#napoleon solo imagines

[thebadboyfanclub]

Master list

I want to preface this by saying I’m sorry for forcing y’all to having to scroll to find my imagines this took like two days to make, also I hope you were not expecting some fancy and beautiful list I am not that talented but this will do the trick.

Also everybody needs to thank @pearlstiare cause she quite literally took me by the hand and walked me through the entire process out of the goodness of their heart, so thank you for being such a wonderful person. Without further or due, enjoy!

Part two of the masterlist

Full list of the characters I write for

Aemond Targaryen

You Are No Dragon

All For The Motherland

My Little Sea Snake

The Apple Of His Eye

Do You Love Me?

‘Till The Seven Rings Of Hell

Take Care Of Me, My Love

I Would Be Honored

Grow Forever, Never Yield

I Will Do It

Lead The Way

Lady Wife Falling Asleep Headcanon

Aegon Targaryen

The Man You Deserve

I Spill My Blood For You

What’s Your Name?

I Want To Try

After You Little Pet

Queen Of My Life

Lady Wife Falling Asleep Headcanon

Jacaerys Velaryon

Do You Want this?

Part One

Part Two

Lady Wife Falling Asleep Headcanon

Cregan Stark

My hearts soldier

My Beloved Wife

Daemon Targaryen

My Moonlight

You Bled For Them, You Decide

Part One

Part Two

An Eye For An Eye

Your Sweet Princess

Are You Mad?

The Death Of Me

She Has Your Eyes

Left Or Right?

It Is Time

What Are You Waiting For Then?

My Turn

We’ll Finish This Later

The Sunflower Of Highgarden

A Risk Taker

Gods Have Mercy

My Dragon

Lady Wife Falling Asleep Headcanon

Tywin Lannister

I Got You, Little Wolf

The Bloody Princess

Massimo Torricelli

Fire And Flame

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part four

Part five

Sherlock Holmes

It’s Alright Darling

You Are Family Now

Napoleon Solo

I Got You

Henry Cavill

The Lady Of The House

Part one

Part two

Let Me Have This

Geralt Of Rivia

Protect The Queen

Part one

Part two

There’s Nothing Wrong With Submission

The Dream

Part one

Part two

You Are My Home

Rio

You Can Do Better

A Boy, A Girl And A Game

You Are My Light

She Will Learn

Pete Davidson

The Sun And Moon

Dating Pete Davidson (Spiritual Edition)

Cedric Diggory

You Sneaky Little Fox

Draco Malfoy

We’ll Get Caught

Carlisle Cullen

What’s For Dinner?

Do I Have To?

One Way To Find Out

Just Like You

Of Course Precious

What’s Your Biggest Fear?

Off To Bed For You

Aro Volturi

Lamb For Slaughter

Emmett Cullen

Sir, This Is McDonald’s

That’s My Girl

Edward Cullen

Let Me Do Better

Jasper Hale

Pleasure Is All Mine

Niklaus Mikaelson

You Started This?

Part One

Part Two

My Little Cub

Our Love Is Eternal

Mess Is Mine

Sounds Like Heaven

Maybe It’s Better This Way

Elijah Mikaelson

I Quite Enjoyed It

We’ll See About That

Kai Parker

You’ll Be Fine

See You Around Honey

Excuse Me?

Ivar The Boneless

She Is A Lady

Harwin Strong

I Promise

Look At Me, Princess

I Would Like That

Khal Drogo

Stay With Me

[white-bow-tie]

aaand together. there was no plan in making this post or uniting them on one canvas but I just felt like that was needed thank you both [🎶] Napoleon \ Illya

[witchersmistress]

Snooping and Library Sex 2.0

Hello my Darlings! Im in decisive af so i have here another version of Snooping, i changed the characters around and added some details but its basically the same.

Trigger Warnings: rough sex, orgasm denial, destruction of books, back sassying

Word count: 4K

as usual my darlings, you do not have my permission to copy, translate or use my work in anyway. if you do i will haunt you for the rest of your days k?

I can feel the angry energy roiling under my skin after my encounter with Napoleon, all the sated, relaxed feeling from the self induced orgasms is nothing but a distant memory already. I’m on edge and pissed off, and I hate it.

It’s like the ground is shifting out from beneath me, like I can’t find solid footing anywhere, and that unbalanced sensation makes me want to lash out. It would make the most sense to go up to my room and hide out until I feel better, but for some reason, I don’t want to do that. Being idle sounds shitty, so after depositing my shit upstairs, I stalk around the house instead, feeling defiant. So far, I haven’t poked around their space too much. I go from the room they gave me to the kitchen and sometimes to the living room, but not really beyond that. Now I don’t stop myself from doing what I want, striding from room to room as if the whole house is my personal domain.

 I yank open a door down a corridor off the main entryway and find a well-kept baby grand piano inside. I roll my eyes at the fucking luxury these assholes clearly live in and look the instrument over. One of them must play. Even though they have so much nice shit, it would be stupid to have a whole-ass piano in here if it didn’t get used. Which one is it, I wonder? Staring at it doesn’t yield any answers, so I march back out, closing the door behind me. Another couple of doors just lead to closets, and I bypass them, not caring enough to rifle through coats and boxes and shit. But the next door I try reveals a small library. That’s the only good word for the room full of books. There are shelves lining three of the walls, and an armchair with a small end table beside it tucked into a corner. It looks like the kind of place that gets a lot of use, which is surprising as hell since none of the guys seem like the intellectual types. Just the thought of Napoleon or Syverson sitting in that chair with a cup of tea and a thick book is almost enough to make me laugh. It’s a toss-up with Napoleon, and August could go either way too. There’s a set of encyclopedias on one of the shelves, and I roll my eyes because apparently we’re back in the dark ages or some shit.

 I move on from those and find a stretch of classic books. The titles stand out in gold on the spines, things like The Works of Edgar Allan Poe, The Prince, The Odyssey, and The Iliad. Books like they make you read in high school, full of shit you’ll never care about again. I take a couple off the shelves and check them out, running my hands over the smooth leather of the covers and the embossed letters of the titles. I flip through one, The Odyssey, and am surprised to see little notes in the margins. Whole passages have been underlined, and the handwriting is cramped off to the side, but I can just make some of it out. I don’t know anything about books, but reading the stuff in the margins feels like getting a peek into someone’s soul. Whoever wrote these notes had a soul full of rage and pain, and they were connected with the pain felt by the characters in the books. Each book I pull off the shelf to look through is like that, with little notes off to the side and underlined parts. Some words are circled, others crossed out. It’s like whoever did it dedicated themselves to reading each book and finding the parts that either pissed them off or resonated with them the most. I’m putting a few of them back and reaching for another one when someone steps into the room. “What the fuck are you doing?” a deep voice intones behind me. August. And he’s pissed. As usual. I turn around to look at him, and something in the way his face looks so guarded and angry makes me pretty damn sure these books are his. I’m still on edge, feeling exposed from what happened with Napoleon. I hate that 2these men have gotten under my skin. That was never supposed to be part of the plan. I was just supposed to fuck with them, not let them fuck with me back. “Just exploring,” I tell him, shrugging. “Seeing what there is to see in here. Found these books.” “You shouldn’t go poking around in other people’s shit,” he snaps, his broad frame looming in the doorway. I shrug. “It was all just here, so I figured, why not? They’re yours, aren’t they? Or at least, you’re the one who wrote these things in them.” His jade eyes flash with irritation, and I know I’m right. He wouldn’t care so much if they weren’t his and he wasn’t the one who’d gone through all the trouble to make these notes. “So what’s all this about, then?” I ask, flipping open one of the books to a random page. It’s got so many notes on it I can barely make them all out, and I lift an eyebrow. “There’s some heavy stuff in here. One of the characters is talking about… I don’t even know what. The suffering they’re going through. And then you wrote a whole tiny little paragraph about how they don’t even know what true suffering is.” “Stop it,” he grits out, a warning in each syllable. I don’t stop, though. Because this feels good. More addictive than any drug. I want to poke at him, want to get under his skin the way they’ve all gotten under mine. “This part right here about the ‘darkness that you can’t escape’ is pretty poetic,” I say with a little smirk. “Maybe you’re in the wrong business. You should stop abducting women from alleys and take up writing full time.

 It seems like you’d have a lot to pull from for inspiration, judging from what you wrote here.” That seems to be the last straw. August moves forward, marching up to me and yanking the book out of my hand. He crowds into my space, pressing me up against the shelf until the wooden ridges of it dig into my back. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he hisses. “So you should shut your mouth.” He’s so close, but I don’t back down. “Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I want to know more. Maybe I want to figure out what makes you work, August. How you ended up the way you are.” “That wasn’t the deal,” he snaps. “Fuck the deal,” I reply. “I’m guessing you used to live in that shithole apartment building you took me to.” “What?” “I’m not an idiot. You knew it way too well for it to be somewhere new to you, or somewhere you only go when you need information. Plus, Meredith talked to you like she cared. That shit takes time. what's up with that?”

“None of your fucking business.” I can feel the rage pouring off him, but I don’t back down. He’s not going to hurt me—that wouldn’t be in his best interests, considering he needs me alive to kill Ivan—and if he did try to, I could just hurt him back. So all he can really do is stand there while I push his buttons, getting more and more pissed off with no real outlet for it. It feels good to be on the instigating end, finally, to be the one doing the pushing instead of getting pushed. And I keep riding the waves of that, leaning into August and not letting him get away with his non-answers. “What was it like?” I press. “Living there? How old were you? Young?” “Shut up.” His expression closes down some, fury blurring out any other emotion. He’s uncomfortable, but relying on anger to get through it is a tried-and-true method. I know that well myself. “Why don’t you want to talk about it? You took me there, so it’s not like I don’t know.” “That was for a purpose,” he spits. “Not for you to go digging around in my life.” “Oh, it sucks when the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?” I shoot back. “Maybe I don’t want to let you off the hook that easily.” “Maybe I don’t give a fuck what you want.” “Well, that’s obvious. If you did, I wouldn’t be here. You’re holding me hostage in your fucking house, and you won’t even give me anything entertaining to keep myself occupied. Tell me why these books.” “I’m not telling you anything!” The words rip out of him, and there’s pure rage behind them. His eyes are snapping with it, and he’s practically growling at me. “Just a little hint?” I ask, putting on a pleading face. “Small one? Were you some kind of nerd in school? You don’t seem like the type.” Before I can get out another taunt, he grabs my upper arms in a tight grip. I can feel the strength and anger in the press of his fingers, and I know I’ll have marks there later. I half expect him to shove me forcibly out of the room, but instead, he drops his head and crushes his mouth to mine, kissing me hard enough to bruise.

August kisses me hard, biting down on my lower lip and dragging it into his mouth to suck on it before releasing it with a loud pop. A little noise of frustrated pleasure spills from my mouth, and I grab his shirt, hauling him back in for more. He doesn’t resist, devouring my mouth with his, hot and slick and messy. It’s the same thing I did with Napoleon earlier, kissing him to get him to shut up and stop saying shit I didn’t want to hear. I know that’s what he’s doing right now. But somehow, I don’t care. His hands roam over my shoulders and down my arms, finding their way around to fit in between my back and the bookshelf I’m still pressed against. He manages to grab twin handfuls of my ass, groping me hard, and I moan into his mouth all over again. I can’t control my reaction to it, and I don’t even try that hard, really. It’s all happening too fast. All the anger and hate between us is coming out as this hot, intense sexual desire, and I feel like it would burn me up if I tried to ignore it. I can feel how hard August is as he presses forward, grinding into me. I press back against him, rubbing against the hardness of his body. With a little growl of desire, his mouth moves from mine down to my jaw, leaving biting, open-mouthed kisses as he blazes a trail to my neck.

 I gasp when he bites at just the right spot, arching against him and tipping my head back. That seems to give him an idea, and one hand releases my ass to fist in my hair, yanking it enough to one side that he has complete access to my neck. His mouth is hot and wet, and it feels like it’s everywhere as he kisses me, my body responding eagerly to his touch no matter what my mind might think about him. My nipples go hard and tight, and my pussy throbs with need. It still feels too empty from when Napoleon rejected me, and it’s almost like it can sense that there’s a chance to fix that right now. “Fuck,” I groan, pulling against August’s hold on my hair just to feel the sharp pain that comes from the resistance. He doesn’t say anything, releasing my hair after a moment and letting the silvery strands fall over my shoulders as his hands start roaming again. They find my nipples, and he pinches and tweaks them through my shirt at first before sliding his hands under the fabric and shoving my bra out of the way. His mouth trails down lower, and he presses those hot, feverish kisses along the skin of my chest and my tits, tugging down the neckline of my shirt until he finds one nipple and takes it between his teeth, biting down and none too gently.

 I cry out at the sharp sting of it, squirming against the shelves while he practically feasts on my tits, leaving even more biting kisses in his wake. Pinned in place, it’s all I can do to stay upright against the shelves, letting him run his mouth over my skin and my nipples. My pussy is wet again, so desperate to be touched or filled or something, and I grind even harder against him, searching for the friction to take the edge off. August finally looks up again, and his jade green eyes are dark now. There’s still anger there, but it’s being crowded out by the raw lust emanating from him. It’s a damn good look on him, and I reach up to grab ahold of the back of his neck, pulling him down so I can kiss him again. He grunts out something that might be a curse or might be my name, but I swallow the sound either way, shoving my tongue into his mouth and almost daring him to keep up with me. And he does. He kisses back with equal intensity, matching my pace until we’re both breathless. I’m the first one to pull back, needing to catch my breath while my head spins. August takes advantage of the moment and rips my shirt over my head, exposing my bare chest to the air of the room. He yanks my bra off, and I half expect him to go back to my tits, but instead, his hands go down lower, undoing the button and zipper on my jeans so he can drag them down. August’s already dark eyes turn almost black as he stares down at me. 

Without saying a thing, he drops to his knees in front of me and takes those kisses down to my pussy. He sucks and licks at it like it’s the best thing he’s tasted all year, his tongue working itself along my folds and circling my hole with precision. I can’t help the way I shiver at how it feels, the heat and pleasure of it shooting through me. I still feel sensitive from Napoleon making me fall apart so many times less than an hour ago, and August’s mouth on me feels amplified, as if every sensation is turned up to eleven. He’s messy with it, eating me out and making his face and my thighs slick with my arousal. I look down at him while he drags his tongue over me, breathing hard and still feeling spiteful. “You’re lapping up Napoleon’s cum, you know,” I taunt breathlessly. That’s enough to get him to jerk back, but he doesn’t seem disgusted or squeamish about it. Instead, his eyes are dark with anger again, and his face twists into a mask of fury. “You fucked Napoleon?” he demands. I can’t tell if he’s mad about me fucking Napoleon in general or me fucking Napoleon instead of him. I could easily lie and say that yeah, we fucked, but it bothers me for some reason that the answer is no. I was right there, mostly naked and still a mess from the rolling orgasms Napoleon gave me, and he didn’t want to finish what he fucking started. It sits sourly in my belly, the sting of rejection still present and irritating. So I refuse to answer August, just raising an eyebrow and shrugging one shoulder. Let him think whatever he wants about that.

 He narrows his eyes, a hard look coming over his face. Then he slaps my pussy hard with one hand. I jerk and moan in surprise, taken aback by the sudden harshness. When he does it again, harder, a flash of pain bursts through me before my clit starts to throb with need. “Fuck.” It’s basically the only thing I can think to say to express that it felt fucking good, but August doesn’t seem to need more than that. He dives back in, hands gripping my hips hard while he licks me with even more vicious determination than before. Even with the knowledge that he’s licking the remnants of Napoleon’s cum out of me, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t seem like he’s put off at all. It’s more like he wants to lick me clean or something, to overtake what Napoleon did to me and wipe it out of my memory.

And he’s fucking good at it, too. I don’t know where August falls on the spectrum of Syverson to Napoleon in terms of how often he likes to fuck, but he knows what he’s doing. His tongue curls along my clit, teasing it and working me up. I thread my fingers into his hair, holding on tight and rolling my hips as the sensation builds and builds and builds. I can feel my orgasm rising, threatening to overtake me. And then, when I’m right there on the edge, about to tip over into a fucking amazing orgasm, August stops and pulls back. “What the shit?” I gasp out, sounding hoarse and breathless. “I was close.” He doesn’t say anything, just gets up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. My legs are shaky, and I’m ready to be pissed off as hell if he thinks he’s going to walk away without getting me off after all that. But then he grabs me again and turns me around so I’m facing the bookshelves. He grabs my hands and braces them against the wood, moving me where he wants me. I should be pissed off. I am pissed off. But that’s not the only reason my heart is racing. He grabs my pants where they’re pooled around my ankles and pulls them up just enough that they wedge my thighs together, keeping my legs tightly closed so I can’t open them. Just how he wants me. I’m about to turn around and tell him to get the fuck on with it, when he drives into me hard enough to leave me breathless. Like this, with my legs pressed together, I’m even tighter than usual, and it’s like I can feel him everywhere, pressing against my walls, filling me up.

 August isn’t gentle with it either. He grabs my hips hard, fingers digging into my flesh as he fucks me even harder. His cock drives into me with punishing force, the sound of our skin slapping together ringing out in the room. I don’t bother to hold back my sounds of pleasure. I probably couldn’t even if I wanted to. Not with the way he’s fucking me hard and dirty, making sure that each thrust sends the whole length of his cock slamming into me, hitting that spot inside me that makes me cry out almost every time. Heat and electric sensation curl through me, radiating out from my center to spread into my whole body. I was already on edge before, from his mouth on me, and this is just another step closer to throwing me into an orgasm headfirst. I move my hand, ready to rub at my clit until I come from it all, but August growls behind me. He grabs my wrist and puts my hand back where it was, holding it down with almost bruising force. “No,” he pants. “You don’t get to touch yourself.” It flashes through my mind to tell him where he can shove his bossy bullshit, but then he slams into me so hard that it’s all I can do to stay upright. My heart is pounding almost as forcefully as the way he’s fucking me, bashing against my ribs and making it hard to catch a full breath. Books fall from the shelves around us as my tight grip on the bookshelf makes the whole thing shake. My back is arched, my eyes half closed. My whole body is on fire. I’m so close, right there on the edge, ready to tip over into that well of pleasure that’s been building steadily, but August doesn’t let me. He doesn’t give me that last little push I need. Instead, he starts fucking me more shallowly, letting his cock dip in and out of my pussy without driving all the way in. A noise of helpless frustration spills out of my mouth, and I ball my hands into fists against the wood of the shelf. August doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even taunt me for being needy and desperate. He just keeps his hips moving, turning those shallow thrusts into long, slow ones that still don’t give me all that I need. He’s holding out for as long as he can, clearly, and it’s driving me fucking insane. I thrust my hips back, trying to take him to the hilt, trying to get more, and he just makes a low noise and digs his fingers in harder. 

Maybe it’s a warning, maybe it’s a reaction. I don’t know and I don’t fucking care. All I know is that if I don’t come, I’m going to go insane. My core throbs, spasming around his dick like it’s desperate to milk it dry once I’m allowed to come, and I whine low in my throat, feeling all that sensation keep building like it’s going to snap. Finally, he seems to be at the end of his tether. I can feel his hips stuttering, the stamina he’s been using to drive me nuts finally giving out. He reaches around and down and pinches my clit hard. The pain and stimulation are enough to set me off like a bomb, and I nearly scream, getting a hand up over my mouth in time to muffle it as I explode in pleasure. I can barely breathe, barely keep my body from shaking itself apart as I come, gushing on his cock and squeezing it hard. August follows me over the edge, letting out a low groan as he pumps me full of his release. I’m breathless, slumped against the shelves, trying to remember how to move or do anything. My body is still trembling from the force of my pleasure, and I nearly stagger when August pulls out and steps back. By the time I can turn around to look at him, he’s pulling his pants up and tucking his cock away. Even though I’m positive he was just as into that as I was, he looks more put together, since he’s dressed and not oozing cum the way I am. “Clean up the fucking books,” he says, back to that angry, flat tone. Then he turns and walks out, leaving me there with the mess. Whatever bliss I was feeling a second ago evaporates instantly on the heels of my anger, and I’m pissed off all over again. Not about fucking him, but about the fact that it feels like he’s won something. Like he’s the one who came out ahead and has the higher ground now, even though I’m the one who instigated the confrontation.

 He walked out like he was fine and nothing had changed, but I’m the one slumped against a shelf like I’ve lost my equilibrium. August definitely had the upper hand while we were fucking. I needed him at that moment, and I hate that more than anything. He practically had me begging, poised on the edge of an orgasm I could only get from him, and he knew it. “Fucking asshole,” I spit, even though there’s no one there to hear it. I don’t need anybody. Least of all August. Or any of these fucking guys. “I’ll pick up your stupid books,” I mutter under my breath. I gather up the ones that fell off the shelves and make sure to smear his cum on the pages before slapping them shut and putting them away. The pages will get stuck together, and it’ll serve him fucking right.

[emerald-truth]

headcanon about napoleon wanting his ass fucked that got so long I thought it should have a title

Prompted by how much I love N/I fics where Napoleon wants to be penetrated on him and Illya's first time together.

First of all, I don't think sex is an activity Napoleon attaches a lot of meaning to most of the time. It's just fun. Also he's a pretty open minded guy and open to trying new things. Therefore, I don't think he would attach a lot of meaning to anal penetration or be afraid to try it. If Napoleon learns about another way to have sex that feels great he would definitely try it. I don't think he's the kind of person to have reservations about its associations with homosexuality either. Even if he does have trouble coming to terms with his attraction to men, he doesn't think about sex in such a restricted way. And he certainly isn't going to have a problem with the fact that it's not good christian sex for reproduction because he already has a promiscuous and sinful sex life by those standards. Even if he's only having sex with women, I think he's gonna be trying it with them. Especially thrush women, knowing thrush . . .

I also think being penetrated feels a lot more vulnerable for Illya in a way that scares him, and this also has to do with Napoleon placing less importance on sex than Illya. I think Illya has less sex than Napoleon not just because he isn't very interested in women but because he doesn't want it to be a casual act. He may have casual sex sometimes because it's more common in gay subcultures and because he's too closed off to have anything more than casual relationships, but I think he's closed off sexually as well as emotionally. And he's particularly closed off to being penetrated because he does place meaning on it and see it as an act of vulnerability and he isn't willing to be vulnerable with anyone (except Napoleon).

And I don't think Napoleon feels vulnerable about it at all. This has to do with what I see as the fundamental difference between Napoleon and Illya's secretiveness. Both of them have to keep secrets because they're spies of course, but Illya is antisocial and insecure personally in a way that Napoleon isn't and has nothing to do with their job. Not only do sexual acts not have as much inherent meaning to Napoleon, he's a master at being open and friendly without actually giving away any information about himself. He doesn't feel uncomfortable about being outgoing or being known, at least on a surface level (and most sex is surface level to him), like Illya does. It's revealing personal information, especially about his past, that he's worried about. And just because you've had sex with someone, no matter what kind of sex it was, doesn't mean they know anything more about you than they did before except about that one sexual incident.

This doesn't necessarily have to be related, but I also think Napoleon likes being submissive during sex more than Illya does, and this is part of the reason I love fic where Illya tops their first time. Also because it's rare compared to the other way around and it's just nice to have variety but that aside . . . Even though he's technically superior in rank in uncle, Napoleon is more comfortable not being in control. In their work, he's more spontaneous and more willing to operate without all the facts. Illya is a scientist and he likes to be well informed and follow a plan. In control. He also keeps very tight control of himself. He usually only speaks when he has something important or witty to say, and his body language is very calm and controlled. Napoleon on the other hand, is comfortable and enjoys talking off the cuff, and he's very loose with his body, touching and fidgeting with everything around him. He doesn't restrict himself the way Illya does. That's what gives Illya so much more of a more mysterious vibe even though we actually know more information about him.

Now what does this have to do with sex. I got on more of a general character meta tangent, but analysis of what characters enjoy sexually should stem from analysis of characters in general so this is fine. Illya would probably be willing to give up control during sex after he and Napoleon have been together a while because it's Napoleon, the one person he trusts. Their first time however, and most of the time, he probably isn't going to want to, especially since I think he attaches more of a submissive connotation to bottoming than Napoleon does.

And not only is Napoleon ok with being submissive I think he likes it. He's very considerate during sex no matter who it's with and enjoys making the other person happy. Sometimes that means letting the other person relax while he takes care of them, but sometimes that means letting them do whatever they want with him. And as someone who's in a lot of high stress situations it's probably really nice for him to relax and not make decisions. Sex is one of his favorite things to do in his free time, so it seems reasonable he would want to take a break from being in control during that time. Especially with Illya who he can truly let his guard down with.

The other thing is. Napoleon knows Illya. He knows Illya likes to be in control and is afraid of vulnerability and he isn't going to put Illya an a situation where he's uncomfortable. And as much as Napoleon is masculine, he isn't macho. And he isn't afraid of letting Illya have control over him. He would let Illya do anything to him because he loves him. And he's certainly going to let Illya do something to him that makes them both feel great and that other people have probably done to him before.

The heart of the matter is Napoleon has sex to feel good, he's adventurous, he's a bit of a hedonist, and he has very little sexual insecurity. In what world is he not going to want his prostate stimulated.

[hencvl]

Napoleon Solo Masterlist.

[geralts-yenn]

2023 character wrapped

@deandoesthingstome knows too well I get a little obsessive over some characters - let's see if I can make it to nine (or if I can stop at nine 😁 a look onto my masterlist that's barely a year old tells me we will get there)

Here we go...

My no 1: No surprise here - Mikey

He's my precious silly boy and I will never stop loving him. As part of a family of lunatics here or here, as our best friend, or as the cute neighbor who steals the heart of Nina and Mel

2. Melot

I blame @raccoon-eyed-rebel for introducing me to the slutty lil' braid boy. Just look at that grumpy, miserable little guy. I can't help but thinking about how to make him feel better. That's why he gets the love from not only one but two lovely persons in my Hearts Too Big universe. He's still not quite happy as a vampire in Believe in Me, but I swear we'll get to it.

3. Syverson

Not much of a surprise - how could I not love him? He's the character I read the most this year, for sure. But I also loved to write him into my bonfire story and it's follow up. I was yearning for him and I imagined him as a daddy 🥰

4. Evan

Oh, he was a surprise for me. Even though I liked his character in the movie, I didn't intend to write for him. Until a lovely nonnie put him into my brain and started to fuel my obsession with him here, here and here.

5. Walter

The grumpy bear was always a favorite of me when it came to reading but I was a little scared to write him by myself. In the end, I'm quite happy with the outcome when I finally dared.

6. August Walker

Another one that I love but didn't dare to write. Until it was too tempting to add him as the vampire king in Believe in Me. And then those little pieces of smut here and here with the vampire king were surprisingly easy to write.

7. Napoleon Solo

I love the smooth spy. I had so much fun to pair him up with the lovely Amina and I totally plan to get back to Leon sometime in the future

8. Charles

I wish I had more time to explore his character. I love him so much - especially when he's put into a modern AU. I kinda did this to him as my sidekick for Melot. And I have a wip in my folders, sleeping for way too long, where he's the most annoying and yet adorable duke. I really hope I get to the point where I can introduce him to you.

That's everyone I have written for this year. But I surely don't stop here with obsessing

I won't count Geralt, Will and all the other characters of Henry Cavill because this post is already too long for anyone to read, lol.

But I surely have to count the man himself

9. Henry Cavill

Yes, I am obsessed with this man and I am not sorry! I guess I won't ever get back to the unfinished RPF that got me into writing at all but I will not stop loving the adorkable man that he is.

And then there are still some guys that don't look like Henry:

9. Dean Winchester

I had almost forgotten how much I loved him. Until I introduced the teenager to Supernatural and spent a lot of evenings this year watching that stupid little shit 😍

10. Billy Russo

One of my favorite roles for Ben. And so many good fics out there that I need to explore at some point.

11. Jack Reacher

Very recent addition to the hunks in my head. I love the new season and I'm definitely not immune to that man's visual charms.

I think I will stop here, even if I could name probably another 12...

@ellethespaceunicorn @peyton--warren @gummydummy19 @jvanilly @ronearoundblindly @ylva-syverson want to talk about your favorite characters?

[gummydummy19]

Hi Gummy<3

Sorry in advance but:

In answer to who's going to distract you from studying, the options are:

A. Sherlock Holmes because he is so clever. One glance at your quiz and he'd give the answers in an instant （also because he's bored as hell and nothing is interesting for a week）, while you are trying your best to finish these questions on your own.

"Sherlock! Shut up! I'm trying to study here." You yell at him.

And he'd give you this look: ↓

B. Captain Sy because he's being such a good boyfriend. Bringing you biscuits, sliced fruits, protein bars and coffee so that you can always feed yourself with the snacks.

"You really have to stop, honey, or I'd gain two pounds before lunch." You pout at him, when he scratches the back of his head and chuckles in embarrassment.

Him saying he'd be out of your hair in a sec: ↓

C. Napoleon Solo. He offered to steal the answers for the finals when you sigh for the hundredth time in the morning. "I'll have Gabi to stake out-" He is ready to dial the numbers.

"Why don't you kidnap my professor and torture him to hand us an easier paper-" You roll your eyes.

"That sounds fantastic, sweets."

He nods. He fucking nods and grins at your sarcasm.

"That's not- Please don't- I need some peace and quiet to study, please?" You sigh for the hundred and first time, placing your hands under your chin, blinking your eyes as adorable as possible.

D. Clark Kent. Equally buried in books as he needs to pass his finals for the course Media and Communiation. He lies on your thighs, holding his book right above his face before -

A dull thud and the book lands on his face, snapping him completely awake. Also making you nearly jumping on your feet.

"... Ouch." He scratches his nose, removing his glasses, "Which chapter are you at - *yawns* now?"

Bonus: August Walker, who ordered a random IT guy (Benji: I deserved a Thank You at least!) to alter your marks in the system, making sure you'd get straight A's no matter what.

And he took you to a concert/opera/club/... before the test to help you loosen up. (It didn't help at all.

(take your pick :3

OH. MY. GOD.

Okay…you…you are a menace, Jam😶 A MENACE I SAY!

Alright this needs a bit of thinking…

I study Journalism so Clark would actually be of great help to study together…+ naps together during breaktime are so so so so so welcome 😭🫶🏻

BUT

Sy…my beloved…big grumpy men being all soft and caring makes me SHHWJZHDJAHSHZ🫠🫠🫠

I can just imagine him in the kitchen fumbling around with fruits and trying to plate everything up nicely without making too much noise. I feel like he is also such a great cook tho?? He would definitely be on cooking duty during my entire exam period. Grilling steaks the size of your head because he claims “its good for your brain” and “you need to be strong and energised”

BUT THEN ALSO….

Sherlock…

He would definitely make everything way easier for me. He would get all my summaries finished in about a quarter of the time it would have taken me and he would be amazing in teaching me ways to remember stuff more easily.

And with all that extra free time he just created…well…he claims he deserves a reward for being such a great tutor as he presses kisses on your neck and slowly drags you to the bedchambers…..

JDHBAHWKZK😩🫠🥴

AM I ALLOWED TO HAVE A TOP 3??? PLEASE?!?!?!

[white-bow-tie]

This goddamn smile...

b\w version bc why not

[hederigerenthag]

Napoleon Solo Headcanons: Early Life Edition

Based on things that he says in the show and that people say about him ('You don't exactly rate with Dun and Bradstreet', thanks, Illya), I'm interested in Napoleon's relationship to and experience with money. In my imagination, his family was initially well off, but overextended in the stock market and lost nearly everything in the crash. So, Napoleon would have been born solidly into the Great Depression and spent his earliest years in a family that was a) broke and b) desperately holding on to a veneer of prosperity. Mix in to taste the interpersonal conflict, blame, and shame that occur in a family experiencing a sudden financial setback.

I expect that they eventually clawed their way back to stability as the US economy rebounded in the 40's and 50's, but also that their experience left some cracks that could not be papered over. Young Napoleon would have learned the importance of keeping up appearances, been used to adults hiding things from him, and gotten good practice in hiding things from others. In his chosen profession, he is well served by his persistent ability to maintain a vague illusion of glamour under all circumstances.

[witchersmistress]

Library Aftermath

Hello my darlings!! as promised to @livesinfantasyland here is how he reacted.. i do not plan on adding this to an on going series list at this moment

Trigger warnings: None, fluff

Word count:1.4K

It’s been a few days since Evelyn came home in the middle of the night, practically morning, smiling with triumph and saying she had a plan. There was something haunted in her eyes that night, like whatever she had to do to get this plan in place cost her something, but apparently it was worth it. I asked her then what the plan was, but she told me she’d tell us in the morning, making me wait and grinning when I seemed pissed off about it. I watched her go up the stairs to her room with a bad feeling in my chest. She laid it all out for us the next day.

How she met one of the hookers from the red light district and talked to her. How Charles  has a fucking assault fetish and likes to make the girls he hires act it out. Just when I thought it wasn’t possible for me to hate that piece of shit more. It all comes together when Evelyn explains it. All she has to do is wait for this girl to call her, and then she’ll move in and do what she does best. What she’s been working toward all this time. She’ll take out the last fucker on the list. But this isn’t like before, when she was going to shoot Charles  from across the street and be gone before anyone realized what happened. 

This is different. She’ll be in the middle of it all. Right there, pretending to be some fucking helpless hooker for him to take advantage of. It’s sick, just like Charles  himself, and just thinking about it makes me grind my teeth in irritation. But of course, Evelyn doesn’t give a shit. She’s focused on the fact that this plan will work, and it’s the best shot she has. I know she wants him dead, more than she wants anything else, apparently, but it’s still a bad plan. I didn’t like her plan when she first told it to us, and I don’t like it now. In fact, I fucking hate it. I hate pretty much everything about this, starting with the night she killed someone outside our club. She’s in our lives now. Deep in. Way too deep for only having been here a short while. Little signs of her are everywhere in the house. A bra slung over the back of a chair, a bottle of nail polish on the table, her brand of cigarettes on the counter.

 I can’t help but think about Walter’s warnings that first night, how we should just kill her and be done with it because she’s only going to bring trouble. He wasn’t wrong. She’s wormed her way into our lives and our home and our routines. At some point, I stopped thinking of the room she sleeps in as the guest room and started calling it her room. Like she lives here and isn’t just staying so we can keep an eye on her. Syverson and Napoleon both pant after her like horny dogs, even Walter seems to have made some kind of peace with her, and I… I wander into the library, unable to forget fucking Evelyn in here. I think about how she worked herself back, taking every violent thrust with pleasure, demanding more all at the same time. She riled me up to a breaking point and then handled it completely when I unleashed on her. I’m sure a lot of people would think it’s weird for there to be a full library in a house like this. They’d probably think the same thing about Walter’s piano.

 But this is where I come to settle my mind when my demons scream too loudly. It’s peaceful and it’s mine. My father was a piece of shit who mocked me for not learning how to read for a long time, so I’ve made it a point to read everything I can since I learned. I find old books, the classics that all the stuffy intellectuals say you have to read if you want to be anybody, and I read them. I keep them, along with the notes I make in the margins. Like proof that I can do whatever the fuck I set my mind to without approval from anyone else. Nothing can hold me back. I walk along the shelves, trailing my fingers over the place where Evelyn had her hands while I fucked her from behind. She wanted to touch herself, but I wouldn’t let her, keeping her hands right there, making her take it at my pace. Just thinking about it makes my cock perk up, and I can feel myself getting hard. I pick up one of the books from the shelf. Heart of Darkness. Appropriate. I open it and go to flip through it, but the pages don’t fan open the way they should. A bunch of them are stuck together, hard at the edges and unable to be pulled apart. I narrow my eyes and put it back, picking up another one. It has the same issue. My jaw clenches with anger. Evelyn is in the living room, watching Napoleon and Syverson beat the shit out of each other in a video game, and I march in, holding the book in my hand. “What the fuck happened?” I snap, my voice cutting through the sound of video game violence and Syverson laughing. Evelyn looks up, confused at first, but then she sees the book in my hand and bursts out laughing. Her blue eyes are bright, and she runs fingers through her shiny silver hair like she couldn’t give less of a shit. “I don’t know, Gus,” she says, shrugging. “But it really isn’t a good idea to smear cum all over the pages of books. They’ll just stick together. Didn’t you learn that lesson with porno magazines when you were younger?” I see red at her nonchalant expression. “I didn’t fucking smear cum on them,” I growl. Napoleon and Syverson are still in the middle of their game, but I can tell they’re listening. Syverson’s laughter might be about how his character just ripped the spine out of Napoleon’s character and beat him half to death with it or because of me talking about jizz on the pages of my books. Either way, it just pisses me off more. It’s like it’s a game to them.

 Like this isn’t our lives this woman has marched herself into and started fucking with. She’s here, like she owns the place, making herself at home and fucking things up. Of course they both love it. Syverson is a sucker for chaos. Anything new and different and exciting. Plus, Evelyn seems to understand him in a fucked up way. He wouldn’t spend so much time around her if she didn’t. Napoleon just wants to fuck her, and he probably has already. She’s the type to get him excited, and he also likes when things are happening. Especially things that involve a pretty girl. Both of them are missing the point—that she’ll be gone soon enough, and all the shit she fucked up will have to try to get back to normal. If that’s even possible.

I stand in the middle of the living room glaring at her, feeling like I’m the only one who gets it. Mad at her for fucking with my shit, for being so damn compelling. I want her to kill Charles  so she can get the fuck out of our lives already, even though I know it won’t be that easy. Nothing’s ever that fucking easy. Her grin just goes wider as she glances down at the book in my hand. “Oh, yeah. That was me.” Anger rises in me. I’m pissed as fuck. She’s grinning like she doesn’t have a care in the world, like it doesn’t faze her that she fucked with my stuff. I stride toward her, prepared to yank her up, bend her over my knee and punish her if I have to, but her phone rings before I reach her. She rolls her eyes at me and pulls it out of her pocket, answering it as soon as she sees the name on the screen. Her face goes serious in an instant, all traces of humor falling away. She gets up from the couch, moving over to a corner to talk in a hushed conversation.

I hear her say “Are you sure?” and “Okay,” and “Don’t worry. I’ll be there.” Everyone in the room stops, looking at her while she talks. Syverson has stopped laughing, and Napoleon isn’t grinning anymore. The atmosphere in the room has completely changed. I forget all about the books, waiting to hear the verdict. Finally, she hangs up and turns to look at all of us. “That was Avalon,” she says. “Charles  put in a request for a girl, and Avalon volunteered to do it for the night. It's time to go.”

[justabigoldnerd]

Okay okay okay @pippinoftheshire 's fic "The River Of My Blood Is Silver" has me back on my winged people bullshit SO here are what wings I think our Dream Team would have and why.

First on the roster: Illya Kuryakin, KGB

The Blakiston's Fish Owl

IMMEDIATELY, I knew Illya was going to be an owl. Completely silent flier, master killers, etc. But also playful and curious and SUPER FUCKING INTELLIGENT. With Illya being 6 ft 5, I looked up the owl with the longest wingspan, and it was this lovely gentleman. His wingspan can get up to 6 foot across. And get this....he is native to Russia

I picture Illya tucking his wings away as tightly as he can most days to make himself look smaller, but then on missions, they're on full display. He uses them to protect his partners (think that one scene from Lucifer), to silently take out enemies, to just straight up intimate the bad guys by fluffing up his feathers. And I imagine during episodes, they start to slowly bristle and unfurl and shake like his hands. And I also imagine that his attempts at hiding his wing span most of the time leads to terrible muscle spasms that he used to just try and ignore, but after he and Gaby and Solo get together, they help him literally stretch his wings and get the knots out of those fragile but powerful muscles.

• • •

Next is Napoleon Solo, CIA

Obviously, my first instinct was the great Bald Eagle, but then

Then I remembered the fun fact that every time you hear a bald eagle in media, it's ALWAYS a Red Tailed Hawk

And just something about the boy-soldier black mailed into working for the American government and becoming their most effective agent really paralleled the Red Tailed Hawk's voice being stolen for the big USA Patriot Bird. Also, I mean LOOK at that plumage, it's DASHING!!! He'd love it!!! He'd preen CONSTANTLY and keep his feathers in tip-top shape.

I see Solo pretending not to be shy about his wings, flaunting them about and using them to seduce marks and shit, but then when then not letting the people he's close to see them or touch them (erogenous zone???) because deep down he doesn't trust them not to hurt him. UNTIL Illya and Gaby come along and slowly encourage him to let them help him preen hard to reach spots and break up keratin sheaths.

• • •

And last but not least!!! Gaby Teller, British Naval Intelligence

The Peregrine Falcon

Not only the fastest bird on the planet, but the fastest animal alive today! And we've all seen how Gaby drives. She's fast and precise and quick witted and SMART AS FUCK. There was (in my opinion) no better choice for her.

Due to her shorter stature in comparison with her wings, she often keeps them tied to her back as part of her mechanic coveralls. They get oil-stained a lot, and she never minded it, or preened all that often, as a matter of fact, but then the boys caught sight of her wings and immediately went "Oooo honey, make over time" and took dawn to those babies and fluffed them up all nice and now she is deadly in the air, becoming just as feared as Illya in the field.

Anyway, that's my take! Hope you enjoyed, because I had a blast writing this up!!!!💕💕💕💕💕💕

[cha-melodius]

Not a wacky au (I dont think that I could live up to that level of batshit crazy) but an au request never the less.

Paramedic Illya who responds to a multi car pile up. Solo is trapped in his car, it’s a difficult extraction that takes hours, all the while Solo’s condition is deteriorating. But the time they get him out he’s in criticle condition and it’s touch and go. Maybe Gaby was in the car but it was easy to get her out.

For the following days/weeks Illya can’t seem to let solo go - he’s never has this issue letting go off a patient after the hand over - so he goes to visit Solo after he gets moved out of the ICU

Oooh this one is ripe for lots of drama! Honestly perfect for whumptober. I love the idea that Illya has seen this kind of thing time and time again, but there's something about Napoleon that sticks with him. I can see a situation where Napoleon is conscious at first and Illya has to try to keep him talking and awake while they work to get him out. Maybe Illya is not usually the "talking" one, because he's not a very chatty person, but for some reason he's the one who has to this time. He discovers Napoleon is surprisingly easy to talk to, but also he starts feeling more and more distressed as Napoleon starts fading. Imagine if Illya can see at least part of him—enough to see those piercing blue eyes that linger on in his head for ages afterward.

Maybe in the aftermath he doesn't even know Napoleon's full name, and he tries to track it down through the hospital but is rebuffed because of HIPAA. He should give up, but he just needs to know if Napoleon is ok. That's all (that's not all). One day after dropping off a call he runs into Gaby, who's there to visit Napoleon, and he's all awkward about trying to find out about Napoleon without trying to seem weird. She takes him to visit, which surprises Napoleon. They talk a bit and that SHOULD be the end of it, but it's not. Illya keeps coming back, bringing Napoleon better food than the hospital meals and getting shoo'd out by the nurses because he's there too long.

Obviously they fall in love, and what starts harrowing and whumpy ends impossibly soft (guess I'm in a fluffy mood, lol).

Thanks for sending this in anon! It's not a setup I've seen before, actually!

[angryschnauzer]

The absolute best thing about newly discovering Bookstgram (or Booktok) is every single ‘this is how i imagine this character looks like’ reel is the book cover then BAM a photo of Henry. That Cavill dude is literally book boyfriend number 1.

Elven prince? BOOM Melot

Young Biker? BOOM Mikey

Farmer’s market hottie? BOOM Clark Kent

Spy? BOOM Napoleon Solo

Mafia Dom? BOOM August Walker

Neighbour/Boss/Friend from school who grew up? BOOM Henry himself.

Alpha pack? BOOM BOOM BOOM Walter Marshall + Captain Syverson + Geralt of Rivia. 

[deandoesthingstome]

Fanfic Writer Wednesday

Trying to get back into it and I recently saw a few reblogs of a story by an author I thought I recognized and when I dug a little deeper I realized “Yes!!!”

@daydreaming-in-letters​ has a masterlist full of more than just HC but that shouldn’t bother you. And if you really only want to focus on Henry, you can do that, too, here.

I found her through this amazing Hades AU, Worship and I am kicking myself everyday now for not finding time to go back and read the rest of her stories.

ESPECIALLY now that a mutual has called out this Geralt series, Daughter of the Sea, where I get to pretend I’m a MERMAID!!! How could I resist??? I love the lush imagery I found in Worship and I can only imagine the depths I’m going to discover once I find some time to read this one.

There are lots of HC and his characters to love on over at this blog. And like I said before, her masterlist isn’t limited to him. And if you are looking for some stripper AU fics, look no further and try this teaser for The Banana Club Auditions, then move on to August Walker, Steve Rogers, Napoleon Solo, Ransom Drysdale, Walter Marshall + Paul Diskant, and Lloyd Hansen. I doubt you’ll be disappointed.

And that’s just to start. There are more fics to find so if something I’ve mentioned doesn’t float your boat, move on down the line and try something else. Then give a like, give a comment full of love, give a reblog, reblog with love!!! Anything to show your favorite fanfic writers that you appreciate all they do for you.

As always...

[heytheredeann]

Not a love song

Tags: Post-Canon, Mentions of Gaby Teller, Misunderstandings, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Alterous attraction, Asexual Character, asexual illya kuryakin, Aromantic Character, Aromantic Napoleon Solo, Angst with a Happy Ending, Internalized Acephobia (only like one line of dialogue), Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sharing a Bed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt Napoleon Solo (only a little bit - to make him TALK loool)

Notes: This fic exists because with the new year I figured I'd try to be change I want to see in the world, and I definitely would love to have more aspec fics to read LOL. Sidenote for those who don't know: the term "alterous attraction" indicates a feeling that is not necessarily platonic but is not romantic either, it's something in-between that doesn't fit into either label or that is not easily identifiable as one or the other, and that's what I imagine Napoleon is experiencing (I struggled to pick a relationship tag, I wish Ao3 had a third option LOL). He's just there like "I WANT HIM" "Like a boyfriend?" "DUNNO, I W A N T HIM *grabby hands *". Illya's feelings could be straight up romantic or platonic or alterous as well, his POV is not shown so *shrug *. I tend to headcanon him as biromantic, but if you want to read aro Illya into this I definitely won't complain LOL. That's all, I think, enjoy!

.

It’s possible that Napoleon might have—misread the situation.

Though really, how is this his fault? Illya is the one sending mixed signals all around.

First he gets all cozy with him, always finding an excuse to touch him, be it with a hand on the small of his back, an arm around his shoulders as they sit close together or even his hands on his hips as he leans to look over his shoulder, and then, when Napoleon starts flirting back, he closes up like a clam.

Perhaps Illya is just confused about his feelings. Maybe he’s never been with a man before, and though he very obviously started indicating that he wants him close he wasn’t sure what to do once Napoleon started responding.

It would be understandable, and Napoleon should perhaps just talk to him about it, but—Illya has been steering clear of him for a week now, since when Napoleon got tipsy and impatient and he straight up tried to come on to him, and he isn’t sure what to do about it now that he might have completely ruined everything.

He was stupid, he shouldn’t have jumped the gun like that, he should have tried to ease Illya into it, but—he missed him. The most concerning part of the whole thing wasn’t the insistent pull of want that began growing in the pit of his stomach as Illya started freely touching him, that deep-seated desire to be held in his arms, tangled together under the sheets and allowed to relax skin to skin after a good fuck, that was acceptable, normal, but—

What he wasn’t prepared for was the panic that would overtake him the moment Illya started pulling away from him.

[More on Ao3]

[thegianpieromennitipolis]

Da: SGUARDI SULL'ARTE LIBRO QUINTO - di Gianpiero Menniti

L'INAFFERRABILE E L'ACCADENTE

L'accadere conserva una suggestione: l'esserci mentre l'evento "cade" trascinando con sé ogni presenza di persone e cose racchiusa in un confine fisico. Ai fini della rappresentazione dell'accaduto, nulla è più falso. La possibile descrizione è un'impressione che non può cogliere l'attimo: lo deve interpretare. Necessità. Come tale, lascia sullo sfondo ogni anelito verso l'istante. Così, la fotografia, forte della sua presunta imperturbabilità, affermò la rottura della barriera millenaria fin dal suo apparire, nella quarta decade del XIX secolo: l'istante è realizzabile. Ma il suo effetto espressivo sconta la tecnica e trascolora, ancora una volta, fino all'interpretazione. Non è più vivida di un ritratto o di un paesaggio pittorico le cui potenzialità di dettaglio sono addirittura maggiori. Eppure, la suggestione permane: l'imperfezione visiva non riduce l'affermazione di possesso dell'attimo sottratto per sempre all'accadere. Un fantasma salvato dalla caduta. Niente più che un fantasma, tanto quanto l'immagine dipinta. Fantasma della luce e fantasma della mente: simulacri che rincorrono il tempo risalendo almeno all'effigie della tradizione romana (prima etrusca ma certamente ancora più antica), le maschere funerarie, le "imagines maiorum" degli antenati, il rapporto diretto con la figura dei defunti. Anche in quei casi, si assiste alla prevalenza della tecnica nella ricerca di un effetto naturalistico. Più impressionante poichè agevolato dalla fissità di un corpo ormai spento: dunque, sottratto all'accadere, fuori dai limiti temporali dell'istante. No. L'istante, in quanto tale, rimane un inafferrabile. Oppure, ha avuto ragione Emanuele Severino a intenderne la condizione di "eterno" che solo in apparenza scorre perdendosi nel "nulla". In questo verso, la fotografia o il calco di cera evocano l'errore millenario contestato dal nostro massimo filosofo contemporaneo, trasfigurando lo sguardo dell'osservatore in malinconico silenzio. Ma il ritratto dipinto, anche il "ritratto" di un luogo, colti attraverso la lente dell'impressione, accendono un dialogo, improvviso, senza dubbio incerto, forse inaspettato. Il suo esito finale non è scontato: l'accadere non ha più la necessità dell'istante. In definitiva, il dipinto può essere l'unico "accadente" che ci è dato cogliere.

- William Merritt Chase (1849 – 1916): “Woman in White” (dettaglio), 1902, Indianapolis Museum of Art - Alfred Stieglitz (1864 - 1946): "A Snapshot, Paris", 1911 - Maschera mortuaria di Napoleone di Antommarchi, Musée de l'Armée, Parigi