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#yeah i do really hate her this much

compacflt · 5 months

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this is a bit of an ask inspired by another ask (and also ridiculously silly) but what’s the boys’ relationship with penny like in the future?? i loved the little snippet of her at bradley’s wedding and ice trying to figure out if she’s a threat or not (and then maverick coming back from dancing and saying he couldn’t stop gushing over ice….ugh!!!) but do they become good solid friends? I like the idea of them expanding their circle now that they can trust more people…even if one of those people are one of maverick’s exes

additionally: do her and ice ever talk about their shared experiences (not sex, ice would probably keel over and die, but just…having a relationship with mav)? the thought of penny cornering him is ridiculously funny to me. or maybe they never reach that point of comfort 🤷‍♀️ i just need to know if she ever takes them both sailing and ice gets a chance to laugh at mav on a boat

[also, in all sincerity, I have an unhealthy amount of things to say about this series and I’m a bit sad it’s over, but I love everything you’ve done <3 I could compliment it for days on end and probably never run out of things to say]

ice to Penny at mav’s birthday party sometime over the last five years: Hey! Good to see you again :) thanks for coming …

Penny, apropos of nothing: so.,. weve never talked one-on-one… but. You and i have both been inside Pete Mitchell at some point ?

ice:

#this is just my ice gif #Penny pegs!#heatwavering i wish you nothing but good days and love for the rest of your life smooches smooches smooches #to answer ur question honestly i don’t see ice & Penny bring anything more than polite acquaintances #and it’s clear mav didn’t make much of an effort to seek her/her friendship out #between movies #so i don’t really see them being good intimate friends #But i do see ICE AND CHARLIE totally yukking it up over ‘dating maverick memories’#’does he still drive off on his motorcycle when he gets upset?’#’oh yeah. haha. whoa. and pretend he can’t hear you…?’#’oh god i used to hate that. better you than me Mr. Kazansky. better you than me.’#pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #penny benjamin #icemav #top gun maverick #asks #Charlie at least is involved in aerospace/mil aviation so there’s a lot of connection there #Penny is (not to say ‘just’ but) just a bartender/navy nepo baby

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jankwritten · 1 year

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I’ve been thinking a lot about what a Hazel and Jason friendship would look like.

Hazel tentatively reaching out after finally understanding that Jason isn’t everything she built him up to be in her head, influenced both by Nico and by what she actually observed of Jason herself

Jason assumes she just wants tips on leadership or maybe how to fight better, so he obliged by offering to train with her

Hazel expects Jason to go easy on her like Percy and Annabeth and Piper do, but instead she gets taken down within a few minutes and has Jason ruthlessly pointing out what things she could improve on.

(Cue: Hazel finally having an opponent who doesn’t underestimate her. Hazel who finally feels like she has somebody she can spar against who will help and not just let her win because she’s young and small. Hazel who finally gets why Nico spends so much time talking about how kind and helpful Jason is, even if what she’s seeing isn’t necessarily kind.)

Jason starts hanging out with Hazel outside of sparring but in other groups, like with Piper, or Nico. He learns that she loves dancing and horses and likes to test the hardness of a stone against her fingernails, likes to collect shiny non-precious things just like Nico does, likes to swear loudly whenever possible as if she’s doing it to purposely piss people off.

Hazel asks Jason if he wants to go hang out one day after the Argo quest is over, maybe go to some museum in NYC that she’s heard Percy talk about, or find metaphysical shops to walk through (I HC that Hazel really loves modern mortal interpretations of magic and that she’s fascinated by the ways mortals accidentally connect to the gods etc.) and Jason assumes she means with someone else and agrees, only to find out they’re going alone.

Jason panicking for a moment about potential misinterpretations, once he realizes, and stammering out some garbled thing about how he really likes her but not like that because ofc all he’s known so far is that being alone with a girl = someone will assume romantic intent. Hazel openly laughs in his face and rather boldly states that she KNOWS Jason is in love with her brother.

Hazel, eventually, being the first person Jason feels safe coming out to. Jason, in return, being the first person Hazel feels safe to talk about being asexual with. The two of them discussing their feelings more and more often while exploring new places together, like Hazel talking about how she did so much researching into queer history and labels when she first found out Nico is gay, Jason telling her that he still doesn’t feel like Thalia is his sister as if he might not be the same Jason Grace she remembers, the two of them coming to terms with being on the aromantic spectrum together.

Jason talking Hazel out of joining the Hunters when she’s having a very very bad day. Hazel stopping Jason from disappearing back out into the mortal world to finish school without first giving his other friends a chance to have input.

(Hazel and Jason inadvertently saving each other’s lives by tweaking fate, thus making their friendship literally woven into their lives forever indisputably. Hades/Pluto patting Jason on the back and telling him thank you with no context or clarification the next time they meet. Hera/Juno, tight lipped and silent, offering Hazel some kind of gift or blessing the next time she returns to New Rome. Hazel and Jason laughing it off when they tell each other because wow, their godly parents are weird as hell.)

#pjo #hoo #jason grace #hazel levesque #I really do think their friendship would be so fun and cool for them #they develop a sibling kinda thing #like yeah Jason still sees her as a little kid sometimes #but she’s HIS little kid sibling and hazel is okay with that because they both know it doesn’t mean he sees her as weak or lesser #idk man people need to hop on this Jason Hazel friendship train I’m digging this shit soooo much #GIGGLING at the idea of Jason casually saying he used to have a crush on Frank and Hazel hitting him with a pillow #they’re gossiping. they’re beating each other up. they’re sharing their deepest darkest secrets.#I’m sure it’s not all happy sparkly rainbows all the time either #like I’m SURE hazel gets pissed off at Jason super easily for shit he does and Jason gets annoyed when Hazel just Decides Stuff without #input from anyone else (Jason does this too but he’s a hypocrite)#like they also. hate each other sometimes but that’s fine. they always figure it out and are friends again before the end of the day #there’s just so much POTENTIAL guys #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #heroes of Olympus #pjato #these are my kids my children

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deus-and-the-machina · 9 months

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I think an underlooked part of what shaped jin’s mindset was how even back in Torna, he was considered “property”. He and Lora spent their whole lives avoiding the authorities of Torna because they believed would straight up execute Lora to get Jin back, and no one ever denies it. and this has seemingly been a fear since Lora was a child. Jin had to hide his face everywhere he went. Maybe Torna wouldn’t have been cruel enough to execute a child, especially since the king seemed decent(?) enough, if not a bit distant. But the fact it was even a fear at all for Lora since she was so young is just awful to think about.

According to his past self’s journals, Jin and his old driver fought in a war of independence for Torna, perhaps what made him a hero to begin with. and because he’s a war hero for deeds he doesn’t even remember, the kingdom considers him owned by them. Which is on the nose in two different ways ngl. Both in how the Blades are seen and a wider metaphor of soldiers/state. idk it’s just very sad to think about

#I think a lot of people (esp people who dont really interact with the actual story of 2) boil jins motives down to lora too often #like yes her death sent him spiraling but his actual motives dont like. actually have much to do with her directly. it contributed to his #bad mental state that allowed him to get to that point but he still has plenty of reasons to hate how blades are treated and hes right!#its also why 'lora wouldn't have wanted this' doesnt really matter to him. yeah she wouldnt have. she's also been dead for ages so what does #it matter? like hes definitely not coping healthily mans is constantly retraumatizing himself by keeping her body around but like #he knows she's dead hes accepted it so hes doing better than N at least! jin hates being immortal but he stays alive to keep Loras memory #alive. but the longer he lives the more and more awful shit he sees and the more it breaks him. but he cant die bc then the only person left #who really knew lora would be gone (Minoth is alive too but he knew her for like several weeks at most alsfjakfjljfsa) and thats the curse #xenoblade #xenoblade chronicles #jin #siren says

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tennessoui · 1 year

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ganymede & zeus but make it obikin

been a while since i did a ficlet for tumblr....this comes out of a discord convo about ganymede!anakin and zeus!obi-wan......sort of dark tho gods are horrible beings with no boundaries

(for @jswander ) (2.3k)

Every muscle in Anakin’s body feels overextended and sore. He cries out from the sensation upon waking, instinctively trying to curl in on himself—anything to get away from the pain.

“Hush now,” a voice above him and below him and around him says. “None of that, beloved,” it speaks again when Anakin fights to tear open his eyes. “Sleep.”

There is nothing Anakin wants to do simultaneously more and less, but he’s never submitted under another’s thumb without a fight. With a great push of effort, he arches his back up, off the comfortable surface he’s laying on. And with what remains of his will, he wrenches his eyes open to survey his surroundings.

He cannot see a thing. White fills his vision, so bright and heated that it feels as if he is burning from the inside out, as if his very being is disintegrating the longer he looks at the light. It is blinding. It is everything. He cannot look away, nor can he close his eyes. His mouth has fallen open and he can hear himself screaming from the pain of it all, the radiance of the being in front of him.

“You stupid boy,” the voice snaps, sounding absolutely furious as the light coalesces into one solid shape, something that looks like a chest, then an arm, then a hand reaching towards him.

Anakin tries to scramble back, away from what will surely feel like a brand against his skin—and oh gods, doess he know what that feels like—but the hand extends faster than he can move, and even when he turns his head away, it catches him. It covers his eyes.

“Drink,” the voice murmurs, reverberating around him. Only then does Anakin notice that a cup has been brought to his lips. His lips seel themselves into a firm line. No. No. “You stupid child,” the voice snaps, “Do as you are told.”

It is the sheer power in the command that causes Anakin to open his mouth, to tip his head back. He is the lion among men, the Conqueror with No Fear, the Queen of Naboo’s Chosen Warrior, and yet—he opens his mouth and yields to the voice, to the hand over his eyes that burns. It feels like renewal, not pain, though that may be because every other part of his body still feels as if it is on fire, the aches from the first few moments of consciousness burning to ash under the pain of that radiance.

“Sleep,” the voice commands, and this time Anakin can do nothing but listen.

—---------

When he awakens next, he can tell from the breeze in the air that he has been moved. It is cool, and the breeze brushes against his skin like a gentle friend, running over his body to reach every part of him.

It is then he realizes that someone has stripped him of his clothes, his armor. He had been wearing armor. He had been preparing to lead his men into battle. He had—

The breeze in the air twirls around his chest and neck, caressing his skin until his nipples stiffen into peaks from the cold. Almost distantly, it sounds as if someone is laughing, an exhale over and over again that conveys their mirth, and Anakin can suddenly feel the breeze on his lips like a lover’s breath.

“Eurus, out,” a voice roars from somewhere that is everywhere and nowhere all at once. Anakin quakes from the sound of it, but the breeze withdraws, tosses out one last laugh that sounds almost like a cackle, before seemingly winking out of existence.

Anakin lies carefully still. The fabric beneath him feels soft, slippery. He’d been to the palace of Naboo only once to pay respect to the queen he fought his wars in the name of. Her personal chambers had been draped in a material that felt similar. So soft that it had felt then almost uncomfortable to touch.

Anakin had been born a slave. He did not know soft things, nor how to languish against them. The queen had tried to show him how, had made such a persistent overture in the name of pleasure that he had sworn his loyalty to her name—but, privately, to her figure against those silks, the line of her throat, the tilt of her chin as she gave ground and submitted to his desires—and yet he still could never relax in the comfort her status and love had offered. He was not made for it.

He was not made for these silks either, though they certainly felt different against his skin.

“You are too perfect for your own good, my darling,” the voice says quietly, a hand running through Anakin’s hair carefully. The motion is one filled with strange devotion. Tenderness. “Your beauty could start a war amongst the gods themselves, for they would all like to take you, to have you. Yet you are mine.”

Anakin can feel his heart stutter at this declaration. The touch of his hair is no longer tender. It is proprietary. He opens his mouth, wets his lips. “I am no one’s,” he whispers, voice hoarse and cracking.

His defiance makes the voice laugh, a rich sound that reminds Anakin of the sounds of rocks tumbling down a mountainside. “You have sworn yourself to me, Anakin Skywalker, of course you are mine.”

“You are not my queen—“

“You would be wise to not speak of your infidelities so casually,” the voice snaps, and the hairs on Anakin’s arms stand as the air seems to fill with electricity. “You have no queen here.”

Anakin is silent, his mind and heart racing. Has he been captured? Is he a slave again? He would rather die.

“Open your eyes, darling. Look upon me and allow me to see the reward of my labor,” the voice turns soft again, coaxing, and the hand leaves his hair to trail down the side of his face, thumb brushing over the bow of his lips.

“Hurt,” Anakin manages to say. The thumb takes his parted lips as invitation and presses into his mouth to rest against his teeth. Anakin thinks about biting it, but there is something inside him that screams at him to be careful. To tread carefully around this voice. This man.

“I know,” the voice croons, “and I apologize for it, treasure. I had not expected you to wake so soon after your ordeal and was not prepared. Humans cannot bear to look upon my godly form. Those who have have perished. You have frightened me with your recklessness.”

The thumb presses down hard before it withdraws.

“Open your eyes, Anakin,” the voice says. “Your king demands it.”

Gingerly, carefully, Anakin opens his eyes.

He is met immediately with the sight of a man leaning over him. His face is lined with a well-kept beard, short and practical and dark red. His hair too is the same color of russet, pushed up and off his forehead in a rakish cut. His eyes though—Anakin cannot look away from them. They are glittering, electric blue. No—they are the color of the sky before a thunderstorm, whirling points of gray and dark blue. No—they the early morning sky in the north of Naboo, slate gray and bright.

“Hello there, darling,” the man says. He strokes Anakin’s cheek again, resting his broad hand against his skin.

Anakin can do nothing but stare. This man—he is handsome beyond imagination, but there is something in the set of his face, the jut of his lips, his jaw—perhaps something in his eyes that screams danger.

He is so perfect that he is almost unreal.

“I will miss the blue of your eyes,” the man murmurs, looking at him intently. Critically.

Hungrily.

“What?” Anakin whispers.

The man continues as if he has not heard him. “Yet there is something deeply satisfying in seeing your eyes stained gold from my blood. You wear it well, darling, your godhood.”

Anakin shakes his head. The man’s words—they do not make sense though he says them in the manner any sane man speaks.

“Truly you were born to be mine,” the man whispers like a sacred declaration, and this finally causes Anakin to flinch away.

“I am no one’s,” he says again, shifting off the fabrics and pushing himself to stand. He was wrong earlier—he is not fully nude, though he thinks he’d prefer to be. There is a cloth like a skirt around his hips, though the fabric only covers the area between his legs, held together by clasps that lay against his hips. And even then, it is light and transparent and doing little to protect his modesty. His chest is bare, but his upper arms have been wrapped in gold coils, one short and one extending almost to his elbow.

The man before him has dressed him as a child would dress a doll and it infuriates him. He is Anakin Skywalker, a lion among men, and he will not suffer this.

“I am no one’s,” he declares with a snarl, turning upon the man and striding forward. “Release me at once!”

The man arches a singular eyebrow but otherwise appears completely unaffected. Anakin feels like roaring, like taking his face into his hands and ripping it apart.

“Where am I?” He interrogates as he stalks towards the man. Though he is handsome and though he appears strong, his bare torso as visible as Anakin’s and just as well-muscled, Anakin is a warrior and broader than this man, taller too.

Anakin can beat him into submission.

“Why have you taken me? Return me at once, and I will let you live! I am Anakin Skywalker, I am the Resolute, I am the warrior with no fear and the Queen’s intended. I—”

The man, whose face had been unflinching in response to Anakin’s threats, stands at the mention of the queen, beautiful features twisting into a wicked snarl as he suddenly meets Anakin in the middle. The temperature in the room grows cold and the air becomes heavy with electricity. With something that Anakin does not know how to name.

“If you mention your queen once more, I will kill her,” the man bites out, every word weighted with promise. “I will kill her and see her soul damned to Tartarus. I will take her there myself and string her up amongst her kin. Thieves and pillagers and all those mortals who were foolish enough to attempt to steal from the king of the gods.”

Anakin flinches away, some long buried instinct in him insisting that he put space between himseslf and the predator staring down at him. “Who—who are you?” he asks, question catching in his throat.

The man’s eyes, stormy blue now and swirling in his rage, lighten at the question. His mouth relaxes. He appears to enjoy answering, for he takes his time with it. “I find myself offended that you have forgotten,” he says, moving to touch Anakin again.

Like a frightened rabbit that knows it has found itself in the jaws of a lion, Anakin lets the bejeweled hands cup his face.

“I am the man who bought you and your mother from your masters when you were but a child. And I am the boy who sold you fruits that never seemed to bruise, no matter how you handled them as you walked home. I am the cat that lurked outside the god king’s temple as you prayed to him for strength and skill and riches, promised yourself to him in return, promised to wage every war in his name, conquer in his colors. And I am the old man who trained you in battle, showed you how to fight and kill and conquer.”

Anakin shakes his head, struck speechless at these words. They are the ramblings of an insane man, but…but this man knows too much about him. No one knows that he was born a slave. Even when he fucked Padmé, he had made sure that she could not see the brand on his leg.

He latches onto the last words, shaking his head harder. “Ben was a crippled old man. You are—” handsome, is the only word that comes to mind.

As if the man has heard it in his head, he grins, gifting him with a flash of white teeth. “Yes, he was, wasn’t he? And you were so young then, all of eighteen years old and eager to prove yourself. I thought if I took my most preferred form, this form, you would never pay attention to my lessons. And I knew if you had offered yourself to me then, I would not have turned you down. Nor would I have let you leave.” Anakin shakes his head once more, but there’s no power in the motion.

“I was the eagle that flew above you as marched into battle, and I was the handmaiden who bore witness to your betrayal, when you promised yourself to the queen of Naboo, as if you had not already promised yourself to me.”

The scowl has returned, marring the man’s perfect features.

Anakin swallows, wetting his lips. “I promised myself to the king of the gods,” he whispers. “To Kenobi.”

“And he has made good on your promise,” the man smiles, one hand falling from his face to cup his neck. “He has taken you from your battlefield, delivered you to Mount Olympus. I have taken you as mine, I have taken what is mine.”

Deep within Anakin, he knows that the man before him speaks the truth. That he is no man at all. That—that—that he is—

“Kenobi,” he whispers, and the king of the gods lets his eyes flutter shut as if he hearing his name from Anakin’s lips causes him great pleasure.

“Yes,” Kenobi growls, adjusting his hold on him to tug him closer to his body.

Anakin is touching a god. A god is touching Anakin. The king of the gods has taken him from the battlefield, from the arms of his bride to be, from the mortal realm all together.

And he is holding him like he has no intention of letting him go.

#ganymede au #obikin #obi-wan here is very anti padme #that was mostly an accident #anyway i think anakin has some distant god in him so he didn't immediately die when he looked at obi-wan #but also obi-wan has been secretly giving him food and drink of the gods for his entire life #the fates said that anakin would be his eventually #obi-wan just got tired of waiting after 22 years of it #he saw anakin at 22 and swooped down to grab that #also idk i liked the idea of obi-wan's blood turning anakin's eyes gold but also healing him #there was a lot of things going on in my mind that did not make it into the story #most importantly that in a couple of days anakin is thrilled to be there #like it's not really dubcon much #much less dubcon than knocking on the wrong door au #oh also padme is definitely pregnant with the twins and obi-wan is gonna steal them too #ganymede au padme is like that one woman in greek mythology where shes sure the gods hate her specifically #and she's half right because obi-wan absolutely despises here #anyway im not gonna lie for a good two minutes i looked at my tumblr #and i was like oh no no one's sent an ask about this au so how do i post this ficlet??#and then i was like oh yeah #i can just post it no ask required this is the first post in the au of course no one has sent an ask about it yet

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gentil-minou · 1 year

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I hate a lot of things about ai generated everything right now like it's disgrace to creativity and humanity and its insult to the trials and tribulations of the creative process but I think the worst and absolute worst thing is how it's made it so easy to put a real person's face on anything and make them do whatever

Like yeah "haha deepfakes so funny haha" no are you kidding me???? That's horrifying. "LOL the pope in a puffy jacket he'd never wear slay queen" LIKE NO ARE YOU KIDDING STOP

It takes consent completely out of the equation. It's puts people in such disgusting situations. Its not just keanu reeves doing stupid shit on tiktok. It means celebrities being put in sexual positions theyd never consent to and god what's next some disgusting portrayal of them doing even worse? I tried to imagine it and I dont want to cause it makes me so sick to my stomach like god the thought that someone can find old pics of me and put me in some situation I didn't consent to is actually the closest life has ever been to a horror film and yet people are laughing and making it a meme this feels like the worst black mirror episode or Jordan peele's next film this cannot be our reality.

#im like actually so enraged by this #there was a streamer on twitch who found out people were doing this to her and god its such a fucked up thing #i hate ai i hate it so much i hate the people who think its good for the future or whatever you're willfully ignoring all the cons #its causing such harm to people its actually the worst and i hate that the tool exosts #like yeah people kill people not guns but we really shouldn't have guns in the first place #its the same as that argument and just ugh #bushy rants

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