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kats-fic-recs · 2 years

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More Bnha Fluff fics

Sense-memory

'After living in the wilds alongside darkness and magic both for a very long time, his people know the eyes can be fooled; but learn something with your hands and you know it for life.

Learning with his mouth, however, is something Izuku never considered.'

Katsuki teaches Izuku about kissing. [Barbarian!Deku AU]

Just A Regular Red Bike

There was all sorts of magic in the world. Magic that kept a bicycle chain from snapping, and magic that fished moonlight out of the sea, and magic that tasted better when you baked it into bread first. And then there was the kind of magic that most people wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole, the kind of magic that could change things.

The kind of magic that Midoriya Izuku reached for with both hands.

“What the fuck is this?” the witch demanded.

“Ah, I—!” Izuku took a step back, wide-eyed, surprised at the vulgar language. “I don't know!”

“The hell do you mean, you don't know? What kind of post-boy are you?”

“I don't read the post,” Izuku said, a little annoyed now. “I just deliver it. Reading it would be a breach of privacy.” He paused, and then leaned forward a little, unable to stifle his curiosity. “Why, is it something bad?”

The witch crushed the letter in his fist.

Inhibitions

Todoroki gets zapped by a Quirk that effectively lowers someone's inhibitions, and Aizawa deals with the strange, humorous, heart-breaking fallout.

The train ride back is something of a nightmare. Not because it goes badly, or because something awful happens, but because Aizawa can’t get rid of this feeling in his chest every time he sees Todoroki’s unusual, carefree smile. He looks like nothing has ever hurt him.

the river walked me home

Shouto's life is a deck of precariously stacked cards, and one online article about Endeavour's approach to parenting sends the whole thing tumbling down. Not everyone believes it. Half the public denies it. But even if it turns out there's no truth in the article, the staff at U.A. are under enough fire as it is, and sending Shouto home for the upcoming week-long break is inexcuseable in the eyes of the press.

Not to mention, Aizawa wouldn't stand for it anyway.

Or: Shouto spends a week or two hiding from the world in his teacher's house, where he is introduced to Animal Crossing, the sweetest cat in the world, and the bizarre concept of feeling safe in his own home.

The Secret Deku Box

“Y’know, Bakugou never, ever talks about girls,” Kaminari says, his voice thoughtful.

“And I wonder why that is.” Ashido rolls her eyes.

“I’m just curious!” Kaminari whines. Kirishima drags the box out, unlabeled and unassuming, the lid not even fully clasped over the edges. “The guy has to— Whoa, what’s that?”

Kirishima realizes a little belatedly that this is a serious breach of privacy, and Bakugou will actually murder all of them. “Nothing!” he cries, attempting to shove it back under the bed, but Ashido snatches it away.

“Please be his porn stash!” Kaminari whispers as she whips the lid off.

No raisins? How about a date?

Izuku steps inside and shuts the door behind him. Uraraka’s lying on her back in bed, reading a shoujo manga. “I just realised Kacchan’s handsome. He was minding his own business and I tried to touch his lips. Am I a pervert? Am I gay?”

“That’s a little gay, yeah,” Uraraka says, sitting up. Izuku flops into a boneless, dramatic heap on the floor and helps himself to the chips on her low table. “I think it’s normal to notice someone’s attractive, though. Like, Bakugou is good-looking, unfortunately, so I doubt it’s all that weird to think about kissing him a couple times. Do you like him?”

“I,” Izuku says and then pauses. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a crush before.”

“Can you imagine going on a date?”

“Hrkl,” says Izuku.

“Oh dear,” says Uraraka.

Toxic masculinity? No no- Manipulative masculinity.

It was at this point that Bakugou, to Aizawa's horror, and the rest of the class's utter disbelief, promptly burst into tears.

Bakugou can cry on demand, and he has absolutely no problem using this for his own personal gain.

Who knew?

You feel like home (You are home)

Izuku loses his memories during Christmas Eve due to a quirk incident.

Turns out he is a hero and apparently he has a husband? Enter Bakugou Katsuki.

Is it normal to have the biggest crush on his husband, even if he doesn't remember him?

Green Spider Silk

In which Izuku has a secret identity as Spider-Man, the city's beloved new superhero. Fighting crime, he can handle. But his longstanding crush on his bully, Kacchan? That's a different beast entirely.

This is the legendary upside-down kiss scene.

bite and reciprocate

Kacchan’s teeth graze against Izuku’s wet skin after a shower, and when they’re alone sometimes Kacchan will lift up his scarred hands and nibble and kiss his wrists.

Izuku understands what this is. Kacchan knows what he needs, Kacchan always knows what he needs, and Kacchan is taking care of him by biting back.

You Got a Boyfriend?

In the middle of a bar on a Friday night, Bakugou's out with his old classmates, his friends, drunk as fuck, and head over heels in love with the man sitting right next to him. Does Deku even know how fucking beautiful he is? How incredibly cute, and important? Well, he's about to.

Bakugou's madly in love with his childhood friend (aka, his husband) and he's about to make that everyone's problem

Autumn Metamorphosis

Every idiot on the planet thought that Summer was Deku's best season. He'd traipse around in clingy tank tops and shorts and his skin would glisten. Katsuki had to admit, it was appealing.

But it had nothing on Deku in Autumn.

- or -

Katsuki is a premium Deku simp, especially in Autumn. Watch him simp his way into Deku's heart!

Boom, Badoom, Boom

Izuku's working the kissing booth at the school fair, it just so happens Katsuki has been crushing on him since the first grade.

“Did you—“ Izuku parted his mouth with no sound leaving it, “Did you pay?”

“Yea.”

“For a kiss?”

Play It Cool

Izuku accidentally becomes Katsuki's secret cuddle buddy.

(or that time Izuku and Katsuki snuggle on real pretenses then false ones, each finding a way to poorly miscommunicate their emotions cause what do these boys do aside of making carters in infrastructures and in each other, make the whole class of 1-A weep for them, and manage a romance to bring Ryan Gosling to the brink of tears.)

#my Wi-Fi has been gone for 3 days and it is the most annoying thing I've ever dealt with #sigh #bkdk #bakudeku #todoroki shouto #bakugou katsuki #katsudeku #katsuki bakugou #deku #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #ao3 #fanfiction #fic recs #fanfiction recommendation #fic rec #bnha #bnha fic recs #mha

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eg-writtenthoughts · 9 months

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First and Most important: Please understand there's a multitude of trigger warnings for one particular theme relating to children and abuse. Don't read this book and/or review if it's not for you.

I’m writing this minutes after finishing My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell. My first thought is that it’s a really good book. I was worried that I would still feel gross when I finished, but actually, I feel lighter. When I started reading this book, I never imagined thinking this might be one of the most well written, emotionally raw and revealing books I’ve read. Maybe it’s because I’ve experienced trauma that took me over ten years to work through enough to not let it define me and I became my own person. I resonate with that part of Vanessa.

The first half of the book made me feel gross. Gross is an overarching word for this book. Strane is a gross character, but I can’t say I hate him. I hate what he did to Vanessa, but I don’t hate him. And I think that might be from Russell’s writing in Vanessa’s perspective. Because Vanessa never truly accepts hatred towards Strane. You feel sorry for fifteen year old Vanessa. You understand just how vulnerable she is to him and everything he does. She sees him as good. He knows just the right things to say and how to make her feel like she’s consenting to him (which leaves a lasting impact on her mental state). Vanessa was Strane’s outlet for the final seventeen years of his life. She was what he channeled his disgusting needs and desires into, not truly caring how he destroyed her. He only cared that his lust wasn’t getting him into trouble and that she wouldn’t speak up. I get the impression that Vanessa was the first student he actually slept with. Because if he’d been “successful” with another student and was able to break and mold her to the point of sex, she would’ve been his obsession. Vanessa would’ve heard about her. But Taylor heard about Vanessa. He told his other victims about Vanessa.

I can’t help but think about consent and the mental state that Strane’s manipulation left Vanessa in. At the time of her first rape, she was fifteen. Still ten years away from her brain being fully developed. Yes, Strane absolutely manipulated her into saying yes and believing she was giving consent. That’s something he drilled so deeply into her psyche, she believes it to the end of the book, even when she can admit it was rape. I like that there was never a real conclusion to that internal debate. Because it wouldn’t just happen. Strane died and I think that gave Vanessa breathing room. She was able to live and experience life without the constant cloud of him and his worries that she was going to tell. He lived inside her head, even when they only spoke to relive her trauma for his (and her mentally forced) pleasures.

The second half of the book, after Strane kills himself, is different. Yes, there is still so much ‘gross’ being said from Strane and what he inflicts on Vanessa as an adult. His delusion and obsession with her continued into her twenties. The fact they actually “dated” is wild to me. It fed into both of their delusions. She knew how to be what he wanted, yet she worried about getting older. Even though it sent her into a slow-burned self-destruction, Strane breaking up with her was the best thing he could do for her (apart from killing himself).

I liked that when Taylor (and the reporter) continuously contacted Vanessa, she didn't jump on the savior’s bandwagon. That’s untrue to her experience and what she believed. Vanessa just wants to live and not be drowned by Strane. Taylor wanted him and Browick to be held accountable. Both women felt frustrated with the other for their choices. I know people shouldn’t compare traumas, but in my opinion, what Vanessa went through was worse than Taylor. Strane “tried to be good” but if he’d been good in the first place, Vanessa might’ve become the person Strane claimed to see her at fifteen. Or maybe she was just a weak and easy victim as the stereotype leads us to believe. She fit his mold enough to pay attention in the first place. Russell writes the timeline so you aren’t able to psychologically analyze what Vanessa was like before the abuse began. The point being that it doesn’t matter, but maybe it does. You’re built by your parents and experiences. Maybe Vanessa was built to be Strane’s perfect victim. Maybe in some sick way, she saved Taylor and the other girls from experiencing everything she went through because Strane had her to play his fantasies to. She didn’t grow up and forget about him, like he said she would or his past victims seemed to. He touched those girls but she was the only one he had sex with. That’s dark to think about, but it’s likely true.

I went through most of this book thinking it was gross. That was the best word to describe it. It wasn’t easy to read about a fifteen year old getting raped by her forty year old teacher. I had to take breaks to not continuously feel the sadness. But it was good enough to keep reading. I never considered stopping because of the darkness and sadness. In reality, there’s no happy ending to My Dark Vanessa. There’s a suggestion to one, an understanding she’s no longer under Strane’s shadow. He’s dead. He can’t continue to remind her that she consented or she asked for it or she could be the one to take his life away. He twisted the narrative enough to put red-tinted glasses over the truth. Vanessa can move away from that without the surprise risk of him pulling her back.

Personally, I really liked the book. Again, that might be because I can relate to Vanessa and the gloom of living through trauma. I would recommend this book to anyone who could handle it. And if you can’t, that’s okay. There are other books to read. This isn’t something you should force yourself to finish. But I understand why my coworker read this book two years ago and still thinks about it today.

#book review #book recommendations #book blog #my dark vanessa #kate elizabeth russell #contemporary

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hydravrtx · 6 months

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ROGUE SPEAKS

“You, who call my sisters witchhunters. Women strong and powerful enough to advocate, to fight for the wounded and the fallen, brave enough to hold members of our community accountable for their actions despite the consequences, you liken them to medeival demons who tortured, murdered, brutalized whole scores, whole cities of women, our would-be ancestors brought to an early grave for the sin of their sexuality, their knowledge, their power. You are punishing us still..Maybe, for the first time in your life, you are feeling what it is like to walk into a room, and not automatically know if you're safe, not know who your friends are, or why they are looking at you like that. Maybe this makes you feel hunted. But you, my friend are no witch. And I don't have time to feel sorry for you, no way, no time, not when a woman in America is raped every 2 minutes...Every 2 minutes. Think about that. I do not have time to listen to your version of the story: your convoluted truth, not when there is a woman out there, millions of women, who have noone to turn to for support, for validation.

I don't have time to nurse your wounded ego, or shed a tear for the dying patriarchy.”

that was the ending piece to a zine i read called WITCH-HUNT: addressing mental health and confronting sexual assault in activist communities and it pushed me to write — july 26th 2023 i put together what is known now as the “list”, you might’ve heard about it if you are young and enjoy the nightlife in the city of atlanta. the masterlist of abusers with the creative communities here. i was compelled instantly to read the zine because i + the community that advocates for the same thing as i do been called exactly that, witches.

“putting a list together to cause mass hysteria and a witch hunt” some said to me and i found it compelling. shaking people out of the shitty broken bed they have laid in for years is a witch hunt? wanting safety for everyone is the mass hysteria? i’ll never fully understand but anyways…that’s not why i am writing this. i’m writing this because lately ive been seeing a ton of think pieces about how activist can be heavily impacted by the work they do and i can say that it has heavily impacted me. negatively and positively. negatively i’m hearing/seeing tragic stories from different people every day… and feeling sometimes powerless that i can’t just have everyone see what i/the survivors do. i can’t make people that don’t want to be empathetic feel empathy. it’s april in 2024 now and my passion still hasn’t shrunk to amplify the voices of each survivor but it has been hard carrying around 100+ people on my back. i appreciate hydra so much for this alone.

harm i’ve learned is inevitable, everyone causes harm. it might not be physically but verbally or emotionally. those are the most common forms of harm as human we enact on each other but i don’t believe in this lifetime we are meant to strive to be a “good person” because the concept of a “good person” is within white supremacist ideals. maybe, the concept of a “good person” should be abolished and reinvented. why to be considered a “good person” you must be compliant with oppression? to be considered a “good person” you must never feel anger and express it? to be categorized as “good” it’s to ignore and deny?

i say all of this to say, that during my journey advocating and standing firmly in my beliefs i allowed myself vulnerable to the perpetrators that caused me harm to take this time during something uplifting to contort the truth of the trauma they induced on me..and manipulate anyone that will listen for the benefits of their ego. on the opposing side i believe that the population of people that hate women are far greater than i believed..this weird patriarchal mindset that all women are “devious” and wretched witch like creatures seems far too comfortably sitting with the mass majority. this idea only amplifies more for black women and other women of color. sometimes i fantasize that one day the actors of my own harm will finally be accountable and just let go. i am tired of fighting for my autonomy, truth and desire to finally be seen and heard. the closest i got to being seen was when stephvon branch ( kashphon) pleaded guilty to aggravated sodomy and is now serving 5 years in prison. though, i never pressed charges…i still felt seen when talking to the advocate that asked me my story. but those 5 years dont erase the trauma…or hate that im still working to snuff out. yes, i advocate for abuse survivors because i am a survivor of abuse

“So this brings me to the dilemma of how to implement a safer space policy, if we cannot agree on who is "right" and who is "wrong". I believe that if believe that if somebody (man, woman, trans, etc.) feels that a crime was committed against them, that they were violated, assaulted, abused, or raped, no matter what the circumstances, we as a community need to acknowledge, despite the lack of "evidence" that something very wrong occurred. It is also my belief that many many people, good and bad, have harmed others without realizing that what they were doing was wrong. Therein lies the problem. Patriarchy, misoginy and abuse are so embedded in all of us (and by that I mean all of us), that it is inevitably a harrowing experience to be called out as an abuser or an assaulter. I feel that every incident has to be dealt with individually, and according to the reactions of the suspected perpetrator, as well as the wishes of the survivor. Often the reactions of an accused perpetrator can be more than revealing of their truth”

was something else from the zine that sat with me heavily, there’s so many harmful behaviors deeply imbedded in us that we are in no position to ever tell the next person that “i didn’t cause you harm” because we are not them you can’t tell someone how to feel based off your opinion or observation! trauma is complicated. people are so complex and different we aren’t in their bodies and the sooner people stop projecting their defensiveness everything would be rather different.

carl jung is a philosopher that i spend a little too much time researching, he talks a lot about archetypes and i believe that’s what he is most known for. one archetype that caught my eyes was “the fool” where’s a quote from this video i watched; “There are two ways to be fooled. One is to believe what isn’t true; the other is to refuse to believe what is true. When there’s an uncomfortable truth that needs to be spoken, and those in power are afraid to speak about it, it is usually the fool who steps in. There is something heroic about this. It is the fool who speaks a truth nobody else dares to utter, and this brings instant relief, because people know it has to be said.”

maybe, hydra and i are the fool

#hydra vortex

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yesimwriting · 3 years

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To Be Alone

VAGUE SPOILER WARNING FOR SHADOW AND BONE BOOK SERIES-- I try hard not to mention why the Darkling/General Kirigan is the bad guy so that I don’t spoil anything,, but the reader finds out that he lies about his identity and that he’s super sketchy/not a good guy (again,, I avoided as many specifics as possible to keep it from being spoiler-y)

Warnings: lowkey manipulation, kissing/makeout, slight fingering

A/n y’all drove me to this lol,, pls be nice!! This is the closest to full on smut I’ve ever written!! Ahh I’m lowkey scared to post

Summary: the reader finds out something about the Darkling/General Kirigan, he finds a way to convince her to stay

No amount of evidence will ever be enough to convince me fully. A part of me will always hold onto unjustifiable doubt because a part of me hopes that if I hold onto the lies tight enough they’ll turn into the truth. But that’s not how the world works.

General Kirigan. Ravka put its faith in him. I put my faith in him. I did more than that. I pushed aside my reservations and doubt in order to try and comfort him when he spoke of loneliness. Was all that a lie as well?

No. I can’t afford to think of the emotional side of it all, because if I do I may find myself incapable of moving from this spot. I don’t have time to reflect on it all, to try and unravel hopeful lies and manipulative truths. That can be done when I’m not here. If I stay here, he’ll know I know and he’ll stop me from...what? What am I supposed to do next? I could find someone with some level of power to warn.

“There you are.” Kirigan. I’m turned towards the window, not facing him, but there is no weariness or malice in his voice. He has no reason to suspect my suspicion. “Are you unwell?”

Calm. I need to pass as calm. Not turning, I force myself to ignore the endearing hint of concern in his voice. “No.” I can hear his measured footsteps. “Why would you think that?”

“I haven’t seen you all day,” he’s directly behind me now. If I turn, I’ll practically be against his chest. “And you didn’t come see me last night.”

Oh. I knew it was a mistake to begin to pull on such a small thread so close to when he expected to see me, but it kept gnawing on me. That doubt. That tiny thing I couldn’t ever let go off. “I fell asleep.” No--I cringe at my impulsive response. He knows how difficult it is for me to fall asleep. “Yesterday was just really...draining.”

In an easy movement, he places his hand on my shoulder. It’s a silent request for me to turn. Exhaling, I obey. Why? I could lie to myself and say that I’m listening to him in order to kill his suspicions, but the effect he has on me is undeniable. Even before touching each other became a casual thing on his part, my body wanted to react to him.

He’s quick to cup my face, tilting my chin up slightly so that I can’t avoid his gaze. “What troubles you, little dove?” A nickname for when he’s feeling particularly gentle. Thoughts of the evil he has to be twist my stomach as my face flushes. Kirigan’s thumb brushes over the corner of my bottom lip, stalling as I fight the urge to melt into the contact. I meet his tense gaze cautiously. “You said nothing could make you look at me differently.” No. There’s no way he figured out my change with one look alone. I’ll deny it. I’ll do what I need to do to be convincing, and then I’ll manage to escape. His grip on my shoulder tightens. “Don’t you dare lie to me again.”

The urge to snap and point out the sick irony of him telling me not to lie at him almost forces me to break. His gaze starts to shift away from me--towards the half packed escape bag I’d been in the middle of constructing. I stretch my arms forward, desperate to keep his gaze on me and away from what I can’t explain.

Kirigan’s free hand moves to pull my hand off of his cheek, but he pauses, eyes shutting in peaceful contentment. “What do you know?”

I expected his words to be angry, to border on violent...but he just sounds tired. Please, Saints, let me be wrong. “Is there anything to know?” The only reaction I get is the slightest stall of his breathing. “You said you didn’t want to be alone anymo--”

“I don’t.” The harshness of his words almost coax a small flinch from me.

Swallowing back the knot in my stomach, I exhale slowly. “A part of not being alone is being honest.”

His eyes finally open. I don’t dare move as he moves my hand off of his cheek so that he can brush his lips against my knuckles. I suppress an embarrassing shudder. “You wouldn’t have stayed--if you knew you wouldn’t ha--”

No denial. I can’t--I can’t do this. “You know what the worst part is?” I can’t believe I’m about to say this. I can’t believe it’s true. “I might have.” Those words break something in me as I force myself away from him. The lack of contact leaves me more frozen than ever. “I might have! I might have been able to bear all the monstrous things you’ve done if you had just--”

“What?!” He meets my outburst with one of equal power. “You might have stayed regardless?” The way he scoffs leaves me feeling like a wandering child. “You might have still looked at me like I hung the stars in the sky instead of like I’m the darkness they fight against?” I stay silent as he steps forward, quick to hold my chin in place with his long fingers. “I couldn’t risk you on possibility.” Kirigan’s gaze is so intense, a part of me is surprised that shadows don’t come at me--drowning me in darkness and him. “And don’t think me foolish enough to believe that someone like you would understand that I have to do what I’m doing--”

“Have to?” No--how did I almost let him lure me back in so easily. I pull myself away, approaching my open wardrobe. “That’s not past tense.” He’s still--he’s still actively hurting people. Why had I been so stupidly naive to think that maybe this was all history? “I--I can’t do this.”

Each step towards the exit of the room chips away at a piece of my soul. “You’re not walking away from me,” his strong grip is on my arm in a sharp instinct, “I won’t--I can’t be alone again.”

I swallow back the lump of emotion in my throat. “You already are.”

His eyes are pleading, pools of frightened adoration. “No--no,” he steps towards me, not releasing his grip on my arm, “You’re hurt that I lied, but now I’ll never have to lie to you again.” I push against his grip. Kirigan doesn’t release me. “Y/n,” my name is a lament from his lips, “Please.”

My eyes round out as my heart leaps into my chest. “I used to think that you were only touched by the darkness, but now I’m not sure you can tell where the darkness ends and you begin.” His grip just barely falters. Maybe it’s acceptance.

I shift weakly, a softer attempt to escape. His grip tightens even more than before as he tugs me forward. The reminder of his physical strength leaves me frozen in shock. I can’t read his expression, but something about him has darkened. When I don’t pull away again, his thumb brushes up and down my forearm. The silkiness of his touch is warm temptation. I inhale slowly as he moves his other arm in order to touch my shoulder. The contact is almost shy.

“Kirigan,” my voice betrays me, breaking as his fingers trace down my collar, “What--what are you doing?”

He tilts his head, taking in the way his touch rids my body of fight. “Nothing, really.” His voice is low, supple in its assuredness. “You’re the only person who has ever seen me--and for you to leave me after that.”

“No,” I try to step back, but my body freezes as he toys with the collar of my dress, “What I saw--what I found out--that wasn’t you.”

“It’s who I have to make myself be,” he whispers, “I’m doing what needs to be done.”

“That logic can earn you a lot,” my words are careful, “But it cannot earn you me.”

His hand brushes past my neck, finding the root of my hair. Kirigan pulls on it slightly, forcing me to expose my lower jaw and neck. I’m still as he leans forward, warm breath fanning across my skin. I fight against a shiver in vain as his lips brush down my skin, only stopping as he nips the base of my neck. I can’t help the small sound of surprise that escapes me.

“Are you sure about that?” Blood rushes to my face, motivated by both embarrassment and something else. “Little dove, don’t ruin us.” His touch is warm, but his words leave me with an uncomfortable chill. In an attempt to escape the coldness, I half-press myself into the trail of soft and desperate kisses he’s leaving down my neck.

Kirigan pauses, exhaling slowly, and I feel some mental strength return to me. “There can’t be an us--not like this.”

“Y/n.” He never uses my name. “You are the only light I know.” His words steal something from me as he pulls away enough to look me in the eyes. “I can’t handle the weight of solitude anymore--it’s worse than the dark.”

I am unflinching, watching him with a markman’s care. Kirigan takes my silence as a positive. I don’t move as his gaze drops to my lips before he presses his own together. I don’t move as he destroys the distance between us like it’s some type of unbearable weight. His lips meet mine with enough force to bruise my face. The surprise of it gives him the chance to coax my lips into parting as his hands move to either side of my face. My body reacts without my permission, letting him deepen the kiss. Every time I find some kind of free will, Kirigan pushes it away with some kind of tactful lull of his tongue. Keeping his control, Kirigan ends the kiss by grazing sharp teeth against my bottom lip.

I’m left panting. “You’re--you lied, Kirigan--I--”

“You told me once you could never see me as a monster.”

“I said that to a version of you that technically doesn’t exist.”

The grief in my chest and desire in my stomach twist in a nauseating way. Kirigan’s eyes watch me patiently, a pain similar to my own reflected in them. “Who I am when I’m with you is less fictitious than any identity I’ve ever given myself.”

The vulnerability in his voice is as alluring and distracting as the kiss. I find myself thinking of the warmth of his mouth against my skin. He had kissed me like the cure for ancient solitude could come from me. I think he had a point, because now that he’s not touching me in that way I feel the familiar tugs of cold emptiness.

“I don’t understa--” My words are cut off by his lips brushing against mine.

His touch is soft, but it’s far from shy as he draws out the kiss. It’s an attempt to keep me on edge, to keep me wanting him enough to push past my doubts. “Y/n,” there’s a reverent quality to his voice, “I--” Kirigan grabs the collar of my dress, pulling me to him sharply. His kiss conveys things that neither of us truly understand. “Don’t go.”

I don’t want to. The realization is a cruel wave crashing against my chest. “You lie to everyone, you lie to me--you--you hurt and destroy and I--” One of his hands brushes against the hem of my dress. “What are you,” the words are supposed to be sharp, but my resolve melts as his hand presses firmly against my thigh, “Doing?”

“You know me,” he draws out each word as his fingers graze towards the inside of my thighs. The cool metal of his rings are practically ice against my flushed skin. “Little dove, trust me.”

My nails dig into my palms as I try to ignore what he’s doing. “I did and you betrayed me.”

“I couldn’t lose you,” he whispers, thumb inching up my inner thigh.

I press my lips together, fighting against a natural reaction. “You did lose me.”

Kirigan’s eyes darken as his grip on my thigh tightens. “We’ll move past this.” He’s both pleading and assured. “I think I know how to make it up to you.” He trails his hand up my thigh swiftly, stopping with his hand on my lower hip. Shamelessly, he toys with the hem of my underwear. “The only thing that’s really changed is that now I’m touching you like this.”

The only thing I can do is gape at him. He’s a villain, his hands are coated in unnecessarily spilled blood, and I am helpless against his slightest touch. I should try pushing him away or at the very least resist his blatant advantages. His fingers brush down my underwear, stopping at a growing wet spot. The knowing look he gives me burns my core. I try to keep my expression hard in a final form of protest, but when he presses his pointer finger against me all the resolve in me is shattered.

My eyebrows draw together as a small sound escapes me, “Kirigan.” I can’t tell if it’s praise or a warning.

He pauses, hand retracting slightly at my whining. “Y/n,” his other hand cups my cheek. I lean into the contact without permission from my body. “There is only one name that I have not given myself and only one name I want to hear you breathe like that.” His thumb traces my lips softly. I don’t move as he leans forward, turning his lips towards my ear.

“Aleksander.” His name is nothing more than a breath, a stolen heartbeat on his lips.

He presses his fingers against where I’m the weakest again. My hips grind forward instinctually, desperate for more contact as he kisses the top of my jaw.

“Aleksander.” The name escapes me in the form of a broken moan. Speaking it feels more intimate than the way he’s touching me.

There’s the slightest pause in his consuming actions. “Again,” he breathes, “Say my name again.” His request is so soft it feels like he’s more at my mercy than I am at his.

My eyes shut as his teeth graze my neck. “Aleksander.” At the sound of his name, his teeth brush against my skin harder than ever.

When he starts to pull away, I reach out desperately, grabbing his kefta. “I thought you wanted to leave, little dove.”

No. No. He is not going to get me to agree to stay by giving me something as intimate as his original name and by denying me his touch. “Please.”

He reaches for my hand, pulling it off of him cruelly. “Do you want to stay with me?”

I know which answer will get me what I really want, but I’m not sure which answer is true. Do I want to stay with him? Even after knowing what he’s done? “I don’t want to leave you.” The vulnerability of the statement cracks at my heart. He turns away from me in order to face the wall. I take a tentative step towards. “But I’m not sure what I want matters.”

In one quick motion, he’s yanking more forward and pressing me into the wall. “Of course desire matters,” his body is pressed against mine almost entirely, “It means something.” He brushes his knuckles against my cheek. “It means you could choose me.”

What could I say to that? I part my lips to speak but he silences me by pressing his lips against my jaw. I offer no protest as he starts touching me the way he did earlier. I’m more desperate now, more needy and okay with that. His fingers slip past my underwear testingly, hesitating before finally entering me slowly.

“Aleksander,” my voice is so needy I’m not sure it’s my own.

“I want you to say my name like that again,” he whispers, kissing down my collarbone as he begins to press his fingers in and out of me faster, “And I want you to say my name casually,” his pace doesn’t slow, even when I begin to let out indistinguishable whines, “And I want you to say my name while you’re falling asleep,” his touch becomes more aggressive as his words become more sincere, “And I want you to say my name every other way there is to say it.”

The bundle of nerves in the pit of my stomach grows until there’s nothing else for me to hold onto. I finish with a sharp gasp. The feeling of euphoria is only intensified as Aleksander begins to kiss up my jaw before finally pressing our lips together.

I break the kiss first, desperate to breathe. Have my legs been so shaky this entire time? Aleksander lets me recover, resting his head against my forehead. “I’m tired of being alone.”

I imagine all the foul acts he’s committed and all the bad he wants to bring. I picture all the innocent blood he’s spilled. I see all of it--every horror and dark deed he’s ever committed. But I cannot see me leaving him. Maybe that makes me a monster, maybe that makes me an idiot...but I can’t do it.

Slowly, I move to drape my arms over his back in a loose hug. “You’re not alone, Aleksander.” I’m not sure what that signifies, but I know it’s true. There has to be good in him. No one capable of such warmth can be pure evil. “I choose you.”

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 years

Text

Training Wheels - One

Pairing: Dark!Step-Brother!Steve Rogers X Innocent!Reader

Summary: Your stepbrother would do anything for you. And he’s more than happy to prove that over and over and over again until you believe him. No matter what it takes.

Warnings: Language, Sexual Harassment, Smut, Manipulation, Loss of Virginity, Sex between Step-siblings, bit of a size kink,

Word Count: 3.7K

A/n: I have many parts of this planned but not written, and the taglist is open. Also, incase y’all forgot: I don’t talk politics on my blog. I’ve made it clear where I stand on certain things already and I want to keep my blog as an escape from reality for myself and others.

A/n 2: I’m fucking tired so I’ll reply to asks and stuff probably tomorrow

!!!!THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT! 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

~*~

“Hey, did (Y/n) get a new skirt?” At the sound of your name being mentioned, Steve snaps his head up, following his best friend’s gaze until it finally lands on you.

You’re walking across the campus courtyard towards the two of them, a smile on your face as you talk animatedly with Natasha and Wanda.

Sure enough, a new mini skirt is decorating your pretty legs. It flows with the breeze, almost getting blown up enough to see your panties.

“Jesus, that kid’s got some legs,” Bucky says, eyes roaming over your figure. Steve shoves his friend’s shoulder, giving him a hard glare.

“That’s my fucking sister you’re talking about. What would Nat think if she heard that?” Bucky rolls his eyes, grinning as his favourite redhead blows him a kiss.

“God, what I wouldn’t do to have those legs wrapped around my head.” You shudder in disgust, yelping as a hard hand comes down on your ass.

“Hey!” You exclaim, turning around and covering your butt while looking at the man.

“C’mon sweetheart. What’d you expect when you’re dressed like that?”

Steve’s on his feet, rushing over to you as you glare at your assailant.

“Maybe some fucking decency?! Leave me alone! I’m not a fucking object, dick-wad.”

“Rumlow!” Upon hearing your step-brother’s voice, Rumlow takes a step back.

“C’mon Rogers! There’s no harm in playful flirting. You of all people should know that.” Steve glares at him, his arm coming protectively over your shoulders, pulling you against his side and further away from the man.

“Yeah, but there’s shit wrong with touching people when they don’t want to be fucking touched.” Brock rolls his eyes and saunters away, shooting you a wink over his shoulder.

“I had it handled,” you grumble, walking with Steve’s arm over your shoulders towards the tree where he and Bucky were sitting.

“Yeah, really looked like it. A ‘thank you’ would be nice.” You roll your eyes and glare up at your step-brother.

“How do you expect me to defend myself if you jump in all the time?”

He shakes his head, a soft look on his face that has you dropping your guard for a moment.

“As long as I’m around, you shouldn’t have to defend yourself. That’s what I’m here for. I’m always gonna have your back, bunny. No matter what.” You smile at him, your heart warming at his words before Nat gets your attention.

You sit down next to her, Steve next to you with his arm still over your shoulders.

You and Wanda are quickly engaged in another conversation and Steve finds himself staring at you, a small smile on your face.

“You’re drooling, Steve,” Nat whispers, toes nudging his thigh. He glances over at the redhead and flips her off.

“C’mon. We should get going. I wanna beat the rush.” You nod at Steve, grabbing your bag and bidding your friends goodbye.

Bucky gives Steve a knowing look and the blond glares at his friend.

The two of you make your way to the parking lot together, him asking you about your day and you launching into a detailed description of everything you did.

As you’re heading to his car you pass by Brock and his group of friends. You quiet down immediately, slouching in on yourself.

Steve glares at the guys, his arm coming protectively around your waist as they ogle you.

You let out a big breath when you’re sitting in Steve’s car, groaning at the fact that you were harassed today.

“Why are guys stupid?” You ask, looking over at your step-brother as he starts driving.

“I wish I knew. You just gotta get lucky and find someone who’s mature and has respect for women, not a douchebag like Rumlow.” You nod, kicking your shoes off and putting your feet up on the dashboard.

“Hey, feet down.” You look over at him and stick your tongue out, keeping your feet up and wiggling your toes.

“What are you gonna do? You gonna make me?” He glances at you out of the corner of his eye and then one of his hands is on your thigh, squeezing the flesh hard and making you squirm, laughter bubbling out of you.

“Stop!” He doesn’t. If anything, it spurs him on and he tickles your thigh more.

“Feet down!” He shouts playfully, loving the sound of your laughter.

“Okay fine!” You finally pull your feet down and he smiles, fingers splaying on your bare thigh. He keeps his hand there for the rest of the drive, blood slowly moving south as he realizes what he's doing and the fact that you haven’t said anything about it.

It feels nice to have his hand on you. You hate that you like it but you do.

When you finally get home, your mom and his dad are pulling out of the driveway.

Steve rolls down his window and you unbuckle your seatbelt, climbing over his lap to stick your head out the window. Steve hits the brakes harder than intended and you fall forward, one hand bracing yourself on his thigh while your skirt flies up, your ass on full display.

“Jesus, Steve. You trying to kill me?” You ask before turning to the window.

“Where are you guys going?” You ask, confused. Your mom raises her eyebrows. “We’ve only been talking about our trip to Vegas for the past four months! We talked about it this morning too!” Realization hits you and you giggle. “Sorry! I hope you guys have fun! But not too much fun. One step-sibling is enough, I don’t need any more.” Steve’s dad laughs, shaking his head at you.

“You kids behave. Don’t throw any parties or anything. The neighbours know we’re gone so if you do anything we’ll know.”

“I don’t have enough friends to throw a party anyway. And Steve is a social outcast so you don’t need to worry about him.” Your mother gives you a look and you raise your eyebrows innocently.

“Be nice to your brother. We’ve gotta get going before we miss our flight. But I’ll talk to you when we land."

They start pulling away again and you stick your head further out the window, kneeling between Steve’s legs as he grabs your waist.

“He’s my Stepbrother!”

They drive off, your mom waving until they’re out of sight, and you sigh, climbing back into the car and looking at Steve.

His hands are still on your waist and he’s got a soft look in his eyes.

“Steve?” He hums, clenching his jaw as you shift on his lap to get comfortable, your thighs spreading as you straddle him.

“Do you think your dad’s gonna get my mom pregnant?” He groans, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“God no. I don’t even wanna think about that but even if they... you know... my dad got a vasectomy a while ago.” You nod, hands on his shoulders as you purse your lips.

His eyes are focused so intently on them that he doesn’t notice when you open the door.

“First person inside picks dinner! Loser has to pay!” You jump out of the car and sprint inside, leaving Steve stunned and horny in his car.

~*~

The two of you sit on the couch watching movies, Steve with his arm thrown over the back of the couch.

“Hey Steve... can I ask you something?” He looks over at you, nodding and waiting for you to ask whatever’s on your mind.

“Is... do... does...” You groan, shaking your head, beyond embarrassed with yourself.

“C’mon bunny. You can ask me anything and I won’t judge you. You know that.” One of his hands comes to your knee, rubbing gently.

You nod, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Do guys actually prefer when a girl is experienced? Does it... does it matter to them?” Whatever he thought you were going to ask... it certainly wasn’t this.

He raises his eyebrows and blows a breath out through his mouth.

“Some guys, yeah. I mean, it puts a lot of pressure on them to make sure your first time is good. Which is hard cause each girl cums differently and finds different things good so it’s hard to tell. Some guys like virgins but I think a lot like it if they aren’t a girl’s first just so they don’t have to live up to whatever expectations she may have.” He’s being honest with you and you value that, but it doesn’t exactly make you feel better about your situation.

You sit up and turn to him fully, a frown on your face.

“How do I find someone who’s willing to be my first so I can get it out of the way?” He inhales deeply, trying to take advantage of the situation in a way that won’t clue you into his true intentions. He wants you, but he wants you to think that he’s just helping you.

“You’ve gotta find someone you trust to do something like that, bunny. Someone who’s gonna be gentle with you because it’s gonna hurt a bit.” You frown, scooting closer and leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Where am I supposed to find someone who’s gonna be gentle with me like that? The only guys who even look at me are gross guys like Brock and I don't want someone like him to touch me.”

He brings one hand up to your head, smoothing your hair away from your face.

“I mean... I think I could find someone who would be willing to help you out. Show you the ropes just so you’re not totally inexperienced,” he murmurs, eyes focused on you as you look up at him slowly.

“Who?” His eyes flash down to your lips then back up to your eyes and you inhale sharply, realizing what he’s implying.

He doesn’t give you a second to object before he leans down and presses his lips against yours, making you gasp. He takes advantage of your parted lips and lets his tongue explore your mouth.

It takes a moment but you give in, kissing him back. One of your hands finds his hair, fingers tangling in the blond strands.

He shifts onto his side for a moment, hand grabbing your waist and pulling you forward until you’re straddling his lap.

The ball is in your court and you know you should stop but it feels so right. It’s something so unlike anything you’ve ever felt before and you wanna see where it will go. How it’ll feel to be touched by a man.

You finally pull away, panting hard with your eyes closed.

His hands grip your hips tightly and rock you forward, making you gasp as his hard length rubs against you through the material of your sweatpants.

“Steve wait,” you murmur, head falling back as he attacks your neck with kisses.

“Lemme teach you, Bunny. I’ll take good care of you, show you how it feels to be fucked properly. Please. I don’t wanna see you getting hurt by a guy who doesn’t care about your feelings. I’ll treat you so nice, Bunny, I swear.” His sweet words and the way he feels underneath you is enough to have you nodding.

He grins, one hand wrapping around your back as he quickly flips you onto your back. You gasp, arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull you tight against him.

He grinds against you for a moment longer before slowly pressing kisses down your neck and chest. He pulls away for a moment, just long enough to tear your shirt clean off your body, your bra following soon after.

His mouth kisses your breasts, giving each nipple far more attention than you thought he would. Your fingers are tangled in his hair, lips parted and heavy breaths falling from your mouth as a new type of pleasure builds inside of you.

“You like that?” He asks, eyes dark as he gazes up at you. You nod, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as he uses his thumb and index finger to tweak at your other nipple.

“Steve,” you whisper, arching your back and pushing your chest against his face. His kisses slowly move further down your body, lips leaving a wet trail over your stomach and past your navel.

His eyes are locked on yours as his fingers tug at the waistband of your sweatpants.

You raise your hips without hesitation, nervous but excited.

He’s your step-brother, and it’s wrong, but he’s so sweet to you. If there was one person on the planet who you trust to take your virginity and teach you about sex it’s him.

Your eyes fall closed, partly out of embarrassment as he lays between your naked legs, eyes on your centre.

He hoists your legs over his shoulders and, after making sure you’re eyes are closed, grabs your discarded panties and presses them to his nose. He takes a long inhale and groans, intoxicated by the scent of you.

He tucks them into his pocket then reaches over your hips.

His thumbs spread your folds and you want to close your legs, but he makes it impossible. His tongue darts out and licks a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit.

The sensation makes you jolt and Steve chuckles softly.

“Tell me what you like, Bunny. It won’t offend me. I wanna make you feel good.” You nod, grinding your teeth together and trying to clear the thoughts from your mind and focus on what he’s doing.

He finds your clit surprisingly easily, and you moan when he focuses his tongue on it.

“J-just like that... please...” He complies, working his tongue over the little bundle of nerves while two of his fingers slowly press into your heat.

You groan at the feeling, it being unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. His fingers fill you up more than ever, and he works them inside of you until he hits a spot that has you jolting up, right hand grabbing a handful of his hair.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, eyes screwed shut as he massages that spot inside of you.

It’s all too much, and in a few moments, you’re cumming all over his face and his fingers.

“Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Oh my god.” Steve’s eyes find your face and he nearly cums in his pants.

The look of pure pleasure on your features is something he wishes he could take a picture of.

You look so fucking pretty when you cum.

He gently works you through your orgasm, pulling away only when your thighs start trembling. You open your eyes after a few more moments only to find him seated between your legs, pink lips glistening as he sucks your nectar off of his fingers.

“Holy fuck,” you repeat, one hand coming to your chest as you slowly catch your breath.

He chuckles softly, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“C’mon. M’gonna fuck you on a bed, not on a couch.” He scoops you up in his arms and you wrap your legs around his waist, arms tightly wound around his neck as he carries you up the stairs to his bedroom.

It’s wrong. So fucking wrong, but it feels so good and you trust him so much.

You’re carefully laid on your back on his bed, the blankets cool against your hot skin. Steve kneels between your legs, hands resting on your hips while his eyes devour this image.

You bring your hands up to cover your chest, feeling nervous about being naked beneath him, but he shakes his head and gently takes your hands.

“Don’t hide from me, Bunny. You’re beautiful. Any man who gets to see you like this... is a fucking lucky one.” His eyes trace over your body, his words having lit a fire in his gut.

No other man is ever going to see you like this. He’ll make sure of that.

“C-can you take your clothes off? Please? I feel...” you trail off, embarrassed of both your nudity and your request.

“Of course, Bunny.” He leans back on his haunches and pulls his shirt over his head, giving you a glorious view of his rippling muscles.

Your stepbrother has an amazing body. That much you learned the very first time he took his shirt off to go swimming with you.

He climbs off the bed for a moment, just long enough to kick off his sweatpants and his boxers, and then he’s between your legs again.

You inhale sharply when your eyes find his cock, fear and arousal filling you.

“A-am I... do you want me to...” Your eyes don’t leave his length and he chuckles, one of his hands moving down to slowly stroke himself.

“I just want you to lay back and feel good, okay? It’s gonna hurt a bit, but you gotta relax. I’ll go slow.” You nod, hands instinctively coming to his shoulders as he scoots closer.

“If you’re really curious, I’ll teach you how to give head another day. But today is all about this.” The hot tip presses against your folds and you jump, wide eyes staring up at your step-brother.

“Now, when anyone else ever fucks you, make sure they wear a condom. But for your first time, I want you to get the full experience. It’ll feel better for you this way.” You nod, gripping his strong shoulders tightly as he leans down, hands pressing into the mattress on either side of your torso.

He slides his cock through your folds, watching intently as your eyelids drop and your mouth falls open.

“Feels nice, Bunny? Nice and warm?” You nod, a whimper falling from your lips as his cock rubs against your swollen clit.

He pulls back after a moment more to align himself, then slowly pushes his cock into you.

Your face scrunches up in pain and he stops immediately, pulling back and leaning down until his face is above your heat.

You hear him spit a moment before you feel the liquid splatter against you. He does it a few times and you feel slightly mortified.

“Don’t be shy, Bunny. I just gotta make sure you’re nice and wet. It’ll stop it from hurting as much.” You nod, keeping your eyes closed as he hovers over you again.

This time when he pushes in it doesn’t hurt nearly as much.

He pushes in slowly, his eyes focused on your face as he meets the band of resistance he was waiting for. He slowly pushes further, frowning when you wince and inhale sharply.

He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he has to.

When he’s finally bottomed out inside of you, you let out a big breath.

“Look, Bunny.” You open your eyes and follow his gaze down to where the two of you are connected, your pussy fluttering around him at the sight.

He’s fully sheathed inside of you, and your lower abdomen bulges slightly because of it.

“You’ve got all of my big cock in you. Your pretty pussy is taking me like a champ.” You stare down at where his cock disappears inside of you, a gasp falling from your lips when he pulls out a few inches, only to push it right back in.

“Once I start moving it’ll feel better. Whenever you’re ready, let me know.” You nod, closing your eyes and basking in the feeling of fulness. It’s like you’re finally getting something you didn’t know you needed.

He feels so hot and heavy inside of you, you want to keep him exactly where he is forever.

After a few more moments of adjusting to the intrusion, you open your eyes and lift one hand to cup his jaw.

His eyes snap to yours, a soft admiration clouding his beautiful blues.

You pucker your lips and he smiles, dropping his head and pressing a soft kiss to your lips while slowly starting to thrust.

His pace is slow and steady, pulling out nearly all the way then slowly pushing back in, each thrust stretching your walls further than the last.

“Fuck... you’re so fucking tight... feel so good, bunny.” Your nails dig into his shoulders as he gradually speeds up, each drag against your walls bringing you a type of pleasure you’ve only dreamed of.

“S-steve... feels... feels nice... so big...” You’re hardly making any sense but you speak anyway, toes curling as he speeds up even more.

His lips find your throat and you whine loudly, nails raking down his back.

“M’gonna go harder and faster, okay Bunny? You ready?” You nod, mouth dropping open as he hammers his hips forward, cock hitting places inside of you that make you see stars.

The noises coming from you nearly have him cumming hard, but he grinds his teeth together. He’s determined to make you cum first.

One of his hands darts between your legs, finding your clit and rubbing circles on it.

Your back arches hard, chest pressed tight against his as your eyes roll back into your head, an orgasm racing down your spine and exploding in your stomach.

Every nerve in your body is on fire, stars dance behind your eyes, and your cunt clamps down hard on Steve's cock.

The blond groans lowly, eyes squeezed shut as he falls into his own climax.

He fills you, white painting your walls and warming you from the inside.

The two of you stay like that, you trembling on the bed and Steve slowly starting to shake above you as his muscles threaten to give out.

After a moment he rolls onto his side, pulling you close to him to keep his cock locked inside of you.

His fingers trace along your spine, rubbing up and down so gently that it nearly lulls you to sleep.

“Fucking hell, bunny.” He presses his lips against your forehead, beyond satisfied with what just happened. You hum softly, nuzzling deeper against his chest.

He kicks the blankets up until they’re around his knees then pulls them up to cover the two of you.

You’re snuggled up against him, one of your legs tossed over his hip as his cock sits nice and snug inside of you.

“Thank you, Steve.” He’s quiet for a moment before hugging you tightly.

“Anything for you, Bunny.”

#dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve x you #Steve Rogers x reader #stepbrother!Steve Rogers x reader #stepbrother!Steve X reader #stepbrother!Steve Rogers x innocent!reader #stepbrother!Steve X innocent reader #steve x innocent!reader #Steve Rogers x innocent!reader #steve rogers x innocent!reader #dark au #tw: dark fic #dark fic #dark marvel #dark marvel fanfic

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olderthannetfic · 3 years

Note

Hi! I know you're one of the older fans on Tumblr & I wanted to ask you about the anti movement. I'm 19 & when I see people talking about the ages of anti fans, they're often within the 14-25 age range & I have no idea why. I also feel it's a little unfair to say that younger fans tend to be antis, though it is understandable since I've also made mistakes when I didn't know things. Why do you think most antis are younger fans? What should younger fans who aren't antis do to be more involved?

Hee! I’m 40, which, tbh, actually isn’t that old for Tumblr (though it’s certainly old compared to the common perception of tumblr), so sure, I can probably answer this. I guess there are two questions here: 1. Is it true and 2. why, if so?

1. Experience suggests that antis do tend to be young... but it does not follow that young people tend to be antis. (You’d have to know the proportion of antis relative to the overall population of fandom, which we don’t. I think the majority of people of any age tend to want to read fic in peace and not be roped into endless wank.) I definitely see some ringleaders who are older and good at manipulating fandom trends for their own ends too.

2. Why would this be the case?

When I was in college, we used to joke about all the freshman year Marxists. It’s an eternal phenomenon: people who don’t have much experience learn a new thing and are on fire to change the world using the one tool in their toolbox. (To a man with a hammer, yadda yadda.) There’s no passion like the passion of the newly converted, and young people tend to have a lot more energy and often a lot more free time to yell on social media. Antis may be one expression of this among people currently in that age bracket. It’s not like people my age didn’t do other annoying-ass things when we were that age. You just don’t see it because it was 20 years ago, a lot of it was never online, and all the websites/platforms from then have been systematically destroyed. (Often by yahoo. Fuck yahoo.)

The other half of the reason, in my opinion, is that there have been concerted efforts to sway lefty/socially liberal people in specific--often TERFy--ways. It’s somewhat reminiscent of the right wing radicalization of gamer guys.

People are susceptible to it because their lives suck and because they don’t know enough history or have enough confidence to form their own opinions and stand up for them. Sure, some people are going to go hardcore for anti views no matter how much they know, but a lot of people are just being swept along with the tide because something sounds superficially pro-gay or pro-protecting kids or whatever.

I cannot emphasize enough that the things that make someone ripe for the alt right are the same things that make them ripe for cults and for various kinds of toxic fandom shit: it’s usually the smart, sensitive overthinkers who don’t have enough close actual friends and who aren’t in a good place in their lives.

---

So what can you do?

You can try to make fewer more significant friendships and make sure your support system isn’t people you only know because you currently share a fandom. Most of my offline friends are people I found through fandom meetups, don’t get me wrong. I’m all for making fandom your life and only hanging out with fandom people, but we’re just regular friends who have dinner parties and shit (well, when it’s not the plaguetimes). Most of the time, we don’t share specific ships or fandoms. It’s vitally important to have a real support network that can’t be ripped away by social media wank.

The next thing we can all do is publicly stand up for what we believe in and not cave to pressure just because someone yelled “think of the children”. It’s important to be clear about the real history and logic behind these things, whether it’s the history of censorship that inspires people to support AO3′s extremely permissive policies or the fact that ‘queer’ was a fully reclaimed umbrella term in the 90s.

It’s okay if we don’t all agree. What’s not okay is appeals to emotion and ignoring science. A lot of anti bullshit is like “Rape fantasies are an abnormal red flag”, and this goes against every damn thing we know about human sexuality.

Part of this is examining our own stances for illogic and hypocrisy. If thought crimes aren’t real, then all of them aren’t real. I see way too many “Okay, but that one gross kink though!” comments from people who claim to be on my side, and this is very silly.

Possibly the biggest thing, though, is that we as a planet need to start being savvier about shitty social media and how it’s destroying our mental health. I don’t have a good overall solution, and obviously, I’m still on tumblr, but we all really need to cut down the amount of time we’re on sites like Facebook and Twitter and probably tumblr too. The more it has an algorithm and the less it has moderation, the more it’s a problem. Individual discords and spaces that can have moderation are better. It’s fine if some of them are 100% antis. The point is to have multiple spaces with rules that suit different groups.

A thing you can do is make your own spaces: be the owner of a discord for your ship, not just a passive participant at the mercy of shitty mods in an existing one. Run a fic exchange with rules you think are sensible and be firm when people try to scream about problematique things you don’t agree are a problem. One of the most pernicious anti problems is mods breaking the rules of their own spaces (usually a “no kinkshaming” one) to cave to social pressure from the loudest, most assholish set of people in the server. They don’t know how many people quietly disapprove and quietly leave their fandoms because they only fear the loud harassers, not the silent toll of caving to them.

Honestly, the climate of fear is the big issue more than a bit of yelling: I routinely meet 20-somethings who live in fear of being canceled and shunned. You can help this by... not being like that with your friends. If they’re friends with a canceled person, don’t ask them to drop the canceled person or face the same fate. If you disagree about some fandom hot take, talk about it calmly and don’t act like the friendship will be over in 5 seconds and you’ll use all your knowledge of them against them in a public callout because they didn’t instantly agree.

Basically, have some self confidence and don’t be fucking terrified all the time... which can be a tall order and probably explains the age thing also.

#fandom meta #loganelfreeces

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cinderstorm · 3 years

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So I was trawling through the Essek tag when I came across a great post by @tarydarrington (here’s the link if you want to read it), and roughly three paragraphs into commenting, I realized I was writing a whole meta and should probably just make my own post. So here we go:

Throughout Campaign 2, there have been a few themes that have been repeatedly reinforced, one of which is that love and compassion are what changes people. We’ve seen it with the Mighty Nein in how they came together as a bunch of liars and con artists, then slowly learned to trust each other and chose to be better because of that trust. We’ve seen it in Matt’s NPCs: not just in Essek, but in Astrid and Eadwulf, in the Gentleman, even in Artagan, who will always be kind of a shit but who was ready to sacrifice himself at Rumblecusp to honor the love of a girl who had been so faithful to him it opened a path to divine power. Compassion is the alchemy that transforms people into better versions of themselves, and we see this play out again and again in the Mighty Nein’s journey.

And it doesn’t always work, because sometimes the people to whom you would offer your compassion are dealing in bad faith. Sometimes you find yourself facing the man who abused and manipulated you, and you know there is no kindness you can offer that he wouldn’t twist to his own ends, no mercy that wouldn’t end with more innocents hurt. Sometimes you find yourself staring into the face of the friend who sacrificed his life saving you, only to realize that they aren’t the same person anymore, that the kindness they held in their heart has gone brittle and cold.

But then, every so often, you find someone who by all rights should be irredeemable. Someone who has done terrible things for selfish reasons, without regret. Someone for whom mere kindness shouldn’t be enough to make them change... except it is, and they do, not because compassion alone can redeem them, but because, having experienced compassion, they find themselves wanting to be worthy of it.

There’s a quote from The Good Place that really captures what I’m saying here: “Why choose to be good every day if there is no guaranteed reward we can count on [...]? I argue that we choose to be good because of our bonds with other people. Simply put, we are not in this alone.” This, I think, is why Essek’s arc resonates so strongly with me (and with others). Because Essek is proof that love can change a person, so long as that person is willing to change in response. And yes, it’s a long journey. Yes, he’s still learning. But he’s trying, and he wants to be worthy of the trust the Mighty Nein have offered him.

And then I think about Caleb, who was also changed by the Mighty Nein. Caleb, who loves fiercely and deeply, even when he cannot bring himself to turn that love inward. For so long, Caleb’s goal was to bend reality to his will--not to redeem himself, but to unravel his past so that it never happened at all. A part of him still wants that, as he admitted to Essek in the tower in episode 133. The temptation of being able to rewrite the past still tugs at him, and probably always will.

But what Caleb hasn’t fully realized--and what I think the overall narrative is pointing towards--is that that isn’t how you bend reality. You don’t change the world by seeking power. You change the world by changing people, and you change people through kindness and mercy and love. That’s what I love about Essek, and what I love about Critical Role: the fact that I can point to this show and say, “This. This is what I believe the world could be, if only we could extend our compassion a little further, if only we could bring ourselves to acknowledge the strength that comes from loving and being loved. The world may be full of terrible things, may even be full of terrible people, but we were not born with venom in our veins. We can choose to leave the world better than we found it.” And I think that’s beautiful.

#critical role #critical role meta #cr meta #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #the mighty nein #redemption arc #cr campaign 2 #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers

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yuyuntianyu · 3 years

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[2HA analysis blog] To love you is torment but leave you I cannot

I wanted to write this (hopefully not-too-long) blog to give 2HA fandom a different perspective of the events in the past timeline. I noticed that there are many little things that could not be carried over to the English language. These little things can give more explanations to our characters’ actions so I hope sharing this would help the novel make more sense. This blog focuses on Taxian-jun and Chu Fei.

Warning: Spoilers ! ! ! Taxian-jun and Chu Fei are their own trigger warnings ! ! !

Despite the novel having 350 chapters, we really know little about what happened between Taxian-jun and Chu Fei besides the abuse and mistreatment and that little is relayed to us by the Most Unreliable Narrator of the Cultivation World - Mo Ran Mo Weiyu. If we only take Mo Ran for his words then a lot of his and Chu Wanning’s decisions told later on would seem irrational and almost silly. So let’s dive deep in the past so we can understand how the great cultivator Beidou Xian-zun could raise such a dumb husky since the events in the past would explain the more irrational decisions made by both main characters.

Given Mo Ran’s narrator is about as reliable as his character in the first 120 chapters, we have to look at other more subtle clues and some of them are due to cultural and linguistic differences.

1. I used to like you a lot

At his coronation day, Taxian-jun stated that he once greatly looked up to Chu Wanning and that he used to love and respect him dearly. Maybe I am reading into this too much but this is my theory: The flower could erase the memory itself but cannot erase the feelings associated with the memory. He had his memories of the good deeds Chu Wanning did for him erased but still remembered that he used to love and respect him. It doesn’t make sense unless it is indeed that the flower could not erase its host’s feelings. So throughout the novel, Mo Ran’s complicated emotions are complicated possibly because he could not remember how he came to have these feelings. Similarly, Hua Binan could mess with the undead Taxian-jun’s memory to a great extent but could not erase his obsession with Chu Wanning.

2. I gave you a new title

Chu Fei. 楚妃. In the Imperial Chinese harem hierarchy, “Fei” means consort and not concubine (嬪 “Pín"). Consorts were highly respected positions in the palace weidling much political power and were only seconds to the Empress Consort. Another major difference is a consort would be married to the emperor while a concubine would not. So if Taxian-jun had truly wanted to only humiliate Chu Wanning and keep him for the carnal pleasures (I am intentionally ignoring his breeding kink completely), he would keep him as a concubine but he gave Chu Wanning the Consort title and hid him from the world. At this point, Taxian-jun had almost lost Chu Wanning once and had spent a lot of effort to bring him back from the verge of death after hearing Chu Wanning’s apology so his anger might have softened a bit. Also, given that Chu Wanning is a man, having a legitimate offspring ( (I am still intentionally ignoring Mo Ran's breeding kink completely) is not an issue so although this is not clearly stated, I believe Taxian-jun wanted to force a relationship and somewhat proper marriage on Chu Wanning. Another hint of this is in an Extra chapter where Taxian-jun tried to get Chu Wanning a birthday gift. He recalled that in his past timeline, he had wanted Chu Wanning to give him something on his birthday as well and that he had wanted Chu Wanning’s heart.

3. Shizun likes to write letters and poems

On Book 3 Chapter 247, Chu Wanning sat down and wrote a few unsent letters to the people he used to know. He also wrote a few lines of poetry. In the first few lines taken from different literature works, he expressed his sense of helplessness and his wish to remain untainted despite the circumstances. The more important two lines are from a poem written by a real poet named Fàn Chéngdà ( 范成大) who lived in the 12th century Southern-Song dynasty. The two lines read:

“May I be like the stars, may you* be as the moon. Night after night, may we shine together side by side.” **

*In the original work, the character used instead of you is “jun” 君 (as in 踏仙君 Taxian-jun). 君 could mean king, emperor, lord, or gentleman ** This is my rough translation - I haven’t found an English version of this poem

These two lines are commonly used in romantic novels as a way to express one’s unchanging love and loyalty to another person despite the circumstances. He compared himself as the stars and wanted to remain by Taxian-jun whom he viewed as the moon. Chu Wanning wrote this to express his willingness to stay but he would never voice this out loud. In the next timeline, he did the same thing by quietly loving and caring for Mo Ran 1.0 despite the mistreatment and was content with never expressing his feelings vocally. Mo Ran was rather uneducated and thus could not fully comprehend these two lines and misunderstood that Chu Wanning was missing Xue Meng.

4. You are all I have left

In chapter 252, after Chu Wanning returned to The Red Lotus Pavilion, he found Taxian-jun already waiting for him. Taxian-jun told Chu Wanning about a dream he had and said:

“I am afraid I don’t resent you… I want to resent you… Otherwise, I…” “In the end, it’s just you and I”.

This is not the first time he expressed that Chu Wanning was all he had left or they only had each other. I believe that at this point, Taxian-jun might have somewhat believed Chu Wanning and recognized that his memories were missing. His words and behaviors seemed a lot more gentle and he mentioned they did have periods of time where their marriage was easier. I believe it was after this point. He told us about the numerous times he attempted to spoil his consort or expressed his affection through gifts, a trip outside the palace, goods, jewels, and even teaching Chu Wanning how to cook or personally taking care of Chu Wanning when he was sick. At one point, Taxian-jun expressed his wish for a more peaceful marriage with Chu Wanning through his breeding kink by saying that if they had children, perhaps they would be more civil towards each other.

Edit: I really wanted to go about this blog without having to refer to their particular taste in bed

5. Are you still mad?

This is a smaller detail but in the original text and the Vietnamese official translation, the way they talked to each other had a bit more of the “husband-wife” dynamic. Especially Chu Wanning ( l┐(︶▽︶)┌ ), the comment section said he sounded like when your wife is mad that you didn’t take out the trash but still says: “I’m not mad” and Taxian-jun, the husband, would come around and ask “Are you still mad at me?” after every fight.

6. I did not think you would really leave me.

On Chapter 99, Mo Ran recalled the fight between him and Chu Wanning after an assassination attempt. In order to convince Mo Ran to not go to Taxue Palace, Chu Wanning said:

“If you destroy Taxue palace, if you kill Xue Meng, I will die before you”.

Now the line “I will die before you” in my language is less of a suicidal ideation but more of a threat. It's used when a person already knows that they are important to the other person and is using their own death as a threat to make the other person do something. This line is thrown around a lot during heated arguments between people close to each other but they almost never mean it. (Even my mom said it numerous times before T_T . I personally think it’s manipulative). Therefore, it is understandable Taxian-jun did not take this line seriously and replied almost mockingly. After all, they had been married for almost a decade at that point, Taxian-jun probably felt somewhat comfortable that Chu Wanning would not do anything reckless. He could not foresee that Chu Wanning meant what he said and actually followed through with his words. I believe that if Taxian-jun had known that Chu Wanning was serious, Taxian-jun would not have gone to Taxue Palace. 7. Don't leave me, ok?

Then Chu Wanning died and Mo Ran spent two years alone. In those two years, we know he basically went insane because of grief, talked to a corpse everyday, and deep fried his Empress Consort. But strangely enough, Mo Ran 1.0 did not immediately mention this after being reborn although it was the main reason he committed suicide. And at that point, it had been well over a decade since Shi Mei faked his death in the past timeline, yet Mo Ran 1.0 seemed to still hold a lot of resentment towards Chu Wanning. Also, he said he could accept Shi Mei’s death but would never accept Chu Wanning’s. So honestly, it did not make sense to me the first time I read the novel and I believed Mo Ran resented Chu Wanning for a different reason.

The answer was first hinted at in chapter 9 when Mo Ran scolded the sleeping Chu Wanning. He called Chu Wanning a donkey hoof (lol) and this is actually an idiom to scold someone who is disloyal and unfaithful in love. The puzzles came together when the undead Taxian-jun showed up and immediately went after Chu Wanning (and not Shi Mei). He believed Chu Wanning used his death to hurt him and was angry at Chu Wanning for leaving him. This is the resentment Mo Ran 1.0 carried over to the next timeline. He hated Chu Wanning for abandoning him. This is solidified in chapter 262 by the undead Taxian-jun pleading to Chu Wanning:

“Don’t betray me” “Don’t leave me the second time. The first time you left, I could choose death as a relief. This time, even death is not an option any more… I won’t be able to bear it…”

So there it is! I hope this blog brings some new information and feel free to discuss! Let me know if you have any questions for me ＼(￣▽￣)／

Disclaimer: Plenty of this is my conclusion drawn from the already ambiguous original text and various translations. Unless Meatbun says it, it’s not canon. I am looking at the novel in three different languages so I might have made some mistakes. Pls forgive. Also, I am not making excuses for Mo Ran 0.5’s actions nor am I justifying the abuse in any way. Chu Wanning never said Mo Ran 0.5 was innocent of these crimes nor will I.

#2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun #chu wanning #mo ran #mo weiyu #ranwan #taxian jun #chu fei #erha #husky is dumb but husky tried his best

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the-hidden-pages · 3 years

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Let Me Worship You: Part 1 - Zemo x Fem!Reader

The fact that this man is the one who dragged me out of my refusing-to-write-fanfiction grave and let me post old work while working on new stuff is...Impressive. Damn you Daniel Bruhl.

Synopsis: With all the horrible things you had heard of Baron Helmut Zemo, you hadn't anticipated just how badly he wished to win you over. To a further extent, you certainly hadn't anticipated how tempting it would be to give in.

No bad NSFW this chapter - this is the lead up to the main course.

You were not an Avenger.

Unsurprising, really, given what you perceived to be your lack of talent and marketable super-heroine prowess, and so when Bucky called you up asking for a favour, you were pleasantly surprised.

You had only met Bucky on the rare occasion he let you help him, often expressing that he viewed you as a worrywart, a particularly bad day of his leading to him accusing you of trying to be his mother. He later apologized, hearing your explanation that you wanted to help in any way you could, and since you didn't have a superhero serum or fancy suit or arm, you relied on what you could - your mind and your giving nature.

He must have remembered this conversation, because he brought you with him and Sam to what appeared to be an underground parking garage.

"What're you talking about, you wanna break Zemo out of jail? Where the hell are we Buck? Have you lost your mind?!" Sam was raving as you followed behind the two men, silent as you stew over what Bucky had told you.

Babysitting duty.

You were effectively on glorified babysitting duty of an incredibly dangerous criminal.

"James..." you hesitated when he discussed this with you, how could you not? "I don't know how useful I'll be here."

"Very," he countered, his voice dull while his eyes were pleading. "Sam’s an Avenger, I have the serum. But you, you're just a person. Zemo will be less likely to hurt and immediately betray you because of that fact alone."

"He's killed people who've been in his way before. Normal people."

"He won't kill you. I'll make sure of that."

A heavy sigh escapes you as Sam and Bucky continue to bicker about the logistics of breaking Zemo out.

"I don't like how casual you're being about this, it's unnatural - and - where are we man?"

"I wouldn't mind an answer to that too," you supply, but any answer is interrupted by the sound of a door unlocking.

The three of you turn to approaching footsteps, and find no one other than Helmut Zemo striding towards you, dressed in a prison guard's uniform.

Sam responds immediately, arguing to throw him back in jail, while Bucky tries to calm him down. But you can't help but stare at the man before you as he removes the cap on his head, arms raised in an attempt to calm the men down.

"If I may" his voice rasped, but he was stopped short by Sam and Bucky in unison.

"NO!"

Zemo nodded, looking away almost sheepishly. "Apologies," came the quiet response.

If it were any other situation, you would have laughed - those two had the dynamics of a married couple and they couldn't stand each other. And for them to completely shut down the killer in front of them was...incredibly funny.

But you had a job to do.

As the boys continued to bicker, you took slow steps forward towards the man now looking you up and down, trying to place your part in all of this.

"Don't mind them," you spoke quietly, not wanting to distract Sam and Bucky, but still intending to speak with the criminal. "They're having some troubles in paradise. You must be Zemo."

His eyes take you in, a small smirk beginning to form. "So I must. May I have the pleasure of your name, Liebling?"

You offer your name hesitantly, and he repeats it back to you, as though he were sampling what it might taste like.

"Beautiful name, thank you." He turns to face the two men still arguing, not noticing your introductions. "I really think I'm invaluable..."

"Shut up..." Sam warned, before turning back to Bucky, looking between him and you.

You nod reassuringly to him - this is necessary, if the super soldiers are to be dealt with.

A sharp sigh leaves Sam. "Okay. If we do this, you don't make a move without our permission. And she is watching you every step of the way."

Bucky interjects. "And if anything happens to her, you're going to wish we left you in that cell."

Zemo nods, looking to you once again. "Fair."

You tilt your head slightly, unable to read his eyes as they examine you. You brush it off, chalking it up to him appreciating not being thrown back into a cell immediately. "Okay Zemo. Where do we start?"

*************************************

Zemo wasn't sure of what to make of you, he realized as you were on the jet to Riga.

You weren't an Avenger, you weren't a soldier, super or otherwise. You seemed to just be a person, one constantly offering her help where she could, even when it was to her own detriment.

He also took note of how rarely your help was appreciated or reciprocated.

You would offer help any moment you could, carrying supplies, offering to fetch food, simply offering and ear to listen. You were quick to attempt to smooth over Sam and Bucky's disputes, and you would play along with the role Zemo would assign you without much question - anything to help, you would say.

You were kind, he noticed as well. Smart, and shrewd, and clearly with trust issues, but you were kind and polite. You spoke with him as much as you might Sam or Bucky, you offered him your trust under the promise he would aide you find the super soldier serum. With your kindness, he thought it might be easy to manipulate you, to slip away from the group, maybe even to ask you to join him.

But there was an issue with his theory, he quickly noticed - any attempt to woo you, attract you, win you...didn't seem to work.

He hadn't been at the task long, mind you, but he had hoped you would be impressed with the jacket, the Baron title, the jet, the offer of wine. Instead, you simply seemed uncomfortable. Come Madripoor, you were happy to play the part of eye candy to escape much attention, yet when he offered you to keep the stunning dress, shoes, and jewelry ensemble you simply waved it off, claiming that you'd reimburse him if he insisted on you keeping it. You were happy to dance near him, unable to hide your laughter at his moves, yet he offered you a drink and you promptly declined, claiming it unnecessary.

Zemo's brow furrows as he observes you, awake and quietly reading as Sam and Bucky both sleep on the flight.

"What's your motive, Liebling?" he questions, and you glance up from your page.

"Don't tell me the criminal doesn't trust me," you respond wryly, turning your gaze back.

"No, I don't mean like that," he shifts, leaning forward to continue to observe the woman that was his guard. "I wonder what keeps you going. Some are motivated by riches, and dreams. Others from spite and anger. What do you want from life, my dear? What causes you to wake up in the morning?"

You pause, looking up to search his eyes to see where this question was coming from. You weren't sure what game he was playing, and you weren't sure how to answer him either. You eventually look back down to your book, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Nothing wakes me up in the morning, given I rarely get to sleep most nights."

His brows furrowed as she goes back to her pages, eager for the conversation to end. Her difficulty doesn't seem to be that he's a criminal - she's spoken plenty freely to him, she agrees to his plans...

The difficulty, he begins to realize with a smile. Maybe he's beginning to see what the difficulty is after all.

*************************************

You weren't sure what to make of Zemo, you think as you lie awake at night in the Riga safe house.

This criminal coming out of nowhere, apparently being rich as hell, so far doing nothing to cause you to believe he would betray you (yes, Sam and Bucky were shocked by his killing of Nagel, but really? You weren't shocked) ...but what shocked you the most was how badly he seemed to want to win you over.

You could justify it, sure. You're supposed to be his guard, he's likely trying to get you to let your guard down so he can escape. Yet when he's so charismatic, the way he holds himself, that voice...

Your eyes snap open sharply.

You were attracted to Zemo.

The man you're meant to be watching.

No, you told yourself. You're just lonely, and he's the first man offering you attention in a long time. It doesn't matter that his eyes examining you makes you blush, that you want to run your fingers through his hair, that a quiet voice your head wished that he would kiss you when he pulled you aside with one arm, other hand aiming at a pipe in Madripoor to blow up some poor saps...

It's the heat of the situation, you told yourself. Your options are Sam, Bucky, and Zemo...

Trust you to pick the worst option.

But how could you not, your mind whispers. When he danced like a goofball in a club your heart warmed. When he sat, filled with confidence and righteousness in the jet, legs splayed enough that you could perch on your knees in front of him, worship him, pleasure him. When he left the bathroom this morning in that damned robe, the deep V drawing your eyes down his chest before you could help himself.

You groaned. Of all the thoughts to keep you awake, why did it have to be your assignment on your mind?

It was too hot, your mind was swimming, you knew sleep wouldn't come soon.

And so, you stood, wrapping your arms around your book and padding downstairs in a loose t-shirt and shorts. Zemo had said that you were welcome to whatever resided within the safe house, and you were ready to take up his offer and steal a cup of tea.

You weren't expecting to find anyone else still awake. And yet, you weren't fully surprised to find Zemo sitting in the kitchen, bottle of whiskey at his side, a glass in his hand. He looks up at the sound of your footsteps, a soft smile on his face.

"Good evening, Liebling."

"Zemo. Can't sleep?"

"Unfortunately, not." He leans backwards slightly, examining you. "Another sleepless night for you as well."

"So it would seem."

You take a seat across the counter from him, not wanting to sit too closely to the man you were just fantasizing about. You were good at keeping a straight face, but you wondered if you got too close if he'd somehow be able to smell it on you.

He pushed his bottle forward, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"Drink?"

Your finger caresses the binding of your book as you hesitate to find the words.

"Actually, I had come down to make myself a cup of tea, if you don't mind."

Zemo's eyes lit up slightly, and he stood, motioning for you to stay where you were. "Allow me."

"You don't have to-" you begin to protest, but he's quick to cut you off.

"Please, Liebling, let me spoil you."

The heat that washes over you is clearly visible, if his chuckle is any indicator.

Silence falls and you quietly open your book as Zemo busies himself over the tea. In mere minutes a steeping mug is delicately placed in front of you. You smile graciously and nod, though you falter slightly as he doesn't return to the other end of the counter - rather, sitting on a stool right beside you, inquisitive eyes not leaving your face.

"Can I help you with something, Baron?" you question, taking the tea and blowing on it to cool it down somewhat. His eyes follow your movements, before travelling to meet yours again.

You could drown in those eyes -

"Day after day you offer your help, sarcastically or not," he begins, leaning forward slightly as he rests his chin on his hand, examining you. "Who offers help to the helper?"

You take a sip of your tea, tilting you head. "I don't know what you mean."

"Your refusal of my gifts, your reluctance to let me even make you a cup of tea - at first I wondered if it was in distrust of me, Liebling -"

"Well, you have killed people."

He quirks an eyebrow, and you motion for him to finish.

"I realize now it's because you're uncomfortable being cared for. You spend so much time looking after everyone else, you give no one the opportunity to worship you as you deserve."

You choked a bit on your tea at that.

"I don't know that I deserve to be worshiped, I just...exist. And do what I can to help others."

Zemo leaned forward further, slowly, so as to not push you away in result. "We haven't been acquainted for long, my dear, but from all I've seen from you with Sam, with James, and with an undeserving man such as myself...the strength in your soul and the empathy in your heart...It alone rises you so far above the men and women placed on pedestals because of their supernatural abilities."

You lean forward to match, but your eyes have steeled over. "Your sweet words won't make me let you go, Zemo. I won't betray Sam and Bucky."

He didn't miss a beat. "I should be so lucky to be held captive by you for eternity, Liebling. I don't ask you to betray your friends on my behalf."

"Then what do you want from me, exactly?"

You should be very afraid. The man who singlehandedly tore apart the Avengers is staring at you as if you were a last meal, his knees touching yours, his hand finding its way to lightly perch on your arm.

You should be afraid.

Yet despite your better judgement, you aren't.

"I want you to tell me every one of your desires, so I might fulfill them. I want to see you stand tall in the finest clothes money can buy, to whisk you away to Paris, Vienna, Rome, every beautiful local this world has to offer, local that pale in comparison to the beauty in front of me. I want you to let me bring you tea, wine, food, chocolates, and anything else that might please you. I want you to relax against me, to feel the tension you've had all mission to wash away in the most luxurious bath of your life, while I wash your beautiful hair, while I taste every inch of you."

His voice had dropped to nearly a whisper, and you couldn't stop yourself from leaning forward more to hang off his every word. "I'm not a stupid man. I know it's only a matter of time before I'm back in a prison cell of some kind. And even if I weren't, you may not believe the sincerity of my words. But tonight, little bird, I want you to let me worship you."

Your eyes fluttered as his hand reached forward to cup your cheek, thumb caressing over your bottom lip. You had the strength to look him dead in the eye with one final warning.

"If this is a trick of any kind, Zemo, I won't hesitate to let Bucky rip you to shreds."

The laughter that leaves him fans over your face, drawing your eyes to his lips.

"I'd expect nothing less, Liebling."

His eyes still search your face. A gentleman, you realize. He's waiting for permission.

You lean forward to close the gap, slowly letting your mouth brush over his, tasting him for the first time, as your hand raises to card through the locks of hair in his face. Your body thrums with anticipation of what's to come, with the anxiety that this may be a dangerous move, with pure, undiluted arousal from his words.

Yet you break away gently, both hands cupping his face now as he looks at you, curious as to why you stopped, pleased that his initial seduction worked.

Your hands slowly travel down to his own, and you stand, backing towards the way you came when you first gave up on sleep for the night.

"Come on then. You want to show me what being spoiled is like?"

A grin curls its way onto his face as he spins you in his arms, twirling you so that your back is against his front, his arms around you, his breath hot in your ear.

"Little bird, I'll give you everything you crave and more."

#zemo x reader #zemo fanfic #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #x reader #baron zemo x reader

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cube-cumb3r · 3 years

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The Means Reflect On The Ends Actually, (c!Dream & the conditioning of Exile)

What was the point of exile, storywise? What does it say about c!Dream? Sure, it’s showcasing how far he’s willing to go to achieve his own ends, but I don't think all discussion about what exile tells us about c!Dream should start and end there.

Dream is not cruel for cruelty’s sake. Dream’s end goal is not to hurt as many people as possible. He views his cruelty are “necessary evils”, and he doesn’t dwell much on whether the things he does are “good” or “bad”. He’s fully aware he’s hurting people and he ultimately thinks that hurting people, to the extent that he does, is worth it. That being said, while Dream has an ends justify the means mindset, but the truth is, the means absolutely reflect on the ends. His true intentions aren’t a mystery, it’s very clear in the text that his ultimate goal is unity, but why does he want unity? And what would said unity entail?

(Before this essay starts I have to do an ad break to promo @daggryet's very helpful [transcriptions from the exile streams], which I'll be using a lot of. Thanks for the very helpful resource.)

TW: Relatively extensive discussion abt the abuse in exile arc & the effects of said abuse.

Firstly, I don't think you should deny his relationship to control. A through-line of his character is achieving harmony through control, and more specifically, obedience. There’s a reason why he tends to single out Tommy the most. It’s not actually because Tommy is remarkably more troublesome than anyone else on the server, but rather, because his disruptive nature is at Dream’s expense. Tommy is the only character who’s consistently over and over again refused to respect Dream’s authority, and though he isn’t particularly threatening on his own, it’s the sentiment itself that’s dangerous. Similarly, this is why he has consistently targeted L’manburg, moreso than any other faction on the server such as, say, Badlands, El Rapids. It’s almost as if they represented the sentiment, “Hey, why are we listening to you anyway? Why can’t we be listening to anyone else?”, which is why he crushed them, over, and over again. What if everyone figures out they can just stop listening to him? What then?

We talk a lot about the effects exile had on Tommy, and rightfully so, but we don’t talk enough about what Dream was actually doing. What was the purpose of exile? Was it just a way to get closer to the discs? Just a means to an end? What was the end?

TOMMY: What, what could you possibly want more from me? You’ve tortured me.

DREAM: I’m just keeping an eye on you, Tommy.

TOMMY: What does that mean?!

DREAM: I’m just, I’m making sure that you’re not up to no good.

TOMMY: But, how, you’ve exiled me, you fucking stupid, manipulative fucking green bastard!

DREAM: I know! And you know why I did that?

TOMMY: Yes?

DREAM: No, you know why?

TOMMY: Why?

DREAM: Because you don’t listen to me ever, you’re the only person who doesn’t ever listen to me. If I tell you to do something, you’re like “no, fuck you!”, and you go and like do like the exact opposite.

[full transcription]

As much as I have to preface this with that this is speculative and we may not have any irrefutable confirmation, I think it's very likely that it's literally just what Dream is saying he's doing. Tommy is the one person who refuses to listen to him, and he wants him to listen. Exile was not only conditioning Tommy to believe that nobody other than Dream cares about him, not only conditioning Tommy to be entirely reliant on him, but also conditioning Tommy to listen to him, without question, without disobeying. And that is such a significant and reoccurring motif for it to arguably just be the intended reading of exile.

Abuse is a vague term that encompasses a lot of abusive practices. There are a good handful that apply to exile, I'm sure if you ask someone qualified they'll be able to provide you a nice handy list, but ultimately, all of them target Tommy's own sense of agency and autonomy, and it all revolves around power and control. Dream creates rituals purely to disarm him, threatens him and punishes him when he doesn't listen, and rewards him when he complies (or rather, conditions Tommy into thinking that not being punished is a reward).

TOMMY: [begins throwing his armor and axe down for DREAM to explode.]

DREAM: No, no, it’s fine.

TOMMY: Re-really?

DREAM: Yeah. Today’s the party, right?

---

TOMMY: So when can I- no, I wanna go back. I… hey, thanks for letting me keep my armour today.

DREAM: You’re welcome.

TOMMY: Kinda nice of you.

[full transcription]

Dream isn’t only hurting Tommy for the sake of hurting him. People tend to frame it as if Dream Just Hates Tommy, but that’s not true. He finds Tommy fun, in a twisted way. There are a lot of moments in exile where they’re both on very good terms and Dream is friendly with Tommy. But, it's also all part of horror of exile, making Tommy reliant on him and his company, getting him to doubt his sense of reality, making him question whether his friends back in L’manburg ever cared about him at all, and possibly questioning whether he’s imagining the abuse as well, Dream is so kind to him after all, why would he ever want to hurt him?

Over the course of exile Tommy agency and sense of self start to deteriorate as well as his mental health, he starts worrying about what Dream would think, starts asking Dream for permission, going out of his way to avoid upsetting him, his only friend, his only reliable caring companion.

TOMMY: Yeah, so I’m thinking we- and then I can- but the thing is; so recently my buddy, Dream, has been doing this thing where he, uhm… it makes sense, though, because I’m not in his land anymore, but he takes my shit from me, so I need to make sure- […]

---

RANBOO: Yeah, so what do you say- does Dream like take your armor? Is that what you said?

TOMMY: I don’t know, he just- hey man, I just follow the boss.

[full transcription]

TOMMY: “Visit Techno” no, no, what would Dream think? […]

---

TOMMY: I’ve had a little idea, by the way, and I wanna know what you think, and also if I’m allowed

DREAM: Okay?

[full transcription]

TOMMY: Yeah, I know he’s actually - he’s sort of my- he’s borderline my owner, Big Q, so I’m not really sure.

MEXICAN DREAM: He’s your dad?

TOMMY: No, no-

MEXICAN DREAM: Ey! Ey, Papa Thomas!

TOMMY: No, no, we’re- as in labor.

MEXICAN DREAM: You gotta teach your child some manners.

[full transcription]

Dream’s outburst in exile after finding Tommy’s chests, is arguably one of Dream's most emotionally honest (and reckless) moments in exile considering it was what made Tommy realize he needed to save himself and escape. And it's punishing Tommy for going behind his back and planning to revolt.

TOMMY: I’m really, no, I’m really sorry, though. Why don’t we just pretend this never- yeah, let’s, shall we just pretend this-?

DREAM: Sorry doesn’t cut it, Tommy. Listen, I’ll leave you here to think about what you did-

TOMMY: What about the nether? What about the nether, my friends, what-?

DREAM: No! You can’t go to the nether, no one can come here, you are alone, okay? As soon as I think that you have changed, have become somebody who isn’t going to hide and lie and try and revolt; then people can visit you again. You can go to the nether again. But for now - no, no one can. You- I was being very lenient. Yesterday I let you go into the Dream SMP on a temporary pass, and then what do I find out the next day?

TOMMY: I’m so sorry.

DREAM: I have been nothing but gracious to you. Tommy. Think about what you did.

---

Exile wasn’t only a means to getting closer to the discs or getting Tommy out of the way. Exile was a means to conditioning Tommy into listening and respecting Dream as his superior. Dreams solution to Tommy being disruptive and troublesome was to [physically beat], emotionally abuse, and psychologically condition him into obedience. Only seeing exile as a testament to how far how willing he was go to meet his ends is reductive, and not acknowledging what Dream considers to be a “problem” and what he considers to be “solutions” is to not engage with his worldview. You have to take exile into account and what it actually says about his ideals of harmony and unity.

---

TOMMY: I can’t go back… I can’t go back, and see my friends and see Tubbo. This is a shithole! He wasn’t- he wasn’t here ‘cause he was my friend. He was here to- what did he say on the first day? Got a little bug that he can’t flig off? I’m the only person who never does exactly what he says?

TOMMY: I’m the only person who never does what he says. Me! He said that to me, didn’t he?

TOMMY: He was here to watch me.

[full transcription]

Dream’s relationship to Tommy can (and honestly should) be compared to his relationship to the entire server at large. Not to imply that He Literally Wants To Abuse The Server, but rather the he views the server revolting as a problem, and the solution? Well. The [prison]. The hall of attachments. It’s no surprise that the disc war, a conflict that was initially only primarily between Dream and Tommy*, is suddenly about everyone. Bargaining and blackmailing using attachments, something Dream initially only subjected Tommy to, to keep him under his control, is now a means to control everyone.

Is Dream's goal of unity for the sake of the overall happiness and quality of life of the people living within said unity? I don’t doubt that this at some point in time was true. But, the fact that he’s willing to ruin lives and long-term psychologically destroy people over it, means that his goal isn’t unity for the sake of the people living in his ideal version of the server, but at their expense. Him believing he needs to control people to maintain unity and harmony means that he believes himself to know what's best for people moreso than the people themselves, and therefore he's the only one responsible enough to make decisions for them. And it also means that his motives has warped and twisted overtime, it’s likely that he’s become so fixated on the goal of unity itself that he’s lost track of why he wanted it in the first place.

Anyway. Stop buying into Dream's own self-justification of "ends justify the means" and put his deeply flawed and broken worldview and view of people under a little bit of goddam scrutiny.

#*yeah no its about tubbo and sapnap too but thats not really who dream has ever focused on #dream smp #dreamwastaken #tommyinnit #exile arc #tw abuse #ask to tag #lor3 essays

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five-rivers · 4 years

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imagine if at a christmas truce party the ghosts discover that danny has a second obsession of space

Wrote a fic~ *does a little dance*

"Here's your invitation to the truce party," said Skulker, dropping the letter by Danny's head, "and here's the duty list. Pick something." He shoved a piece of paper into Danny's face.

"You know," said Danny, testing the rope Skulker had tied him with, "you get a lot better at chasing me when you're doing it for non-murder purposes."

Skulker scowled, but Danny knew better than to take his apparent facial expression as a sign of his true emotions. After all, the face Danny could see wasn't really Skulker's. It was a mask. One the tiny green jellybean inside could manipulate as he pleased.

"What do you mean, 'duty list,' anyway?" Danny blew the paper off his nose.

"It's a list. Of duties. For people who want to attend the party. You can't possibly imagine that one ghost does it all on their own, do you?"

"I don't know. Some living people are really into the holidays. Wouldn't surprise me if there was someone over in the GZ Obsessing."

"There are," said Skulker flatly. "But going to those parties is risky."

"Oh. Yeah. I guess that makes sense. So, is this, like, a potluck deal, or white elephant, or do I have to come set up, or what?"

"Read the list, whelp!"

"I would," said Danny, "if you held it far enough away for me to see what was written on it. "My eyes don't focus that close."

Grumbling, Skulker adjusted his position.

A lot of the things on the list were already checked off. The rest looked dangerous (fighting the Krampus), time consuming (holly acquisition, with a stupidly high number of branches listed next to it), expensive (providing new holiday table settings), confusing (Danny didn't know what a 'consoda' was, or why he would fetch offerings from it), or simply extraordinarily unappealing (after party cleanup). Except for one.

One that caught Danny's eye because of a very specific word that was included.

"Why's the star all by itself?" asked Danny.

"Because the star is important," said Skulker. "Adding the star to the tree is what starts off the real celebration. A star needs to be impressive. Dramatic! Not one of those little dinky tinsel things you can find at human stores."

Part of Danny knew he shouldn't- But when had he ever listened to that part of himself?

Actually, that wasn't really fair. He listened, otherwise he'd be fully dead instead of just half.

Still.

(The idea of making a star made his skin feel sparkly and fuzzy, like his whole body was half an inch from the surface of freshly poured soda, but all over.)

"I'll take it," he said.

"Humf," said Skulker. "Don't screw up, or you'll be in for a beating as soon as the truce is over." He made a mark by the name and started to fly off.

"Hey! Aren't you going to untie me?"

"Nah."

"He's late," said Desiree, sharply, glaring at Skulker as if he had any control over what the whelp did or did not do.

She wasn't the only one.

"He's not late yet," defended Skulker.

"You shouldn't have given him the star as a choice," complained Technus, his voice squaking like a poorly connected computer speaker. "You should have just told him what he'd have to do. Something that wouldn't ruin the party. He's a teenager! Teenagers are easily distracted."

"I didn't know you were a teen, techie," drawled Spectra, who really shouldn't have been at the party at all, seeing as she wasn't, and never had been, invited. Skulker was hoping someone would find a way to throw her and her little minion out before midnight.

"It's TECHNUS, MASTER OF TECHNOLOGY, CONTROLLER OF ALL THINGS ELECTRONIC AND BEEPING."

"I am sure Sir Phantom is on his way," said Princess Dora, softly, ignoring Technus's continuing rant with the ease of long practice. She would not be here the whole evening. Her kingdom had its own, separate celebrations, but they wouldn't start for well over half a human day. "He is a very responsible person, and he was speaking to me about stars just earlier this month." She frowned, slightly, swirling the darkly luminous wine in her glass. "That is, I think he was talking about stars. The conversation was somewhat difficult for me to follow."

"Oh, no," said Desiree, putting one hand delicately over a smile.

"What?" growled Skulker.

"It always bothered me a little, you see, but I hadn't realized quite why until just now." She was barely even trying to hide her delight. "The second time I fought him, it was during a meteor shower."

"So?" asked Amorpho.

"He was rather cross with me during the fight. At the time, I thought it was because he was missing that girl's party, or because of the whole memory wiping thing, but in retrospect..."

"Just spit it out already," said Skulker.

"I do believe you gave the task of making the tree star to a ghost Obsessed with outer space."

Inside the suit, Skulker's true hands slip off his controls for just a moment. "Oh, Ancients," he groaned.

"We're not getting a star this year, are we?" asked Ember.

Phantom chose that moment to barrel through the door. "Sorry!" he exclaimed, looking and sounding more like a little kid than Skulker had ever witnessed. "Am I late? No, I'm not. Never mind. I'm not sorry. What do you think?"

He held out the... thing in his hands for the assembled ghosts to view. It was... It was definitely a star. A round blue star. Complete with solar flares and sunspots. Animated flares and sunspots.

"How the hell?" whispered Walker in the background, despite the fact that he and his pink prison really had no room to talk.

"Is it no good?" asked Phantom, managing to shift his weight even though he was floating. "I turned the brightness way down so that everyone could see the details, but I think I could turn it back up again without too much trouble." He blinked up at the other ghosts, and Skulker noticed with some unease that his pupils were currently shaped like crescent moons. "I mean, the other one exploded, but I think I've got it, now."

All of the ghosts slid back, just slightly. Not that they were afraid of explosions, but, well, being cautious didn't hurt.

"Er," said Dora, "what is it, exactly?"

"A star! A blue giant, specifically. Well, a model of one, anyway, but I think it's a good model. I mean, it's a blue giant right now. I've got it set up so that it'll go through the whole life cycle of a massive star. Or, not the whole life cycle, because that would include the nebula, but the life cycle from this point? It'll change color and expand as the night goes on and it uses up its 'hydrogen'- I've scaled the expansion, though, don't worry, it won't take over- and then the core will collapse and the outer layers will be ejected, and- BOOM!- supernova!"

"Ghost child," said Technus, in a more strangled than usual voice, "are you telling us that's a bomb?"

"No, it's a star," said Phantom, blankly. On closer inspection, the crescents in his eyes were not the only modification to Phantom's appearance. He had pale green and silver stars scattered liberally across his nose and cheeks, and similar shapes in the black of his costume.

In the background, Desiree was dying of laughter.

"Don't you think a supernova might be... dangerous?"

"Oh, a real one, sure. But I tested one before I brought this, and all it did to me was singe my eyebrows off, and I was standing really close."

"Whelp," said Skulker, searching for some reason to reject Phantom's 'contribution,' "how is that even supposed to stay on the tree? It's just a ball."

"Oh, it'll float wherever I tell it to, don't worry, I've tested it!"

It perhaps said something about ghostly parties that the sudden detonation of the tree topper several hours later, the subsequent glee of the supposed superhero in attendance when the room was filled with star-shaped glitter and confetti, and the attempted homicide on the part of several glitter-unfriendly ghosts was not the most exciting series of events to occur that night.

#danny phantom #ask #answer #fic

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