sight.

“Some people are simply cruel, and it has nothing at all to do with you.”

You sharply inhaled, unsure of why such a simple statement resonated with you so deeply. You stared at Steve, blinking a few times, opening your mouth to respond when he glanced at the clock. It was a tell tale sign, and your shoulders sagged. You would think that after seeing him for 7 months now, you’d be used to leaving after only an hour, but it never got easier.

“That’s all the time we have for today,” he said, standing. “You’re progressing nicely, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, and he chuckled, eyes crinkling. 

“You are. Progress and healing isn’t linear. Sometimes you’re going to take 2 steps back before you can take 10 more forward. It’s all part of the process,” he assured you.

You sighed.

“Well… I guess that does make me feel a bit better,” you replied.

He sent you a small smile as he guided you towards the door.

“I’ll see you next week?”

You returned his smile with a nod and didn’t let your face fall until the door was shut behind you. The good thing about therapy was that you could recognize your own toxic behaviors now, and it was clear that you were becoming reliant on your sessions with Steve. You had never liked being alone, but you had come all the way out here to learn to do just that. For your sake, you needed to learn to love being alone. It was how you had gotten into this mess to begin with.

Your phone vibrated with a call from an unknown number, and figuring it was a scam call, you silenced it.

Your house was practically in the middle of nowhere, so when the tv wasn’t blasting or you didn’t have Spotify playing some light tune, the house could get scarily quiet. But that was what you wanted...right? Harry had always been so explosive. The smallest of things could set him off and then the sound of yelling and shattering glass would rain down on you. Silence and solitude was what you wanted, needed.

Your phone buzzed again as you settled into your car, and you huffed when you noticed it was the same number. Again, you weren’t unfamiliar with scam callers so you ignored it. You noted that you needed to go grocery shopping, but you weren’t on the precipice of starvation just yet, so it could hold off for another day. By the time you got inside, your phone had started to buzz again, and with a frown, you decided to answer it.

“Hello?”

You were met with silence as you unlocked your door, and you repeated yourself, but there was no response. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You both loved and hated coming home. It was quiet and safe and everything you had craved for years now, but the unfamiliarity of it all unnerved you. Sometimes you were just waiting for Harry to come flying through the door, screaming and breaking things. You had to remind yourself that this silence, this security, is how it’s supposed to be.

You went about making a quick meal, hopping into the shower while leaving the stove on low. When you got out, in the process of moisturizing your arms, you noticed your phone buzzing with another call. From that same number. Unease filled you as you neared it, and you hesitantly reached for it before answering.

Again, you were met with silence, and frustrated and annoyed, you simply blocked the number. A quick look through your phone revealed that you’d missed several calls from the same number while in the bathroom. Blinking with a deepening frown, you set your phone down and made your way to your kitchen. Dinner, like always these days, was quiet. You curled up on the couch with your plate while you watched some old sitcom.

The rest of the night passed as blandly as it always did. Sleep was much easier to find these days, so you had no trouble as soon as your head hit the pillow. However, just as you were on the verge, your phone buzzed with another call. This number didn’t match the previous one, but it was unknown nonetheless. With a groan, you put your phone on silent and rolled over, sleep claiming you.

“I know it’s you,” you sneered into the phone.

Unsurprisingly, you were met with the faint sound of breathing, and you clenched your jaw. You slammed the car door behind you before stomping across the parking lot.

“I know it’s you,” you quietly repeated. “Stay away from me.”

You hung up before blocking the number, the 10th number you had blocked in the past week. Every few hours or so a day, like clockwork, you got calls from an unknown number. You’d always end up blocking the number after the first few calls, but they always called again from a different one. At first, they’d say nothing, and you’d listen to silence for a few seconds before hanging up. Now, they’d taken to breathing in your ear like a creep. It wasn’t even until you blocked the 3rd number did it finally hit you.

Harry.

Harry freaking Osborn.

You felt like such an idiot for not putting it together sooner. Of course, it was Harry. Was this not the same man who threatened to hunt you down and drag you back like some animal if you ever left him? You had always equated woman beaters to cowards so you never thought he’d have the nerve to actually do it. Putting the pieces together didn’t bring you any comfort. Your filthy rich abusive ex had managed to track you down. What comfort was there to find in that?

Since that day, you hadn’t had a proper night of sleep. Your mind was constantly at war with itself on what to do. Having been down this road before, you knew the police would be no help. You’d gone to them once before, at the very beginning after the first time he’d hit you. It was your first harsh lesson that money ruled over everything. If you thought hard enough, you could still recall his hands around your throat, eyes alight with anger at what you’d tried to pull.

Still, you considered at least trying to get a restraining order but at the end of the day, that was a mere piece of paper. If Harry came to your door, it wasn’t going to stop him from hurting you, and that’s even if the whole process went through. They don’t just give restraining orders out willy nilly. You tried not to dwell on that hypothetical situation, but if he’d found your number, it would only be a matter of time before he found your address.

“Oh!”

You’d only just entered the grocery store, barely stepping into an aisle when you bumped into someone. The chips and bread in his hands went flying to the floor, and apologies tumbled from your lips. It was only after you helped him pick up what you made him drop did you realize who you’d run into.

“Dr. Rogers...hi,” you breathed.

The corner of his lips pulled into a crooked smile, head tilting to the side as his gaze fell onto you.

“We’ve discussed this before, Y/N. You’re more than welcome to call me Steve,” he told you.

You gave a nervous chuckle, nodding.

“Yeah...uh… I normally do, it just...it just slipped my mind,” you replied.

He blinked at you, eyes narrowing just a bit as he studied you. His brows furrowed in that concerned way you were used to, a silver strand of hair kissing his forehead.

“Everything okay…?”

You folded your arms over your chest, nodding with a strained smile.

“Everything’s fine,” you lied. “It’s just… It’s been a weird week. Our next session cannot come fast enough.”

You forced a light laugh, and he joined you. He placed a hand on his hip, eyes boring into your own.

“There’s a coffee shop just over there,” he gestured. “Did you want to sit and have a chat?”

You frantically shook your head.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” you told him. “I-.”

“I know I’m your therapist, but I want you to think of me as a confidant outside of the office too. You’re more than welcome to talk to me anytime. In fact, I encourage it,” he interrupted. 

You nervously eyed him with a frown.

“Are...are you sure?”

His smile was comforting.

“This may be my job, but it’s one I chose because it’s one I enjoy. I don’t want you to feel like you’re only allowed to talk to me during our sessions,” he quietly said.

You bit your lip, and Steve continued.

“I’d hate to think that you’re bottling things up for days on end, suffering in silence because you’re just waiting to talk to me,” he confessed.

Your shoulders sagged, and you hesitantly nodded.

“...okay. I just need to get a few things for the house.”

“Okay,” he said with a smile. “You know where to find me.”

You parted ways, and a sigh escaped you. You really didn’t want to become reliant on Steve. Wasn’t the whole point of therapy to learn how to process your feelings and cope with them better? Running to your therapist every time you have a problem just seemed counterproductive. And yet, once your car was loaded up with the few items you bought, you found yourself making your way to the coffee shop.

After ordering a small drink, you easily spotted Steve at a table in the back. You noted that even outside of your sessions, he still dressed nicely. The dark button down he wore contrasted with his light hair, dark slacks making him appear taller. You felt simultaneously nervous and comforted as you settled across from him. There was a brief silence, one in which you sipped on your drink while he eyed you before finally speaking.

“So what’s on your mind?”

What a loaded question. You struggled over whether or not to tell him the truth. Your abusive ex had found you somehow and was currently harassing you. That’s not something you could just casually drop into the conversation. Besides, Steve was your therapist, not your friend. You didn’t think it fair to rope him into the drama with your ex. That wasn’t part of his job description. Right?

“Just sleepless nights,” you said.

It wasn’t a complete lie. Steve eyed you like he was waiting for you to continue, blue eyes soft.

“I’m also worried that...my past might not remain in the past.”

Once again, this wasn’t a complete lie. 

“How so?” Steve hummed.

“I can’t help but wonder about what will happen if Harry finds me. He always threatened that he would if I ever left, and while I never believed him before, I just keep wondering… What if he does?”

Steve tilted his head at you, and you leaned back in your seat with a sigh.

“I’ve moved all the way out here to get away from him. I’ve isolated myself because I thought it was for the best, but it would have the opposite effect if he ever found me. I’ve never been particularly close with my family as you well know, and I’ve left all of my friends. I’m all alone here, and it’s the worst thing to be if he ever did track me down.”

Like always, you had started to ramble, and you snapped your mouth closed, embarrassment flooding through you.

“What brought all of this on?”

Steve’s eyes were sincere as he ran them over you, handsome face twisted in concern, and you glanced away.

“Just thinking,” you lamely replied, eyes on your drink now. “It’s something I’ve always thought about, sure, but it’s been more pressing as of late.”

“Well...that’s what I’m here for. You shouldn’t have to deal with these thoughts alone,” he eventually said.

“I know,” you sighed, rubbing your temples. “...but I shouldn’t become so reliant on you. The whole point of therapy is to learn to deal with these things on my own, is it not?”

Steve exhaled, leaning back in his seat as he gazed at you.

“Not necessarily. Not always,” he answered. “...but even then, until you can get to that point, it’s best to lean into your support. After all, you’ve gotta crawl before you can walk, right?”

You nodded, taking in his words.

“...and even when you’re walking, you usually need someone there in the beginning to hold your hand in case you fall. I encourage you to talk to your friends more, maybe even branch out and find some friends here, but I’m here as well. Don’t halt any of your progress because you feel like you need to be dealing with this alone. Outside help does more for your progress than you’d think.”

“I guess that does make sense. I don’t know… I just- I’d feel so bad about showing up at your office throughout all hours of the day or calling your receptionist-.”

You cut yourself off when he took out a pen and a slip of paper.

“Here,” he said, scribbling a number on it before handing it to you. “This is my personal number.”

Your eyes widened. 

“Oh, I can’t-.”

“It’s fine, trust me.”

You hesitantly returned his smile, taking the piece of paper.

“Don’t hesitate to call me anytime you want to,” he told you, standing.

You joined him, fingering the note before sliding it into your pocket.

“Thank you…Steve. I don’t know if I’ll ever actually call you, but just knowing that I have the option makes me feel so much better,” you whispered.

You heard his pager go off, and you watched as he glanced at it. He let out a sigh, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounded disappointed.

“I’ve got to go, but I hope you’ll use that number if you need to.”

Thanking him again, you said your goodbyes, and you watched as he exited the shop. The slip of paper felt heavy in your pocket, so you solved that by putting his number into your phone. Just as you were about to put it back into your purse, it buzzed with a call from an unknown number. Fear settled into your gut, and with a grimace, you silenced the call and blocked the number.

You were late. You were so late it was laughable to even show up at this point. Your shoes tapped against the tile as the numbers on the elevator lit up as it passed each floor. You slipped through the doors as soon as they parted, and with no mind to check in, the receptionist calling your name, you raced towards Steve’s office. You reached his door just as he opened it to step out, and the papers that he was holding scattered to the floor as you collided with him. You hadn’t even realized how fast you’d been running until you were knocked on your ass. 

You could hear the heels of the receptionist as she ran over, apologizing to Steve for letting you slip past her, but he waved her off. She reluctantly returned to her desk, and you scrambled to sit up, reaching for everything that had fallen.

“I was beginning to think you’d never show,” Steve joked.

You gave a shaky laugh.

“I uh...I got caught up,” you replied through trembling lips, fingers shaking as you struggled to stack all of his paperwork.

You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, but you avoided his gaze.

“I know I’m late. Our hour is practically over, but I- I just… Um, crap.”

You had dropped the papers all over again, and you both reached for them at the same time. At least, that was what you thought. Steve’s hands covered yours, and you only just realized how badly they were shaking.

“Y/N.”

His voice was soft, exactly what you needed right now, but you couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

Your chest was tight, and you wanted to will your lips to form a yes. You wanted to tell him that everything was fine, but you couldn’t even get the words out. He called your name again, and you suddenly stood, taking the papers with you. You handed them to him as he followed your lead, still avoiding his eye.

“I’m sorry for being late, and I know that you probably have another session-.”

“I don’t,” he interrupted. “Come in.”

You glanced up from beneath your lashes as he opened the door, ushering you inside. You wrapped your arms around yourself as he shut the door behind you.

“Is everything okay?”

You turned your face away from him, unable to keep it from crumbling as you held in a sob.

“Y/N.”

The way he called your name had you freezing in place, a shiver running through you at his firm tone, authority in the one simple word. In a way, it reminded you of Harry, and you looked to him with wide eyes. Seeming to understand what he’d done, Steve sighed before sitting down, making himself appear smaller to show that he wasn’t a threat to you.

“I’m sorry,” he genuinely apologized. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Please...sit.”

You hesitantly did so and reached out to take the tissue he offered you. You hadn’t even realized that you’d started crying.

“Now… I’m going to ask you again, and I’m begging you to please be honest with me. I’m here to help you in any way I can,” he whispered.

You wiped your face, sinking your teeth into your lip.

“It’s...Harry.”

Steve’s face was pinched with concern.

“What is it? Are you having nightmares again-?”

“No, you don’t understand. He’s calling me,” you confessed.

Steve froze, blinking a few times before his eyes widened, your words finally registering. You sniffed, fighting to hold in a sob.

“It started weeks ago, before we ran into each other that night…”

You didn’t miss the disappointment that flitted over his features, lips pressed together.

“...and I know I should’ve said something then-.”

“You should’ve called me.”

“I know! I know, but… I don’t know. I just wanted to handle this on my own,” you quietly said.

He didn’t respond, and you turned your eyes towards the window.

“Last time...I wasn’t able to get away on my own. I wanted it to be different this time. At first, I simply blocked him but he kept calling and calling from different numbers. Then I got a new phone...and eventually another, but it’s still the same. He keeps finding me,” you tearfully told him. “...and today…”

Your eyes met his, and you were comforted by the concern you saw there.

“Today I was at the police station. That’s why I was late.”

Steve straightened up at this.

“I thought that maybe I could get a restraining order or maybe they could trace the calls to show that it’s him, but the whole visit was useless. They boiled it down to petty relationship drama, and since there’s no record of his violent behavior because I never reported anything…”

You shrugged, scoffing.

“There’s basically nothing they can do. The whole visit was a waste,” you spat.

Steve heaved a sigh, and he slowly reached out towards you, leaning forward.

“I didn’t ask before, but… Is it alright if I hold your hand?”

You nodded. That was what you liked about Steve. He was always asking for your consent with just about everything, even the simplest of things, and it was such a nice contrast to Harry who used to feel like he was entitled to your body. Steve took your hand, throwing you a comforting smile as he eyed you, worried.

“I wish that you had called me,” he said.

You looked down, guilt filling you.

“I could have helped you before it ever got to this point. I have friends on the force, friends in high places who could lock this creep up if you wanted.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

Of course Steve, Dr. Steven Rogers, knew people who could help you. Of course he did! Your stubbornness had gotten you far deeper into this than necessary. 

“What have I said about self deprecating language?”

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“You’re not an idiot. Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re just a woman trying to find her strength again.”

You hesitantly nodded, and he brushed his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I want you to get rid of your phone,” he suggested.

You frowned, and he continued before you could question him.

“I’ll work on getting a new one for you. A secure one under my name.”

You frowned, not liking the idea of being so indebted to him.

“Steve, I don’t know-.”

“It’ll only be temporary. You can use it until I talk to some people and have him properly dealt with.”

Even though you weren’t keen on the idea, you reluctantly agreed.

“...and you have to promise me one thing…”

You eyed him, holding his gaze as you waited for him to continue.

“Promise me that you’ll call me the second he bothers you again,” he proposed.

Accepting the fact that your stubbornness was doing you more harm than good, you nodded. Steve seemed pleased with that, and with one last pat on your hand, he let you go. As he guided you out of your office, your phone in his hand, you felt more hopeful than you had in over a month. You felt so silly for not seeking out his help sooner, and you couldn’t deny the weight that had been lifted from your shoulders as you settled into your car.

True to his word, at your next session, Steve presented you with a new phone. It had all of your important contacts with Steve being at the top of the list. Embarrassment had flooded you as you thanked him with tears in your eyes. The week without your phone had been the most peace you’d had in a while, and you finally got some much needed rest.

“You haven’t heard anything from him, have you?” he’d asked you.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “Not a peep.”

He threw you that same smile that always brought you comfort.

“Good. Even if you never do, you’re always free to call me,” he’d reminded you.

Finally deciding to let your stubbornness go, you did. Talking to Steve outside of your sessions was easier than you thought it’d be. It was like talking to a friend. Sometimes you’d meet up at that same coffee shop not too far from his office, and other times you’d be putting a quick meal together while he was on the other line, listening to you ramble. You soon realized that it wasn’t just his profession that made him that way, but Steve truly was an unbiased listener. He never judged you for any steps back in your progress nor for any of your more self deprecating thoughts.

Best of all, you hadn’t heard anything more from Harry.

Not until he knocked on your door one night.

It was late when you’d heard the pounding on the wood, and having been watching tv in your room, you wondered if you imagined it. It was only moments later that you’d heard it again. Your eyes had widened, sitting up in alarm. No one knew you lived here. Not even your mailman. All of your mail collected at a Post Office box before you eventually went to pick it up. You stood, standing in your room, trembling in fear before a knock on your bedroom window had you screaming.

You didn’t hesitate to call the police, and it took longer than you liked for them to arrive. All the while, you dealt with knocking and pounding on your window and door. Back and forth, it alternated with minutes in between before stopping altogether when the sound of sirens could be heard. Unsurprisingly, and frustratingly, the police didn’t find anyone.

“Look, we’ll get this report down to the station,” the brunette had told you, not looking concerned in the least.

Frustration filled you, and you shuffled on your feet.

“Can’t you...idk, have someone stay here? Not even the whole night but just a few hours in case they come back?”

The tall man sighed, and you glanced at his badge. Officer Barnes, you noted.

“With all due respect mam, we can’t just have one of our officers sitting in your yard because someone knocked on your door-.”

“I told you-!”

“I know, I know. The windows too,” he said, sounding exasperated, and your frown deepened. “The best we can do is get this down to the station. You’re more than welcome to call us again should anyone come back.”

You crossed your arms over your chest as they left, finding no relief. You swallowed as you thought about Steve. You didn’t want to, but Harry had found you, tormenting you by knocking on your house in the dead of night. This was exactly the reason Steve had given you his number. Swallowing down your stubbornness, and with a deep breath, you called him.

He didn’t sound like he was asleep, and for that you were grateful. You would’ve kicked yourself if you had woken him up. Finally getting out why you’d called him was an awkward affair, stumbling over your words, and you felt even worse as he agreed to come over. There was no hesitation, and you couldn’t help but feel as if you were taking advantage of Steve’s generosity. 

You mumbled out your address, surprised to realize how relieved you were. You couldn’t remember the last time you had trusted a man this much. Harry had made you so paranoid, but you supposed that was what therapy was for. This was why you had all those sessions with Steve. To learn to heal and to trust again.

You opened the door with a small smile when he finally pulled into your yard. He was dressed comfortably, and you felt much better about your own ratty t-shirt and leggings, but his casual attire made him no less striking. 

“Thank you,” you breathed as he stepped inside.

“I was up going over paperwork when you called. I’m glad you did,” he told you.

You leaned against the door as you closed it, rubbing your arms.

“I didn’t know if I should. It’s just… He was here, Steve. Knocking on my door and window like something out of a horror movie, and the police treated it like it was nothing,” you complained.

Steve tilted his head at you with a sad smile.

“First thing in the morning, I’m going to make some more calls. Since he’s in town, it should be easy to have him put away. At the very least, a restraining order.”

Relief and hope filled you as you brushed past him.

“I really can’t thank you enough for coming over. I promise I won’t keep you long, just until I feel I can be ok being alone,” you said over your shoulder.

He followed you into the kitchen.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Eat? It’s the least I can do.”

“Some wine might be nice. You might want to pour yourself a glass too,” he suggested.

You chuckled, and he joined you, but you agreed with him nonetheless. You poured a glass for both of you, and you leaned against the counter with a sigh.

“I just don’t understand why he can’t leave me alone. Hasn’t he put me through enough?”

Steve hummed.

“From what you’ve told me, he strikes me as a narcissist. I’d bet that he doesn’t want you to move on,” he mused.

“Maybe,” you distractedly replied as you heard your phone ring. “I’ll be right back. Let me grab that super quick, it might be Nakia.”

Your phone was in your room, but by the time you reached it, it had stopped ringing. Sure enough, it was a missed call from your best friend, and you brought your phone with you to the kitchen, determined to call her back. Steve’s eyes were fond when you returned, and you shrugged.

“I need to call her back. I’ll only be a moment,” you said, swiping your glass.

“Take all the time you need.”

You made your way to the living room, taking your place on the couch as you called her back. She answered almost immediately.

“Hey, what’s up?”

She greeted you with a soft exhale.

“Uh… Harry’s...dead.”

You froze at her words, pulling the glass away from your lips. You blinked a few times, trying to come to terms with what she’d said.

“...what?”

“I just found out. I honestly didn’t know how you’d take the news, but I thought you should know.”

She was right. You yourself didn’t even know how you felt about this news. You had loved this man at one point...but he was also your abuser. This was good news...right?

“How?” you finally asked her.

She sighed.

“Apparently, he’d been missing for months-.”

“Months?”

“Yeah,” she quietly replied. “They found and identified his body today. I just saw it on the news.”

Your stomach twisted as the truth, and the meaning behind it, sank in. Just because Harry had been missing for months, it didn’t mean that he’d been dead for months. It very well could have been him harassing you like you believed. But...if they’d found and identified his body today, then there was no way it was him at your house tonight.

“Thank you,” you eventually said. “Um… I’m glad you told me.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” you honestly replied. “I’m just a little unsure of how I feel about all of this, but I’ll call you tomorrow when I’ve slept on it.”

“Alright. Be safe.”

You said your goodbyes and returned to the kitchen with an empty glass.

“Everything okay?” Steve questioned.

Your face must have been an open book.

“Harry’s dead,” you scoffed, blinking as you still fought to process this.

Steve didn’t respond, and just like one of your sessions, he seemed to be waiting for you to continue.

“Apparently he’d been missing for months and they just identified his body today. There’s no way it could have been him knocking on my door tonight, and now...now I’m even more scared than I was before,” you confessed. “God, I can’t even fully come to terms with my feelings on this because I’m realizing that Harry might not have been the only thing I should’ve been afraid of.”

“Hey,” Steve soothingly said, nearing you. “Are you sure it wasn’t someone who got lost? Maybe they had the wrong house?”

You thought about it before shaking your head.

“No, it definitely didn’t seem like that. Oh my God,” you cried, letting your head fall into your hands.

Steve pulled you into his arms, startling you, but you eventually relaxed, the wine settling into your system nicely.

“It’s going to be alright-.”

“What if it isn’t? Because I’m the idiot who thought that Harry was the only possible danger out there, I’ve attracted another without even realizing it.”

“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “Maybe it was nothing, and maybe it was more. Either way, I’m only a phone call away. Say the word, and I’ll have an officer living in your yard if need be.”

You chuckled at that, and nodded.

“Thank you,” you said, looking at him. “I-.”

You swallowed your words when his lips met yours, soft and demanding as they moved against your own. You were stunned, and it took you a moment to realize just what was happening before you pulled away. You stared at Steve with wide eyes, hesitantly reaching up to touch your lips as you took a step back.

“Steve…”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathed.

Your lips parted, a soft gasp escaping you at both his words and the fire in his gaze. It was so sudden and great that it froze you.

“Steve, I think… I think you should go,” you whispered, almost in disbelief.

He frowned at you, tilting his head just a tad as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Go? Why would I do that when you’re not feeling well?”

You opened your mouth to repeat yourself, even demand to know what he meant, but a sudden wave of nausea hit you, head feeling fuzzy. Steve caught you just as you stumbled, and you frowned, fighting to get out of his arms.

“What…?”

“You seemed really tense. I thought you could use something to take the edge off…”

You stared at him in disbelief, attempting to blink away the stars in your vision. Your legs felt like they were made of Jell-O as Steve guided you towards the living room. He deposited you on the couch, and you could hardly do anything as he laid you down, sitting beside you. His blue eyes, normally so soft and comforting, were dark with a longing you had never seen before.

“You were like a wounded little lamb when you first came to me,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your lip. “So lost...broken… It’s because of me that you’re even halfway back together again.”

His hands moved to slowly undress you, taking his time, and your hands might as well had been air as you tried to stop him. You shuddered as the cool air in the house hit you, nipples pebbling, even more so when Steve brushed his fingers over them.

“I wanted to wrap you in my arms during that first session. Drag you back as you tried to leave, show you how a woman should be touched by a man.”

You were in a state of shock, disbelief coursing through you as you watched Steve undress. Even at his age, the man was a wall of muscle, thick bands making you swallow in fear as you hopelessly tried to tell yourself that this was a dream.

“Steve,” you whispered.

“I had to be patient. I didn’t want to scare you off, push you into the arms of another dangerous man. I had to help you heal before showing the kind of man I can be for you,” he told you, fingers on your face as he neared you again.

Your whole body felt weighed down, and you couldn’t stop your tears even if you wanted to. Your touch was light as you pressed your hands to his chest, feeling like you were going to be sick as he settled over you.

“Harry is gone. He can’t hurt you anymore, and I’m going to make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

The irony was not lost on you, but the way he said that struck something in you, and your mind traveled to the unthinkable. You didn’t get the chance to think about it some more before Steve was forcing himself inside of you. A choking noise escaped you as he filled you to the hilt, your legs spread wide to accommodate his frame. Steve released a shuddering breath, breathing through his nose, body trembling as he delighted in the feel of you wrapped around him.

It was amazing that while all of your senses felt dulled, you could feel his pulsing member inside of you so well. He surrounded you, bulky frame caging you in, and you felt like you would pass out from suffocation. Steve sighed just before his lips met yours, and your stomach clenched as he moved within you. A broken moan slipped out against your will, and Steve groaned at the sound.

“I’ll show you pleasure that you’ve never known, touch you in ways you never felt. I know how to make you happy,” he purred, his pace languid as he thrust in and out of you.

You turned your head away, the furniture of your living room blurring together from whatever he’d slipped into your drink.

“I know your deepest desires and your deepest fears. I know you better than anyone else out there…”

You hated that in a way, Steve was right. You’d bared yourself to him under the guise of trust and healing. He really did know all there was to know about you, and you hated yourself for it. You hated him for hiding his intentions so well, for taking advantage of your vulnerability and trauma. He tutted as you started to squirm beneath him.

“After all I’ve done for you...in all the ways I’ve helped you, the least you could do is give yourself to me. I deserve to reap the benefits of my efforts-.”

You gasped beneath him, legs kicking around him, but he only pressed himself more firmly against you.

“...I’ve gone out of my way to make sure you were safe, to protect you so that no more threats remained to you nor our relationship.”

“You’re crazy-.”

You cut yourself off with a yelp as he nipped at your neck, jerking in his hold as he continued to snap his hips into yours. His hands were gentle on you, a contrast to how he fucked you, his pace increasing with every passing minute. Despite the fact that you could hardly move, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you in place as the sound of your coupling filled the room, your core now wet and slick from his ministrations.

Steve seemed intoxicated, blissfully immersed in the feel of you and how you clung to him. His low groans and moans filled your ear, and you could do nothing as he covered your lips again, tongue tasting you, moaning at the taste of wine that still remained.

“My touch will never cause you harm, bringing you nothing but pleasure for the rest of our lives.”

~

tags:  @xoxabs88xox​ @harryspet​ @readermia​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @nickyl316h​ @captainchrisstan​ @sebabestianstan101​ @villanellevi​ @lokislastlove​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @coconutqueen21​ @hurricanerin​ @hyoyeoniie​ @sherrybaby14​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​ @mandiiblanche​ @gotnofucks​ @oneoftheprettynerds​ @doozywoozy​ @sapphirescrolls​ @threeminutesoflife​ @searchforanotherway​ @mcudarklibrary​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @widowsmaximoff​ @nerdygirl8203​  @supernaturalwintersoldier​ @charmed-asylum  @harrysthiccthighss​ @patzammit​

#dark steve rogers #dark steve x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader

[ddarker-dreams]

FINALLY SOMEONE SAID THE TRUTH.

I admit that i enjoyed act 3 but it feels like really rushed i have so much complain with that.

The build up until act 2 was so good it give us so much premise but the final blow si meh. Sorry that i want to share thing long rant with you

1. Why the final talk is with yae, no offense to her but we need ei to explain not to mention she witness khaenriah downfall so she can give us more information, i feel like they do it for the plot armor so they can just keep dragging this

2. So many things that quite inconsistant, the shogun is show no mercy to anyone that even did a little thing outside what she think its right, how come she can still have a talk with signora, when sara is falling like that, and also there is no clarification about sara right now.

The traveler was so done at first they refuse to help thoma and ayaka at the beginning. But they seem so happy and forget everything how come they are not RAGE ( okay maybe this is to bias and personal) when this nation provide nothing about our siblings information and also why they are not mention anything about their problem in ei stroy quest. Its nonsense! She is right in front of youu, ask about your siblings, ask about khaenriah, ask about ukmown god!!. How come they can just forget like that. Also mihoyo really waste the potential about twin things i thing ei will give us so much help bcs of the sympathy that we both rn lost our twin but noooo.

3. Kokomi seem lost some brain cell, she make a very succesfull grand intro but she become meh in act 3, how come a great strategist like her let the sus sponsorship slip just bcs they are desperate, not to mention her screen time is really small and her role seem so unsignificant and it feels lile she is a plain npc.

4. The awesome world quest that we have done doesnt get any mention at all! Inazuma owe us so much with cleansing sakura, thunder sakura, tatarigami, obarashi quest. It has so much potential that yae or ei or anyone else aknowledge what traveler has been done but nooo.

cracks knuckles... i suppose it's time for my promised dissertation. interestingly enough, you touched on a lot of the main issues i had with chapter III.

i think that if i had to pin the main issue, it's a lack of overall cohesiveness? we were jumping all over the place without the chance to ever flesh things out. inazuma is a smaller cast, but i feel like we didn't get to see any of them shine. since i'm most interested in the genshin characters, i'll break down my problems by going over everyone and their (lack) of impact on the story.

was ayaka not questioned or placed under suspicion for being close to thoma before his escape? i wanted to see her broken up over her duties as they relate to the yashiro commission, paired with having someone she genuinely cares about in danger. it would've been an interesting struggle if she was forced to choose one or the other. instead she just kinda took a back seat.

speaking of thoma, i don't even have anything to say, because he just... was there? for .0001 seconds. said "lol this sucks ig" and that's about it. i know we're going to get a story for him in the future since he's a 5* but i'm not getting my hopes up 😭 then in the raiden shogun's character story, man is peachy keen! be upset with the raiden shogun! have some inner conflict! even if it's just using loaded language because he's under surveillance for going against the raiden shogun, that'd be so cool. saying something like,

"Traveler, what's with that expression? Oh please, there's nothing to worry about. We're under the Statue of the Omnipresent God's protection. Nothing bad has ever happened here." *wink*

i also don't know what to say about gorou. he was... there....... i think. what is he fighting for? what are the stakes for him? what makes him place so much trust into kokomi? i'm out of things to say about him because i don't remember anything he did or said.

kokomi... oh kokomi... i was so hyped. so excited. i thought that maybe we could see a foil to the raiden shogun. that she'd have a moment where she's forced to realize, just like her opponent, sacrifices must be made that will hurt people who will never understand why she made them. or maybe something to show her military prowess. but instead she just accepts a mysterious patron's help (?), sees her people aging like the grateful dead from JJBA, and goes oh well. that sucks. what can ya do. oh bye traveler i guess, good luck with that. ????????????? HUH... similar case to thoma where she's gonna get a character story but like. she won't be the leader of the resistance anymore. that was her whole shtick. they took her shtick away. also she forced me to interact with more NPCs whose names i've already forgotten so i'm tilted about that still.

KUJOU SARA... AN INJUSTICE. A DISGRACE. a slap to my woman loving face. the build up was there. yae miko's comments about sara probably knowing the tenryou commission is involved in shady dealings, but is choosing not to think about it. sara being forced to confront reality and challenge her adopted father with the truth. being able to blaze a new path for herself in the process. when she started running to the raiden shogun i was ultra hyped up. sara, a devotee to the shogun for so long, was about to see her god interacting with the same people who led inazuma to this awful state. how would she react? would she stay ignorant, like yae miko so coyly said, choosing to look away in favor of following her god's footsteps? or would she be forced to recognize the raiden shogun isn't as divine as she once thought, and challenge her belief system?

we open the door to see the raiden shogun. the loading screen ensues. the camera pans to the ominous room, clouded in darkness, hinting at the ominous confrontation that is to come. the music takes a serious timbre. and then...

well fuck that potential character arc i guess. (we still don't know what sara made of any of this since she poofed out of existence from the story at this point)

kazuha also was handed a similar treatment. we've been with him for a while longer now. he is our introduction into inazuma, the one who first gets us emotionally involved by regaling us with the bittersweet tale of friendship that led him to becoming a wanted criminal. a kind soul who loves nature yet was dealt a cruel hand by fate, forced to watch his home nation turn into a hostile place, where his dear friend ultimately perished as a result. we get the scene with his friend's vision lighting back up. he parries a block from the raiden shogun, in the same area where his friend was killed by her. the parallels. the drama. except this time, he wasn't too late. he protected the traveler where he "failed" to protect his friend in the past. did he feel redemption at this? or was it a bittersweet reminder of what could've been?

WELL i guess we'll never know because we didn't get to talk to him again 😭 idk who got a bait and switch worse, him or sara. jesus christ mihoyo.

then we have signora. why is the raiden shogun talking to her? does she know about the gnosis being taken, and if she doesn't, what was her plan to get it from the archon? what does she think about scaramouche? and oh, okay, we're fighting here now. good fight + god tier music. pog pog. okay, now we've beaten her up, and raiden shogun wyd— wait no not signora her lore is still on CUPS not YET raiden shogun and— ah she's dead. okay. non nerds who didn't read artifact lore are going to know nothing about her. signora has such an interesting story, and yet... well. ok.

then we get raiden shogun redemption (?) arc. i was hype for this as well, though at that point, idk why i bothered being hype. i knew they were gonna do a cute power of friendship something or another, and i'm good with that, so long as it's executed well. what i was envisioning was like seven different buffs to correspond with the seven different visions, the dreams of those whose ambitions were stolen serving as the spear to penetrate the raiden shogun's heart of stone. maybe a hydro vision giving us extra healing for a time, with the voice acting over it being like,

"Even if the rest of the world forgets us, let our will carry you through this one final time. Succeed where we couldn't, Traveler."

so on and so forth.

but instead we got— you get the idea at this point. why bother spelling it out anymore.

at that point i was surprised the raiden shogun didn't go "oopsie woopsie!! we made a fucky wucky!!!" because that was the vibe i was getting. i love ei, don't get me wrong, but i wanted to see her challenged with what she had done to inazuma in the past year. maybe meeting NPC #2345259 who lost her sister to the vision decree or something, reminding ei of the love she held for her sister... being forced to come to terms with the extent of what she's done in pursuit of eternity.

anyway. please for the love of god mihoyo hire better writers for the main story. that is all i ask. thank you.

#genshin impact spoilers #answered #Anonymous

[lordelmelloi2]

Reines uses her unsavory jokes to cope with her history of being abused/almost killed at the hands of mage society

While we’re on the topic of Reines’ being absorbed in the Clock Tower’s politics and it shaping her entire worldview, this joke (one of many incestuous jokes she makes) is another big view into the way that she copes with it. 

Reines, who from a young age has had literally no choice but to participate in the Clock Tower politics because of Kayneth’s death, has been enmeshed in these issues from the start. The conservative notion of magic circuit distribution and treating people like simply a womb or a sire in order to better magic circuit distribution is something she’s well aware of, even more so because female mages are regularly treated like simply wombs that will help create even greater mages further in time. It is not uncommon for young mages, teenagers and adults, to be in arranged marriages to ensure political gain or for greater magic circuit count. 

I’ve spoken about it before, but Reines believes that mages are supposed to behave in a way that’s more beneficial to political gain rather than try to walk the boundary of humanity and magus. 

What this means for her, who considers herself more mage than human, is that she will readily joke from a political point of view - but more specifically joke about incestuously eloping with Waver. 

Waver, who considers all mages to be fundamentally human, is absolutely disgusted by it. And it should be noted as well that Waver also routinely teaches mages to consider their humanity a bit more as a fundamental of his practice in Modern Magecraft instruction. Waver may identify himself as a mage, but he is well-known for trying to balance what it is to be “human” with being a “mage”. He is more concerned with being effective because those he teaches are secure in themselves as people, rather than suffering under mage society’s ideologies that require one to basically consider themselves second to their pursuit of the Root or anything else. 

The issue with Reines is this, though. Why does she keep specifically joking about incest with Waver? 

Well, for a girl whose life is entirely dictated by political workings in the Clock Tower, who has exactly one person in a position of authority in her life who doesn’t believe in said politics and yet considers himself a mage, he’s an easy target. But more importantly, she wants to prove something. 

For Reines, who was almost assassinated at a young age, the notion of being protected by others on the basis of her being a human ... was basically nonexistent. She is 15. There is nobody who is stretching themselves thin to try and rescue her or even comfort her from the torment of the political workings of the Clock Tower. Her life is constantly at risk. There is no other option for her, she believes, than to consider herself a mage. 

But Waver is different. Waver, who calls himself a mage, acts so completely un-mage-like that he’s labelled a heretic. Not only that, he doesn’t hold any of the political ideology that denotes a “true mage” at all, and on top of that, he actively rebels against it, teaching the opposite in his classes. 

Reines wants a justification for the suffering that she went through. 

If she can somehow suggest that Waver is Just Like The Other Mages, she will be right, and the suffering she endured as a young girl at the hands of the politics of the Clock Tower would be justified. It would mean she could skip the work of having to ask why she had to go through any of it in the first place. It means that she doesn’t have to weep or mourn or get angry that she was almost killed, that she’s regularly almost killed, and she doesn’t have to think about how fucked up the place that she’s forced to exist in is. Reines does not have an out from mage society. She is next in line to be a Lord. For her to give that up would mean throwing the El Melloi house into even further disarray, and it might truly disintegrate the family and destabilize them enough to let them be totally wiped out again. 

She has an immense burden on her shoulders and she’s coping with it by suggesting to the only person in her life who would say “this isn’t right, and they shouldn’t do this to you” that in actuality, the people who want this Are right, and that what happened to her was simply a matter of course. 

It is very common for traumatized people to normalize the abuse that happened to them as a coping mechanism. It’s easier to normalize it than to fight against it, sometimes, because fighting against it means processing a lot of pain and having to face that the world was cruel to you. 

Waver, to her, is a figure who is in her own words “blindingly bright”. He represents a future and an existence that says that the world is not naturally that cruel, and that kindness should be the base standard of how one acts and carries oneself. 

She does not actually want to be hurt by him. But she feels, at this time, that she has no other choice than to suggest that he, too, would hurt her. Would drag her deeper into the abyss that is the political ideology that mages have - especially of the Aristocratic faction, the right-wing faction that the El Melloi family belongs to, the faction that 10 years ago told Waver that a mage’s bloodline is everything and that nothing else matters. 

One day she might find out that she’s wrong, and one day she might learn that she's suffering, and that she didn’t deserve to go through what she went through as a child, as a teen, and what she might go through in the future. 

Quite frankly, she just needs the right support, is all. And to know that she’ll be protected in the future. That’s all she really wants. It’s a very simple wish. But it would mean a lot to her, who was not protected in the past, and has to fend for herself as well. It would do her good to have the idea that a mage isn’t just a bundle of circuits reinforced to her. And it would also do her good to know that she is allowed to act like a teen girl at times, having girl’s talks with others, talking about nonsense, having fun. Gray provides her with a bit of an outlet, which is good, but really, she needs much more than this. Ideally she should be outside of mage society as a whole. But I suppose there’s a lot more work that has to be done before she can hope to be freed from any of that. 

#incest ment tw #reines el melloi archisorte #have been wanting to make this post for Forever #lord el melloi ii case files #character analysis #lem2 manga

[thefools-journey]

So. Some of you may be wondering why we haven’t written a whole ton about the secondaries or what have you. Here’s the reason: we were waiting for them to end before we really dug into the problems we were noticing. We felt that it was only fair to wait for the routes to finish so that we had an understanding of the writers’ vision. Who knew, we thought, maybe they would see the problems themselves and course correct, maybe they are building to something we can’t quite see yet and these issues will have actual payoff, maybe-

In light of Muriel and Lucio’s endings, and the general mess that has dominated Portia’s route for a year plus now, we are breaking our silence. We are actually going to talk about this shit show.

The fandom at large has talked about a bunch of issues with the secondaries but for me, the cardinal sin, the thing that really all the issues lead back to, is this: the writers lost sight of the tarot themes which so strongly defined and held together the primary routes. Let me explain.

The primary routes each center around three thematic cores:

The Love Interest’s Major Arcana and its Reversed/Upright meanings

The MC’s Fool’s Journey, both how it can go right and how it can go wrong

A question about the MC’s identity and their relationship to said identity

Asra’s route asks: Who was the MC? How does the MC navigate a past they cannot and will not remember? What do they owe a past they cannot remember? How do they handle the revelations of what Asra, Nadia, Julian, etc did? How do you right the past? Can you?

Nadia’s route asks: Who is the MC? The MC has no past. Are they the Fool only? Are they actually the same person they were? How can they tell? Who are they, really? Are they an imposter? No one can answer these questions for them.

Julian’s route asks: Who will the MC become? How does the MC see their future? Is there anything worth fighting for for that future? What will become of them and their loved ones? 

Now, if you notice, these themes are expertly woven throughout the primaries. Asra’s past dominates his route, Nadia is also missing memories and trying to construct her identity both with her family and with Vesuvia, and Julian’s fear of the future drives his flailing for control. Asra has to learn to take a broader view of his actions to get his Upright Ending, Nadia has to learn to trust herself and those around her for hers, and Julian has to learn how to let go for his. These lessons are the issues their cards stand for. The primaries are so dang elegant and delicate in their handlings of theme it is honestly awe-inspiring.

Thematically, the secondary routes have completely lost their hearts. First of all, the MC does not have strong, core questions which need to be answered. They just don’t. I suppose the writers did not want to retread old territory (which is weird considering how tightly bound the primaries are; it really tricks you into thinking you’re living the same events but from different angles depending on your route) but they did not replace the old with anything new. Muriel’s route is, on the surface, about discovering and owning his past, the good and the bad. Why not tie MC’s self-discovery to that story? Or they could have taken the angle that Muriel’s route is about convincing him to be present and active in the world while MC builds an identity for themself outside of Asra, the shop, and the memories they cannot retrieve. Why not tie the investigation themes running through Portia’s early route back to MC and their past? Portia has the unique angle of being as in the dark as MC about all of this, why not discover the past together? And for goodness’ sake, Lucio has no future when his route begins, why not tie that to his need for growth, responsibility, and MC’s own future between the Fool, the Devil, or something mortal and in between?

Secondly, the routes lost their tarot backbone. We have a primer on how to get specific endings for each LI and it still holds, but the writers did not follow through on the thematic coherence of each secondary. The Hermit is looking for something, be it perspective, insight, a solution to a problem, whatever. The key here is that the Hermit must find or learn what they are searching for, this thing must change their understanding of the world, and finally, they must bring this lesson back to the world from which they retreated. Can someone please enlighten me as what exactly Muriel learns then teaches the world around him? Nothing Muriel learns from Morga, MC, or even the Hermit ties back into anything. The Devil warns that you are out of control and exerting a lot of manipulative, destructive behavior on the world around you. It asks you to take responsibility for yourself and your actions. So can someone tell me why Lucio’s route actively avoids any interaction or reflection on two of Lucio’s biggest victims: Muriel and Julian? Why does the route only try to make amends with the “easier” of his victims in the cast? The Star is first and foremost the card of clarity, the light at the end of the tunnel. Perseverance, if you will. Yet Portia’s route has been the muddiest of the trio; the writers drop the investigation aspect of her route in favor just handing her and MC information they could have easily found and muddying the waters with Tasya (she blows up the palace but it’s all okay bc she has a secret daughter Julian never thought to bring up or mention) and the complete removal of the Devil as antagonist. 

So that leaves just the Fool’s Journey trying to hold this stool up with only one leg. And well...it doesn’t go well. At best, the secondary route books pay the barest surface level homage to the themes of the individual cards. At worst, they ignore the cards completely. Muriel's Moon book has nothing to do with illusions or delusions or lies or even an Alice in the Looking Glass upside down world. Portia's back half is a complete and utter mess, starting with her Temperance book being so badly mangled that Muriel's aftermath book does it better. Lucio's route too bungles the Tower and the Star. There just isn't enough here to carry the routes alone.

Add to the core loss the loss of intertextuality. The primary routes are very good, even great but they too do have their moments and mistakes. What helps strengthen them when the cores stumble is how the trio is woven together. Things you learn in Asra's route can inform the way you play Nadia's, for example. Julian's route informs what is going on in Asra's route and slots some missing puzzle pieces together. Nadia's route tells you of the power struggles she is facing and informs the other two routes' handling of Julian and his trial. On and on, the three routes support each other because they are built out of the same basic plot beats, just tackled in very different ways. Now, the writers are allowed to try and write whatever they want. They apparently wanted to be more experimental and less tied down to an overarching plot with the three secondaries. Okay, fine, they are allowed to do that. The problem is that they sacrificed one of the key strengths of the primary trio and didn't replace said strength with anything else. They also, on some level, harmed the very premise of the game, which is that only the player's choices and route selected change the overall plot. Instead of feeling like legitimate possibilities or offshoots of the same timeline/plot, the secondaries feel almost like Arcana AUs. The secondaries throw out all relations to the primaries and each other as quickly as possible and for what? 

It is probably the height of arrogance to suggest fixes for works whose behind the scenes I do not know. At the same time, some small, obvious changes could have salvaged Muriel and maybe Lucio's endings (rip Portia). Instead of having the Hermit appear as a disappointing cameo, why not have him say something cryptic to Muriel, then have MC start trying to seal the Devil. Then let Muriel use his forget me mark to cloak MC and hide them from the Devil's attacks. Protecting MC by hiding them from Lucio, keeping him focused on Muriel, seems to me a simple third solution between Muriel's desire to run and his desire to never fight again. It lets him stand up to Lucio and let him have it while holding onto who Muriel has become. The Reversed End would have MC try to draw Lucio's attention at some point, disrupting the sealing, and eventually leading to Muriel killing the Devil. With Lucio's Upright End, I just have to ask: why doesn't MC fully claim the power of the Fool instead of the Devil? We don't need the other Arcana involved in this fight; we have three routes that demonstrate that. Just have MC pull Scout into the conflict, then have Lucio tell MC he believes in them, then add his power to the mix. You got yourself a full Fool who leaves Scout guarding the realm until they and Lucio's mortal bodies fail and they return to the realm to be together forever. Boom, you're done, you can even add some ambiguous lines so that players can decide how happy their MC is with this arrangement, send me the check.

Here is the bottom line. Our group is full of aroace, and several combinations therein, individuals. We are the last group who should have gotten into a dating sim of all things. But the Arcana did something with the primaries that was special; they wrote a compelling plot with dazzling lore, complex characters, and strong themes wrapped up in a dating sim bow. The writers know better and we know they know better. I do not know what happened with the secondaries, especially around books 10-11, which is where minor issues slowly start spiraling into major ones, but it is clear that Nix Hydra needed some more planning before they released these routes. Hopefully they will learn.

TL;DR: Nix Hydra fired their tarot consultants about eighteen months ago and it has wrecked their secondary routes until they were just embarrassments. They never intended for the secondary routes to even exist and once they had to make them, they scrambled and threw out everything that made the primaries work.

- Mod Telos

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