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arty-shadow-morningstar · 3 years

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A Failed Betrothal (Part 3)

There were a lack of stuff to read so I posted this instead.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 2)

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PART 3

The next day was weird to say the least for everyone but for Marinette, it was another can of worms that she wished she didn’t open. For one thing, Chat Noir’s feelings obsession for Ladybug switched from one black-haired girl to another which unfortunately was Ladybug’s civilian form. Which meant Marinette had to deal with Adrien’s Chat-Noir-level flirting and bad pick-up lines.

Perfect, just perfect.

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Everyone thought that a declaration speech of ‘being soulmates and the only one for him’ in front of the whole class from the ‘love of your life’ would warrant a ‘blushing to death and stammering’ or ‘outright fainting’. Not a facepalm, a groan, “Why me?” and a “I am sorry but NO. I don’t feel the same way about you”. Marinette vaguely wondered if there was some kind of rule for interesting events and confrontations to happen during lunch break while the class waits for Mme Bustier to start the lessons.

Marinette went to sit in her seat next to Chloe in the back row where she and her friends had been exiled to. The class was in stunned silence and questioning about whether or not they had fallen into an alternate universe or dreaming. Nathaniel and Alix tried to hide their snickers. Chloe just started outright laughing, turning very red in the face.

Marinette felt a nudge from Plagg in her bag. Looking down, she saw them holding up her phone to show Lila’s gaping face of horror with a wicked smug grin on their face. She looked through the photos to see everyone’s faces of confusion and shock at her rejection. Eyes wide and jaws dropped on the ground. Different shots of her classmates in the same state. She smirked and showed them to Chloe who calmed down enough, letting out the occasional giggles and took the phone with glee.

“Thank you, Plagg. Here you go.” she whispered, giving them a camembert macaron.(Tom had started experimenting with camembert in his recipes. Plagg is his first taste tester for all of them, making Tom one of Plagg’s favourite people.)

Adrien didn’t take the rejection very well.

“But we are meant to be. You are a designer and I am a model. Our partnership is the one to be envied by many for the ages.”

“And by that logic,” The designer turned to her main model for her MDC website, “Chloe, my love, will you be my one and only? For our love shines so bright ,paralleled only by a thousand suns.” Using the same voice Plagg does when they go on one of their love odes about camembert before losing her straight face and giggling.(Plagg doesn’t know whether to be offended or amused.)

Setting Chloe’s laughter off again. “Mariiiii,...stop….I can’t..*gasps*....I can’t…”

Nathaniel and Alix, finally lost control and joined Chloe in death by laughter. Adrien was flustered, turning red in the face either from anger, embarrassment or both.

“But Chloe isn’t a model.”

Marinette decided to put a stop to this, just on the off chance that Gabriel finally decides to akumatized his own son. She recomposed herself.

“She is the main model for my website and we have a partnership. You, however, work for your father. So does Miss Rossi. Does that sound like the partnership to be envied by many for the ages? Hmmm, Agreste? Anyways, like I said before, I have no interest in dating you.”

“Why not? We are friends and sometimes, friends like each other enough to date each other.” Adrien angrily asked.

“Because-”

“Because, Adrikins,” Chloe cuts in, “friends having to date because one of them is interested in something more makes no sense and is fucked-up. Marinette doesn’t owe you anything. Besides, she already has a long distance boyfriend who lives in America.”

“WHAT!?” Adrien shouted.

“What?!” The class had snapped out of their stupor. Since when had Marinette gotten over Adrien and had a boyfriend?

“What?” Marinette looked at Chloe with wide-eyes. Last she checked she was still single so what the hell was Chloe playing at. For Kwami’s sake, she hadn’t been on a date since the one with Luka which went awkwardly before they agreed that they think of each other as siblings and it will be best to stay that way.

Chloe gave her a look that said ‘I will explain later.’

“Oh yes, they met online a few months ago and now they are all lovey-dovey together. It’s just so ridiculous, so utterly ridiculous how disgustingly in love they are. They have video call dates at least once a week and somehow make it work despite the time differences. He once came all the way to Paris just to see her. He brought her some special flowers that apparently meant-”

Marinette slapped her hand over Chloe’s mouth. “Well, Chloe, Queenie, as much as I love you as my friend, you can stop gushing about my love life now. Because class is about to start.”

She said through gritted teeth as Mme Bustier finished taking her sweet time and walked in. Sadly, Alya wasn’t done with the conversation ,“Wait a minute, since when did Chloe and you become close enough that she is modeling for you? And a boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell me, Girl? I thought we were friends. What about Adrien, he just confessed to you and you had been crushing on him for so long” Many girls gasped, angry that Alya broke the unspoken girl code.

“You have a crush on me?” Adrien looked hopeful. Like a lost kitten that had been stuck in the rain, was let into someone’s home.

“I had a crush on you,” Marinette corrected him, emphasising on the past tense, “and Alya had no business of sharing that information to the entire world despite us not being friends anymore.” She glared at the journalist who at least looked ashamed.

“You wanted to date Kagami so I moved on.”

One of the reasons anyway. I found out that you were my partner who had no concept of boundaries. You are a coward who only wants to maintain the class peace at the price of my mental health, she thought.

“Instead of continuing to pursue you.” She hoped the ever dense and oblivious model would get the hint she gave him. Tikki ,just this once, Grant me that ladybug luck.

“And Mme Bustier, it is time to start the lessons, don’t you think? Instead of focusing on the class drama to gossip about later on.” Marinette glared at the teacher, reminding her to do her job.

“Oh. Right.” Mme Bustier tried to regain her ‘perfect teacher’ image after getting embarrassed at being caught, “Right. Class, turn to page-”

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As soon as the bell rang for the end of school, Marinette dragged Chloe all the way to her room. Alix and Nathaniel followed them because as far as they know, Marinette had no boyfriends and they were as curious to find out what scheme Chloe had cooked up this time. They were as complicated and crazy as Ladybug’s. No offense, Marinette.

“Okay, Queenie, you have to explain why I now have a devoted American boyfriend who I am so in love with.” Marinette crossed her arms with a frown aimed at Chloe. The kwamis got out of their respective hiding places and went to the tray of food set out for them.

The trapdoor to her room opened, revealing the rest of their friend group before Chloe said anything.

“Did we miss anything?” Kagami asked as Longg and Sass joined the other kwamis.

“Juleka said something about an American boyfriend and how he sounds so romantic. Does that have to do anything with the text Alix sent us to come here?” Luka added.

“To recap, Adrien made a love confession to Marinette,” Alix started, biting into some of the delicious pastries the Dupain-Chengs gave them, ”in front of the entire class after an entire day of flirting and bad pick-up lines.”

“Wow, even after having his memories erased of being Chat Noir, he is still after Ladybug.” Luka chuckled, with the others joining in.

Marinette whined, “It was easier when he was Chat Noir. But now as Adrien Agreste, teen heartthrob, it is going to be much more difficult to get into his thick head that I don’t see him that way and it is going to get harder, now that Alya outed my old crush to him.”

“Oof. Sucks to be you.”

“So, our Mari-bug rejected him. He threw a tantrum and sulked, so like Chat Noir, how did we not notice?,” Alix continued, “After demanding reasons why they can’t date, Chloe gave Marinette an American boyfriend who she was in a long-distance relationship with. Speaking of, why did you do that?”

“I have known Adrik- Adrien since we were in diapers and I know how that mangy cat works. He grew up on Disney and had all those fairytales stuffed into his head. If you had told him that you were just not interested in dating at the moment, it won’t work because he will try his hardest to ‘woo’ you, because he still has a chance. He won’t push his luck as much if you were off the market.” Chloe explained.

“I am sure that, judging by the fact that Chat Noir still tries to date Ladybug despite her saying she is in love with someone, Adrien might try to get more proof of this boyfriend to make sure Marinette is just not pretending to have one.” Kagami pointed out.

“Ahh, but luckily I have a back-up plan. I have a friend, Tim Drake. We met at a few galas when we were younger and kept in touch. He also owes me a favor.”

“I hope this Tim Drake is cute.”

“He is and he’s older than you by two years and,” Chloe typed something on her phone, “A fellow caffeine addict so you can bond over that. Here’s a picture of him and his brother.”

On her phone were two extremely attractive and fit young men dressed in expensive suits at what looked like a gala, the older one had a charming polite smile with bright blue eyes, looking somewhat interested at what someone off-screen was saying despite looking like he will fall over any moment. His brother, however, looked like he would rather be anywhere but where he was. He was tanned and had green eyes that promised murder for daring to even breathe in his direction. Marinette noticed that he looked a little familiar but she can’t place why.

“Tim is the one that looks like he hasn’t slept in days and that’s his brother Damian next to him.”

“Wait a minute. That’s Tim Drake and Damian Wayne. The sons of Bruce Wayne, the billionaire co-CEO of Wayne Industries, which Tim Drake is also co-CEO of.” Nathaniel said with wide eyes and looked at Chloe, “You are using your favor to give our Mari here a fake boyfriend.”

“Of course, only the best for our Mari-bug.”

“Chloe, no, he is probably busy as he is with running the company. No need to get him involved in petty teenage drama.” No matter how much she doesn’t want to date Adrien, bothering a busy guy to be her fake boyfriend is not worth it in Marinette’s opinion. Which, of course, gets overruled by the overprotectiveness of her friends.

“I, for one, think this is one of Chloe’s better plans.” Kagami commented, the others agreeing with her. Traitors.

“Hey!” Chloe exclaimed, an offended look on her face, “Anyways, I will call him later.”

“Children, you better go home now before your parents worry.” Sabine’s voice came from below, “Remember we are also going through some drills tonight so try not to be late.” Having a former assassin for a mother is handy when you want to train a team of teenage superheroes.

“Bye, guys. See you later.”

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“Just because you have been trained since birth does not excuse you from the drills. You also need to get used to the black cat.” Lady Mǔ lǎohǔ reprimanded her with her arms crossed. When Ladybug started her new team, she was the first permanent member but as the team got bigger, she stepped back to be back-up and mentor for the team.

“Yes, Maman, I know but I am nearly finished with this commission. I will catch up with you later. Promise.” Marinette stretched, looking up from her latest project. Plagg was napping in the little basket she had made for all the kwamis to sleep in which fit all of them and had some extra space for Nooroo and Dusuu after they had been retrieved.

The reason she had Plagg instead of Tikki who was with Alix was because of the new tactic the Miraculous Team came up with. To keep the balance the Ladybug and Black Cat must be active at the same time but with Adrien gone, someone must wield the ring until a new permanent holder is found and it was not a good idea for both of them to be on the same person at the same time. The team decided to rotate using the earrings and ring between them with Marinette using other miraculouses when the others have them. It also had the added bonus of making it harder for Hawkmoth to find out who has them at any given time.

“See you later, 灵儿 (líng er, means intelligence). I will give you 15 minutes but that’s it. Don’t be late.” Sabine sighed and got out the skylight and went towards the safehouse where the Miraculous team met to get training. (It is one of Sabine’s emergency safehouse to use in times of emergency and it had the required space to train 6 teenagers. Chat Noir never came to training, lazy cat.)

Marinette never made it to the warehouse.

Because a few minutes after her mother left, the skylight opened to let in five figures dressed in dark colours to easily blend into the shadows like they were trained to be. Too bad they weren’t as quiet. Marinette immediately summoned a bo-staff to defend herself.

One of them lunged at her and she retaliated by hitting the end of her staff to their middle, coupled with a couple more blows and landed one that knocked them out. The others threw throwing stars which she dodged by jumping back. Which landed her to be trapped by the two assassins, whom she didn’t notice, had moved. She cursed in every language she knew as she struggled against them. It led to no avail as she was badly out-numbered. There was a prick on her head and her world went black.

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Plagg awoke to a loud commotion. Irritated, they poked their head out to see their new temporary kit knocked out, tied up and hauled away. Recognizing the kidnappers as assassins of the League of Shadows, they scowled. Ra’s Al Ghul was going to pay.

Plagg may not act like it much but the black kwami was patient and smart. Smart enough to leave a note with an explanation somewhere visible with the messy aftermath of a fight before trailing the assassins. Oh, Roarr’s tiger was going to be pissed once she found out what happened. Wherever they were taking Marinette, it would be best to have a kwami of destruction to help her escape. The night made Plagg almost invisible and allowed to move unseen. They caught up easily and hid in their holder’s midnight hair. Now, their patience came into play. It was a matter of waiting for the right moment to pounce.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe. @tonicxworld, @toodaloo-kangaroo, @frieddonutsweets, @local-witch-of-mn, @lady-bee-fechin, @iglowinggemma28, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @k-tea-and-coffee, @jayjayspixiepop

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(Part 4)

#damian x marinette #ml x dc #maribat #marinette x damian #daminette #betrothal au: take 2 #A failed betrothal #Adrien salt #some Alya salt #yes. i put fake dating in betrothal au #plagg is protective of his kittens #kidnapping

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bonky-n-steeb · 3 years

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𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚃𝚆𝙾

𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

My previous account was deleted so I’ll be posting the stories again. I’ll be changing this one, so yeah.

Inform me if y’all wanna be tagged!

You stared at the ticking clock, counting the seconds for his return, while Iris played with her stuffed tiger that her dada had bought for her. Her father was finally coming home after serving for a really long time in the military. Bucky was everything you had wanted and more.

Though you both had a small and cute wedding when you were way too young, it still was one of the best days of your life. Since the day you had met him, he had been hell bent on joining the army as he somehow felt the need to protect people after what had happened to his father. So, after serving his first term, while you were still a second-year graduate student, he had proposed and you had accepted without wasting a second.

Soon you had found yourself pregnant, during your pregnancy, he had been there for your every beck and call. You still remembered his face when Iris was born; it was filled with such adoration and love, you knew you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. Iris was literally the female version of her dad, her cute nose, her lips and most importantly her blue eyes; her eyes had played a small role in naming her.

Having a kid and completing your medical residency had been tough, but whenever Bucky was home, he took care of all the housework and kept Iris busy for as long as possible. Just one thing which you didn’t like was all this time he spent away from home and the immense risk that came along with being on active duty. But he wasn’t just your Bucky, was he, he was Sgt. Barnes, too.

But now as you sat staring at the clock, you feared that when he returned, Bucky wouldn't be the same man he was. While on duty, there had been an explosion and he had lost his arm. Hearing his voice on the phone was enough to tell you that he was broken. You were waiting to take him in your arms and tell him that it would be fine.

Just then the bell rang and you quickly got up and unlocked the door. And there he was, his eyes without their usual luster, filled with unshed tears. As Iris ran towards him, he quickly scooped her up in his right arm. “dada! I missed you s’much” she said kissing his face. You wondered whether she didn’t notice or was simply ignoring his missing arm after you gave her a little ‘talk’ about it. “I missed you too Rissie! I love you my little princess!” he said smothering her with kisses. “I'm a Queen!” she exclaimed. “Alright your majesty. Now may I enter your palace and meet my wife?” Iris pretended to think and then exclaimed a yes.

“Hey, don’t cry” he said as he dropped Iris down. You hadn't even noticed that you were crying. You quickly wrapped him in your arms and he held you tight, fearing that you might slip away. You both didn’t speak for a long time, you were too busy being buried in each other's neck, but then you felt the moisture collect on your shoulder. As you let go, you realized his dam had broken and he was crying too.

“I love you Bucky bunny” you said playfully. Somehow long back, you had come up with this nickname while watching Looney Tunes; your magnificent brain had somehow morphed Bugs Bunny into Bucky bunny. He pretended to hate it saying it sounded like some porn stars name, and therefore you teased him even more. “I love you too.” he replied staring deep into your soul.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

As you both retired to your bedroom after ensuring Iris was fast asleep, you simply laid in bed without talking. Your hands were quietly exploring the same planes of his body you had travelled a million times over. You hesitated to touch his arm at first, fearing whether he was comfortable with it or not. But as you slowly began to trace the scars, he let out a long breath.

You wished he didn’t have to suffer this; you wished all went to the way it was previously; you wished that his eyes shone just as brightly as they did before. But that didn’t mean you loved him any less now. Though throughout the day he pretended to be just fine, you knew he wasn’t even close to being fine.

“Are you going to leave me?” he finally broke the silence. You couldn’t help but give him a confused expression, why would he ask that? “You don’t have to pretend. Not with me. Just say and I'll go. I don’t want to be a burden to you... ” you shut him up by kissing him. “I am not leaving you Buck. I’m gonna stick with you like an octopus.” you said chuckling. “Buck, we’ll go through everything and anything if we are together. I just want you to be happy. We'll make it work; we will find a way. And trust me when I say I love you more than anything.”

You spent the entire night, tangled in each other, telling him how much you loved and cherished him.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

You were tired and your back was aching after performing a long surgery. As you opened the door, you were greeted with the smell if your favorite dish being cooked in the house. As you walked straight to the kitchen you were stunned to see Bucky somehow managing to cook with Iris sitting on the kitchen counter. Though the kitchen was a mess, you weren't going to complaint, all you could see was the blinding happiness on his face.

“Look who is back! Guess what mama bear?” Bucky said joyously. You wondered what was the reason behind his joy. “Daddy is gonna get his arm back!” Rissie exclaimed happily. This wasn’t news to you though. You had talked to Bucky about getting a prosthetic arm and he hadn't been half this excited. Seeing your confusion Bucky responded “Well, I got a call this morning. They are not only giving me my job back but giving me a cool new arm. I'll be on duty again!”

You weren't sure whether to be happy or sad. You were euphoric about Bucky’s job and arm but at the same time you were worried for his life. “That’s amazing Buck!” you hugged him tightly as Iris slipped between you two. Your eyes were filled with happy tears. He was happy and that’s all that mattered right now.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

FOUR YEARS LATER

You finally had a holiday from your hectic schedule as a surgeon. Iris was off to school and after some pushing you had persuaded Bucky to go get groceries. You wondered what had happened to Bucky. Something had changed after he got that arm, rather everything had changed. He wasn’t lively anymore, he got irritated at small things, stared off absently into space not responding to anything, he constantly looked behind his back, nor did he laugh at any of your jokes, you missed his laughter and that's what hurt you the most.

Not to mention the horrid dead blank stare he gave you some days, intently looking at your every move like a predator, that thing scared the shit out of you. In the past two years not once you and Bucky had accepted Thor’s dinner invitations. You didn’t have many friends, you just had one, Thor. He was with you since your residency and you both worked together as trauma surgeons. Bucky and Thor had become quick friends too and the three of you went on many double dates. But that was a thing of the past. Now, whenever Thor invited you, Bucky simply came up with a stupid reason to not go. Bucky had become so closed off; he wasn’t the thoughtful and jolly Bucky you fell in love with.

Now that you finally had the house to yourself, you had decided to go on a cleaning spree. Currently you were in your bathroom; busy cleaning with your mop, when you accidentally slipped on some spilt soap water and ended up falling right beside the bathtub, your mop flew up and hit the ceiling tiles, thus displacing them. Suddenly a small diary fell right on your head. Placing your right hand on the ledge of the bath tub, you waited for everything to settle down and cursed loudly. “Fuck you, you goddamning son of a bitch! Everything had to fall on my head! Pathetic!”.

You saw that you mop as now dangling on the bath tub and that stupid diary which had apparently fallen from heaven knows where was laying right beside you. As you looked up, you noticed the displaced tiles and realized that’s where this must have fallen from. As you picked up the diary you noticed there wasn't any dust on it, so there wasn't a chance that the previous owners might have left something in the false ceiling above. And it definitely wasn’t you, Iris was too small to keep something there; that only left Bucky. But why did he never mention this diary before. What exactly was he hiding?

As you opened the diary, you realized that you couldn’t understand a single word written. It felt as it was written in some highly complex code language. You were sure it wasn’t any language spoken everyday by sane humans. As you flipped through the pages you realized that every page was written in the same format. At the top was presumably some names written in the code and the rest was probably the information of that person.

You wondered how did Bucky know this language? And why didn’t he ever tell you about anything, heck, he didn’t even mention it. And whose names had he written like it was the most confidential file? You got up and quickly closed the lid on the toilet and climbed up on it. You stuck your hand inside the hollow ceiling above to check if he was hiding something more.

Your hand caught something and you pulled it out, only to realize it was a laptop. You wondered why he needed a second laptop when he already had one for work purposes in the home office. You took the laptop and the diary and sat down in the bathroom itself, so that if you when you would hear Bucky come you would simply put everything back up in the ceiling. You opened the laptop and saw it was password protected. You decided you would have two tries at unlocking the laptop and if you didn’t crack it, you would simply confront him.

You first tried out typing Iris's name and her date of birth. But it was denied access. You thought for a minute more and entered your own name and your birthdate. And access was granted to you. You didn’t know whether to be happy that he had kept your name as his password or angry that he had been lying to you about whatever this was. As the laptop opened, you saw various files in it. You tapped on one and it seemed to open on a person’s resume. No, it wasn’t a resume, it was that person’s entire life history. It was like those files the assassins carried in movies with all the information about their target. You wondered what Jason Bourne shit this was.

As you read his name and saw the photos attached with it, you felt as if you had seen this person before. As you scrolled further, it finally clicked. A year before this person, who held a high position in the United Nations, was all over the news due to his untimely death caused by a heart attack. You had absolutely no interest in worldly matters, you already had a million problems on your head so you hadn't paid much attention and had not given a flying fuck. But now suddenly sweat was covering your forehead. You were worried sick as to why Bucky had all this information stored in a secret computer.

As you scrolled further, you almost reached the end of the file and that’s when you saw the video. With shaky hands you opened it. It seemed to be the security footage of that man’s bedroom and its resolution was pretty shitty. For the first few minutes all you saw was the man sleeping peacefully but as the video continued, you noticed it. The window in his room was slowly lifted as a man entered. He seemed to be dressed in tactical gear, his face was covered by a mask, but he was given away by one tell-tale sign. His arm. The metal arm with a red star on it glinted in the moonlight and you knew it was Bucky.

You watched as Bucky quietly walked towards the sleeping man. As he stood near the bed, he produced something from his pocket and bent down. As you strained your eyes, you saw that it was an injection. Your eyes widened as you clapped your hand around your mouth. That man hadn't died due to a heart attack, at least not natural. He was murdered by Bucky!

You opened another file, then another, they all were the same. In the beginning it was the information about the person, then a report as to how they died and then a video. All of them were well known figures; and all of them had been assassinated by Bucky. In one of the videos, you saw him choking the life out of a man with his metal arm and your mind wandered to the many times you would playfully tell him to choke you with the metal arm while fucking you; your hand unconsciously went to your throat at the thought.

Then you opened a file titled: The Winter Soldier. That was weird you thought, the other files were given numbers but not names. As you opened the file, you realized it was Bucky’s own. Apparently, his codename was The Winter Soldier. Everything about him was stated in that file systematically. His background, his education, his military career and the worst of all, there were your and Iris’s photos too. As you continued to read, you realized he wasn’t working in the military anymore. Four years before, the people who had called him were from an organization named Hydra. The name and symbol itself sent chills down your spine. God, was Bucky so stupid, the octopus symbol itself screamed that Hydra was up to no good.

In the beginning, you couldn’t believe Bucky had gotten such a fancy and technological advanced arm. Looking at it you wondered how much it cost, the material and the functions would make it no less than a few million dollars. Now why would the government spend so much money on a sergeant, not that Bucky didn’t deserve it but you were curious.

It felt as if he was hiding something from you. But you didn’t as ask as you knew he’d come around and tell you soon anyway. He needed time and you had plenty to give. But he never did. You had asked so many times whether the star was a tattoo of some sort and he had always deflected your questions. But now after reading this, you knew what all this was for. The arm, the pay raise, the irregular schedule, it was all Hydra. And Bucky was a professional assassin, and that too a deadly one.

Your eyes watered and bile rose to your throat as you saw a list, it was all the people he had killed, and the list was pretty big. You quickly placed the laptop besides you and began to puke your guts out in the toilet. In all the panic you failed to notice that a person was holding back your hair and soothingly rubbing your back.

#chris evans #sebastian stan #mcu #marvel #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky #mob!steve #dark!bucky x reader #mob!steve x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

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Shen Wei Serving Lewks Part 8

(Masterpost)

Shen Wei wears a lot of cosplay looks in Guardian! Ostensibly some of them are actually different characters but...whatever.

Look 36: Black Robe Envoy

Black Robe Envoy is always a hit at the Dragon City DixCon. This robe is very nicely constructed, with gauzey curtain things on the back and a hood that keeps its shape well.

The mask is...something he got in the paper-mache department at Michaels and painted with craft paints. He seems proud of it.

The mask does actually make him look different, unlike, say, Wei Wuxian’s mask which anybody can recognize him under. This mask has those cheek parts that change the overall shape of his face.

Look 37: Gold Mask Bro

Gold Mask bro is a look that is similarly hampered by the craft-store aesthetic, but gaudier.

Combined with the scenery-chewing villain thing, I’m always pretty eager to get this guy off of the screen.

Look 38: Hot Bro

Once the gold mask comes off, on the other hand, Shen Wei as Ye Zun is stunning with long grey hair. I mean, goddamn.

(More behind the cut!)

OP understands why Da Qing makes ridiculous cat paw gestures while dreaming about Ye Zun because this look is a scorcher.

OP makes ridiculous cat paw gestures

The Princess Leia gown needs some help, though. This thing has a cowl neck so stiff you could bake a cake in it and there is a curtain sewn onto one half of the chest. It’s confusing. The belt is nice, I guess.

Masks

Important question: Why did both Ye Zun and Shen Wei buy the same paper mache mask? I mean, they chose different craft paints but both masks clearly came out of the same mold. Ye Zun started wearing his mask specifically to avoid looking like Shen Wei, back when Shen Wei had a different mask.

So did Shen Wei deliberately copy his brother’s mask just to fuck with him? Because that is some next-level sibling trolling right there.

Look 39: Downtown Ye Zun

Then there’s the time Ye Zun decided to cosplay as Shen Wei. It...doesn’t go well. This look fits so poorly that I refuse to post a full view of it, because Shen Wei would be embarrassed if he knew his brother was making him look like that.

This entire outfit/disguise is terrible, and fits worse than Swamp Coat 1.0. Ye Zun even knows it’s terrible because he points it out to Zhao Yunlan and asks if it looks good, as if Shen Wei ever needed to ask a thing like that.

He does his best to make up for it by serving memorable facial expressions.. Thank you, Ye Zun.

Look 40: P.I.M.P.

This completely impractical getup, OTOH, fits like a dream. I am slightly obsessed with how good Shen Wei’s Ye Zun’s his feet and ankles look in this outfit, when I normally am grumpy about baggy ankles. But these trousers are so nicely fitted that the crumpled ankle looks like a statement instead of an accident. With the frock coat and the walking stick he looks long and leggy, and if Shen Wei isn’t covered in grass stains the second he takes off his terrible cosplay hair and mask, Zhao Yunlan isn’t the man I thought he was.

Hair Lewks

Other characters also get in on the cosplay, with Da Qing looking much less ridiculous than he does in his modern-day clothes and hair. Zhao Yunlan wins Most Beautiful Hair, with metal beads and those side-bangs that frame boys’ faces so nicely. (His post-shacking-up hair also wins most beautiful hair in the modern era).

Baby Envoy’s braids (see Look 41) make him a close second, and Hot Bro’s grey hair is a close third, but the weird locks that the Zhu Yilong brothers grow out of the sides of their faces are distracting. I get that they aren’t exactly human and that there are certain artistic conventions at play but...this is not how sideburns work.

Other Cosplayers

Other cosplayers include Tea-Party Princess, Crow Bitch, and Snake Uncle who is Never a Snake.

And here’s Old Chu cosplaying as..as...ok fine this isn’t cosplay, it’s just Old Chu flexing, sweating, and bleeding.

I like what I like, ok?

Look 41: Baby Envoy

The last look in this post series is Young Black Robe Envoy from the time-traveling Kunlun bit. When the mask is off, this is one of my favorite Shen Wei looks, because he is so young and vulnerable, and the robe has a nice edge detail and stamped metal accents that aren’t part of his later look.

This would be a pretty good mage-in-light-armor getup in whichever RPG Shen Wei would play if he understood technology. He would play DA:Inquisition and he would be an elf and he would romance Dorian OP always romances Cullen it’s a bit of a problem

The mask is ugly craft-store nonsense, but makes a nice contrast to his sweet bare face when Zhao Yunlan yanks it off.

Now I’m going to take a dive into into this scene, because we’ve run out of Shen Wei Lewks (*sob*), and this scene is lovely. And there really can’t be too many gifs of WeiLan eye-fucking each other Shen Wei sucking a lollipop.

In one conversation, Shen Wei falls permanently in love with Zhao Yunlan, and you can see that Zhao Yunlan really is as wonderful as Shen Wei thinks he is. He's kind and encouraging; he's confidently romantic, and he gives Shen Wei a name that has a LOT of thought behind it.

Being as hot as a fresh pancake doesn’t hurt, either.

The high point of this interaction is probably the most sexual moment of the show, In which Zhao Yunlan teaches his true love to suck on a lollipop. The moment’s sexual energy is only partly because it suggests other activities.

I mean...it’s definitely suggestive.

But let’s look at what is literally, not metaphorically, happening in this moment. This is the beginning of their present-day sexual connection (within the bounds of Chinese TV, yes, yes. Het couples don’t bone on-camera in C-dramas either, so let’s assume off-camera boning when the story supports it. These two have been coded as lovers since the closing moments of Episode 14).

Zhao Yunlan puts sweetness into the mouth of this young, stressed out, serious man. Then he unabashedly, delightedly, watches Shen Wei having this new sensory experience while he *explains it* to him.

Imagine the dopamine hit Shen Wei is experiencing here. He’s got a mouthful of sugar and he’s got Zhao Yunlan projecting waves of cheerful, undemanding lust at him while dropping bars about life and sensuality.

With a single lollipop, Zhao Yunlan uses his short time with Young Shen Wei to teach him the concept of pleasure. And takes his heart in return.

One Last Lewk

Ass Chain Congee is love.

Thanks so much for joining me on this ride! Next I’m leaping off of the cliff of good sense into a full rewatch of The Untamed. If that sounds like fun to you, please come on along to my Episode 01 post, over here.

#guardian #zhen hun #shen wei #zhu yilong #weilan #readers thanks so much for the encouragement #ilu you are the best #canary3d-original #bai yu #jiang mingyang #zhao yunlan #guardian spoilers #shen wei serving lewks #my gifs #my stills #guardian meta

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cruisingthedemimonde · 3 years

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America’s Gay Men in WW2

World War Two was a “National Coming Out” for queer Americans.

I don’t think any other event in history changed the lives of so many of us since Rome became Christian.

For European queers the war brought tragedy.

The queer movement began in Germany in the 1860s when trans activist Karl Ulrichs spoke before the courts to repeal Anti-Sodomy laws. From his first act of bravery the movement grew and by the 1920s Berlin had more gay bars than Manhattan did in the 1980s. Magnus Hirschfeld’s “Scientific Humanitarian Committee” fought valiantly in politics for LGBT rights and performed the first gender affirmation surgeries. They were a century ahead of the rest of the world.

The Nazis made Hirschfeld - Socialist, Homosexual and Jew - public enemy number one.

The famous image of the Nazis burning books? Those were the books of the Scientific Humanitarian Committee. Case studies of the first openly queer Europeans, histories, diaries - the first treasure trove of our history was destroyed that day.

100,000 of us were charged with felonies. As many as 15,000 were sent to the camps, about 60% were murdered.

But in America the war brought liberation.

In a country where most people never even heard the word “homosexual” , historian John D’emilio wrote the war was “conducive both to the articulation of a homosexual identity and to the more rapid evolution of a gay subculture. (24)” The war years were “a Watershed (Eaklor 68)”

Now before we begin I need to give a caveat. The focus of this first post is not lesbians, transfolk or others in our community. Those stories have additional complexity the story of cisgender homosexual men does not. Starting with gay men lets me begin in the simplest way I can, in subsequent posts I’ll look at the rest of our community.

Twilight Aristocracy: Being Queer Before the War

I want us to go back in time and imagine the life of the typical queer American before the war. Odds are you lived on a farm and simply accepted the basic fact that you would marry and raise children as surely as you were born or would die. You would have never seen someone Out or Proud. If you did see your sexuality or gender in contrary ways you had no words to express it, odds are even your doctor had never heard the term “Homosexual. In your mind it was just a quirk, without a name or possible expression.

In the city the “Twilight Aristocracy” lived hidden, on the margins and exposed their queerness only in the most coded ways. Gay men “Dropping pins” with a handkerchief in a specific pocket. Butch women with key chains heavy enough to show she didn’t need a man to carry anything for her. A secret language of “Jockers” and “Nances” “Playing Checkers” during a night out. There is a really good article on the queer vernacular here

And these were “Lovers in a Dangerous Time.”

In public one must act as straight as possible. Two people of the same gender dancing could be prosecuted. Cross dressing, even with something as trivial as a woman wearing pants, would run afoul of obscenity laws.

The only spaces we had for ourselves were dive bars, run by organized crime. But even then one must be sure to be circumspect, and act straight. Anyone could be an undercover cop. If a gaze was held to long, or lovers kissed in a corner the bar would be raided. Police saw us as worthy candidates for abuse so beatings were common and the judge would do all he could to humiliate you.

Now Michael Foucault, the big swinging french dick of queer theory, laid out this whole theory about how the real policing in a society happens inside our heads. Ideas about sin, shame, normalcy, mental illness can all be made to control people, and the Twilight Aristocracy was no different.

While cruising a park at night, or settled on the sofa with a lifelong lover, the thoughts of Priests and Doctors haunted them. “Am I living in Sin? Am I someone God could love?” “Is this healthy? Have I gone mad? Is this a true love or a medical condition which requires cure?”

There was no voice in America yet healing our self doubt, or demanding the world accept us as we are. And that voice, the socialist Harry Hay, did not come during the war, but it would come shortly after directly because of it.

Johnny Get Your Gun… And are you now or ever been a Homosexual?

For the first time in their lives millions of young men crossed thousands of miles from their home to the front.

But before they made that brave journey they had another, unexpected and often torturous journey. The one across the doctor’s office at a recruiting station.

In the nineteenth century queerness moved from an act, “Forgive me Father I have sinned, I kissed another man” to something you are, “The homosexual subspecies can be identified by certain physical and psychological signs.”

These were the glory days of patriarchy and white supremacy, those who transgressed the line between masculine and feminine called the whole culture into question. So doctors obsessed themselves with queerness, its origins, its signs, its so called catastrophic racial consequences and its cure.

“Are you a homosexual?” doctors asked stunned recruits.

If you were closeted but patriotic, you would of course deny the accusation. But the doctor would continue his examination by checking if you were a “Real Man.”

“Do you have a girlfriend? Did you like playing sports as a kid?”

If you passed that, the doctor would often try and trip you up by asking about your culture.

“Do you ever go basketeering?” he would ask, remembering to check if there was any lisp or effeminacy in your voice.

Finally if the doctor felt like it he could examine your body to see if you were a member of the homosexual subspecies.

Your gag reflex would be tested with a tongue depressor. Another hole could be carefully examined as well.

Humiliating enough for a straight man. But for a gay recruit the consequences could be life threatening.

Medical authorities knew homosexuals were weak, criminal and mad. To place them among the troops would weaken unit cohesion at the very least, result in treachery at the worst. In civilian life doctors had much the same thing to say.

The recruit needed a cure. And a doctor was always ready. With talk therapy, hypnosis, drugs, electroshock and forced surgeries of the worst kinds there was always a cure ready at hand.

Thankfully the doctors were not successful in their task, one doctor wrote “for every homosexual who was referred or came to the Medical Department, there were five or ten who never were detected. (d’Emilio 25)”

Here’s the irony though, by asking such pointed and direct questions to people closeted to themselves it forced them to confront their sexuality for the first time.

Hegarty writes, “As a result of the screening policies, homosexuality became part of wartime discourse. Questions about homosexual desire and behavior ensured that every man inducted into the armed forces had to confront the possibility of homosexual feelings or experiences. This was a kind of massive public education about homosexuality. Despite—and be-cause of—the attempts to eliminate homosexuals from the military, men with same-sex desires learned that there were many people like themselves (Hegarty 180)”

And then it gave them a golden opportunity to have fun.

The 101st Airborn - Homosocial and Homosexual

“Homosocial” refers to a gender segregated space. And they were often havens for gay men. The YMCA for example really was a place for young gay men to meet.

Now the government was already aware of the kind of scandalous sexual behaviour young men can get up to when left to themselves. Two major government programs before the war, the Federal Transient Program and the Civilian Conservation Corps focused on unattached young men, but over time these spaces became highly suspect and the focus shifted to helping family men so as to avoid giving government aid to ‘sexual perversion’ in these homosocial spaces.

But with the war on there was no choice but to put hundreds of thousands of young men in their own world. All male boot camps, all male bases, all male front lines.

The emotional intensity broke down the barriers between men and the strict enforcement of gendered norms.

On the front the men had no girlfriend, wife or mother to confide in. The soldier’s body was strong and heroic but also fragile. Straight men held each other in foxholes and shared their emotional vulnerability to each other. Gender lines began to blur as straight men danced together in bars an action that would result in arrest in many American cities.

Bronski writes, “Men were now more able to be emotional, express their feelings, and even cry. The stereotypical “strong, silent type,” quintessentially heterosexual, that had characterized the American Man had been replaced with a new, sensitive man who had many of the qualities of the homosexual male. (Bronski 152)”

Homosexual men discovered in this environment new freedoms to get close to one another without arousing suspicion.

“Though the military officially maintained an anti-homosexual stance, wartime conditions nonetheless offered a protective covering that facilitated interaction among gay men (d’Emilio 26)”

Bob Ruffing, a chief petty officer in the Navy described this freedom as follows, ‘When I first got into the navy—in the recreation hall, for instance— there’d be eye contact, and pretty soon you’d get to know one or two people and kept branching out. All of a sudden you had a vast network of friends, usually through this eye contact thing, some through outright cruising. They could get away with it in that atmosphere. (d’Emilio 26) ”

Another wrote about their experience serving in the navy in San Diego, “‘Oh, these are more my kind of people.’ We became very chummy, quite close, very fraternal, very protective of each other. (Hegarty 180)”

Some spaces within the army became queer as well. The USO put on shows for soldiers, and since they could not find women to play parts, the men often dressed in drag. “impersonation. For actors and audiences, these performances were a needed relief from the stress of war. For men who identified as homosexual, these shows were a place where they could, in coded terms, express their sexual desires, be visible, and build a community. (Bronski 148)”

“Here you see three lovely “girls”

With their plastic shapes and curls.

Isn’t it campy? Isn’t it campy?

We’ve got glamour and that’s no lie;

Can’t you tell when we swish by?

Isn’t it campy? Isn’t it campy?”

The words camp and swish being used in the gay subculture and connected to effeminate gay men.

I would have to assume, more than a few transwomen gravitated to these spaces as well.

Even the battlefield itself provided opportunities for gay fraternization. A beach in Guam for example became a secret just for the gay troops, they called it Purple Beach Number 2, after a perfume brand.

This homoerotic space was not confined to the military, but spilled out into civilian life as well.

Donald Vining was a pacifist who stated bluntly his homosexuality to the recruitment board as his mother needed his work earnings, and if you wanted be a conscientious objector you had to apply to go to an objector’s camp. He became something of a soldier chaser, working in the local YMCA and volunteering at the soldier’s canteen in New York he hooked up with soldiers still closeted for a night of passion but many more who were open about who they were.

After the war he was left with a network of gay friends and a strong sense of belonging to a community. It was dangerous tho, he was victim of robberies he could not report because they happened during hook ups, but police were always ready to raid gay bars when they were bored. “It was obvious that [the police] just had to make a few arrests to look busy,” he protested in his diary. “It was a travesty of justice and the workings of the police department (d’Emilio 30).״

Now it might seem odd he was able to plug into a community like that, but over the war underground gay bars appeared across the country for their new clientele. Even the isolated Worcester Mass got a gay bar.

African American men, barred from combat on the front lines, were not entirely barred from the gay subculture in the cities. For example in Harlem the jazz bar Lucky Rendevous was reported in Ebony as whites and blacks “steeped in the swish jargon of its many lavender costumers. (Bronski 149)”

The Other War: Facing Homophobia

“For homosexual soldiers, induction into the military forced a sudden confrontation with their sexuality that highlighted the stigma attached to it and kept it a matter of special concern (d’Emilio 25)”

“They were fighting two wars: one for America, democracy, and freedom; the other for their own survival as homosexuals within the military organization. (Eaklor 68)”

Once they were in, they fell under Article 125 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice: “Any person subject to this chapter who engages in unnatural carnal copulation with another person of the same or opposite sex or with an animal is guilty of sodomy. Penetration, however slight, is sufficient to complete the offense.”

Penalties could include five years hard labour, forced institutionalization or fall under the dreaded Section 8 discharge, a stamp of mental instability that would prevent you from finding meaningful employment in civilian life.

Even if one wanted nothing to do with fulfilling their desires it was still essential to become hyper aware of your presentation and behaviour in order to avoid suspicion.

Coming Home to Gay Ghettos

“The veterans of World War II were the first generation of gay men and women to experience such rapid, dramatic, and widespread changes in their lives as homosexuals. Bronski 154”

After the war many queer servicemen went on to live conventionally heterosexual lives. But many more returned to a much queerer life stateside.

Bob Ruffing would settle down in San Francisco. The city has always been a safe harbour for queer Americans, made more so as ex servicemen gravitated to its liberated atmosphere. The port cities of New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles became the prime destinations to settle. Vining’s partner joined him in New York, where they both immersed themselves in the gay culture.

Other soldiers moved to specific neighborhoods known for having small gay communities. San Francisco’s North Beach, the west side of Boston’s Beacon Hill, or New York’s Greenwich Village. Following the war the gay populations of these cities increased dramatically.

The cities offered parks, coffee houses and bars which became queer spaces. And drag performance, music and comedy became features of this culture.

These veterans also founded organizations just for the queer soldiers. In Los Angeles the Knights of the Clock provided a space for same sex inter racial couples. In New York the Veterans Benevolent Association would often see 400-500 homosexuals appear at its events.

A number of books bluntly explored homosexuality following the war, such as The Invisible Glass which tells the story of an inter racial couple in Italy,

“With a slight moan Chick rolled onto his left side, toward the Lieutenant. His finger sought those of the officer’s as they entwined their legs. Their faces met. The breaths, smelling sweet from wine, came in heavy drawn sighs. La Cava grasped the soldier by his waist and drew him tightly to his body. His mouth pressed down until he felt Chick’s lips part. For a moment they lay quietly, holding one another with strained arms.”

Others like Gore Vidal’s The City and the Pillar (1948), Fritz Peters’s The World Next Door (1949), and James Barr’s Quatrefoil (1950) explored similar themes.

In 1948 the Kinsey Report would create a public firestorm by arguing that homosexuality is shockingly common. In 1950 The Mattachine Society, a secretive group of homosexual Stalinists launched America’s LGBT movement.

References:

Michael Bronski “A Queer History of the United States”

John D’emilio “Coming Out Under Fire”

Vivki L Eaklor “Queer America: A GLBT History of America”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Lesbians

In 1947 General Eisenhower told a purple heart winning Sargeant Johhnie Phelps, “It's come to my attention that there are lesbians in the WACs, we need to ferret them out”.

Phelps replied, “"If the General pleases, sir, I'll be happy to do that, but the first name on the list will be mine."

Eisenhower’s secretary added “"If the General pleases, sir, my name will be first and hers will be second."

Join me again May 17 to hear the story of America’s Lesbians during the war.

#gay history #world war two #queer history #gay #lgbt

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shinydelirium · 3 years

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MLQC Season 2 Chapter 9 (Kiro) Final Part [Delayed Answer] & [Fissure] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

Here’s the rest of Kiro’s story from Season 2 chapter 9

For the previous translations of Season 2 Chapter 9: Part 1

Enjoy~

[Delayed Answer]

The day of the new song conference finally came to a successful conclusion.

Thinking that I could finally go home and rest at ease, I suddenly received a message from Savin, asking me to bring Kiro to the company right away.

After listening to my retelling, Kiro’s smile immediately froze on his face as if he got caught sneaking out for barbecue.

Kiro: Savin will definitely give me three hours of ideological education.

Kiro: ….Or I’ll just slip away and say that my stomach hurts.

MC: It doesn’t matter, I will help you intercede.

Kiro sighed. After thinking long and hard, he quickly aligned with me and prepared to proactively explain his mistakes.

Pushing open the door of the company, gold foil ribbons suddenly fell from the ceiling and cheers came one after another to my ears.

Kiro and I were stunned in place, surrounded by everyone.

Kiki: Congratulations to our company’s successfully held new song release conference by the ace artist, Kiro!

Willow: We did it!!!

The company is full of lights and festoons and the banners of “Today’s New Year” is displayed everywhere.

Kiro was pushed to the center of the crowd, surrounded by balloons, ribbons, and flowers. Soon, a huge cake was pushed in front of him.

Behind him was a long row of tables filled with tempting cupcakes and carbonated drinks.

A few golden letter balloons were fixed on the wall, piecing together the words “KILO”.

It turns out that everyone thought that Kiro rarely showed up these days because of the sullenness of the last storm so they prepared this surprise to cheer him up.

Kiro: Scared me to death…I thought I came to receive ideological education.

Savin: Don’t worry, there will be time for that later. ***Changed some wording***

With everyone’s urging, Kiro blew out the candles on the cake.

Kiro: Thanks, everyone!

His smile in the candlelight was captured by the camera. At this moment, the whole world is full of hope and life like never before.

After the celebration banquet, Kiro and I went to the company’s terrace for some fresh air.

As the sun sets, the evening breeze gently takes away the remaining warmth.

MC: Can you tell me now…?

MC: How did the “last-minute superhero” Kiro stop the train?

Kiro: It’s actually very simple. I briefly hacked into the car’s control system and activated the emergency braking function.

Kiro: As long as the startup program is disrupted, the train will be able to stop.

MC: What! I didn’t think of that before!

Kiro: The most important thing is that the boy changed his mind. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have worked even if I typed many lines of code.

MC: You’re right, but fortunately, he was not brainwashed by the people of GRAY RHINO.

Kiro: Because his heart has never changed.

Kiro: He lost his way and fell into a quagmire. All he needed was someone to pull him out.

Kiro: Therefore, we have also agreed that no one will say a word about what happened today.

The wind lifted his hair on his forehead and the eyes that looked at me were shining.

I nodded solemnly.

MC: No matter what, I will support your decision.

MC: What’s more, during that plane accident, he changed his mind in the end and saved the person on that flight.

The real culprit is GRAY RHINO. They took advantage of this boy’s pain and weakness to achieve their goals.

If today’s crisis wasn’t resolved, perhaps the contradiction between Evolvers and ordinary people will incite into an unprecedented degree….

Thinking of this, my mind suddenly fell into a daze.

CORE is like a stone thrown by an invisible hand, constantly stirring up even bigger ripples. I’m also more and more certain that the most critical variable in this world is CORE.

But for most people in this world, some of them choose to move forward and some choose to retreat.

Some people stay where they are, while others are lost and don’t know where to go.

Therefore, there are many people with inconsistent paces and different destinations.

The history of this world is written by everyone, but not everyone’s fate will be recorded.

Can their voices be heard? Can these meager destinies be included in the “beautiful future” pursued by this society?

Regardless of whether it is B.S., the Special Task Force, GRAY RHINO, these self-regulated people at the forefront, how can they frame the correct choice at every step….

Kiro: What are you thinking about? Why do you show such an unhappy expression again?

I shook my head.

MC: I was just thinking that the pain I felt from that boy might only be one thousandth or one ten thousandth of how he felt.

I was able to see his past memories, but I can’t 100% feel his current pain.

Kiro put down the soda can, rested his hands on the railing, and looked at me quietly.

Kiro: Will MC suffer because of her own abilities?

I thought for a moment and shook my head seriously.

MC: Only when you are close to suffering, you are closer to reality.

MC: Isn’t it cowardly if you ignore the facts because you are afraid of pain?

MC: And so….

Before I finished speaking, Kiro suddenly took my hand and gently placed it on top of his head.

His tousled hair brushes my palm, ticklish. I looked at him, puzzled.

Kiro: Then MC can also feel my memory.

The corners of his eyes were bent, and the golden color of the setting sun seemed to flicker in his eyes.

Kiro: Since you have the ability to perceive pain, you should also have the same right to perceive happiness.

I stared blankly at him and couldn’t help but blurt out.

MC: Are you happy?

Kiro: Mm. When I’m by your side, I am happy.

MC: Is this comfort?

Kiro shook his head, giving me a serious expression.

Kiro: Not comfort, but a promise. By your side, I am happy.

The wind rustled the hair on his forehead, revealing his starry eyes and the sincere gentleness in them.

Kiro: But speaking of the topic just now, I also have a question for MC.

His tone suddenly became a little lighter.

Kiro: “If you don’t hurt people, you will be hurt”… what would you do with this choice?

MC: In fact, someone once told me this answer.

I looked into his eyes, as if I could feel a warm feeling pouring into my heart.

MC: He should be the one who chooses the latter without hesitation , but he can always get himself out of the situation.

Fresh and vivid memories. Some are complete. Some are fragmented and they converge like a river of flowing into the sea of memories little by little.

MC: But there is something he is a bit bad about—he likes to keep the secret until the end.

MC: …So I didn’t know for a long time after arriving.

Kiro blinked and suddenly sneezed twice in succession.

Kiro: Is someone speaking ill of me behind my back….?

I chuckled, the last regret in my heart seemed to disappear with the wind.

MC: Given that these days are so unlucky, let us be superstitious for a bit.

I took out a coin and put it in the palm of my hand, muttering something to the night sky.

MC: If it’s positive, it means something good will happen. If it’s negative, it means something generally good will happen----

Kiro: Miss Chips is so greedy. But----what if it’s in the middle?

MC: What a coincidence!

I retorted righteously and tossed the coin up while talking.

The silver coin drew an arc in the air. I held my breath and waited without blinking for the coin to fall back into my palm.

That’s when a cold gust of wind came and caught me off guard. With a shake of my hand, the coin slipped through my fingers. ***Changed some wording***

MC: !

Kiro clutched his stomach and laughed, but I could only watch the coin fall downstairs.

MC: Unexpectedly, there is such a thing as bad luck…

Hearing me sigh, he stopped laughing and looked at me seriously and tenderly.

Kiro: Maybe God thinks that this answer should not be revealed now.

Kiro: So, let us leave everything to the unknown tomorrow.

[Fissure]

The night is dark, like a deep ocean with turbulent undercurrents and unknown crises lurking within.

The old streets that no one cares about in the city form a narrow, unnamed area. Only a few dirty, industrial buildings stand here.

This is the Secret Research Institute of B.S.

I hurried out of the elevator, walked through the dark corridor, and opened one of the hidden doors.

I put the documents in my hand on the table and told the B.S. researchers who looked at each other.

MC: Help me find something.

MC: Without my permission, do not disclose it to anyone and do not tell anyone that I have been here.

MC: Including BOSS.

B.S. Researcher: But Miss Nox, this is not compliant—

MC: Don’t forget that I have the first level permission of B.S.

The winter seems to have sneaked into the city quietly and every narrow street has been immersed in the precipitous chill.

When I left this building, I finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The roof of the building in the distance seemed to glint with a hint of pure silver, almost melting into the moonlight.

I couldn’t help but look back, only to find that the streak of silver was gone.

A black shadow flashed in the night sky, and it quickly melted into the dark.

All the hustle and bustle in the city, the noise of people underneath.

As the cold wind passed by, he stared at the street where he lived alone in the night, holding his breath for the appearance of a figure.

??: Helios, it’s time for you to act.

Helios: I’m not doing things for you. You’re not qualified to order me.

The person on the opposite end sighed softly.

??: There has always been a big misunderstanding between us. In other words, between B.S. and GRAY RHINO.

??: I hope that our future cooperation can be built on the basis of mutual trust.

Helios: The assumption is that you don’t do unnecessary stupid things.

Helios: If you want to get something like that, just do as I say.

Helios cut off the call impatiently, and the man’s hypocritical voice made him feel very disgusted.

As far as he can see, a figure finally walks out of the building’s door.

He watched the figure until the girl disappeared into the night.

He pressed his lips, pulled the rope fixed to his waist, and jumped off the billboard.

The dark figure jumped vigorously, following the rope in his hand, simply and neatly, and quietly entered the building from the window.

??: Who are you!

Helios: Don’t move.

The researcher who had just picked up the gun was caught off guard against the man’s golden eyes, and suddenly his fingers on the trigger were unable to exert force.

The man played with the knife in his hand, walked to the table, and his eyes fell on the experimental report.

Helios: Did she only leave this thing?

B.S. Researcher: …..

Helios: Answer me.

The golden light flashed in the man’s eyes, and his raised voice was like an unsheathed coldness.

This invisible power. His vocal cord muscles contracted uncontrollably and a word was slowly squeezed out of his throat.

B.S. Researcher: ….Yes.

He finally remembered the identity of the man in front of him and the legends about him circulating in the organization.

B.S. Researcher: You, you are….

Before he could recall his name, the man had already turned around.

Under the dim light, he suddenly turned his head and the corner of his mouth formed into a mocking arc.

Helios: I command you all—

Helios: Forget everything that happened just now.

“The train will be arriving shortly, please stand behind the safety line and wait in an orderly manner…”

The first ray of morning light came into the platform. The boy remembered yesterday’s ordeal and subconsciously took a step back.

But soon, what the blond man had said, rang in his ears--

Kiro: Those who use past experiences to deny themselves are cowardly people.

Kiro: Don’t believe in the stories told by others, let alone the signs of the destiny you have altered.

These words shone like a beam of light into the abyss of his heart.

He made up his mind that no matter what the people in that organization say, he will not waver, let alone contact them again.

Thinking of this, he took a lively step forward.

He can do anything that makes him strong. Such as, submitting a transfer application form. Or give a severe beating to those who bullied him in the past.

And his Evol should be his booster, taking him to farther destinations, just like the train he is about to board.

The train stopped in front of the platform. The sound of running tracks overwhelmed the small sound of bullets in the air as well as the sound of the boy hitting the ground.

The gunpowder smoke from the muzzle quickly dissipated into the air like white mist from the breaths of pedestrians in winter.

The train doors opened and a few passengers stepped out of the carriage, yawning.

Soon, screams and chaotic footsteps filled the entire station.

The tall man standing at the top of the stairs grinned slightly, his smile fleeting. He put the gun into his sleeve and turned briskly to leave.

??: Mission completed.

The passengers panicked as messy, bloody foot-prints were left on the floor tiles.

??: The bait is ready and the fish should be hooked.

12 notes · View notes

heyhihellowhatsup0 · 4 years

Text

Tangled Webs - Chapter Five (Peter Parker x Reader)

Dark Webs Masterlist | Tangled Webs Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, language, Smut (smut in this chapter!), Topics of death and depression, PTSD, more angst, violence, a bit more fluff and smut than the last series? Somewhat ignoring the MCU timeline due to mature content

Word Count: 5922

Summary: After doing your best to walk on eggshells around Peter, you finally reach the boiling point as you and him face (most) of your drama head on...

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to post! But trust me, I think this chapter is worth it! There’s a lot of angst but some smut as well so I hope you guys enjoy this! I’m nervous af so please let me know what you guys think! Your sweet words and comments always make me smile! (Also I found this .gif on google, so if you made it, or know who did, let me know and I will credit!) Thank you xx -N

Local deli, ‘Delmars Delicatessen,’ was robbed early yesterday morning, leaving the owner minorly injured. Sources say the burglar managed to steal over $25,000 in cash from a cash safe in the back room. Officials have no word on how the burglars were aware of such a safe in the first place but suspects as of late are currently former employees.

The only identification of the potential burglar is that it was female. The woman who robbed the store managed to stun the owner with a taser and left him on the floor as she cracked the code to his safe and left him.

Spider-Man was not on scene during the robbery, making it the first actual successful burglary since the start of these random acts. Officials stated that the webbed avenger was off securing the Hudson River from a potential attack; making the burglary an open opportunity.

The Queensboro Police Department announced that they will be on high alert in the area in regards to catching the female burglar. The descriptions of the woman are currently nondescript, as she was wearing a blask mask and had no distinctive marks.

The previous five attempted burglaries within the Queensboro and Forest Hill area were all brought in to authorities by Queens’ very own, Spider-Man. There has been no comment or any sort of proclamation by any authority that any or all of these burglaries are related. However, locals have taken to believe that they are and are doing whatever they can to feel safe.

Spider-Man has released an exclusive statement with The Daily Globe saying he will be on a watch of his own to capture this masked woman in order to bring her in.

You tensed as you stared at the cover story with a wary look. You never had to write a news story about yourself before and it wasn’t a good look at that. You felt as if you were about to throw up and the worst thing was that Peter had no idea you wrote this about yourself.

A bad thing was done. A really bad thing. And you were the one responsible. You hurt a man who has never done any harm to you. A man who always treated you and Peter well whenever you went to visit him and his shop. And what you did to him last night was completely unforgivable.

You weren’t in control and you knew that. But it was still your body and you had to take responsibility for your body. Your hands being the only ones who put that mask over your eyes last night. Your feet being the ones who ran all the way to Delmars before it opened. Your fingers pushing the trigger of your taser gun to stun Mr. Delmar right into his side. Your leg being the one that kicked the safe open with your new strength, grabbing everything inside and using the same exact legs to run out of there before the sun came up.

You did as you were told but it was still you. And now because of that, you were wanted.

It wasn’t surprising that when Peter came home, he came home with a story for you to write. He just had no idea it was your story. He knew you needed a story for the Daily Globe and were doing so well covering these random robberies, he wanted you to spread the word to everyone in the city. It resonated with Peter a lot and you could tell how much this hurt him seeing his friend going through something like this. All because of you.

Peter wanted to find this person, you. He came home with such defeat, which was why he wanted you to write this story so badly. To scare the one who robbed Delmars that Spider-Man was looking for you. And he wasn’t going to rest until he brought you to justice.

You were also a reporter and you had a job to do. You couldn’t stop writing about the news because you were the news. And you had a reputation to uphold so you knew you couldn’t lie about what Peter had seen, that wouldn’t help anybody. The only thing you could do was withhold information that only Peter knew. The information Peter found out that the authorities wouldn’t believe. The corrupt or cons going on that Peter brought to justice.

And now you were part of that category, weren’t you?

You could barely even look at the article, or Peter reading it from across the table as he sipped on his coffee. The look on his face was something that he was proud of you, but you knew that if he knew the truth that he would be nothing but disgusted and horrified by you.

It didn’t help that you couldn’t tell him either. You couldn’t risk it after learning what Octavious would do to Peter if he found out. You already had so much blood on your hands as it was, Peter’s sure as hell wasn’t going to be one of them. Throughout all of this, you had to keep him safe no matter what.

Your hand went to your chest, holding your spider-web pendant against your palm as you watched Peter’s reaction as he continued to read, “I hope I covered everything,” you told him with an unsteady voice.

“You said it better than I did,” Peter told you, giving you a somewhat sigh of relief as he put the article down and gave you a proud smile. There wasn’t anything for him to be proud of though as you sat there awkwardly as he leaned over to kiss you cheek to let you know how he felt, “This is going to nail that woman to the wall, I know it,” he added lowly.

Nearly choking on your coffee, you let out an awkward laugh as you nodded your head. How could you even respond to something like that without sounding suspicious? Or without Octavious listening in and threatening you again that he would kill Peter. Because you knew he’d be listening in.

“Peter, are you sure that this was a good idea? How do you know that whoever this woman was hasn’t already fled the country? Or how do you know that she isn’t looking for you too?” you tried. You knew Peter could sometimes let things get to him a bit quicker when they were so personal to him. And you were hoping to maybe knock some sense into him to stand down a bit while you waited for Octavious to finish using you for whatever he needed you.

Peter scoffed as he grabbed his EDITH glasses, flashing you a cocky smile, “Y/N, please. I’ve seen her type thousands of times. The day I can’t handle an armed robber is the day I really do retire and go to that lake house,” he said to you as he tipped his head close to yours and captured your bottom lip.

Kissing him back, you tried not to make it obvious how nervous you were with him finding out the truth. What if he figured it out on his own? There was no way in hell that you could lie to him about it if he did. You worried about Peter constantly and now you were worried about him even more because you were afraid that you were going to hurt him. Both emotionally and physically.

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N,” Peter answered as he pulled away from the kiss, pecking your lips once more before he started heading down to the gym to practice, “Like I say, I’m just your henchman, right?” he laughed into another kiss as he slid his EDITH glasses up the bridge of your nose.

You mustered up a nod, “Love you,” you told Peter as you sent him towards the elevator to head out for the afternoon, leaving you face to face with the hack job of an article you had written.

It stared back at you like it had fangs and red eyes, like it was evil. And suddenly, you felt that way about yourself. Rereading the words you used to describe yourself; you read over again how many people were looking for you and how severely you hurt Mr. Delmar. And you had no idea what that sweet man had anything to do with Octavious’ plan.

What else was he going to have you do? Or who else was he going to have you hurt? You had a horrible feeling he wasn’t going to be done with you any time soon and that made you feel even more sick. Not to mention, based off the transmission you weren’t supposed to receive the other night during Peter’s mission, you knew Octavious wasn’t working alone; and there were things, bad things, that he didn’t want you hearing. At least not yet.

After staring at the paper for so long, you grabbed it and ripped it in half, flinging it across the room as if it were confetti. You couldn’t look at the mess you made anymore because the thoughts of what was going to happen next were too upsetting. You knew it would be inevitable before the next and you were only getting stronger. You didn’t know what you were capable of anymore.

“You did a stupendous job, sweetheart,” Octavious’ voice came through giddily. His happy-go-lucky tone made you even more sick to your stomach as you got up from your chair with fury.

“The money is yours, just get out of my head,” you told him, beginning to march up towards the lab to get his cash out of the safe. You needed out of this...whatever it was. And you were hoping the money would be enough.

“It’s not that simple. And you’re just what I need to finish this, so we’re not done quite yet,” Octavious chuckled in your head, which only made you want to cry right then and there.

It was then when you realized he wasn’t ever planning on letting you go. Not even if you were done. You were strong and capable of a lot and he knew that now. And because he knew that, he was turning you into his own personalized weapon. Because he’d never get caught when it came to you. And even if you got caught, they’d never find the chip in your head that traced back to him. Octavious would get off scot free and find someone else to manipulate.

You knew Octavious wasn’t acting alone. There was someone else, maybe a partner or even a puppet master of his own that was calling these shots. You knew you weren’t his first test subject but you didn’t know what happened to the others. Did they get killed? Or did the microchips not take like yours did? Maybe it made them sick? There had to be a reason why Octavious was keeping you over the rest, it was because you were the only success story thus far.

“Then you gotta tell me who else I’m working for,” you demanded as you unlocked the lab, heading over to your secret stash. Opening the safe as you saw the entire motherlode staring right back at you. Your mask, the loads upon loads of cash, and your unopened bottles. Everything you had been dying to get rid of.

“Do you really think you have power over me, sweetheart?” Octavious said as he suddenly forced you to lean into the safe and grab the bottle, “You’re nothing without me. You’re his proxy who writes little articles about what he wants while you drink away the pain. Thanks to me, I’m making you something,” he told you as he let go of you.

You slammed the bottle down on the floor, taking a step away from it, “What do you want with Peter? He’s no use to you and you have to know that I don’t control him,” you tried again as you tried to fight back the tears once again.

But Doctor Octavious laughed maniacally as you remained seated on the floor, staring down at the bottle that was beginning to look more and more appetizing the more you stared at it. But you knew Octavious wasn’t the one making you crave it right now, that was coming from you.

The stress and anxiety was eating at you bit by bit. Needing something so badly to take some of your pain away, even just temporarily. Fighting with your brain and going back and forth, hearing Peter’s voice in the back of your head. You knew you should refrain yourself, that’s what you wanted overall. You turned your head away from the bottle, fighting with your vision to not look at the temptation that was before you.

“I beg to differ. There’s a lot of things that worthless little spider would be willing to do for you and I’d bet money on it…” he threatened as he fixed your vision back onto the bottle, making you begin to unscrew the cap, “And I know what you’d do to keep him alive, right? So have a drink and let’s have a toast to your amazing work the other night and to many more!” he cheered in your voice.

Only he wasn’t forcing you to drink it. But he knew you would. It was a threat if you didn’t, otherwise he would kill Peter. That was his leverage over your head, knowing you would keep your mouth shut and comply with whatever he wanted because you were trying to save Peter.

Closing your eyes, you brought the rim of the bottle to your lips as the harsh scent ran up your nostrils. Scrunching your nose up with a whimper, you took a quick swig before you placed it back down on the floor. Wiping your mouth of the alcohol, you hoped that would be enough to appease Octavious to just leave you alone.

“Good girl,” he told you as you tried to relax your body a bit as you curled up near the safe as tears began running down your cheeks. Knowing perfectly well that with Doctor Octavious or whoever else in your brain, there was no relaxing. Not now, not ever.

There was silence and for a moment you thought Octavious had departed for the time being but you still felt his presence. He was just observing now, haunting you, reminding you that he could. At any given time, he could just pay you a visit or worse, take control of you.

Because he had full control over you because you were scared he’d hurt Peter. And you’d do anything, rob anything you had to if it meant Peter was unharmed. And Octavious was well aware of that and he was determined to use it against you at any moment like this.

“Now finish it,” he told you as he disconnected from your device. Automatically feeling a difference in your head, feeling a bit lighter as you sank into the floor; now clutching the bottle in your hand.

————

Peter deactivated his suit, catching his breath as he looked at the success statistics KAREN and EDITH had relayed for him after the last simulation had come to an end. He couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of the numbers that were displayed for him. It wasn't that long ago that Peter was failing simulation after simulation and he was glad that he was getting stronger and becoming a better fighter like he used to be.

Strong like the old Peter…

Walking towards the exit, he noticed Agent Kent standing by the door with a smile. Peter shook his head as he removed his mask from his head, “You know it's dangerous to be in here while I’m running simulations, right?” Peter told him with a joking voice as he gave him a high-five.

“Did you just win all of those simulations on the hardest level?” Kent asked Peter with an impressed voice. He watched as Peter nodded his head, walking past him to grab a towel to dry off, “Remind me to check to make sure they’re programmed correctly,” he teased Peter with a nudge.

“I programmed them, they better be,” Peter retorted with a smug look. He was feeling good about himself, “Got to be ready next time that lady thief comes by again. I’m on a high alert for her,” he told Kent with a knowing look.

Kent shook his head with a laugh, “Meeting tomorrow was moved to 8 am, don’t be late,” he told Peter as he walked down the hall towards his quarters on one of the lower floors. Great, an early meeting to talk about what else was fucked up in this city, Peter thought as he headed into the elevator, pressing your floor as he rode it back up.

But Peter didn’t want to think about how fucked up the city or the world was right now. He knew plenty of how the world was. Right now, he just wanted to get back to his floor. His own tiny haven in this enormous tower with little to no privacy. Even when he was practicing, somebody found him. He never truly had a moment just to himself. Not as Spider-Man.

The thoughts in Peter’s mind went blank as he felt the goose bumps beginning to raise on his arms as the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stuck out. Something was off as he stepped foot into your apartment, and he could tell right away that it had something to do with you.

Calling your name, Peter dropped his gym bag onto the floor and walked towards the bedroom, trying to find you as quickly as possible. He stopped in his tracks when he got a whiff of what was coming from the kitchen.

He turned his head and saw you standing by the stove, slicing some vegetables as you smiled up at him, “I’m making a frittata,” you told him quietly, trying to function as best as you could and hoping that the smell of the food was masking the other scents you knew Peter was bound to detect.

There was something off and Peter could sense it. But he couldn’t figure out what it was. Nodding his head he smiled back at you as he came behind you in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, kissing your cheek in the process.

“Do you smell that?” Peter asked as he stood in front of the sink curiously. The same hairs still sticking up like something was wrong.

“The frittata?” you asked him, trying to keep yourself composed as you looked at him with the same blank expression.

Peter shook his head as he looked around, “Something doesn’t feel right,” he said warily as he looked around more, “I can’t tell what it is…” he trailed off as he walked into the other room to try to investigate.

“Stand down, tiger,” you snorted as he brought the vegetables into the frying pan to simmer for a bit as you cleaned your hands off, “A bit paranoid are we?” you offered again.

You could sense Peter’s paranoia and it was making you nervous. Mainly because you knew you were the reason he was detecting something was wrong, and you knew you weren’t going to be able to hide it from him. It was making your stomach do back flips, making you nauseous as the smell of the frittata you were making went through your nostrils while the alcohol you annihilated earlier was bound to resurface.

Before you knew it, your hand was over your mouth as you ran to the bathroom, pushing Peter to the side as you hovered over the toilet, emptying your stomach out as you heaved into it. Peter came up behind you, holding your hair back as he motioned his hand gently against your back to try and relax you.

Peter looked away from it as you slowly began to pull yourself away and clean your face in the sink. But he saw the clear liquid that was purged out and he knew the hairs on his neck were standing because you were the one who was in trouble.

“Y/N…” Peter bit his lip as he pulled your hair out of the way as you washed your face. You knew where he was going with it and you couldn’t face that truth right now. You just couldn’t.

“No, Peter,” you shot him down as you splashed some water on your face before you rinsed your mouth out, “Don’t start,” you warned him, hoping that would keep him from continuing the conversation. But who were you kidding? If the tables were turned you knew you wouldn’t either. In fact, you didn’t when it was Peter drinking excessively.

Of course, this time it was because you were forced to by Doctor Octavious. You just couldn’t tell Peter that otherwise he would get killed. So now, you had no choice but to act like you did this willingly.

“I have to, Y/N,” Peter answered lowly as he followed you out of the bathroom again, “I...I can’t be around you like this,” he finally said the words. The words he never thought he would say because he never thought he would need to. But he needed to.

Peter knew this was dangerous. You needed help but he couldn’t force you right now. And he also knew he couldn’t be around you when you were drinking so much. It broke his heart and he cared so much right now but you needed to care about yourself too, and you weren’t. But Peter needed you to so he wouldn’t fall apart either, as selfish as that sounded. And maybe you needed more of a push to get to that point to better yourself.

“What? You’re going to break up with me over this? When you drank, you threw me against the wall in a chokehold, Peter,” you reminded him vividly, still clearly not in your best state of mind. But Peter’s threat not only hurt you, it scared you immensely. The idea of losing him because of you was something you couldn’t deal with, not now or ever.

Peter winced at the thought. Those were his most dark and troubling times. And even though he took responsibility and was grateful every moment of every day you forgave him, he still had a hard time forgiving himself for what he put you through. It was hard reliving those memories and he tried not to so he could live in the present, with you. But right now, your present was beginning to look a lot like Peter’s past.

“I never said I was dumping you, I would never leave you. But I think you may need some time alone to figure out what you need,” Peter tried again, a bit more sternly but his eyes were filled with concern for you, “This isn’t you, Y/N,” he told you as he softened his tone.

You shook your head and scoffed at him, feeling your head getting heated as Peter started again, “Really, Peter? You’re one to talk about not being yourself,” you bit your lip as you pivoted in his direction.

“Me?” Peter asked monotonously, licking his lips as he saw all of the anger in your eyes. Peter really didn’t want this to turn into a fight. But it always did because you were still in denial. And Peter knew the only one who could make you see your truth was you, so until you did, it was an argument each and every time.

And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could watch you do this to yourself. Allowing his group therapy peer’s advice to look a little more intriguing.

“Yes. You’ve been acting like a completely different person lately,” you snapped back, trying to keep your tone level like Peter’s as you continued, “You asked me to move to a lake house upstate because you couldn’t stand the city and then acted as if it never even happened, Peter,” you reminded him of that incident and how the both of you were guilty for never actually talking about it again.

“You said no and the idea clearly upset you. I didn’t want to make you more upset by begging you to move. What did you want me to do, Y/N?” Peter asked you as he felt his throat beginning to feel dry. He hated fighting like this and he knew this wasn’t going to end well because now you were looking for a reason to blame Peter. He saw the signs all too well.

You didn’t know why you were so angry. You were hurt, and terrified of losing Peter, and you didn’t know what else to do. And now you were just letting out all of the things you had been bottling up over the last month or so, even though you knew that wasn’t fair. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system but you didn’t know how to turn it off.

“I don’t know. But the Peter I know wouldn’t have done anything of that,” you challenged him finally. The final nail in the coffin and you saw the look on Peter’s face, you knew that was an answer he was not expecting.

Because the old Peter was the one who you both hated. The one who put you in harm’s way and pushed you away until there was barely anything left. The old Peter was aggressive and hurt you in more ways he wasn’t proud of. So it took Peter by surprise hearing you say that. Maybe it was out of anger or to get a rise out of him, but you were both saying things you didn’t necessarily mean right now and he knew he needed to stop.

Peter walked over towards the kitchen and turned the stove off, seeing everything starting to burn. He shook his head as he cleaned off some of the utensils to focus his stress elsewhere, “Did you want me to shout at you like I used to? Kill someone?” Peter paused as he bit the inside of his lower lip, “Drink myself to death like you are because I’m angry?”

He was making his own blood boil when he spoke, clenching the glass in his hand as he accidentally shattered it, making you jump backwards, “I am angry, okay? I am! I’m angry every fucking day and all of this work I’m doing with my group is supposed to help me keep my anger from taking over again. So are you saying you don’t want that? You don’t like that I’m trying to do this for me and for you?!” he shouted as he looked down at the shattered glass on the floor.

Silence filled the room between the two of you as you inched yourself a bit closer to Peter, standing in front of the island as you looked into his soft brown eyes. Of course, you were so proud of Peter and how far he had come these months. And you knew he didn’t do this for you, he did it for him which was the most proud you could get.

Peter was trying to get you down the same path he was and you saw that and you were glad he cared about you so much. But how Peter was the last few weeks, and possibly months, was a very shut down version. Trying to push you to therapy, and then when you declined, he would act like nothing had happened. Not the Peter you were used to at all.

And maybe that was on you. Maybe you pushed him to shut down here and there. But Peter was a fighter, and so were you. So it always surprised you when you got to these boiling points. And this was a point neither of you reached until just now. Both of you feeling scared and upset, and you had no idea what was going to happen next. But neither of you could stop.

“No. I want you, Peter, I do,” you told him as you took another step closer to him, “But you just seem so….different. Like lately you’ve just been Peter Parker without Peter Parker,” you told him in a small voice as you tried to catch his gaze, but his focus was on the wall.

It was everything Peter didn’t want to hear. He knew he wasn’t the same Peter but he was accepting that. He thought after everything that had happened, you would too. But maybe it was because of the things that were troubling you that it was making you question and challenge Peter in return.

Balling his hand into a fist, Peter had enough as he suddenly drove it right into the wall in front of his face. He saw you jump backward as you gasped at the loud bang. Pulling his hand out of the wall, his cut up hand now covered in blood was splayed against the wall as he steadied his breath.

“That Peter Parker?” he finally asked you without looking your way. He knew he took it too far, and he was ashamed that he did that. Especially in front of you. He hadn’t lost his cool like that in months, and certainly not in front of you. He never wanted to blow up in front of you like that again. He was so embarrassed for letting his anger get to him for even a second.

You swallowed thickly as silence filled the room between the two of you. Blinking slowly, you nodded your head before you grabbed Peter by his arm and pulled him towards you as you crashed your lips against his. Pulling him closer as you began to feel him return your kiss.

Both of you were still angry and reeling, but for now you just wanted to be close to each other. You were both shaken by Peter’s words and your actions, and for now the intimacy between you both was all that mattered. A temporary fix for your laundry list of problems that neither of you knew how to fix.

Peter pushed you against the wall as he rolled his lips over yours with lust and desire. Craning your neck to the side as he moved his lips down to your neck, finding your sweet spot right away. Picking you up swiftly, you wrapped your legs around his waist in between his sloppy and slightly aggressive kisses. Bringing your arms to the nape of your neck to hold yourself up as Peter’s fingers began traveling to your waist.

His fingers tucked underneath your jeans as he pushed them off, dropping them to the floor as his lips found yours once more. Your pent up anger for each other building between you both as you helped him shake his sweatpants off; your breath heavy and ragged as the fire between you both grew.

The back of your head hit the wall as Peter began to tease your entrance, your free hand raising up to his chest to feel his heartbeat. Both of your senses on high alert as you looked into Peter’s eyes as you located his heart. Listening to the thuds, your way of finding your Peter in there as your eyes began fluttering closed while you pushed Peter into you.

Peter grabbed you by the leg gently and thrust in to you slowly. Placing his free hand against the wall to support you both as he pushed himself into you further. Hearing you let out a soft whimper as you moved your hips into him a bit faster, your hands running through the curls on the back of his neck.

Grunting into your ear, Peter found your lips again. Your tongues searching for each other as your thrusts intensified, your whimpers and moans vibrating against your lips. He found your hands and laced your fingers into his against the wall as he moved his hips faster into you, letting his senses take over as he continued.

Peter cussed under his breath as he ran a hand up your bare leg and against your inner thigh. As you clenched around his length, your body burning with each and every motion as you bit your lip, beginning to feel all of the sensations take control as you gripped Peter firmly.

You held onto Peter’s hand as he began to circle you slowly with his fingers, making you moan louder as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your edge. Your bodies forming a rhythm together as your kisses grew sloppy and more desperate for each other, the neediness for being close still apparent amongst the two of you.

Circling you faster, Peter kept thrusting into you as your whimpers together grew more and more. He could sense how close you were from how tense your body was getting, and he was letting all of his aggression out with you. He knew he wasn’t far behind as he found your lips again. Moaning into his kiss as he pushed you both to your edges.

Finally reaching your highs together as you cried out Peter’s name and he collapsed into the nape of your neck. Shaking and vibrating underneath Peter as his hips continued into you as he began moaning into your sensitive skin. Everything felt so intense as you began to open your eyes, slowly coming down from your intoxicating state.

Peter took a breath as he slowly brought you back down to the earth. Pushing the hair out of your face he reached over and kissed your lips again. This time it felt different from moments earlier, it was more loving, tender even. You can feel how much he loved and cared for you in the kiss as you returned the same thing to him as he lifted you into his arms.

Carrying you into the bedroom, he knew you both needed to sleep this off. He placed you down on the bed in the darkness, crawling over to his side of the bed without even needing the light on. He pulled the covers up over the two of you and found his place in between your arms as he kissed your bare shoulder.

The two of you didn’t speak, the silence spoke for itself as you both let the exhaustion from earlier take over.

It wasn’t until you woke up in the middle of the night that you felt Peter get out of bed. Only you didn’t feel it, you sensed it. You rubbed your eyes as they adjusted to the darkness and crawled towards the edge of the bed, seeing Peter by the balcony window.

Holding his gym bag over his back…

Taglist: @missmulti @hazmyheart @lauras-collection @osterfield-holland-andcompany @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @farfromhazreads @detroitbydark @mcuassemble @blahhhhhhhaaa @lonikje @beiroviski @ruefulposts @rebekkah4766 @desir-ae @kayla-m1996 @averyfosterthoughts @unicorn-princess-1999 @asmilinghopelessromantic @itsjusttor @whatareyouhidingpeter @when-marvellous-things-happen @mannien @lilostif16 @u-rrose @jillanaholland @ninjalex1d @dee-rosemary @baby-unidorn @astoldbydanid @honey-sea @fallingforfics @lulueliott24 @mikalaka @babebenhardy @coni-martina @geniousparker @captainemrys @mktravelbuggie @underoosmarvel @pluckypete @hollandfanficlove @lookalivefrosty @lightmelikeacigarette @msmarvel-19 @averyfosterthoughts @parker-holland-osterfield @thwip-it-real-good @shirukitsune @justanotherusername80 @jillanaholland @dangerdolns @jwolfesblog @jjayyc @sad-thinker-over @ifilosemyselfagain @axisnpalma @sunflxwer99 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @bookgirlunicorn @kfcyum @thenoddingbunny-blog @buzzbuzzitsmeagainbitch @herondale-snow-carstairs @marvelobsessedteenager @samallbee @unlimitedd @dramaholic18 @softholand @panicattheeverywherekid @emotionally-unstable23 @quackeroos @unbelievableholland @the-crazy-fanfictionist @holyhumorliteraturelight @shayminisshiny @spideyyeet @katiekinzs @fanficparker @peachyxholland @ifntelyinspirit @rubberducky-jrr @xguardgirlx @hollandstea @t-holland2080 @oh-whatabeautiful-parker @selfcarecap @localfangirlx @xxpeachyxo @hazardosterfield @xstarbae @justanotherusername80 @halfblood-princess-505 @photoshopart15 @spiderbibby @the-fandom-life-forever @thinkoutsidethebex

#peter parker #tom holland #tom holland x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tom holland x you #spiderman #spiderman x reader #tangled webs #heyhihellowhatsup0

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i-am-just-a-kiddo · 3 years

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rules: create your own post and tag 9 people to get to know better or catch up with

thank you for tagging me in this, @vishcount, eventhough we catch up every day basically 💞 i am tagging @cortue, @sassyassassy and @the-cloud-whisperer! no pressure in answering these questions to such detail, just do however you feel like. (ED) i’m sorry i forgot to tag @intyalote because i wish to know you better too!

my ramblings under the cut:

last song listened to: Change (Feat. GRAY) (Prod. 코드 쿤스트 CODE KUNST) by Kid Millie

code kunst is one of my absolute favourite musical artists and i always discover new projects he was part of. this one is my recent favourite, i’ve just been listening to it up and down the past few weeks so my youtube shuffle automatically plays this.

last movie watched: The Yin Yang Master (2021)

just like vishie, this was the last movie i watched and i think overall it was very fun? i found it very cute and entertaining in its world-building, as well as the visual design. also chen kun as qingming truly.....hits differently, wow. so it was hard to keep my cool about him because somehow he is way too stunning in my eyes. i also enjoyed the found family trope? it was very sweet. but as vishie noted too, the movie did not leave much place for the characters to develop properly so it would have deserved more time in that department. i was not that attached to any of them because the movie focused more on the plot happening than the character driven story. also funny how the yin yang master: dream of eternity was a wonderful gay feast while this movie just pulled the no homo card lol

currently reading: When The Light Of The World Was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through, A Norton Anthology of Native Nations Poetry (Ed. Joy Harjo, Leanne Howe, Jennifer Elise Foerster and more)

i wished for this book for christmas and finally received it a few weeks ago. the past two years i’ve mostly been reading poetry (if you leave out readings for university) and i really want to educate myself on native cultures and their past. i think this is an amazing book that has a long introduction about its creation and the choices made on how the poems should be assembled. i love how so many different voices across geography, time and ages gets presented and i am excited to read more. apart from that, i am just waiting for uni taking up all my reading space again.

currently craving: a cold beer?

since yesterday the weather has been so incredibly lovely and spring-like, i just want to go sit outside in the park or by the river and have a beer with someone. might do that tomorrow? i am feeling the holiday vibes. (also i am hungry so i should probably cook soon hmm)

current project: uni and fic ideas (and a fishtank?)

for uni i will need to hold a presentation about materiality in viennese modern designs during 1880-1930. i have this ceramic vessel by dagobert peche as my topic and i’m excited to dive into it because i am not well-versed in viennese art in general? and from what i’ve seen from his designs he took a lot of inspiration from japanese ceramics and chinese brush paintings which fits me past studies. also the question of materiality has never been the biggest focus in my studies so i am curious what will come of it, especially since our course leader wants to get us into the exhibition and hold the presentation in front of the actual object, which i have never done before (thanks covid).

i have some fic ideas which i want to get into but right now they are more vague concepts - i’ve been doing some research on korea during the 1880s-1890s for some very loosely dorian gray inspired au, but let’s see if this will take any reasonable shape. i’m also thinking about more wen ning & song lan content and maybe, possibly, some wen kexing character study? let’s see. am slowly getting back to writing and i am lowkey proud.

and yes, i want to get a fishtank in our flat. i am so ready to have one again and my flatmates agreed so there is nothing standing in my way

current mood: tired but content

i overslept my first alarm today so i had a very stressful morning (it usually takes ages for me to get out of bed) and i did most of my first lecture but then decided to ditch it to hang out with my flatmates which was the best decision tbh. i also skipped the second lecture to hang out with them and go on a walk later to enjoy sunshine? so i think this day was very much successful on the social part. i even had ice cream.

current wish: for my writing to return from war

i’ve lamented about this for the past few months on here, but it truly is weighing down my heart a lot. i just miss writing okay. i know i shouldn’t be hard on myself and accept that i need a break too, because indeed - i can’t force it and there is no need in beating myself up. but it still hurts because there is always something missing. i think the past two weeks i have been feeling a little bit more ready to return to it? though i truly need to be understanding with myself if it doesn’t work as i want it to.

currently learning: materiality, persian book art and queer theory

as mentioned above, i have one course about materiality in arts, crafts and designs, focused on 1880-1930 vienna. i am also attending a lecture about persian book art from the 14th century onwards, though i have taken so many lectures with this professor already, i feel like he is repeating himself so much? i hope i will learn something new at least, so far it feels like i’m hearing the topics for the third time. and then i have a lecture about queer theory which is exactly my crowd - the people, the professor and the discussions give me so much and bring all these topics that i think about in my free time into a theoretical and scientific realm? so it’s nice to study these things in a systematic way - as systematic as it’s possible with a topic such as queer theory. this lecture just makes me feel seen and also allows me to get a broader sense of understanding how these studies developed.

something that makes you proud: my niemo oneshot and my social activities

last week i wrote a short snippet for nie huaisang/mo xuanyu and it was the first time i had written in ages? so i feel very proud of it. and something i have been proud of lately is that i manage to be socially active a lot without feeling like all my energy has been sucked out of me? i am genuinly having fun being with people - of course it exhausts me a lot and i take breaks, but all in all it truly got easier socialising ever since i started taking my meds. my anxiety levels aren’t as high as they used to be and it helps me appreciate the presence of other people in a completely new way. this allows me not to feel like i am running away when i take time for myself.

if you’ve read all of this, thank you! this was a fun little something

#nice #i just came from a walk and thought yes #this is the perfect thing to do before i cook something #thank you for tagging me despite knowing most of it already lol #personal #tag game

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crstapor · 3 years

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Terror White

“You’re either with us or against us.” - George W. Bush 

On January 6th, 2021, domestic terrorists invaded the Capital Building in an act of political insurrection. Their intent was to overthrow the will of the people by preventing certification of a free and fair democratic election. They did so at the behest of their political leader (who was impeached a second time for inciting this gross transgression of his oath of office), other voices in their party - the so-called GOP - and talking head agitators inhabiting the far-right media echo chamber. Nearly to a man, a woman, a they, each of these terrorists were white.

Images of ‘good old boys’ traipsing down the halls of the people’s house waving confederate battle flags, kicking feet up on the Speaker’s desk, walking off with public property or smearing their shit on the floors pervaded the internet. These images provided by the villains themselves, posted shamelessly to social media profiles.

As a result of this treasonous, insulting, juvenile, despicable, and ultimately futile effort five people died. Even still, hours after the fact, a majority of members of the so-called GOP voted in accordance with the will of these terrorists. They voted to overturn the results of a free and fair election in the world’s oldest modern democracy. They did so because they believed there were serious ‘concerns’ (‘concerns’, let’s be clear, that started with them and like the Ouroboros, ended up with the confusing, if unhygienic, phenomenon of not knowing where their mouths or assholes ended or began) with the 2020 presidential election. After over 60 court cases arguing that point only one was ruled in their favor. None of the 50 States comprising our union found any evidence of wide-spread fraud. Indeed, a federal agency tasked with monitoring election security stated unequivocally that the presidential election of 2020 was one of the most secure in a generation.

And yet? There they were. Spouting conspiracy theories, assaulting police officers (those stalwart stewards of the ‘law & order’ they otherwise claim to love), brandishing spears and bearskins, stealing mail, leaving death threats to the Vice President, fundamentally acting the fool. A bunch of bullies let out of detention with rage and rebellion on their minds.

Let me be clear: each and every one of these terrorists should be hunted down by law enforcement and charged to the fullest extent of the law. They should then be prosecuted and the judges in each and every case should show or allow no mercy. These barbarians must never be allowed to storm the gates again.

Fine.

But that’s not the really interesting question here. The far-right has been producing assholes forever (one of the few things the ‘right’ is truly consistent at). What’s actually interesting is how these insurrectionists arrived at the conclusions they did. Which is to say; how did their ‘thinking’ bring them to this point.

While it might be tempting for some on the left to see that last sentence as a joke, let’s remember we’re sitting at the adult table. These terrorists, being human, sharing our genetic code, are people - real, live, eating, shitting, fucking, anxious, sleeping, scared, afraid, terrified people - just like you and me. As much as it would be easier if we could see them as Uruk-hai instead of our brothers and sisters, sadly? That’s what they are. Family. Part of the Human Condition.

Though humans that are clearly very, very, very sick. My diagnosis? Mind Cancer. Let me explain, under the assumption my readers understand the difference between mind and brain. As such, I am not asserting that the terrorists are physically sick. From their pics and videos it’s clear many are - obesity, hypertension, anal retention - though that isn’t the point. It’s their mental programming, their minds, that have been infected. Infected with what?

Put simply? A disjointed ontological phenomenology obscured, obfuscated, and accelerated by persistently chaotic epistemological aberrations. Said plainly? Their ability to process reality has been impaired.

Why? Racial resentment, poor economic opportunities, an aversion to books and learning? Yes. All that. Plus? The internet, which has created a new Dark Ages.

Paradoxically, one built on light.

Look. Self-interested demagogues intent on self-aggrandizement are nothing new. Nor are their ability to rally or rile a downtrodden populace. Sadly, demonizing the ‘other’ is also pretty par for the course in these scenarios. An old story, all told. What’s new this time is how it happens.

In a single second - count it out! One Mississippi - a beam, or photon of light moves 186,000 miles. Roughly seven times the circumference of the Earth. The new speed of hate. The internet, that modern marvel ushering in Humanity’s first truly post-scarcity resource, is built on light. Philosophers have for millennia wed knowledge with light. And now we all (well, those of us in the post-industrial world) carry a terminal connected to this internet in our pockets. A stunning marvel of human ingenuity. One would imagine that access to such a wellspring of knowledge and information would have a truly edifying affect on the Human Condition. Perhaps, in aggregate, or retrospect, it will. At the moment?

Yeah ...

At the moment it seems that the more access to information humans have the more they double down on tribal identities, wish fulfillment, instant gratification (read: porn), perceived slights, fantasy lands, Rick Astley videos, or the jibbering incoherent rantings of simple capitalists fomenting the fragile emotional states of low information individuals who feel they have no place in this world. This is a fundamentally devastating epistemological conundrum. Why? For centuries the barrier to the future was the amount of information, knowledge, you could access or process. Yet here and now? Here and now there might be too much access. Too much information. More so, the striking fact that our ability, as a species, writ large, to process or parse this information has not kept pace with the information at hand. A sad equation that inevitably leads to moments like 01/06/21.

The Trump Terrorists of January 6th, 2021, weaponized the internet to facilitate their attempted coup. As did their ‘dear leader’ throughout his humiliating single term in office. In fact, it was the geometrical acceleration of connectivity and interconnectedness enabled via the web and its insanely capitalist platforms that allowed for their ‘movement’ to incubate and evolve. While it is true that neo-liberal policies advocating globalist economics and monetary policy are at the current root cause of most ills genuinely affecting rural, or poor, or uneducated MAGA-heads, it’s also true that apart from an Independent from Vermont no one in the political economy of the last couple decades gave much of a shit about these poor and dispossessed inheritors of old racial mythemes and toxic narratives of self-reliance. No one that is, other than their ‘dear leader’. Never mind he didn’t intend to ease their suffering in any material, or structural way. He talked about it. He tweeted about it. And then he gave them a little song and dance at the rallies. Breathtaking stuff.

However, it wasn’t just the performative act of playing ‘authoritarian’ that got them hot and bothered. No, it was at the same time the eternal need to belong to a group, the legitimate feeling of economic obsolescence, coupled with these new tools of information transmission. Tools that at once gave them powers unheralded and seemingly ensconced them in a protective shell, a perpetually larval manifestation of all their baser inclinations. A reactionary ‘safe space’ from which they could launch a thousand ships of intolerance and hate. What good is truth if you can’t weaponize it? What good are facts if you share them with everyone else?

And so we find ourselves revising Plato. There isn’t just one cave in which we are chained, kept from reality. There are multiple tunnels, alcoves, deeper caverns in which we might dwell. Furthermore, if lucky, there are different days, vistas, egresses in which we can escape from the confines of ignorance. Much like the lucky Mormons, it would seem the far-right believes there are plenty of planets in which ‘Truth’ can dwell. Never mind that multiplying ��Truth’ in such a way doesn’t actually produce more truth.

In fact, it reduces ‘Truth’. Impoverishes it. Hollows it out.

Which is sad, really. For the major harm caused by these rebels isn’t to our democratic institutions, nor our mythological vision of our nature, nor that ever-loving economy - but to the very fabric that binds the social contract on which all the preceding rely.

That fabric being, specifically, a shared objective reality.

How can we survive if we can’t agree on basic facts? Can a multi-racial, multi-cultural, representative democracy exist when a large percentage of the comprising citizens don’t believe in, or even acknowledge, that that’s actually what’s happening? Is White Supremacy so fundamentally a part of our nation’s DNA that the country can’t exist without it? If so, for those of us who vehemently oppose White Supremacy, the question might then be: is the country worth saving?

Most versions of Western Ethics indicate that violence is not the cure. Nor do I advocate such a position. At the same time I’m deeply troubled, because due their illness these actors are neither rational or coherent. Ergo, we can’t reason with them either. So what next?

To corral the revolutionary, if inchoate, spirit of these sick, fringe minds diseased as they are by hate, grievance, and digital oubliettes would any policy proposals be acceptable? Perhaps as fantastic an idea as the images from 01/06/21, what if the Federal Government decided to halt its obsequious sycophantry to corporate America and ‘elites’ and instead actually, seriously, emphatically reinvested in the heartland, in Main Street, in the working class? Wouldn’t it be ironic if a little more socialism was truly the cure these hatemongers require?

Maybe we should step back and listen to the wisdom of George W. Bush.

Confronting what was at the time the most disheartening terror attack on the homeland, Bush made clear not all who could otherwise be lumped in with the terrorists were terrorists. In the same way that, yes, not all Trump voters are Trump Terrorists.

Even so. Bush made it clear you needed to pick a side.

With us - toward a diverse future in which the promise of the Founders is emboldened and expanded for all who live between our shores. Or against us - back to your stunted hovels and holes with all the other low information troglodytes you like to cosplay revolution with.

Choose.

It’s your call. But choose quickly, because history is watching, and only one path moves toward the future.

C. R. Stapor Longmont, CO 01/16/21

#January 6th #terrorism #domestic terrorism #the internet #social media #revolution #insurrection #01/06/21 #low information #mind cancer #George W Bush #Trump #GOP #epistemology #white #essay #philosophers on tumblr

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believerindaydreams · 3 years

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Valentine fluff and stuff, Benny/Arcade <3 post the events of Raging Against the Machine

"Permission to court Arcade? My my, that's a trifle old fashioned, isn't it?" Daisy props the sniper rifle over her back, gives a little wave to Boone as they exit the dinosaur's mouth.

Benny shrugs. "He's welcome to ask my mother if he wants to...we're like that in the Boot Riders is all. Fucking is one thing, but where marriage is concerned you ask the matriarch."

"You could hardly consider me the matriarch of anything. And I didn't raise that boy to just take orders from anyone, especially one of...us."

"Orders about what?" Arcade's left off his coat in the Mojave heatwave, and his lover down to sharp black trousers and a blue shirt rolled up to the elbows makes him momentarily wish that Daisy wasn't here, or indeed the rest of the population of Novac.

Lover, heh. The thing he most regrets about all this is giving up that fond familiar term for a new and alien one.

"Anything," Daisy says mildly. "I won't spoil the surprise if Benny hasn't told you yet."

"...if he hadn't told you- uh, okay. I can wait." He throws Benny a confused look, gets a cheerful stonewall of a response.

Really, there's no need to inform Daisy that he let famously laidback Arcade Gannon be the one to propose first.

***

*one week earlier*

"I'm prescribing you a break. Medically."

"House had a point plugging himself into a mainframe," Benny growls, tossing yet another clipboard into the ever-growing stack besides him. "It would save a lot of trouble to do this all mentally- do you know how many pages of negotiations I'm dealing with for the sharecropper farms alone?"

"No, and that isn't the point. You need to stop acting like we're in perpetual crisis mode, the war's been over for a month-"

"The crises don't stop just because of a sudden outbreak of peace."

"You've got Swank. You've got a room full of clerks back there," Arcade says, gesturing. The Tops presidential suite is almost unrecognizable now from its earlier iteration as a swinger pad; there are charts on the walls, hurrying subordinates, and the bar has been cleared of liquor in favor of a shiny new terminal for Benny's private use. "You have responsibilities, yes, but you need to ease off at some point. Unless you actually want everyone to start thinking you're another Mr House in the making."

Not only has the thought occurred to him, now wasn't even for the first time today, but- you can hardly say that to Arcade.

"I couldn't relax here if I wanted to. Look at this mess. There isn't a place in New Vegas where I could go without having a lot of hangers on trying to get my attention, at least I can hear myself think in here."

"True. That's why I bought a house."

"The fuck- you what?" Squatting is one thing. Actually, literally, owning property, putting in for an official deed claim with the antiquated RobCo property machinery...not only is it an incredible pain, it's incredibly expensive. Even the Kings didn't bother with that, and the Old Mormon Fort is technically rented.

"Well. I had a few gold bars burning a hole in my pocket...and some free time, since the horrendous bloodbath of a New Vegas conquest singularly failed to happen."

"I thought you were donating that to the Followers."

"I thought it'd be good to use it for purposes that advance a Follower agenda. Such as insuring that our newly independent city-state has the opportunity to demonstrate it can exist without its interim dictator." Arcade leans over the bar, kisses his forehead in a gently, oddly chaste way.

It seems odd to Benny at first, until Arcade pulls back and he realises they have an audience. There is no way everyone from the back office needed a pencil all at the same time.

Well, if there's an audience he might as well live up to it. Benny flicks them a smile, adjusts the folds of his collar. "That's different. If you wanted to sweep me off my feet for a long dirty weekend, why didn't you start with the lead?"

He pulls Arcade close for a much more enthusiastic embrace, lips and tongues interlocked, until the doctor actually overbalances. For one terrifying moment he thinks he'll lose control, helplessly watch Arcade go falling headfirst into the wall or the floor or something equally painful.

It doesn't happen. He sustains the weight, until Arcade manages to pull back and stand up again, apparently unaware that anything could have happened. It's all right. They're all right.

"The things I'll do to advance a healthy socio-political agenda," his lover retorts, rather pink-faced, to general clapping and cheers.

***

Phoenix Point, the house is called; and Benny almost regrets it.

It's right across the street from an old tools factory, one of the places he'd resorted to while hunting up Lucky 38 access codes, heart in his mouth every minute. It hasn't been long before he'd known that Arcade's gambit with the Fiends had ended with his rescue by the courier; it had been considerably more worrying, that she had him than they. Fiends being killable.

Marilyn...he still has nightmares, justified ones.

The mistrust eases as Arcade opens the small barbed wire gate, though- it's pre-war security, with a physical and electrical lock. The outer door offers a hefty piece of metal plating, impenetrable to two centuries of decay.

This better not be like a vault. Arcade knows his opinion on those-

but then his lover unlocks the door and lets them inside, and it isn't like that at all.

Light, that's the first thing he notices. Real sunlight, glinting off the water in an open courtyard- a reservoir then, water to waste. That's an immediately soothing sight right there, unmitigated luxury for anyone raised to Mojave dust.

He makes for it immediately, tasting its sweet clarity- no rads, the Pip-Boy silence confirms that. In place of a Geiger counter he can hear Mr New Vegas, endlessly ruminating about love; and the faint whistle of a stewpot on the boil.

And his lover's quick breathing, behind him.

Benny turns, grins at Arcade's self-conscious pose; lying down but with an elbow propping up his chin, all that height shown off even horizontally as compared to the array of ferns and broc flowers behind him. "Is the rest of it this nice?"

"I certainly hope so. I went to more trouble than I needed to, perhaps- the Lucky 38 has been, uh, liberated of a number of books. Brought out some supplies for the workshop, that kind of thing...put together a wardrobe for you," Arcade says, looking very nearly pained. "Even articles that I do not have any comprehension why a sane person would wear."

Benny laughs, but can't sustain it; too much at once, too deeply meant to him. "I love it. I love it already, I love you."

"You haven't even seen it yet."

He draws his lover close, the scent of herbs and animal warmth and the brightening light of the Strip all melding together into one glorious sensation. "I will. Because..."

He doesn't know how to say how a home is holy to him, or how there's no one else in the world he would trust to shape it for him. Or how to say anything at all that means what he needs it to, when words are his worthless stock in trade.

"Because it's you," he says eventually; because that's honest.

Arcade laughs, strokes his hair. "Glad to hear it. Imagine trying to woo the Chairman of the Tops without a reasonably impressive dowry."

That rings false, he almost pulls away. "You don't need to buy me."

"I thought you appreciated that kind of ironic backchat."

"I do, but...not from you. Not with that sincere Followers face of yours." With that ready impatience for the truly immoral, the willingness to speak truth to power. "You're my moral center. Keep on keeping me honest, please."

Arcade favors him with a distinctly stunned expression. "Oddly, I'm rather in the habit of thinking that's what you are to me. You're braver than I am, as far as accepting the risk of failure to try to steer towards better outcomes. There are times when indecision itself can become paralysing."

The sunset isn't visible from behind the high fencing, but there's a rich blueness fading to purple above them. "In that case...carpe diem?"

"Seize the day?"

"Is that what it means? The impression I got was that it meant something more like 'jump my bones'. That'll teach me to listen to ex-Legion prostitutes."

"...you have a profoundly terrible sense of timing," Arcade murmurs, and rolls over on top of him.

"Uh."

"Carpe diem, then?"

Maybe his voice does fail him; but he kisses his way into a yes.

#fallout new vegas

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adrienne-fh · 3 years

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From the desk of...

Day 1- Introduce yourself! What’s some basic info you’d like to share about yourself? Also! What are you studying? (If you’re in college, what’s your major? which semester are you in?)

I am adrienne-fh. I am a non-traditional adult student attempting to complete my first Bachelor's Degree. I am a student at Oregon State University on hiatus. I studied Psychology and Statistics. I hope to resume soon.

I enjoy singing, reading, writing, twitch streaming. Starcraft, Hearthstone, World of Warcraft - RPGs, RTS, and fighting games are fun. I also enjoy Chess. I wear monochromatic outfits with an eye for textures. I’m a curly girl. All-natural everything but wear wigs as my hair grows back from a buzz cut.

I am an ordained minister through Universal Life Church. It is much more than being a wedding officiant! I offer a host of ministerial services including ceremonies for baptism, the dying, and funerals.

I am a person with chronic illness: Fibromyalgia and PTSD. This causes a range of difficulties, the hardest to deal with being pain and exhaustion. I’m a walking pin cushion with a pillow.

Day 2- If you’ve chosen a major, why did you decide on it? If you’re in any other grade, what field/major interests you the most?

I am interested in human behavior and high performers and the dark triad. I love to understand how our mind works. Because I am interested in psychometrics and informatics, I am developing my skill in statistics and programming.

I enjoy human-computer interaction and Natural Language Processing. AI and its impact on what it means to be a working adult are intriguing. Children are at an advantage, learning more skills sooner. All this, combined with wanting to be a part of the new wave of IoT and AI, starts with understanding who we are to appreciate who we are becoming. The impact on our decision-making and empathy is stunning.

I am a Mental Health Peer Supporter seeking provisional certification. I am also seeking ways to improve my pastoral counseling services. Psychology is key in many endeavors, even writing complex characters!

Day 3- Have you done a challenge before? If so, how was it? If not, what are you expecting to get out of this experience?

Yes! 100 Days of Productivity. I forget to post sometimes. I would like to develop consistency and use my blog to keep me accountable. Because I’m not so broken up about not always completing what I set out to do, I focus more on the joy of sharing my story with others and the connections I could make.

Day 4- For my researching fellows, what are you researching? If you’re not currently researching, what is the topic within your field that you’re most passionate about?

Mainly, the effectiveness of Online Mental Health Communities. How to make Online Health Communities work better. How we interact with Online Mental Health Communities and how they affect the way we feel and behave. How can Fountain House use its Virtual Club House to improve life satisfaction amongst members?

I also research trends in AI, Beauty, and Goal Achievement.

Day 5- Tag 3 studyblrs that you like seeing on your dashboard.

@a-medstudents-journey

@theologei

@a-study-in-dante

Day 6- Quickly! tag urself!

five pm. warm smiles. classy. aesthetic Instagram feed. anklets. soft music. yoga. face masks. @adrienne-fh

Day 7- Some of your music faves right now (let’s say up to 5)

ABBA, Madonna, Vienna Teng, Ashnikko, Billie Ellish

Day 8- International Women’s Day! What’s your take on feminism?

It is obviously not much of a choice to be respectful to anyone, no matter gender or preference. We can complain about the conversations we are having or do more to have them. We have to treat each other better - humans in general.

Day 9- Write something that you’d like to tell yourself.

You can do it! You are doing it! It is getting better! Focus. Get rid of all the junk! You deserve the love and life you keep giving to everyone else.

Day 10- Tag someone whose aesthetic you love seeing on your feed.

@justanotherstudyblrinthecrowd

Day 11- What’s something that you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t got the chance to do so?

Stand in front of the Louvre. Visit the Basílica i Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família. Fall in deep mutual kind and compassionate love with lots of romance and care. Publish a print book - short stories, essays, novels, novellas, and of course poetry. I have a lot to share!

Day 12- Are you more into plants or flowers? What’s your fave type?

I really love succulents. The best of both. I really really love moss!

Day 13- Tell us the most eye-opening book you’ve read.

Oh. That’s really hard. I think of The Da Vinci Code and The Human Stain. Any book by Jonathan Safran Foer, particularly Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close.

Day 14- What are some of the reasons you love yourself/should love yourself?

I am a divine child of light that believes in the cosmos lining up and giving all of us a big wink with a smile. I’m silly and playful. I’m dead serious smart, psychic, and a crazy protector of love and personal freedom. I fight away evil with nurturing and honesty. I’m a bit crazy and zany. I’m bizarre. I’m pretty much free-spirited and open with an edge.

Day 15- Tag someone who you think would get along just right with you.

@manuxstudies

Day 16- What’s your go-to coffee/tea/beverage order?

Venti Flat White with sugar in the raw or Keto-Friendly Stevia Drops. Both are delicious.

Day 17- Share with us your feel-good playlist.

Deep Focus

Brain Food

The Show Must Go On (Curated)

Day 18- Tag someone whose blog you constantly check.

@bakinginthewoods

Day 19- Tell us about your online experience (is it sometimes overwhelming? Do you feel like it's a great way to get in touch with people? What’s something that you love seeing on here?)

Tumblr is soothing. Other online communities, not so much. I have gotten bullied, cyberattacked, stolen from, and had trouble with employment because of online hijinks based on Gossip and “Mean-Girling”. People who are stressed out and have a reputation to uphold lash out at people who are viewed as a threat (for whatever reason). We, as netizens, know that the whole “Bro Culture” thing can be toxic. I experienced gossip on steroids that resulted in financial loss, illness, and loss of employment. Hard to prove. However, finding and creating healthy spaces online that encourage creativity and sharing is possible. Some of my favorite supportive communities are Github, Quora, and Deviant Art. If you know of any, share a link in my comments.

Day 20- What are three things that inspire you?

Music. I love deep lyrics and heavy percussion and bass. My journal entries. I love reading what I'm actually thinking (same with Vlogs). People-watching. You learn a lot about what matters watching our interactions silently.

Day 21- Share a quote that speaks to you.

“He who fears he will suffer already suffers because he fears.”

— Michel De Montaigne.

Day 22- What’s your comfort food/ comfort routine for sad days?

Peanut Butter and Jelly with a tall glass of cow milk.

Day 23- What’s some random miscellaneous piece of information that you just happen to know?

Kirk Hammett of Metallica met his wife while a film, jazz, and Asian studies student at SFU in CA.

Day 24- Share with us your favorite word (it can be in any language).

Pus. It's the Swedish word for Kiss. Bra, also Swedish, means good.

Day 25- Tag someone who has great text posts

@adrienne-fh

Day 26- What has been your best zoomester experience so far?

I can’t say which. This is pretty nice.

Day 27- If you’re about to graduate, what’s something that you’ll miss from school? If you aren’t about to graduate, tell us something you really love about school.

I enjoy reading and understanding difficult concepts. What a joy after a few hours of reading to finally understand!

Day 28- Spill the tea about the things that you’ve done during the zoomester (Online shopping, courses taken, any hobby)

I’ve doodled. I’ve zoned out. I’ve watched Twitch.

Day 29- Quick! Name your own aesthetic! or alternatively, what’s an aesthetic you’d like to try out?

Romanti-goth, Vamp, Cyber Punk (kinda). Pinup.

Day 30- What’s the best advice someone has given you?

Fake it till you make it. Show up and never give up. Burn your boats!

Day 31- Send three people some uplifting messages!

@ava-embers Write more sexy stuff doll face.

@studyingwhilepsychotic smooches to my soul sister. Rage on wild child.

@twitchb-tch Shut up! You are too cute. You guys rock!

#zoomester studyblr challenge #studyblr #positive mental attitude #career #education #mental health #fibromyalgia

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thomasshelbyy · 4 years

Text

A puzzle whose answer need not be spoken

NB: My first fanfic for Peaky and my first one I’ve written in a loooonnnggg time. I posted first on AO3, but cross-posting here so maybe more people can see it! I take requests, so shoot me an ask and I’ll write something for you ;)

Tommy Shelby x Reader

You couldn't decipher the kind of man Thomas Shelby was.

Puzzles, riddles, codes were meant to be figured out, analyzed and solved. Thomas Shelby inhibited all efforts, not by active rebellion against them, but by the nature of his being. Thomas Shelby, a man who could look down a barrel of a gun with no fear, was also a man who insisted on giving back to his community, his roots. He could swing his arm in a wide arc, meaning to slice an antagonist's skin, and he could gently strike a matchbox to light your cigarette before you even asked. Thomas Shelby was everything the rumors said, merciless, ambitious, and intimidating, and he was everything the rumors could never know: considerate, caring, and loving.

Loving in his own way, of course. Not the kind of person to fawn or overly praise, but the kind of person who expressed affection through actions, through deeds done after his attentive listening to one's conversation. Thomas was everything to a lot of people, you could see that quite plainly. You had only been working at the Garrison for a couple months before you started to get a read on the Shelby family. Thomas was the most difficult to see, but Arthur displayed his troubles to anyone who caught the look on his face after a sharp gulp of whiskey. John kept to himself, too old for a boy so young, too many responsibilities for a boy who never had a childhood. Ada was committed to her own power struggle, forced to be subservient in a world that only recognized women as what they could be to men instead of what they are in reality. Polly cared so much, making up for something she has lost through her consideration of the Peaky's.

You ceased your wonderings, your examinations of the family you knew was in the pub but who had concealed themselves in their room.

"A whiskey, please," a man whose accent exposed his foreignness, grunted, tapping two fingers on the bar counter as you already moved to fill a glass. He slid back ten pence in exchange.

"Liquor is fifty pence, sir," you stated, looking at him in a way that you hoped expressed your sternness but wasn't too confrontational.

"Bloody fucking hell. What kind of place is this? Charging us poor people fifty fucking pence for a glass of watered down whiskey?" The man began to raise his voice.

"I don't make the prices, sir," is all you said in return, hoping the man would acquiesce and pay the difference.

"I'm not paying fifty pence of my hard-earned money on a single fucking glass, cunt," he shouted, slamming the glass on the table so that it shattered across the wood. Your reflexes weren't fast enough to cover your face before shards flew at you and you shut your eyes. You could barely feel anything sharp until warm blood began to run down your cheeks. You brought your hands up to try and stem the bleeding, moaning at the pain which had begun to wave throughout your face.

In your state, you didn't hear the door open from the Shelby's private vestibule, but you did hear a man's voice, calm and low, begin to speak.

"Now, I really don't think you know what kind of bar this is, because if you had, you wouldn't have fucking done that." You didn't register anything besides a faint clicking of a gun and the shuffling sounds of men dragging someone from the bar stool and into the middle of the floor. "If you're not smart enough to know who owns this bar, then you probably shouldn't be going anywhere in Small Heath at all," the same voice rang out. The sounds of grunts and punches and bones cracking and blood splattering filled the bar as you started to realize that your efforts to curb your bleeding had only pushed the shards further into your skin. Feeling deeper tissue start to be cut by the glass, you cried out.

"Fucking Christ, get her out of here," someone, you thought Polly maybe, yelled, before you felt two hands grip your shoulders, pulling you to your feet and then being lifted off the ground. The hands you felt on your body were familiar, the scent of cigarettes and musk and gunpowder filled your nose and despite your eyes being shut, you had a feeling that you knew who was carrying you out of the Garrison.

"Tommy?" You whispered, a slight hesitancy to your guess in case your deductive skills were inhibited by the injuries you'd sustained.

"I'm here," he hummed back, "You'll be okay." Immediately you relaxed, trusting that Tommy would take care of you. You knew that the second you started work at the bar you had been brought under the protection of the Blinders. Besides that, despite all of the terrible deeds you knew Tommy had done, something in your gut told you that he would do anything for you. Although you hadn't known Tommy for long, you had felt a draw towards the man with pale blue eyes and razors sewn into his cap brim.

You couldn't say how long it took to get to Tommy's place, but you knew you had arrived when the arms which had been holding you tight placed you gently down on a couch.

"I'm going to be right back," Tommy grunted, rushing to the kitchen and pulling for the scant first aid kit that Polly had first insisted on after Tommy's gunshot wound.

"I'll be here," you called back gruffly, chuckling a little at your joke before wincing at the sting caused from moving your face, "This really fucking hurts, Tommy."

"If having shards of glass stuck in your face didn't hurt you, I'd be a little more worried than I am right now," Tommy retorted. You could hear that he was coming back into the room, feel him pull a stool up besides you and sit on it. "This is going to feel...bad. But I'll do the best I can. Take a swig of this though."

You reached your hand out blindly, knowing that he would thrust the bottle into it for you. Bringing it to your lips, you chugged what you find out was gin for a couple seconds, enjoying the sanitizing feeling the liquor spread through your insides before giving it back to your employer. Tommy let the alcohol settle in your stomach for a few moments before bringing a pair of tweezers to your face, beginning his work. He held his instrument in his right hand, his left gently grasping your chin to hold you steady.

You could feel the stomach churning pull of tissue when he tugged on individual shards, but you also sensed that any damage done would heal. Your eyes were spared and nothing had sliced too deeply into you.

"Do I wanna know what's happening to that bastard right now?" You asked softly, trying to distract yourself from the discomfort.

"Arthur and John are showing him what the consequences in this town are for being stingy with liquor," he replied. For the first time since the incident, you slowly opened your eyes to Tommy only a couple inches away from you, staring intently at the work he was doing.

"Now stop talking, I want to do this right." Feeling comfortable with silence, you quieted, but still chose to investigate the man who was helping you. Your boss, the gangster, who was currently cradling your face as he gingerly plucked broken glass from your skin. When you had first started your job, you had been warned that Birmingham was a rough place, that the people were used to the muck and grime and fires that polluted the air and which hardened them to life. Looking back, you hadn't even been fearful at this description. You knew how to take care of yourself, and anything was better than the boring village you had come from, where you would have likely been forced to marry a cousin due to the dismal agrarian population. Slowly but surely you could feel your skin becoming lighter, the blood clotting as the glass was removed and placed in an empty whiskey glass on the coffee table. Being so close to a man who was so dangerous thrilled you, being treated so carefully by the same man made your heart beat fast against your chest. He was so close to you that you were sure, certain that he must hear your heartbeat, maybe even feel it. He was gorgeous and mysterious and deep down you had a feeling he was good.

"I think I got most of it out, if I missed anything it'll get pushed out anyways as you start to heal," Tommy said, his eyes scanning your face as he set the tweezers down, replacing them with the bottle of gin and taking a significant drink from it. After he finished you did the same, feeling certain that no matter how much spirits you ingested your elevated adrenaline would hinder inebriation.

"Thank you, Tommy. I can't imagine what would have happened without you there," you replied, looking at him from underneath your lashes. He was stunning, take your breath away caliber, and under his scrutiny you began to wonder how feral you looked. "How bad is it?"

"Well. You'll have some scars, I'm sure. You don't look bad though," Tommy responded. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, pushing his sleeves up to his elbow as he had discarded his tailored jacket long ago, and wet it with the liquor. He brought the cloth to your face, dabbing gently along the cuts to sanitize as best he could. It stung, almost worst than the initial pain, but it quickly faded and he placed the diluted blood-stained handkerchief on the table next to the gin. His gruffness alluded to his straightforwardness, his inability to empathize with the insecurities you were feeling just then. Men, you thought. At least you knew he wouldn't lie to you. You brought your hand to your hair, feeling strands of it fallen from the few pins you had haphazardly used for your typical work style. As you did so, you felt his intense stare, and the minuscule space between you seemed to electrify and pulsate.

"I'm going to have to release you for your employment at the Garrison," Tommy blurted out, breaking the moment. You heard what he said, but blinked a couple times as you processed his words.

"What?!" You exclaimed, pushing yourself up off the back of the couch, only bringing you closer to Tommy's face, "I didn't do anything wrong, that crazy motherfucker did this!"

He took your outburst without flinching, keeping his gaze level despite the proximity between you two.

"I understand. But you got hurt, thankfully not badly, because of your job. What if that guy had been a Sabini, or IRA, instead of some stupid fucking civilian? You would be dead. You're in harm's way and that's not acceptable," Tommy retorted. As he continued talking, his voice got more strained, although still low.

"Fuck that! I need this job, I need money, and you can't – you shouldn't – feel the need to protect me from every fucking possibility of harm in this town. You can't just fire me," you replied. Why did he feel such obligation to you? You couldn't – you wouldn't dare hope that he was trying to protect you from a place of sentimentality. Although you had exchanged small touches, long stares, and short conversations at the Garrison, you knew that he didn't go after women with all of his goals he had for his business. He didn't have time for you, and there was no way he could have noticed you in the way you had him.

"You would still be on the payroll, but I don't want you in the bar anymore. You can help me with the office, be a fucking secretary or someth–" he started before you interrupted.

"No offense, Tommy, but I'm not going to let you keep me in your fucking jail cell of an office. You're not my husband and I will make my own decisions." The passion you felt for him began to seep into your words, making your body grow restless on the couch. Getting tired of being so close to the man who you knew you could never have, you stood up and hurried to the corner of the room, running your hands through your hair and avoiding your cuts as an afterthought.

"I know you can make your own decisions. But I can't let you get hurt, I can't even begin –" Tommy responded, getting up from his stool and following you across the floor.

"You do you care so much, Tommy? What does it matter to you if I get hurt anyways? I'm just one of your employees, a new one at that! I don't fucking matter to you!" You shouted. All of your frustration, the potential of losing your job, the residual pain from the evening, the hurt you felt from feeling Tommy's rough hands on your skin in the only way you will ever experience his touch. You wistfully laughed, realizing that you would probably never be this close to him again; all it took was some drunk asshole to get mad for him to touch you, though it was a cheap alternative to how you really wanted him. You looked up at this man, with eyes that shone like the weapons he used. Your anger faltered, and turned to sadness as you waited for him to respond.

He stood there, no more than a foot away from you, his lips still and his jaw flexing underneath his taut skin. Nothing. You stared at him for another second, willing him to say anything. Nothing.

The pain of looking at the man you loved who obviously didn't love you back became too great. You tore your eyes away from his, led the towards the floor, and sighed.

"Thanks for pulling the fucking glass out of my face," you murmured, brushing past him and heading towards the door. Feeling a slight draft coming from outside, you realized your coat was still at the Garrison, with your apartment keys in the inside pocket, that had been left in the hurry to help you. Great, you thought. After everything tonight, you also get to walk home in the cold without anything covering you.

Just as you turned the door knob, lightly pushing outwards on the worn wood, Tommy cleared his throat.

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

You halted opening the door, but still kept your back to the man who spoke. "Believe what, Tommy."

"That I don't matter to you." At this, you turned your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He was in the same spot, but had turned to you.

"I mean –" you started, not sure what to say and scared to hear what would come next.

"Because that's the biggest pile of shit I've ever heard in my fucking life. I care for you, I care for you too much. I am the most feared man in Northern England, and the thing I fear most is seeing you – seeing you harmed because of me... Tonight you got lucky, but you still got hurt. You are fragile, so fucking fragile, and all it took was one random drunkard to tear up your face," his words spilled out of him, in a rare sacrifice of his usual brevity. His eyes were wild, his hands moving through the air frantically in between pulling through his hair. What he was saying, the words which you were terrified to believe were true, seemed to blur together. His words almost didn't matter. You saw how much he cared, how scared he was at you leaving in the tenseness of his body, in his fingers fidgeting as if moving towards a cigarette with a mind of their own.

You knew Thomas Shelby had braved some unimaginable terrors in his life, but this was by far the most you had ever seen him flustered. Thomas Shelby always used his words economically, always saved his true intentions to be displayed through action.

"Please, please don't get my hopes up, Tommy. You must know, surely you must see how I feel about you," you whispered. Although you were separated across the room, you knew he could hear you in the deafening silence. You stared at each other, both searching for the validation in what you believed you were hearing, before both going into motion at precisely the same time, traversing across the floor to each other faster than you thought possible. When he reached you, Tommy pulled you into his chest hard, moving his hands up from your arms and to the side of your head, bringing your lips to his in a feverish touch.

You felt his lips on yours, his body up against you, almost certain that this was a hallucination from poorly distilled liquor, but then you sighed, falling into his embrace and opening your mouth up to feel as much of him as you could. He responded in kind, tongues coming together and lips moving languidly as though both of you were cherishing this moment, lost in the realization that your feelings could be realized. A haze fell on your mind, Tommy becoming the beginning and ending of all your thoughts as he pushed you towards the couch, turning around so that he could fall back on the cushions and you could settle on his lap. Friction become pleasure, hot and necessary and everything, as the space between the two of you vanished like a wisp into the air. You could feel him harden underneath you, the sensation sending you into a frenzy. Your hands roamed his chest, undoing the buttons on his vest as he moved his hands up, down your back, and along your breasts, each time getting closer and closer to lifting up your skirt.

It was only when he started to kiss away from your mouth, to your cheek and aiming for your neck, that you remembered your wounds and the cuts that were still frustratingly fresh. You winced, and he was reminded as well.

"Ah, fuck. Fuck. I'm so sorry, your face –" he stammered, pulling away and bringing his fingertips to lightly skirt along your cheekbone.

"It's okay. They just sting a little bit," you breathed. Tommy stared up at you with the purest sheen of adoration in his eyes, and you felt your cheeks warm, a smile becoming too difficult to conceal spreading on your lips. You sat back on his lap, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck to let your flush subside as he pulled you even closer.

You stayed like that for what felt like forever, both basking in the knowledge of requited love, before he lifted you up off his lap and began walking towards the staircase. You ran your finger along his chest in circles as he stepped up the stairs, opening the door to his room and setting you down on his bed. He unbuttoned your top, starting at the top and moving down, pulling it off your shoulders to expose your slip. You stood up to step out of your skirt, toeing off your shoes, as he unfastened your garter from your stockings, deftly slipping both of them off. You began to work on his shirt, taking it off as he pulled the pins from your hair. You felt it fall down your back, causing you to shiver from being so exposed. You bent down to tug his trousers from his hips, level with his cock that was keenly tenting his underwear. Tommy untied his brogues, taking his remaining outer clothing off. You examined him, the man who you love, seeing the scars which littered his skin, the stark tattoos and the lean muscle making you question again if this was real. His fingers touched lightly underneath your chin, inviting you to look up at him, snapping your dreaming as you gazed into his eyes, the eyes of the man you love, looking down at you with all the answers to all the questions you could possibly ask right now.

You brought your lips to his, softly this time compared to the last, slowing shutting your eyes, reveling in the feeling of him. His chest, his hands, his lips, his tongue, all served to insist that this was real, that you were with Tommy Shelby. He pulled back, slipping his hand from your tender cheek, grazing all along your arm and grasping your hand, tugging you towards his bed. He laid down and you folded yourself up into his chest, his arms holding you close. The stress of the night, the pain and the elation, suddenly bore down on you, sinking into your bones and pressing you into his mattress as sleep began to tug your eyelids closed. You hadn't realized how exhausted you were, and you inwardly thanked Tommy for bringing you up to bed. You felt his lips press against the top of your head, the pressure staying there, while his fingers twiddled with the straps of your undergarments.

"Please get some sleep, my love," the words of endearment seemed almost foreign to you as you breathed them out, breaking the stillness of the night.

"I have a feeling I'll sleep well tonight," Tommy replied, his voice even more crackly than usual. You smiled to yourself, having never believed you would ever fall asleep with the Tommy Shelby, the man of enigmas who somehow straddled the plethora of very fine lines he so loved to toe. As you felt yourself more and more pulled into sleep, the cadence of Tommy's breaths and heartbeat lulling you so, you heard the front door open, the rest of the Shelby clan noisily shuffling into the house.

"Fucking idiots," Tommy cursed, causing you to chuckle. You knew the group had at the very least beat the man from the bar badly in retaliation for the shattered glass, and while before you may have protested the use of violence, being around the Shelby family had shown you that sometimes this world necessitates such a response. And with Tommy Shelby's arms around you, you didn't really feel the need to object to anything at all.

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #fanfic #fan fiction #reader insert #mine #archived #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #peaky blinders fanfic

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ladybug023 · 4 years

Text

Skarlet Headcanons!!

( I write Skarlet as less power hungry then her mk11 depiction. I write her as more loyal and tragic. Also I don’t like the flirty intros she has with her adoptive father Shao Kahn because they’re gross so where not gonna do that. She is devoted to him but there’s no sexual attraction. if I write young Kitana to be bitchy it’s not because I don’t like her it’s because she most likely was. She was raised in royalty with the pressure that Shao Kahn put on her. So logically she’d unconsciously take this out on Skarlet.)

First her backstory:

Skarlet was born to very poor family who couldn’t afford to take care of her. She was named Aurie by her birth parents. Since there’s no orphanages in Outworld her parents just dumped her in a city when she was 7 to fend for herself. This particular city called Oredon was known for known for it’s bad reputation. It was like New York but less advanced and much worse.

To survive she had to adapt quickly. She started hanging out with the other orphans on the streets. The older orphans would teach the younger how to steal for them. Her fellow orphans nicknamed her Skarlet because of her unique red hair and eyes. It stuck so much she never went by her birth name again. She had to learn how to fight for everything she had or wanted. She became a very talented little theif. She was able to use people’s underestimation of her to her advantage. Although sometimes she would get caught and be beaten severely. Pain and hunger became common feelings for her and remain that way for most of her life.

Her days on the streets would end though when she was 13 and she came into contact with the great Shao Kahn. He was marching through the city one day in his expensive horse drawn carriage on his way to his palace. His gaurds of course all around him.

The carriage stopped because their was a traffic jam ahead. That’s when Skarlet noticed a small loose diamond on the spoke of one of the wheels. She and two of her friends devised that if they could steal that diamond while the guards were distracted clearing the traffic and slip away without being noticed, they could then sell the diamond and get enough money to last her for a couple months. It was was a verryyy risky plan but they was desperate and hungry enough to try.

Alas, they got caught. A guard grabbed her and her two friends and started screaming at her. Shao Kahn saw the children from his window. He noticed Skarlet’s blood red hair first and then noticed how hard she was fighting against the guard. Such ferocity intrigued the Kahn. Shao Kahn stepped out of the carriage and stopped the guard from striking the little girl down. He then turned to her and ask:

Shao Kahn: “What is your name child?”

Skarlet: “Everyone calls me Skarlet.”

Shao Kahn: “I am assuming that is because of your hair?”

Skarlet: *wipes the blood from her nose and sniffs* “I guess.”

Shao Kahn: “You are quite the fighter Skarlet but tell me, why did you attempt to steal my diamond?”

Skarlet: “Because I wanted it.”

Shao Kahn chuckled. He admired her fearlessness. Her other two friends where sobbing and shaking. She had the potential to be a fearsome warrior one day. A warrior that would serve him. Shao Kahn took the diamond from the guard and crouched down in front of her. He gently opened her hand and placed the diamond into it.

Shao Kahn: “Such strength should be rewarded. Come with me and I’ll make you even stronger.”

Skarlet was shocked for a moment but then she took his offered hand. They walked back to the carriage with her tiny hand holding onto his big finger.

Once he lifted her into the carriage and shut the door he ordered the guards to kill off the other two orphans. Skarlet didn’t hear this order or see her friends deaths. She was too in awe of the expensive leather inside of the carriage. He entered into the carriage and she was whisked off to her new life.

When she met Kitana:

When they returned to Shao Kahn’s palace a 15 year old (in human years) Kitana came to greet her father. She was understandably shocked when she saw a dirty, little redheaded girl by his side.

Shao Kahn: “Kitana this is Skarlet, your new little sister.” *He gestures to her*

Kitana was still processing it all when Skarlet stepped forward and offered her hand. Instead of taking it Kitana looks at his father and says.

Kitana: “Father you can’t be serious.” *irritated*

Shao Kahn: “I am very serious. You dare question my choices daughter?” *He glares at her dangerously.*

Kitana scared of her father’s wrath, begrudgingly takes Skarlet’s hand. Kitana at this point in her life is very immature, spoiled, and arrogant. She is pushed everyday to be the flawless heir for Shao Kahn. She wants to be the best in her father’s eyes and immediately sees Skarlet as competition for his favor. Skarlet tries to befriend her new sister many times but Kitana refuses to make an effort.

She and Jade are also put off by her street rat past. They were taught since they were toddlers that the poor where lower than them. They often avoided her because of this. She would go intentionally rough on her during sparring matches and never let her win. She always reminded Skarlet that she was adopted.

This caused bitterness and hatred for Kitana to grow with in her. Skarlet became a loner and would train by herself. Shao Kahn started to teach her magic and drove her to focus on mastering it. He also introduced her to the dangerous Blood Magik. He used mental and emotional manipulation to convince her to use it of course.

As she grew into her teenage years she started turning into a stunning young woman. She began getting the attention she lacked from her adoptive family, from many lovers. This is where her flirtatious side comes from.

On a mission assigned by Shang Tsung she clashes with a cute Earthrealm boy named Tundra. (Refer to my sub zero/ skarlet post) he’s from some clan named the Lin Kuei. He’s a good fighter but she’s easily able to distract and immobilize him. She blows hims a kiss goodbye and hopes for them meet again sometime.

Shao Kahn manipulates her into taking a Blood Code at 18 (human years) saying, that it would make her even more powerful. He never told her that the ritual could kill her and the Magik would kill her very slowly.

Shao Kahn had doubts that she’d even survive the blood ritual and was surprised when she did. This ignited her hunger and addiction for blood.

Side note Skarlet was dating Erron Black a this point in time. Leaves his ass heartbroken too.

After Shao Kahn’s death:

Skarlet is devastated by his death. She feels like she had failed the one man who in her mind saved her. The one person she shares this pain with is Mileena. She hadn’t known Mileena for long before Kahn’s passing but they relate to each other in many ways. Both were loyally devoted to Kahn and both hate Kitana.

Since Mileena was the heir Shao Kahn wanted to take the throne she pledges her loyalty to her. They become very close and Skarlet gets the sister Kitana refused to be. She helps her take the throne and becomes her right hand man.

(In my AU Kotal never becomes Kahn because that’s stupid and instead Kitana and Mileena have a civil war for the throne of Outworld.)

She’s one of the very few people Mileena will actually listen too. She keeps Mileena from making rash decisions. She also protects Mileena from treachery. Tanya, Baraka, and Skarlet become the only three people Mileena trusts.

Side note: Skarlet is dating Nitara at this time. Until she dumps her a couple months later because Skarlet is a playa. Nitara defected from Mileena’s forces because of this. That’s why you don’t mix business with pleasure.

When Mileena’s forces overwhelm Kitana’s. Kitana and her forces go into temporary hiding. She reaches out to Earthrealm but Raiden is very hesitant about bringing Earthrealm into a war that they have no business being in. Despite Liu-Kang’s insistence that they help her.

Skarlet and Tanya chase off Reptile, Kotal Khan and Devorah when they find their assassination attempt against Mileena. Skarlet manages to track down and brutally kill Devorah. She brings her head to Mileena.

(Because fuck Devorah. She’s an awful and overpowered character.)

Skarlet believes with the correct guidance Mileena could be a good ruler and she wants her to be. Because beind the Blood Magik and ferociousness Skarlet does want a better Outworld. She wants a Outworld where children are safe and not starving. She believes she can accomplish this with Mileena.

She continues to fight on Mileena’s side until one day while in a battle with Kitana all the resentment towards her boils over.

While they fight she tells about all the times Kitana rejected her, made her feel like she was nothing, and that she was never a sister to her. Kitana is caught off guard by Skarlets genuine hurt. As an adult The memories of mistreating Skarlet when they were children had slipped her mind. It didn’t impact her the way it did Skarlet and Kitana realized that.

Skarlet manages to overpower her and start choking her. She stops though when Kitana apologizes to her, something she wasn’t expecting. She roughly lets go of her.

Skarlet: “I should kill you. By the gods I should bleed you out dry.”

Kitana: *rubs the bruises on her neck* “I probably would deserve it, for how I treated you.”

Skarlet: “You would deserve it!”

Kitana: “Skarlet. I should’ve been there for you. I’m sor-

Skarlet: “If you think for a second that a sappy apology is going to make me forg-

Kitana: “-I want to be there for you now. I was insecure and foolish. I tried so hard to please father everyday but it was never enough. I shouldn’t of taken that stress out on you but I did and I know I can’t take it back...” *She takes Skarlet’s hand and smiles genuinely.*

Kitana: “Allow me to make it up to you sister, please.”

*Skarlet stares at her for a couple moments with tears streaming from her eyes while contemplating is Kitana was being truthful or not.

Skarlet: “...No you’ve had your chance. The next time we cross paths, I’m putting a blade through your skull.”

*Skarlet takes her hand away, turns her back on her and walks away.*

She leaves Kitana heartbroken.

But Kitana’s apology did have an effect on her. She was honestly contemplating if she did say yes. Could she have the relationship she’d always wanted with Kitana? But that would be betraying Mileena. She becomes very conflicted with her loyalty for her two sisters.

#skarlet #mileena #shao kahn #kitana #tanya #erron black #kuai liang #jade #raiden #liu kang #nitara #reptile #kotal khan #devorah #mortal kombat #my au #sub zero #outworld

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lovelydayintheneighborhood · 4 years

Text

Hanahaki Disease (Jason Todd x FemReader)

Summary: The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs of flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals. It can be cured without side effects only when the feelings are returned.

Warnings: none

Rating: G

A/N: “you made flowers grow in my lungs, and although they are beautiful I can’t breathe.”

This is the first work I ever posted, so I think it’s fitting that it’s the first one to bring back!

It started two years ago, after patrol one night. You were the newest addition to Batman’s unending stock of adopted orphans, and had taken up the mantle of Oracle after Babs went back to being Batgirl. You were listening to comm’s when you overheard voices in the cave. That was odd; it was too early for anyone to be back yet.

As the voices got louder, you recognized them as Bruce and Jason’s. It wasn’t uncommon for them to argue, so you just continued with what you were doing until they reached the cave.

“You’re staying here tonight,” Bruce said. His face was blank but his voice had a hint of the earlier anger behind it.

“The hell I am!” Jason was not so held back. He let his outrage show on his face and in his voice, and reached to put his helmet back on his head.

Instead of fighting back, Bruce let out an exasperated sigh and turned to face the computer screens you were sitting in front of.

“It’s too dangerous.” He entered a code into the keyboard before either you or Jason could move, and 2 inches thick of unbreakable glass sprung up that kept Jason from moving more than 10 feet in any direction. Your jaw dropped. You were astonished that Bruce would go that far, even as stubborn as he is. He turned to you.

“Under no circumstances are you to let him out until I get back.” He sounded like a dad lecturing his children. You guessed that in a sense, he kind of was, but you and Jason couldn’t be further from siblings.

With that, he left a seething Jason in your hands.

“I do dangerous things all the damn time! That’s the way it’s been since the very beginning!” He yelled after the Dark Knight. You felt a twinge of guilt, even though you didn’t show it.

You went back to doing what you were supposed to and ignored his presence. Eventually, he spoke up.

“Let me out.” You turned your head to face him and raised an eyebrow. His arms were crossed and his shoulders were set.

“I will do no such thing,” you countered. “If Batman thinks it’s too dangerous for you to be out there, then he’s probably right.” You weren’t entirely sure why Bruce was keeping him captive, but you didn’t want him hurt. Or worse, dead again.

“I can handle myself. Neither of you get to decide what I’m going to do!” He threw his hands down to his sides in frustration and started pacing the 10 foot radius.

You sighed, and turned around in your wheelie chair. It sucked being in the cave all night while everyone else was a part of the action; you knew.

“I know you think he doesn’t trust you, but he just doesn’t want your temper to get the best of you. He’s afraid you’ll lash out at the wrong moment and get yourself killed.” He narrowed his eyes at her.

“That’s not his place. Or yours. And since when can’t I keep my head, Princess?” Your nostrils flared at the nickname. You whipped around in your chair.

“Since you go after the Joker every damn time he shows up. Since you kill every thug you come across. You’re so damn selfish that you can’t put your own vengeance behind the lives at risk!” You said frustratedly. You hadn’t meant to say that, it had come out unexpectedly.

He was quiet for a moment.

“You really think that, y/n?” He finally said, and looked up. “You think that I do it for the vengeance? For myself?” His stare was intense, and you felt the urge to look away but forced yourself not to.

“I do it for the kids who have to stay on the streets with those bastards at night; for the women who look over their shoulders constantly for rapists; for all the people who have been terrorized by these assholes and can’t sleep at night, wondering when they’ll be back. And no, I don’t kill all of them. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it. But the big guns, the ones like Joker who’ve killed hundreds, probably thousands and aren’t about to stop? Hell yeah.” He continued his pacing after that.

That’s when it became hard to breathe.

You were stunned speechless. Jason Todd wasn’t vulnerable ever, and now you were ashamed you had said anything in the first place.

The comm’s buzzed to life a moment later, and you could practically feel him stop and stare at the back of your head.

“I need backup on Crime Alley. The Joker hired the thugs that were at the shooting as a distraction. He’s planted a bomb somewhere in Gotham and the others are working to find it.”

Everyone else was busy or out of town on other business. You bit your lip and braced yourself for what you were going to do. You could probably get one of the others to go, but he was right; he should be allowed to decide what to do for himself. And you’d forced him to open up, so you felt like you owed him somehow.

“Red Hood will be at your location in approximately 7 minutes.”

“Roger that.”

You lowered the glass shield and turned around in your chair to face his surprised figure.

“Don’t make me regret this, Todd.”

He winked at you with a smirk on his face. “Later, Princess.”

After everyone got back from patrol that night and Bruce had finished lecturing you, you were alone in your room and started having bad chest pains. You blew it off, until you started coughing and blood came up. It could’ve been nearly anything else, but something in your mind told you it wasn’t.

No no no, you thought. Not this. Tears welled up in your eyes, and soon enough petals were coming up with the blood.

————————

Now, it was two years later and the disease had just gotten worse and worse. You made sure to leave no sign of the blood or flowers, and even moved out of Wayne Manor when the episodes became more frequent. You didn’t know how long people usually took, but you didn’t think it would be much longer.

You couldn’t complain too much though, because you and Jason had gotten closer. That was a bonus. By now you considered him your best friend, even if he didn’t in return.

You hadn’t told anybody, and as observant as your family of detectives were, you were sure none of them knew. You were trained by the best, after all.

It was the night before Christmas, and you came over to help Alfred bake cookies. The rest of the family would be arriving soon as well. You felt the familiar rise of pain in your chest, and excused yourself to the bathroom.

The doorbell rang, and you jumped, thinking it was someone near the bathroom at first. You quickly attempted to clean up the blood and shoved the petals in a vase that was on a small table in the bathroom.

You breathed in quickly, the whoosh of air weaving through the flowers in your lungs audible, and then you went back to meet the newest guests.

Cass and Steph had apparently finished their last-minute shopping spree, judging by the bags littering the kitchen table, and Dick was attempting to steal bits of cookie dough behind Alfred’s back, albeit unsuccessfully. When you tried to take a look into one of the many bags, Steph swatted your hand away.

“Hey, no peeking!” She exclaimed. You rolled your eyes.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” you said with a smile playing at your lips. You enjoyed how even though the entire family had all probably tried to kill each other at some point, they really loved each other and valued the things that mattered. You only wished that the one who mattered the most to you valued you just as much.

“Ahem.” Speak of the devil. Jason stood in the doorway, his face oddly blank for Christmas Eve. Even though he was a bit of a grinch, he didn’t scowl quite as much during the holidays.

“Y/n, can we talk?” You raised an eyebrow and followed him out into the hall. He kept going though, and you were even more confused but followed him anyways.

He turned the corner into the bathroom, pulled you in quickly and shut the door.

“Jason, wh-“

“What is this?” His stare was intense, and he was pointing at a flower-filled vase. Your heart dropped. You did your best to keep your face neutral, and looked him in the eye.

“I don’t know wha-“

“Don’t lie to me.” He cut you off again. “The petals in this vase are covered in blood.”

“That could’ve been anyone,” You countered, but you both knew it was absolute bullshit. His brow furrowed, and he was quiet for a moment. You could see the worry in his eyes, and God, did you feel guilty when he looked at you like that.

“Y/n,” he spoke in a soft tone with pleading eyes.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I just can’t-“ suddenly you broke down coughing with tears trailing from your eyes, and grabbed the sink to brace yourself. Your head started spinning, and the sounds around you became muted, but you thought you heard Jason calling your name.

“Y/n!” His hands searched your body, looking for the small words that would tell him who had done this to you, and maybe even save your life.

“Y/n- talk to me dammit!” Seconds later, you felt his hands stop roaming and his fingers tilted your face to his. You knew he was speaking but you couldn’t register his words, they weaved in and out of focus.

“I love you, I love you so much, so much y/n,” you heard him say loudly. “Please don’t go, please...”

Suddenly everything stopped. The world stopped spinning, your ears stopped ringing, you stopped hacking up blood and petals.

You could finally breathe again.

Jason’s eyes were wide and he was staring at you in disbelief. Out of nowhere his arms were wrapped tightly around you.

“Y/n..” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “I thought..” You looked up at him, and your eyes widened as your jaw dropped. Tears were streaming down his face.

“Jason.. I’m so sorry,” you said and leaned into his touch. Your brow furrowed as you went over the events of the past few minutes. How in the hell..?

“Jay?”

“Hm?” His eyes opened to look at you, though you don’t know when he closed them. His breathing had thankfully evened out.

“What.. what did you say? I wasn’t- I’m not sure if I heard you correctly.” You searched his face for signs of something, anything. He took you by surprise by cupping your cheek and pulling you closer, so that you could feel his breath on your lips.

“I love you, y/n.” Then he leaned forward and pulled you into a slow, lingering kiss. You pulled back with tears in your eyes, and rested your forehead against his with a goofy smile on your face. You finally had the man that you had loved for so very long.

“I love you too, Jason.” With that, you pulled him back into a kiss.

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