#never forgiving marvel for killing her off

[rqmanoff]

natasha romanoff please come back. like now.

[burntoutdaydreamer]

To Write Better Antagonists, Have Them Embody the Protagonist's Struggles

(Spoilers for The Devil Wears Prada, Avatar the Last Airbender, Kung Fu Panda 2, and The Hunger Games triology).

Writing antagonists and villains can be hard, especially if you don't know how to do so.

I think a lot of writers' first impulse is to start off with a placeholder antagonist, only to find that this character ends up falling flat. They finish their story only for readers to find the antagonist is not scary or threatening at all.

Often the default reaction to this is to focus on making the antagonist meaner, badder, or scarier in whatever way they can- or alternatively they introduce a Tragic Backstory to make them seem broken and sympathetic. Often, this ends up having the exact opposite effect. Instead of a compelling and genuinely terrifying villain, the writer ends up with a Big Bad Edge Lord who the reader just straight up does not care about, or actively rolls their eyes at (I'm looking at you, Marvel).

What makes an antagonist or villain intimidating is not the sheer power they hold, but the personal or existential threat they pose to the protagonist. Meaning, their strength as a character comes from how they tie into the themes of the story.

To show what I mean, here's four examples of the thematic roles an antagonist can serve:

1. A Dark Reflection of the Protagonist

The Devil Wears Prada

Miranda Priestly is initially presented as a terrible boss- which she is- but as the movie goes on, we get to see her in a new light. We see her as an bonafide expert in her field, and a professional woman who’s incredible at what she does. We even begin to see her personal struggles behind the scenes, where it’s clear her success has come at a huge personal cost. Her marriages fall apart, she spends every waking moment working, and because she’s a woman in the corporate world, people are constantly trying to tear her down.

The climax of the movie, and the moment that leaves the viewer most disturbed, does not feature Miranda abusing Andy worse than ever before, but praising her. Specifically, she praises her by saying “I see a great deal of myself in you.” Here, we realize that, like Miranda, Andy has put her job and her career before everything else that she cares about, and has been slowly sacrificing everything about herself just to keep it. While Andy's actions are still a far cry from Miranda's sadistic and abusive managerial style, it's similar enough to recognize that if she continues down her path, she will likely end up turning into Miranda.

In the movie's resolution, Andy does not defeat Miranda by impressing her or proving her wrong (she already did that around the half way mark). Instead, she rejects the values and ideals that her toxic workplace has been forcing on her, and chooses to leave it all behind.

2. An Obstacle to the Protagonist's Ideals

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Fire Lord Ozai is a Big Bad Baddie without much depth or redemptive qualities. Normally this makes for a bad antagonist (and it's probably the reason Ozai has very little screen time compared to his children), but in Avatar: The Last Airbender, it works.

Why?

Because his very existence is a threat to Aang's values of nonviolence and forgiveness.

Fire Lord Ozai cannot be reasoned with. He plans to conquer and burn down the world, and for most of the story, it seems that the only way to stop him is to kill him, which goes against everything Aang stands for. Whether or not Aang could beat the Fire Lord was never really in question, at least for any adults watching the show. The real tension of the final season came from whether Aang could defeat the Fire Lord without sacrificing the ideals he inherited from the nomads; i.e. whether he could fulfill the role of the Avatar while remaining true to himself and his culture.

In the end, he manages to find a way: he defeats the Fire Lord not by killing him, but by stripping him of his powers.

3. A Symbol of the Protagonist's Inner Struggle

Kung Fu Panda 2

Kung Fu Panda 2 is about Po's quest for inner peace, and the villain, Lord Shen, symbolizes everything that's standing in his way.

Po and Lord Shen have very different stories that share one thing in common: they both cannot let go of the past. Lord Shen is obsessed with proving his parents wrong and getting vengeance by conquering all of China. Po is struggling to come to terms with the fact that he is adopted and is desperate to figure out who he is and why he ended up left in a box of radishes as a baby.

Lord Shen symbolizes Po's inner struggle in two main ways: one, he was the source of the tragedy that separated him from his parents, and two, he reinforces Po's negative assumptions about himself. When Po realizes that Lord Shen knows about his past and confronts him, Lord Shen immediately tells Po exactly what he's afraid of hearing: that his parents abandoned him because they didn't love him. Po and the Furious Five struggle to beat Shen not because he's powerful, but because Po can't let go of the past, and this causes him to repeatedly freeze up in battle, which Shen uses to his advantage.

Po overcomes Shen when he does the one thing Shen is incapable of: he lets go of the past and finds inner peace. Po comes to terms with his tragic past and recognizes that it does not define him, while Shen holds on to his obsession of defying his fate, which ultimately leads to his downfall.

4. A Representative of a Harsh Reality or a Bigger System

The Hunger Games

We don't really see President Snow do all that much on his own. Most of the direct conflict that Katniss faces is not against him, but against his underlings and the larger Capitol government. The few interactions we see between her and President Snow are mainly the two of them talking, and this is where we see the kind of threat he poses.

President Snow never lies to Katniss, not even once, and this is the true genius behind his character. He doesn't have to lie to or deceive Katniss, because the truth is enough to keep her complicit.

Katniss knows that fighting Snow and the Capital will lead to total war and destruction- the kind where there are survivors, but no winners. Snow tells her to imagine thousands upon thousands of her people dead, and that's exactly what happens. The entirety of District 12 gets bombed to ashes, Peeta gets brainwashed and turned into a human weapon, and her sister Prim, the very person she set out to protect at the beginning of the story, dies just before the Capitol's surrender. The districts won, but at a devastating cost.

Even after President Snow is captured and put up for execution, he continues to hurt Katniss by telling her the truth. He tells her that the bombs that killed her sister Prim were not sent by him, but by the people on her side. He brings to her attention that the rebellion she's been fighting for might just implement a regime just as oppressive and brutal as the one they overthrew and he's right.

In the end, Katniss is not the one to kill President Snow. She passes up her one chance to kill him to take down President Coin instead.

[some-pers0n]

Hey guys I rewrote the Arctic death scene again for like the fourth time. Wanna read it?

Two of the three moons were full that day, with the third, Oracle, but a sliver of light among a sea of stars. Their pale glow trickled down onto the stage where Darkstalker stood. While the shimmer of moonlight against his scales was notable, nothing could compare to the innate aura of fear and disgust radiating from the kneeling dragon before him.

Arctic hung his head. His talons were unmoving, bound by invisible shackles. His breath was laboured and anxious. 

Darkstalker grinned at the sight of his father cowering. It was enthralling beyond any sense of the word. To see him quivering like prey finally captured and waiting for the agony of death to come.

"How are you feeling, father?" he asked, a coy smirk still on his face.

Arctic's mouth tightened.

"Let's try that again." Darkstalker cleared his throat. "Tell me, father, how do you feel?" His voice was stern, commanding.

"Annoyed." The words spilled out of Arctic's mouth. "Bothered by how you have to make a big show."

"Oh, terribly sorry about that. Shame, really. You don't want to be forced into a position you never asked for? My, what a tragedy. I'm certain Foeslayer could relate to that had she been here."

"Darkstalker," Clearsight began, "I don't think you should bother him–"

"I don't see why I can't." He glanced back at her. "I was only asking how he was. Is that too much for a son to ask?"

"You're torturing him..."

"Torture?" He echoed. "That seems much. I'm trying to make one last conversation with him before the performance begins."

"You don't have to do this."

"But I must. You saw him! You saw what he did to Whiteout!" He gestured to his sister. "She would've been handed off to some low-life IceWing and erased of any personality. And for what? So he could see Foeslayer again? She hates him. Everyone hates him." His snout curled. "He's better off dead; I'm simply kind enough to let others join in on the fun of killing him."

Whiteout flinched. She moved closer to Clearsight, murmuring words that Darkstalker couldn't hear. Her mind was a swirling storm of muted grey-green with streaks of silver and ebony.

He sighed. "I understand that it seems barbaric, but I promise that this is necessary."

"Is it? Is it really?" Clearsight's voice was sharp.

His eyebrows furrowed. "Of course. You'll see soon enough, my beloved." He raised his talons to brush her snout, but she stepped away. Her eyes were wide. Her thoughts raced. She was afraid. Afraid of him.

Fine. She could be difficult. There will come a time when she realizes the error in her ways. How she was blinded by her belief that Arctic was still deserving of redemption and forgiveness. She never could truly understand the pain that dragon had put his family through. What Arctic had put him through.

He scoffed and turned back around. By the time he had his little conversation, a crowd had formed. The passing NightWing citizens stopped and stared. They were waiting for a performance to begin.

"My fellow NightWings," Darkstalker called out to the crowd. "Today, I bring forth a traitor to not only our own tribe, but his very own kingdom. Gather round, as I would not dare to look away. No, these next few moments will dictate the choices made thousands of years from now. Like a rock tossed into a river, the fate of this IceWing will ripple throughout history."

That got the attention of more dragons. Soon enough, the flow of shoppers stalled as more and more gathered around the stage.

"Isn't this exciting, Arctic?" he whispered. "Turns out there's more than a handful of dragons who care about you enough to watch you. More than I thought."

Arctic stayed silent.

"Be that way then." He hissed. He raised his head back to the crowd. "Lovely night, isn't it? Each and every one of you are a beautiful piece of this marvellous city. Come now, don't you agree? Look to your left, your right, up, down, all around! These are your peers. Friends, perhaps to some of you. A NightWing like yourself."

He paused. "Now, tell me, who is not a friend of a NightWing? A dragon that, despite potentially looking friendly and innocent, will do nothing to tear down both you and the kingdom we graciously live under."

He snickered. "One dragon I could say is this one right here." Darkstalker swept his tail at the talons of Arctic, knocking him down. "You might have seen him before. Arctic of the IceWings. the runaway prince. The reason why our tribe is locked in a vicious war against the IceWings. Because of his impulsive, rash, and selfish deeds, our NightWings are sent to battle—families broken because of him.

"We have tolerated his presence enough. Some of you might think he was reformed. I can't blame you. It's difficult to understand what happens behind closed doors. Though, tonight, he had betrayed the NightWings." He gestured to Arctic. "Why don't you tell us, IceWing?"

"Tell you what, exactly?"

"You know what you did."

"I did nothing! I was going home. I was not betraying my tribe– this isn't even my tribe!"

"Answer me!" Darkstalker roared. "Answer. Confess. What were you doing earlier this evening?"

Arctic's mouth contorted. "I was taking my daughter to Queen Diamond. A peace treaty. I would hand over my daughter's hand in marriage and reintroduce animus magic back into the tribe...and in return, I would be a prince again. I would live in the castle. I would eat, drink, and sleep like a normal dragon. I would find out if my love was still alive."

"She was never your love. You hated her and she hated you." Darkstalker snarled. "Besides, that was not all, wasn't it?"

His lips struggled to keep close, but the words poured out of him. "I planned to draw and hand over a detailed map of the Night Kingdom. It would be in exchange for Foeslayer's life had she survived. I would have given everything to see her okay again."

Mumbles from the crowd reached Darkstalker. Gasps and concerns, both about the performance and the confession. How could a dragon do such a thing? Why wasn't the IceWing flying away despite being unchained? What was going to happen next?

"I assure you, NightWings, that the traitor did not reach Queen Diamond before I had stopped him. They do not yet know our location. However, we are not fully safe until this stain on our glorious kingdom is dealt with." He spat.

"How could a dragon do such a thing?" he started. "He admitted that all as if it were nothing. As if the livelihoods of you, your friends and family, and this very kingdom were little more than a statistic. He even brainwashed one of our own, his very daughter, to comply with such a plan!" He shook his head. "This traitor is the worst dragon to ever live. Do you agree?"

A mixed response. Some argued and debated on the nature of his choice. Foolish. They couldn't understand the intricacies. Others questioned the nature of Darkstalker carrying this out. Should it be Queen Vigilance? Where is she?

But most agreed. Between nodded heads and shouts for death, they stood alongside Darkstalker. The NightWings had given this IceWing, one of the dragons whom they had been at war with for years, a home in their very own kingdom, and how does he repay? He lies. He backstabs. He cheats. He betrays.

Darkstalker couldn't help but bask in the feeling of grandeur. A crowd of dragons all repeated back the thoughts he had all these years. Arctic was unforgivable. He was a coward. He was a traitor. There was no excuse for him to live.

These NightWings were all on his side. Was this truly what it was like to be king? To be worshipped and hailed? To bring justice and peace? It was an intoxicating feeling that surged through his veins.

He held up his talons. "Silence, NightWings!" he commanded. With that, the audience quieted themselves. "Thank you. Now, I believe it is time we dealt with this dragon."

He turned to Arctic. His face was a dark grimace. 

"Oh, come now. Have a little more of a cheery smile. It's your big day." He chuckled. "Now, admit that I am the greatest animus of all time."

"You are–"

"No, no. Not a whisper. Admit to the world!" Darkstalker raised his wing to the crowd. "Speak, IceWing. Say that I am the greatest animus of all time."

"You are the greatest animus of all time," he choked out.

"Now tell them that there is no dragon more powerful than me. No army that can best me. No queen that can kill me. Nothing."

Arctic winced as he spoke. "There is no dragon more powerful than you. No army that can best you. No queen that can kill you."

The crowd became more worried in tone. Hushed words of skepticism and worry. This was an animus on stage, ordering around and playing with the IceWing. Darkstalker couldn't care. He was having fun. Let their fear fuel his power.

"Now..." Darkstalker lowered himself to Arctic. "Say that you wish you were a better father."

A shocked snort burst from Arctic's mouth, one that grew into a bemused and mocking laugh. He looked dead into Darkstalker's eyes. "If I had been a better father, I would've strangled you the moment you hatched."

The night was still. The crowd was dead silent. Even the breeze of the ocean had been snuffed out. An unbearable quiet as Darkstalker stared into Arctic. Into his very soul.

Arctic ruined it. He couldn't stand to watch his father sit there any longer, smug and having had the last laugh. No. Darkstalker needed to win.

"Rip out your tongue." His words were frosted over with hatred and malice.

Arctic's eyes widened as his talons moved involuntarily. He could see them shake and twitch. He could sense the panic and restraint, and yet nothing could stop him from grabbing his tongue and, with one firm tug, ripping it out.

Horror emanated from the crowd. They too were afraid. They feared him. No longer did they feel the same murderous zeal and fervour as him, but rather disgust and terror.

It was like bringing wood to a burning house.

Darkstalker leaned closer to his father. His eyes were transfixed on the blue mass of flesh flopped gracelessly on the stage, cyan blood dripping down his mouth. "Had your fun?"

His silence was not out of defiance. Arctic could not form a sentence.

"Good. Now, tear out your heart. Show the world who you truly are on the inside. Pour your life onto the stage. For all to see."

[foxcantswim]

Family Forgiveness || F!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Y/N decides to raise America Chavez as her own. Y/N's girlfriend, Wanda, hopes she can earn Chavez's forgiveness.

( aka Wanda is scared that she will hurt Y/N and America with her magic and she doesn’t feel like she deserves to start a family with them )

F!Avenger!Reader x Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch

Marvel AU where pretty much everyone lives cuz I say so...

Warnings: None

Words: 2.9k

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter 2

Wanda never expected to be standing here again. She leaned against the wall and looked out at all the other people crowding around in one of the halls of the rebuilt Avenger's Compound. Tony was holding a belated anniversary celebration for the defeat of Thanos. After an attempt to sacrifice his own life for everyone else, Tony instead came out with only one arm. Stephen had decided to do everything he could to ensure that Tony would survive. And that's when the pair created a fully mechanical arm, with the signature red and yellow colours of Tony's Iron Man suit.

Wanda shuddered at the thought of Stephen Strange. It brought back memories of Westview and the multiverse and... her children. Her kids that didn't exist in this universe. She still thought that it was cruel that they lived happily in every other universe. But after almost trying to kill America and seeing just how wrong she was for even attempting to get rid of a variant of herself in order to be with her children - she was trying to be a better person.

Her eyes landed on you.

You were currently chatting away to Thor, laughing and drinking together. You and Stephen had managed to bring Wanda back to reality, with Stephen being reasonable and you being... Well... You. Wanda had created a fake life within Westview, one where she was with Vision and her two children. She was once happy with Vision. But it only lasted so long. She had only gone off with Vision to begin with to try and move past her feelings for you, Vision had been a great listener and the attention he gave Wanda was too irresistible to pass up. Once she was forced to take her fake reality within Westview down, all she cared about was finding her children again. That was until you confessed your feelings to her in the heat of the moment to try and drag her away from her path of destruction within the multiverse. She was on the brink of taking America Chavez's life and also her variant's... Until you showed up with tears in your eyes. Wanda had let her own tears fall as she finally accepted that she would never get her children back, you had held her in your arms to try and keep her stable. Despite seeing her kill innocent people, you still cared for her - and that was enough to stop Wanda from continuing.

Wanda folded her arms in order to hide her still darkened fingers. They weren't as dark as they used to be a couple months ago but they were still dark enough to bring back horrible memories of the chaos she caused. The Darkhold was still calling her name, but you were doing a great job at being her anchor and keeping her grounded and away from the darkness.

She continued to stand alone off to the side. Everyone was still cautious around Wanda, and rightfully so. Wanda didn't blame any of them for having their doubts. At least, she thought that everyone was avoiding her. That was until a certain sorcerer approached.

"Wanda."

"Stephen."

She purposefully avoided eye-contact, looking down at the ground.

"How er... How have you been?" he asked, genuinely.

Now this was definitely something Wanda wasn't expecting.

"I-I've been a lot better recently," she nodded, finally looking up to meet his eyes. She was thankful that they were far away from the loud music blaring from countless speakers within the room.

"Good," he smiled. Wanda was beyond confused. She hurt a lot of people in Kamar-Taj and she killed a few people within the multiverse, so why was Stephen acting like this towards her?

Wanda shook her head, "Why... Why are you being nice to me? After all the chaos I caused?"

Stephen sighed, "Anyone would be angry after losing their children, Wanda. You retaliated in an extreme way but..." his eyes drifted towards you, "I trust Y/N when she says that you have a good heart somewhere within you. You're proving that you care by helping to rebuild Kamar-Taj." Wanda visited the sacred grounds from time to time offer her help in any way the sorcerers needed, she sometimes even used her magic to help the reconstruction of the walls and buildings. She did her best to not use magic often though, she was secretly afraid of herself and her own abilities. She didn't trust herself. She would never forgive herself for the pain she caused.

"Y/N doesn't know what she's talking about," Wanda replied.

"Y/N is scary, I wouldn't let her hear you say that," he joked with a smirk.

Wanda couldn't help but smile in response as she returned her gaze back towards the ground. She couldn't help but take a quick glance up towards you though. An ache within her heart appeared at the sight she saw, her smile quickly dropped into a frown.

You were still talking to Thor, but a certain girl was quickly approaching you. Your smile widened upon seeing her. America Chavez. Thor held your drink as you engulfed the girl in a tight hug.

Stephen had been the one to suggest that you look after America and you couldn't say no after the pleading look the girl had given you. America had been close to you ever since you continued to save her time and time again. You had always put yourself between her and danger. Wanda had hurt you in her attempts to kidnap America, a huge scar upon your upper arm was proof of that. In the heat of the moment, Wanda didn't care. But now? Wanda hated herself for what she had done to you. She was sceptical about starting a relationship with you, but your persistence and reassurance that you did indeed love her was hard to resist. Wanda had loved you for so long she forgot when she initially fell for you. She just wished that the relationship had started upon better terms.

You pulled away from America to playfully slap Thor on the arm, presumably because of a joke he had made. Wanda smiled sadly at the scene.

"Have you talked to America yet?"

"No," Wanda said, "Every time I try... I'm at a loss for words. I'm happy that she's comfortable with Y/N, but she will never be comfortable with me. Nothing I say will gain forgiveness. I'm not even sure I deserve forgiveness."

"Don't say that," Stephen replied, "I'm sure everything will fall into place eventually. I won't lie to you, Wanda. I'm still in the process of forgiving you for what you did to Kamar-Taj. But believe me when I say that you and I are on good terms."

Wanda wished she could believe his words. But a constant insecurity was knocking about in the back of her head. The loud whispers coming from the Darkhold certainly weren't helping the situation either.

With a shaky breath, Wanda spoke, "I'm sorry, Stephen."

"I know you are, Wanda," he placed a comforting arm around her shoulders, giving her a brief squeeze before pulling away. He then took a couple steps back - the sudden space between the pair confused Wanda...

But then her eyes locked onto someone else approaching.

Wanda's hands flew to her jacket pockets, effectively hiding her darkened fingers. Her eyes quickly darted back down towards the floor.

"Hey... Wanda..." an uncertain voice escaped the girl.

"Would you like me to give you some space, America?" Stephen asked.

Wanda expected her to say no. There's no way America would be comfortable standing alone with her. Never.

"Yes, please," she nodded towards him.

Wanda's eyes looked back up in shock at the girl's words. Stephen gave the pair a warm smile before heading off towards you and Thor, you happily greeted him with open arms.

America fiddled with a loose thread falling off of the bottom of her jacket, "So..." she whistled, "I'm surprised you even came to the party. I'm guessing mom- Y/N convinced you?"

Wanda wasn't a stranger to being in the presence of America. The young girl usually hung around you a lot. You and America had been living in a small apartment together, near the Sanctum Sanctorum. You had begged Wanda to live with you and America, you would've loved to start a family with her properly... But of course, Wanda refused time and time again - continuously hating the thought of how she must have scarred America... How she must have scarred you. She was still confused at how you managed to love her after all she did... And now Wanda lived alone, moving from place to place. She was glad that the compound had been rebuilt, you had convinced to let Wanda have her own room within the building again. Wanda spent most of her time confined in those walls - a place where she couldn't hurt anyone.

"Of course she did," Wanda finally replied with a nod. It was growing harder and harder to deny anything you wanted.

Wanda looked up towards you once again. She had to hold back the tears. She had watched you be a great parent towards America for a few months now... But whenever she saw the two of you interact, all she could think about was how she had killed a father without hesitation in another universe. She couldn't help but think that she might kill you one day on accident.

"Well... I'm glad you came," America gulped hard, still slightly scared of how Wanda would react to her. This effectively pulled Wanda away from her harmful thoughts.

"O-Oh? I won't be staying much longer."

"I don't think Y/N would like that," she laughed, "We both know what she's like. She'll end up dragging you back here whether you like it or not."

She wasn't wrong. Wanda knew that you would love for her to stay. You had promised you would come straight back to her once you had said hello to a couple of the other Avengers you hadn't seen in a while. Wanda understood. It had been a long time since everyone had been in the same place at the same time.

"I'm stalling. We both know I am," America sighed, Wanda finally looked at her in response, "Look, Wanda. I... I know how much Y/N means to you. She means a lot to me, too. She was the only person who I've met across the multiverse who I actually wanted to stay with for good. But I don't want to get in the way of you two."

Wanda quickly shook her head, "You aren't getting in the way, you-"

"But I am!" America groaned in frustration, "I'm the reason you two aren't even living together."

"That was my choice."

"But why?"

Wanda bit her lip, "Because I can't. I want to. But I can't. It's not just because of you," she tried to convince the girl, "It's because of Y/N too. I'm scared I'll lose control and hurt you both. I can't live with you two because... because of what I put the both of you through. Especially you, America. You hate me and I wouldn't want to put any strain between yours and Y/N's relationship-"

"Wanda, that was almost a year ago-"

"It doesn't matter, I still regret it. I still have nightmares about who I was. Who I am," she then held up her hands in front of her, revealing her fingers, "I've been cutting down on the magic. I need to. I've hurt too many people. You didn't deserve anything that I did to you. I was in the wrong and both you and Y/N showed me that. I-"

Wanda was quickly cut off by a tightening feeling around her middle. She looked down in shock and confusion to see America. The young girl's arms were secure around her in a tight hug.

"You need to stop beating yourself up over this, Wanda."

A stray tear fell from Wanda's eye, "America..." her voice still shaky.

"Y/N and I have talked about everything that happened. I know what you did was wrong, but you are on the path to being better. Not a lot of people want to try to be a better person."

Wanda finally returned the hug, her own arms cautiously came up around America - she really hoped that she wouldn't hurt the girl. Her hands shook as they moved. A heavy sigh escaped Wanda, "I'm sorry, America."

"I know you are. And I forgive you."

"What-?"

"I forgive you," America affirmed once again, "Maybe you need to work on forgiving yourself. I'd like it if you moved in with us. It's becoming hard to listen to Y/N cry every night because you aren't there. I... I think you would complete our family, Wanda."

Wanda tightened her arms around America in response. A family. With you. That was something Wanda only dreamed about... She had seen those other universes where you and her had lived a happy domestic life together. It was hard not to go to one of those instead of searching for her children.

"Room for one more?"

America and Wanda pulled apart.

"She's all yours," America smiled before she took a step away, "Kamala promised me she would show me her powers so..."

You gave her a brief hug before allowing her to take her leave.

"Y/N..." Wanda finally whispered once the two of you were alone. Another tear fell quickly.

"You know I hate to see you cry," you sighed, sadly. You then reached forward and placed a comforting hand on her cheek, wiping away the tears with your thumb. It was now your turn to pull Wanda into a hug, "I heard America ask you to move in with us. I hope she can convince you if I can't."

"I don't know-"

"Please," you said as she held you just as tight as you held her, "We both want you to. I really want you to. I want to wake up next to you everyday. I want us to be a family. You still deserve to be a mother, Wanda."

A mother...?

No. No way did she deserve that. She couldn't-

"Don't listen to those thoughts..." you muttered, placing a soft kiss against her cheek. You had similar powers to an empath so you could feel other people's feelings, but only if they were strong and intrusive. The hatred within Wanda, for herself, was still as strong as it was all those months ago when you confessed that you loved her, "If you stay with us... With me... I'm sure you will forgive yourself. You'll see just how important you are to our family."

Our family.

"I don't deserve you, Y/N. I will never know how you can still love someone like me after the things I did."

"I've loved you for a lot longer than you think. I don't think I could ever stop. Deep down you have a good heart. You just need to learn how to use it," you leaned back to look at her, your arms still around her neck, "Please... Just give our family a try? For me?" your heart was beating fast, hoping and praying that she would say yes. All you wanted was for her to try.

Wanda looked away, her silence was slowly breaking your heart. You loved her dearly, but you had no idea where your relationship would even go from here if she said no.

"Wands...?" you whispered, silently begging for an answer.

And her answer came.

She looked back at you before quickly diving in, her lips connecting with yours. Your arms tightened around her neck in response, your eyes closed at the contact. You hadn't been physically close with Wanda for a few weeks now, her fear of hurting you kept coming and going and it was putting a strain on your relationship. You smiled into the kiss as you felt her hold you as close as possible, not wanting to let you go.

"I'll take that as a yes," you laughed as you pulled away from her.

"You can take that as an 'I'll try'. For you. For her," her eyes glanced towards America who was currently freaking out over Kamala's powers.

She still missed her children. Billy and Tommy. She would miss them until her final days. But you and America had given her another chance at being a mother, and she was going to try her hardest to make things right. Having a family with you was a dream come true.

"I love you, Wanda," you said, taking one of her hands off of your waist to bring it towards your face. You placed a soft kiss upon her fingers, "All of you."

Wanda's breath hitched, "I-I love you too, detka. Always," she managed to breath out before a flood of tears followed after. The two of your quickly connected again with a much needed kiss.

You couldn't wait to wake up next to this woman in the morning.

A certain multiverse-travelling girl looked at her two parents from afar with love and happiness in her eyes. Perhaps Wanda would learn to forgive herself. Eventually.

Thanks for reading! ( Also available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40517796 )

I don’t know if I will make another follow up part where Wanda is learning how to be a mother again to America? I kinda need some fluffy domestic Y/N x Wanda stuff so maybe....

(So I made a follow up part... Chapter 2)

[poisonousquinzel]

In honor of the Deadpool 3 talk going around, be aware that the director Shawn Levy is a Zionist who supports Noah Schnapp, with Ryan Reynold's support.

Caption: These are just a few images of the hundreds that compel me to speak up: More than 1000 dead, over 150 kidnapped , others raped, wounded, brutalized .

Children, teens, women, and the elderly...

This terrorist act has and CAN have NO justification, no 'context' that can explain or forgive .

To be clear: this was perpetrated by Hamas-- a terrorist organization that does not seek peace, nor democracy , nor a 2-state coexistence for the Palestinian and Israeli people; they want the elimination of Israel, the eradication of the Jewish people, and what they did in Israel should outrage anyone with basic human principles. You can care about the struggles of the Palestinians and still condemn Hamas as the barbaric terrorists they clearly show themselves to be. Honestly baffled that there's even any debate about this .

You don't need to be Jewish to stand with these innocent victims and hostages. You don't need to be Jewish to be heartsick, outraged and stand against this terror; you just need to be a human being with eyes and ears and heart.

Oct 10, 2023

And yeah, unsurprisingly, he's posted jackshit in regards to the proven lies that were and are spread about the events of Oct 7, or about the propaganda he helped spread, or about how Israel killed it's own people on Oct 7, or how they have repeatedly had chances to get the hostages back (including this month as well!!) and refuse because this has never been about the hostages, or how they've repeatedly lied about Hamas bases and operatives to try n justify bombing hospitals & schools, or how Israel has committed dozens of war crimes over and over, or how there's plenty of recorded proof of IDF / IOF soldiers beating up and assaulting Jewish people who disagree with them, or the videos of Israeli settlers harassing others in their circle for having empathy for Palestinians, screaming obscenities and insults at teachers for having empathy for other humans, or the thousands of Jewish people who stand with Palestine and have been this whole time, or the heinous racist shit Noah Schnapp has spewed lately, or how the IDF / IOF is known for having a problem with soldiers sexually assaulting each other, or how Israel is a safe haven for pedophiles (ya know, rapists), or about the little girl who was stuck in a car with her dead relatives until she was also murdered by Israel (alongside the medical workers who had gone to recuse her), or about the videos of the Israeli military using bulldozers to run over people in tents, to run over a pregnant woman, to run over refugees, or about the family members who've had to carry the pieces of their loves ones in bags because they were blown to pieces by the bombs set off by the Israeli military, or about how they're actively starving every Palestinian person they can and refusing to allow aid into Gaza, or how Israeli folks are actively driving out in droves to physically prevent aid trucks from passing to get to a starving population, or how it's been a tradition for Israeli settlers to go to the edge near Gaza to listen and Celebrate bombings long before Oct 7, or the countless pieces of irreplaceable historical landmarks have been destroyed, or the over 30,000 Palestinians who've been murdered in cold blood since Oct 7 while Zionist cheer on the violence.

Marvel supports Israel, actively, don't let your love for that specific series cloud that.

[musclesandhammering]

Unpopular Phase 4 & 5 Opinions

Quantumania is the worst Phase 4/5 movie. And it wasn’t even because “kang got beat by ants.” (I liked kang in this movie). It’s just that the Spy Kids aesthetic & bad acting & overall weird vibes just weren’t for me.

Love and Thunder is no worse than Ragnarok. I would argue that it’s better in a lot of ways, actually. I really liked it.

Taika Waititi ruined thor with bad humour all the way back in Ragnarok tbh, but y’all weren’t complaining about it then 😒.

BuckySarah is better than sambucky every day of the week.

The Marvels was a good ass movie & they’re one of my favorite teams in the mcu. I’ll never forgive cbm sites & online dudebros for killing the hype from the moment the film was announced.

I adore America Chavez & Kamala Kahn and I want to see them in everything. They must be protected at all costs.

Multiverse of Madness had shitty characterisation & basically just copy-pasted the ‘grief made me go off the deep end & hurt people, then I realised and stopped myself’ storyline from Wandavision… but Wanda was extremely selfish & apathetic to other people’s suffering from the time she was introduced in the mcu. MoM didn’t make her like that.

Wanda should’ve been looking for Vision (her actual real life boyfriend whom she spent years with irl) in MoM instead of the kids that weren’t even real that she spent like a week using as characters in her sitcom.

Making everyone forget Peter Parker wasn’t profound or poetic in any way- it was just frustrating and needlessly cruel.

I’m begging marvel to understand that heroes don’t have to be in constant suffering to be heroic & villains don’t have to sacrifice themselves to achieve redemption. Let characters heal and atone, you absolute weirdos.

What If…? is the most boring show ever. I’d rather watch Secret Invasion or She-Hulk.

Season 2 of Loki is, in a cinematic & artistic sense, the best marvel project period.

Loki season 1 was meh- more of a fun au than anything because his characterisation kinda sucked. Season 2 fixed it, though, and made it way easier for me to incorporate this version of Loki back into the larger mcu.

Having Steve stay in the past with Peggy was stupid af.

I don’t hate Peggy (or Captain Carter), though. I actually think she’s pretty cool.

I don’t really love Steve. He’s arrogant & they never really let him have flaws & something about him being a perfect metaphor for the American military industrial complex (and marvel painting that as a good thing) doesn’t sit right with me.

The Illuminati got done dirty and the only reason they went down so fast was because Wanda had all that plot armor.

I thought the retcon of having Wanda be “destined” to become the Scarlet Witch since birth was an annoying cop-out. Her powers originating from being experimented on with an infinity stone was way more interesting.

Loki & Wanda have almost the exact same powers.

Nebula deserved a bigger rule in killing Thanos & everything else moving forward.

I love Kathryn Newton but her acting as Cassie Lang was the worst acting I’ve ever seen in the mcu, like it was outrageously bad.

I’m glad Sam is the new Captain America and not Bucky.

The fact that Bucky probably isn’t gonna be one of Thee lead characters in the upcoming avengers movies feels sick and twisted.

Secret Invasion was actually passable until the G’iah scene at the end. That ruined it. And Nick Fury deserved way better for his solo series.

Kang is so much more interesting than Doctor Doom. I really hope they just recast him.

Carol Danvers does NOT deserve the hate she gets.

I actually disliked Carol until The Marvels. That movie made me a stan.

The way people treat Monica as Wanda’s little inferior pet creation or smth & then brag about it is uhh very sus.

I don’t like sylvie (bc she’s an amalgamation of 3 different comic characters- which killed any hopes of them appearing individually in the mcu, the creators used her existence to butcher Loki’s genderfluid rep, & she was written poorly) & I HATE sylki (bc it’s weird & unnecessary).

Marvel isn’t dead. I actually love where they’re taking things. But that’s just me.

[marvelmcumania]

You are my only love - Part 1

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem Reader Summary: This life's fate wasn't meant for both of you but the next did! WORD COUNT:1.4k Setting: Modern World and The 80s

A reincarnation au fic. Hello Everyone this is my first fic on Tumblr and there will be mistakes, so forgive Updates won't be frequent will be updated at any time English is not my first language Do not repost Feel free to reblog and let me know your thoughts

NO WARNING AS OF NOW

Navigation | Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist |Steve Rogers Masterlist

They say we somehow always meet in the next life and this was the same thing with Steve Rogers and Y/N L/N a tale of tragic love but a tale of love that becomes one of the best things ever happened to them.

Sweetheart, I will always be with you

You are my only love

Present

You woke up from your nightmarish dream again. And it has happened daily since you were 10 years old at first your parents consoled you but when it started increasing whenever you took a nap they decided to take you to therapy and yet still the therapist couldn't help. The scream of the deep blue eyes which felt familiar looking concerned at you and then blood pooling down from both of your bodies.

It made you feel real that the person's sinister eyes held a great obsession for you, whereas this blue-eyed man held a deep love for you. Sighing you got up from the bed rubbing your eyes.

"Why does this happen to me?"

You entered the kitchen taking a glass of water taking a sip of it.

"Are you okay there?" Natalie your roommate was sitting on the sofa watching her late-night show.

You whipped your head looking at her and shook it giving her a smile that didn't reach your eyes." Nah I am good" keeping the glass on the shelves "What are you watching?" you said taking a seat beside her.

"F.R.I.E.N.D.S" she nonchalantly said handing you the popcorn box

You took the popcorn "One of my favorite shows"

"Mine too" You both laughed when Joey wore all of Chandler's clothes. Forgetting the dream for the moment

The next you woke up on the sofa checking your phone it was 7:00 AM shrugging you set it aside looking straightforward and sighing weirdly you didn't get the nightmare again Looking sideways Natalie was sprawled on the other side of the couch TV sound dimmed.

"Hey Natalie" you whispered trying to wake her up she blinked her eyes looking at you. "Uhm it's 7:00 AM and you have your office timing at 11:00 AM it's better if you sleep some more in your room."

"Oh thanks" she yawns taking the remote and switching it off. She gets up stretches her body and reaches her bedroom stopping midway you were scrolling on your phone looking at the schedule. "Y/N?"

You looked up from your phone" Yeah?"

"At night time you were murmuring something about 'save me' 'please don't kill him' and 'I will never marry you' Like were you having a nightmare?" Your eyes widened at what Natalie said even though it wasn't in the visuals you still had it.

"Oh?" your eyebrows furrowed this was now going out of hands "I don't remember it"

"I think it's something more than that Y/N/N" You raised your eyebrow at her "Look I don't know how to say this but it's something related to your past lives"

"There is nothing like past lives Natalie" You went back to your phone heart beating radically. "These are some weird rumors and conspiracy theories"

"Y/N/N" she called you out making you look up once again "They aren't and it's a different thing also known as reincarnation. I read that on the internet"

"And is there scientific proof" You were now getting irritated was she now making fun of you she became quiet for a moment.

"I wish I could have proved but don't come running near me when your therapist thinks about it"

You scowled at her, looking back down to your phone and chewing your lips. Natalie sighed and went back to her bedroom. What if Natalie was right that this is something related to past life but you ignored her.

You get up from the sofa get ready for your office and resume your daily routine of brushing your teeth and having a good bath You come out and pick up your outfit of the day. Combing your hair making it into a messy bun. Well, you didn't have an appetite for breakfast and the only thing that would help her now was coffee. The best thing is to watch until the shop opens the park scenery.

You were never a fan of morning walks, but to clear your mind and reach your office straight away, you decided to take two rounds and sit on a bench and mull over Natalie's talk with you. Taking out your phone, you typed about it to clear your doubt, and as you thought, well, it's 50 50 to believe in reincarnation theories.

You were looking ahead, lost in your own thoughts. When you felt something down your leg looking down, you saw a cute dog sniffing around your leg and nudging his body around your legs.

"Oh hey, bub" you bought your hand to check whether he trusted you. The dog looked at you bringing his nose near your hand and sniffed you making sure you weren't any bad guy and showed you his head and scratched his head "Are you lost bub?" looking at his collar his owner must be here somewhere.

"DODGER" The dog turns to the source of sound his tail slightly wagging "DODGER WHERE ARE YOU?"

"I guess the screaming man is your owner huh?" The dog just huffed not getting too interested in their owner's voice "Don't tell me you had a fight" you chuckle seeing the dog growling meaning they indeed had some fight. "Okay how about we go near him and make him tell you sorry with huge treats"

You began to drag the dog who was hesitant at first but soon made up your speed and soon enough you came face to face with the yelling man who was out of breath

"Hey" you yelled at the man who turned to look at you before you could make a move you stood there seeing the man but the dog began dragging you breaking your concentration and almost making you fall "Hey bub calm down"

"Oh my God Thank you, "the man says squatting down to give some scratches to the dog "Never do that again Dodge you scared me you want the toy I will buy you but" he hugs him "Never leave" You are looking at their interaction when the man glances up at you "Thank You Again"

Your breath hitches looking at the man his blue eyes giving you a familiar face the man in your dreams. You just nod at him giving him a smile "A very active dog I see"

"Yeah" he chuckles "and when I decline something of his favorite he just runs away"

You give him a smile and look back at the dog giving him a small ear scratch you are scared to look at him what if he remembers you what if the dream you always had has been the same it's been more than 2 minutes and you can already feel the sparks and connection the attraction towards him.

Before he could say anything your phone started ringing disrupting your talk It was from your colleague Natasha "Uhm Sorry I need to pick this up"

"Yeah sure" he nods giving you a similar smile you always have seen in your dream.

You pick up the call "Hey Nat!" answering when a screeching sound comes behind the caller.

Where are you?

"Uhm at the park?" You turned back before giving an apologetic smile to Steve. Hearing a huff from her "What is it, Nat?"

Do you realize what the time is now? We will be late for the office

Taking a look at the watch it was indeed late for you and you needed to catch the bus how much time did you spend here maybe the thinking made you late "Okay I will be right there just wait for me Okay?"

Yeah, hurry up!

You cut the call turning to the man who had been standing, you were surprised to find him gone along with his dog. A shiver ran down your spine as you scanned the area, but there was no sign of him anywhere. Questions stirred in your mind as you tried to make sense of his sudden disappearance. Had he simply walked away while you were distracted?

But with that, you felt more connected with him the man from your dream who looked exactly the same with furrowed eyebrows you left the question lingering in your mind and then left the park to meet Natasha at bus stand.

NEXT...

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Night Nurse - Ch 8

A John Wick x Helen Fic

When nurse Helen Morgan is caught in the crossfire of a shootout and aids the injured John Wick, she’s faced with two options: serve the High Table, or be executed as a Witness. She tells herself her choice to work at the Continental has everything to do with survival, and excellent pay, and *not* her growing feelings for the Tall, Dark, and Handsome Assassin™ who got her into this mess in the first place, thank you very much. │ Masterlist / Chapter Map │

VIII.

This was a day for firsts. John found himself seated at his dining room table, the modern behemoth that could seat ten, but had only ever serviced dinner for one. Later, there would be two. Now, it was being used as a medical table while Helen administered fresh stitches.

“This time,” she mused while finishing off a knot, “Let’s wait for you to heal completely before engaging in strenuous activity.”

“I would never get anything done.” She leveled him with a look, indicating this was not the correct answer. Though he knew he walked on dangerous ground, the corners of his mouth twitched. “Yes, Nurse.”

“That’s more like it.”

She applied a fresh bandage. “Try not to get this wet in the shower.”

He was no stranger to wound care routines. “Sure.”

As she pressed the last bit of adhesive her fingertips lingered over the curve of his deltoid, tracing the black cross there lightly. It caused a shiver to run down his spine. This time, he didn’t try to hide it.

“Are you…a religious man, John?”

He shook his head slowly, anticipating her next line of questioning.

“You have a lot of religious tattoos.”  

“They mean a certain thing to people in my world. It has very little to do with Christianity, believe me.”

“You mean, our world?”

John titled his head in a silent question of Really?

“Just saying. I made my oath to the High Table. No one’s come after me with a tattoo gun.”

“You haven’t done hard time,” he answered quietly. “And I would like to keep it that way.”

Her eyebrows shot high at that. “Were you in prison?”

“Once.”

“For how long?”

“Three years.”

“You didn’t get three years for homicide.”

“I was very well behaved.”

She narrowed her eyes, weighing him with that molten caramel gaze. “I think you’re fucking with me.” Hearing her say it, no matter the context, twisted him up with a sudden unforgiving wave of desire. Then, she sighed. “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me.”

He caught her hand before she could draw away, so quickly she’d barely seen him move.

“I’ll tell you,” he offered quietly.

“Okay.”

She stepped closer, standing between his splayed legs, as though sharing these dark secrets required a more intimate proximity. Her fingertips toyed with the ends of his hair, and not for the first time, John thought he might just die.

“I...said I was an orphan.”

“Yes.”

“My mother died in a car accident, when I was very young. Not long after, my father was…killed, in a street robbery.”

“Oh, John.”

“I spent years in the orphanage. When I proved strong enough to survive...I was adopted. Sold, more like. To a crime organization that took children to mold as they saw fit. They taught me how to kill, and they gave me these tattoos. The arm cross, for my first kill. It signified my devotion to their cause.”

Her eyes went wide. “How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Shit.” There was the glimmer of tears in her eyes, and he felt a tremor inside, a fissure in his armor, cracked open by her compassion. He could not stop himself from holding her hand against his cheek with a desperation that he had not felt since he was a young boy. John closed his eyes, knowing he could not go on speaking while looking upon her lovely features pulled with such worry and pain, for him.

For him, he marveled, a creature so cloaked in darkness and destruction so as to never deserve forgiveness.

She truly was an angel of mercy.

“The praying hands came when I graduated from their school. It’s like a brand of ownership. It means…the bearer is asking for mercy that is rarely granted. Not from God though. From…Her. The woman who ran the syndicate. She was our God. Our judge. Our Executioner.” John found he couldn’t bring himself to name the Ruska Roma to Helen. He had a sinking intuition that it could be dangerous. A feeling that she might do something brave, and stupid, like ask around until she found the Tarkovsky theatre, and march out to tell The Director off on his behalf, with that magnificent Irish temper of hers. 

“That is horrible. You can't own people,” she protested, her words brittle. He almost smiled for her naivety.

“You can, where I come from. Where life is cheap, and freedom is a fairytale. It’s how most of the world lives, sweetheart.” The endearment slipped from his lips before he could stop himself. She did not seem to take offense though, so absorbed in the horror of what he was telling her.

“But...this wasn't the Tarasovs who did this to you?”

“No. They bought me, essentially, when I was a young man. I was becoming difficult to control. She didn’t quite manage to break me, like so many of the others. I wanted…more, than the enclosed world She allowed us to inhabit. I think She sensed I would tear down what she’d built, if She didn’t let me go. In a way…Tarasov was a blessing. At least in the Bratva you can have a life that is somewhat your own, so long as you get done what Viggo needs done.” 

“Oh, John…”

It was so heartbreaking to her, that his formative years had been so brutal that joining the fucking Russian mob had been a kinder placement.

But there was more, and now that he’d started talking about it, it was as though he couldn’t stop. The words just kept pouring.

“I didn’t put it together until I was much older, but I suspect my father was like me. He came from the same…syndicate. Raised to do what I do from a young age. But he must have run away to be with my mother. I think they found him and killed him for it, then She took me as…revenge? Payment? A warning? I’ve never known for sure.”

He had not found out, from an offhanded comment here and some digging there, until long after he’d left the Ruska Roma. If he’d known when he was a young firebrand, he absolutely would have burned the Tarkovsky Theatre to the ground no matter the consequences.

“Jesus, John.”

John finally opened his lids when he felt her fingers sliding through his sweat-damp hair, her eyes filled with compassion. He did not resist when gently she pulled him into an embrace, his cheek resting against her chest. The steady beat of her heart beneath his ear calmed him, grounded him from the spiral calling up these memories could inspire. Her hand rested on the crown of his head, and maybe it was ridiculous, but…for the first time, in a very long time, he felt safe.

He could have stayed there forever, but it seemed…disingenuous, to take advantage of her compassion that way. Little did he know, she would have held him for hours if he asked her to.

She looked down at him like she could see straight through him, nodding slowly to all this information he’d imparted, her fingers still sliding languorously through his hair.

“If I ever meet this bitch, I’m going to punch her in the face.”

The very thought pulled the tiniest suggestion of a smile from John’s lips. “I believe you. And that’s why I’m not giving you a name.”

“Are there that many women-led crime syndicates in New York?”

“You might be surprised.”

“Hmm. So…if the Tarasovs bought you….Jesus, I hate that…do they still own you?”

His heart felt as though his blood had thickened to lead. But they’d come this far, and he owed her nothing less than the truth. 

“I’ve climbed the ranks. I have standing. I’m not a slave, but no one gets out, when you’re in as deep as I am. It would require…an Impossible Task.”

The furrow between her brows broke his heart. He wondered if that quick and beautiful mind was absorbing all this information, sorting it out and weighing the gains and the consequences…and inevitably arriving at the only sane conclusion: how can you be with a man, if he’s owned by someone else?

It was a conclusion she had every right to make, but it hurt. It hurt in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time, an ache deep in a part of his heart he hadn’t managed to numb over the years.

“Are you happy now, at least?” 

The question only further twisted the knife. Only recently, had he begun to actually feel that elusive emotion. It had more to do with her than any of the relative freedom or vast wealth he’d accrued.  

“I'm...getting there.” A part of him wanted to finish the thought. Because of you. But his conscience stopped him—he didn’t want the burden of his happiness resting on her shoulders, when already this amazing woman carried so much. He had to lighten the mood, or their evening would be ruined, and it would be all his fault.

“You know there was one good thing She taught me.”

“Oh?”

“How to dance.”

“What?”

“Ballet.”

Helen frowned at the absurdity of this notion before laughing out loud. “I think you’re fucking with me again.”

John decided to take that moment to stand, the fronts of their bodies nearly pressed in a line. His hands found her tiny waist, as though it was their natural resting place. “I’ll prove it to you. Want to do a lift?”

“Don’t you dare!” she squealed, skipping away across the floor, putting a chair between them. “I am not redoing your stitches again!” It took every iota of his self-control not to give in to his hunter’s instincts and chase her, grab her up, and finally slant his mouth over hers to make her his. He found his cheeks hurt from the strain of grinning wider than he ever had, though he feared it might more resemble a baring of teeth.

Helen’s eyes shone with laughter, her lips parted. She really was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

   “Did you do that just to cheer me up?” she asked, the softness in her voice squeezing his heart like a fist.

“Would I do such a thing?”

She narrowed her eyes, seemingly for the umpteenth time that day. “I am going to go take a shower, Mr. Wick. And you had better get started on that dinner you promised me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He watched her disappear down the hall towards the guest bedroom, a lightness in his heart that almost confused him. Was this the relief to be found in confessing one’s sins? Or was it her? Just the miracle that was Helen Morgan, and these feelings she inspired in his breast. He dared not name it; for anything John Wick had ever loved, had died in some way.

He couldn’t bear to curse Helen too.

[sallyastral]

@miss-d-tiare Answering here because it wouldn't fit in a whole comment.

So, let's recap: I made a post expressing my opinion about Sylki, and you reblogged my post and commented on it saying I am a drama queen and that I should get myself a real problem, and when I answered you answered too once again this time not reblogging (mh, maybe because I told you it's just free notes for me and you are giving me visibility that way, mhh...)

Anyway, since I don't want to drag this conversation forever, I'll answer all of your points and quit this once and for all.

Dude, you have never experienced the pain and suffering of a one-sided crush? He likes her so much that, maybe for the first time ever, he's behaving like a normal person would do instead of just taking everything he wants like the spoiled and childish god hengrew up to be. This is a new level of rejection that actually impacts on him, and that's why he looks miserable.

Yes, I had one-sided crushes, more than one, and yes, they do make you miserable, but for different reasons. And the people I had a crush on didn't try to kill me or hurt me.

It's not the first time he falls in love, he said it himself in Episode 3 Season 1: he's had partners, but they didn't last that long. Furthermore, I would highly recommend you rewatch Thor (2011) and all the movies where Loki appears, because he has never been a selfish person, he says it himself (again) many times: when he tells Thor that he doesn't want the throne but wanted to be his equal when he tells Sylvie that he didn't want the throne but just wanted to see her safe and sound… So no, Sylvie is not the heroine who saved him and is changing him, he was like that already from time but was misunderstood by everyone else. And she is no exception because for the entirety of Season 1 (especially in Episode 6) and Season 2, she's still doubting and even said it openly that he still only wants the throne, and keeps refusing to fully understand him.

And let's not forget that IT IS A FICTIONAL SHOW!!! Some conflict MUST happen, or else people would complain it's too boring. The only character who could be so important to Loki besides of his brother is Sylvie, anyone can see that's only logical that the plot conflict involves both of them.

First of all: are you aware that movies and TV series are made to entertain people? Are you aware that social media just like Tumblr are made for people to express their opinions about things? So you saying "It's fictional!1!11" is just stupid because almost everyone here on Tumblr is here to talk about what they like on their blogs, you are doing it by responding to my posts. Since movies and TV series are fiction we shouldn't talk about them at all, by your logic. I am a psychology student, so I like to do psychological analyses of characters and give my opinion, you are completely free to agree or not, I don't care. But you can't come to my blog and tell me that I'm a drama queen and that I have to find real problems, that's just plainly disrespectful. And I already have my problems in my life, thank you very much.

This is not about conflict and entertainment: this is about Marvel making horrible decisions. You can create excellent conflict between characters without romanticizing abuse and domestic violence. And all of this wouldn't have happened if the directors of the series hadn't insisted on Sylki being a romance. If it was a friendship we'd probably be all quiet and just shrug it off with a "Sylvie is a horrible friend". But since this is romantic, well... some of y'all need to understand IT IS NOT OKAY for someone to be violent towards the other partner in a relationship. Romance + violence = ABUSE.

And if you don't understand where the abuse is, I suggest you read this post from @shadow-turtle-234 (forgive me for dragging you in </3).

People should definitely stop treating the relationship between FICTIONAL CHARACTERS as an example of real life human interactions, ffs! They're complex in their own way, and appealing and all but in the end they're not real so stop being drama queens and calling two fictional characters "toxic" 🤣🤣 get yourselves a real problem instead of making one up

Breaking news: fiction is based on real-life dynamics! Even more breaking news: fiction can influence real-life dynamics! Romanticizing abuse and domestic violence is awful, especially on the part of Marvel, a franchise that is also followed by very young people who could get the wrong message. It could also cause someone who has suffered or suffers from abusive situations to suffer even more seeing that someone suddenly decided that hurting the person you "love" is romantic.

My life isn't all about Tumblr, as I said I have my problems outside of social media, so if I express an opinion I don't think it's an issue. I'm just expressing my thoughts, did it suddenly become forbidden?

Do I like, need your permission or smt to alter and post a text I wrote? What did I miss?? 🤨🤨

Nah, that was just a fun remark I made, of course, you don't need my permission. I just found it funny how you both commented and reblogged, giving me free notes and visibility. Good for me I guess.

And the double standard is where, exactly?

Double standards exist because Marvel already has problems with writing female characters. Since they don't know how to make a decent strong female character anymore (aside from a few exceptions like Peggy Carter and Jane Foster), Marvel just thinks belittling the male counterpart's trauma and actions is enough to show how strong and smart the female counterpart is. And with Sylvie, they brought this to exaggeration, because not only she belittles Loki's trauma and treats him like shit, but keeps trying to hurt him and even attempted his murder several times. But since she's a woman Marvel thinks is okay, and a lot of people think that too.

But imagine if it was Loki to belittle her, insult her, attack her, and hurt her in any way. Y'all would be screaming and yelling at Marvel because "Oh em gee, they romanticized abuse, omg!1!!!" since he's a man. Domestic violence against men is rare, but it exists too, but apparently, it is considered "girlboss" and "cool" for a woman to hurt a man.

I keep maintaining it's all freaking fiction and that it doesn't work like resl life, you really should stop reading so much into it, it's not healthy pal 👍🏻

What I do with my blog and my life is none of your business.

In conclusion: I said what I had to, and I no longer intended to keep entertain this conversation with you.

[densesindealer]

Neo World: Pacification Program

Hello everyone, Dense here! This story, Neo World: Pacification Program, wasn't a solo effort. @thelewdpokemanik and I have been working, and intend to continue working on this story together. We're writing each chapter as a pair, so forgive us if you sometimes notice some differences between our two styles of writing.

You can also find this story, and stay the most updated on it, on AO3, which can be found here.

The idea for this story was born out of the desire to work on a story together, and after brainstorming we came up with this! We found the idea to be fun and unique, and decided to just throw ourselves at it and enjoy the ride.

As always, comments, kudos and whatever else you desire are never required, but we do love getting the feedback.

Without further ado, Poke and Dense present, Neo World: Pacification Program! We hope that you all enjoy this journey with us. <3

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Chapter One: Problems, Planning, Pacification

“How the hell did this happen?” Mondo screamed, slamming his fist on the arm of his chair, making the metal creak painfully. His voice bounced off the walls of the mechanical operation room housing the Neo World Program computer, which really, was a gross understatement. It was a true marvel of technological advancement, including all the monitors, storage banks, the pods containing the sleeping members of his senior class- and many more things Makoto couldn’t even hope to understand.

The biker was hunched in his seat as if he were prepared to lunge if he didn’t like the answer, though Makoto knew better.

He still grimaced in his seat. “We- aren’t sure? I mean, obviously, one of the Remnants must have brought the virus with them, but…”

“We don’t exactly have the Ultimate Programmer here with us to follow along with the Neo World Program’s code,” Celeste said, ignoring the way Mondo twitched at her words. The biker had never gotten over Chihiro’s death at Toko’s hands, and honestly, there was a very real chance he would never move on. Well, it's not like Makoto had any room to talk, of course. 

The only reason he could count the number of deaths he hadn’t gotten over on his hands was because only ten students had died during the Killing Game. Their Killing Game now.

Because there might very well be a second one soon.

“No doubt, that Izuru fellow had ulterior motives in helping us. I said he wasn’t trustworthy from the start, but of course, someone wouldn’t listen to reason…” The gambler said, shooting Makoto a look many would call venomous, but Makoto could see that while frustrated, there was next-to-no anger there.

“We wouldn’t have been able to find and capture all the Remnants without his help, Celeste, you know that. And Chiaki vouched for him, didn’t she?”

Indeed, Chiaki Nanami, the Ultimate Gamer and former Class Representative of Class 77, had vouched for the mysterious Ultimate. She had also been the one to approach Makoto, asking for his help saving her classmates, though he couldn’t say he understood why she trusted him in particular with this. It could have been that he was the Ultimate Hope, or maybe that he was the unofficial leader of the surviving class of Junko’s game. He didn’t know why she chose him over any of his other classmates. He did however know that the rest of Future Foundation would have categorically refused, if not outright arrested her for even proposing this, where he was eager to help.

Of course, things had escalated since then.

And that was before Monokuma came back, somehow.

Celeste clicked her tongue. “That girl is too much like you, Makoto. She would vouch for her killer as she bled to death.”

Makoto laughed awkwardly at that, though he hardly felt jovial. This was worse than what he’d thought the worst-case scenario would be.

“So, what do we know?” Kyoko’s calm voice sounded through the laptop’s speaker.

The detective was working in concert with Sakura, helping keep the heat off the other survivors as they went MIA with the Remnants- no, with Class 77.

“Well, things were working properly in the beginning. Usami was taking care of the students, and as expected, Izuru was replaced by his former self, Hajime Hinata. Chiaki did warn us that this would happen, so...” Makoto explained half-heartedly, his mind still focused on the issue at hand.

“So the likelihood that it is relevant is minor,” Kyoko nodded along, also focused on the more pressing issue. “What then?”

“Well, Monokuma appeared.” Makoto explained, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach he’d felt at the sight. For a moment, he’d almost thought it a nightmare if not for the way Celeste’s clawed hand had been digging into his shoulder like a talon.

“But wasn’t Usami supposed to be armed to deal with viruses and attacks?” Sakura’s calm voice asked from Kyoko’s monitor. “What came of that?”

“Monokuma overpowered her, somehow. He stole her administrator privileges and, uh, repainted her and is calling her ‘Monomi’. As far as we can tell, her actual AI hasn’t been affected in this process, probably for him to enjoy her suffering.” Makoto explained, only for Celeste to jump in.

“We’ve confirmed that Monokuma was attacked by the rabbit in some fashion, but none of us here can actually decipher what Fujisaki and Gekkogahara’s work does.” Celeste shot Makoto a smirk then. “I suppose all we can do is Hope it’ll be enough.”

The Ultimate Hope groaned. Ever since Celeste had called him that on live television, it had, effectively, become his official title, and the gambler was more than happy to tease him about it at every opportunity. Not to mention teasing him in other ways…

Makoto shook off his blush and cleared his throat. “Yeah. Usami seems to have done something during their fight, but what exactly, we really can’t tell…”

Kyoko hummed for a moment, before continuing. “Monokuma took over the program, but to what extent?” 

Makoto grimaced again. “Almost completely. Usami’s been completely depowered, we can’t interfere at all with what’s happening inside- Though, we still have access to the cameras and can import stuff in-”

“You. Will. Not. Enter that simulation, Makoto Naegi. I forbid it,” Celeste said, her voice cold as ice, and Makoto felt his blood run cold. “No doubt that bitch left those untouched expressly to make you jump in like the self-sacrificing idiot you are.”

Yeah… Celeste still hadn’t forgiven him for not throwing Kyoko under the bus during Junko’s staged trial. At least, she hadn’t tried to kill him.

Makoto could still clearly see the scar Celeste had left on Kyoko’s face with her claw on her monitor. The pale line went from the corner of her mouth, and stretched out to just under her cheekbone, pulling slightly whenever Kyoko spoke.

Kyoko didn’t seem to bregrudge Celeste for it however. ‘I have worse scars’ she’d once said, ‘and this one I deserve.’

Celeste’s choice of words had been a lot less…diplomatic. ‘Should’ve taken the lying whore’s tongue with it.’ or, something to that effect…

Makoto chose not to linger on it, honestly. He had lost too many friends to begrudge those that had survived.

“I agree.” Sakura said, followed by Kyoko’s silent nod.

“Guys…” Makoto tried to plead his case, that he wasn’t actually that bad-

“If he tries, I’ll tie him down to his chair,” Mondo promised, making Celeste scoff. 

“You won’t touch him, you brute. No, if Makoto does anything stupid, he’ll answer to me.”

The luckster couldn’t quite hide his wince at that. Celeste could kill a man with her words, but never did they cut so deep as when she tried to imprint on Makoto that she was going to find a way to stop him from passing on before the rest of them. It always hurt to know he worried her so much, especially when he could see the tears held back tightly just behind her mask.

And it’s not like Makoto wanted to sacrifice himself or anything. He’d be perfectly happy never putting his life in danger again, thank you very much.

But on the other hand, he was incapable of refusing to offer his help when someone needed it. Not that he wanted to be the kind of person who would, in all honesty.

Anyway.

“Celeste, you said ‘that bitch’ earlier?” Kyoko asked, bringing the conversation back on topic (thankfully for Makoto). “Then, do you think…”

“That this is one of Enoshima’s ploys? Obviously. It’s got her name written all over this.”

“But- she’s dead, right?” Mondo asked, and Makoto nodded definitively. 

Though he hadn’t seen her corpse himself, well…

The Remnants had brought enough pieces back to remove any doubt he might’ve had.

“Yes, but I don’t think she was stupid enough to actually stop her planning at her death. No, Enoshima is far too clever for that.” Celeste said, a note of begrudging respect in her voice that Makoto could only agree with.

Junko was many things. Insane, sado-masochistic, cruel, self-destructive-

But most of all, she was intelligent. Incredibly so.

If she wanted to plan something like this, even something that would only come to pass after her death, she definitely could.

“But how, is the question.” Sakura said. “Fearsome as Junko is, she cannot rise from the dead.”

Hopefully.

“No. But she has spent many years in the same class as the Ultimate Programmer as he developed Alter Ego technology, and was familiar with the Ultimate Neurologist.”

Kyoko’s voice almost seemed like it deafened Makoto for a moment as her words shot through him.

“Are you saying- Junko…”

“Made an Alter Ego herself? I don’t know. But I think it is a very real possibility, especially since she has been known to be very adept with technology in the past. It would explain how efficiently she took over the simulation. If Usami wasn’t fighting one AI, but two…”

Mondo’s jaw was tightly set. “Then it was two on one, and Usami couldn’t fight back.”

“She did manage to infect the Monokuma AI with something, so to say she was powerless would be false, but whether or not she was effective…” Sakura let the sentence hang.

She didn’t need to say it for everyone to understand.

“All we can do is wait, regrettably.” Celeste finally said, and Makoto found himself squirming slightly.

Yeah… Nothing anyone could do.

“Well, I suppose we’ll have to see. Makoto, Celeste, please keep us abreast of the situation as it evolves. As of now, it seems like the Killing Game has yet to begin, but that could change at any moment.” Kyoko said, and Makoto wanted to jump up and say there was no chance it would begin at all-

But he knew better, sadly.

“I’ll make sure Yasuhiro is informed about the situation discreetly.” Kyoko added, and Makoto nodded absent-mindedly.

Hiro was still in the heart of Future Foundation, working and acting as if nothing was wrong at all.

He was ideally placed to learn about Future Foundation’s movements, but it also meant that all of his communications were heavily scrutinized- no doubt Kyoko would need to sneak the message to him somehow. It also meant that, under no circumstances could Hiro hint at knowing Jabberwock Island even existed, and especially not send a message here.

After a few perfunctory goodbyes, Mondo stomped back outside the room, no doubt looking to take out his anger on something or other, while Makoto sagged back in the chair he’d been occupying a few hours ago when Monokuma first appeared.

God, what a nightmare…

Makoto looked into the screen in front of him, jumping from camera to camera and observing the 16 students who were now stuck inside the game he’d only just escaped with his life a few months ago.

And there was nothing he could do to help except hope for the best.

…

Unbidden, Makoto’s eyes drifted to the second monitor, the one showing the drives of the Neo World Program.

He’d gone through them wildly when Monokuma first appeared, but he could barely understand what was in it, let alone figure out what had changed.

Though, there was one thing he’d recognized, if only because it was possibly labeled explicitly for him, or whoever was using the program when something went wrong.

“So? What’s your backup plan?” Celeste asked from the seat next to him, making him jump.

“Gah! C-Celeste!? Wh-What are you talking about!?” Makoto tried to deny it, but Celeste only smiled at him.

“You’re hiding something, Makoto, and not very well. Not that you can hide anything from me of course.” Was that a note of smugness in her voice?

But it was true that Celeste could read him like a book. Maybe that was the price to pay for him to be able to see past her mask himself.

Makoto sighed, before navigating the drive back to the simply named folder he’d found earlier today.

‘In Case Of Usami Failure!’

And inside that folder was a single program, and a text document, which Makoto opened, before sliding his chair out of the way for Celeste to read herself.

“Thank you very much~” Celeste said, leaning over Makoto and making him blush as he felt her body pressing into him lightly as she read.

He looked away, though his eyes struggled to find where to land for a moment, before he eventually closed them, not needing to read the file again.

He’d done so again, and again, and again already.

‘Hello! If you’re reading this .txt file, then this must mean something went wrong that Usami failed to fix! Depending on what or why, you might need to take matters into your own hands! If you do, here’s what you need!

In this folder, you will find a .exe program! It is functionally the same thing as the Pacification Program Usami carries with her, except you can direct it yourself, should the need arise. To do so, all you must do is boot up the .exe, and navigate through the island using the 3D render the program offers.  Simply select a target, and focus the Pacification Program to whatever intensity may be needed. 

This does of course come with risks, so please take care to use this responsibly. The subjects inside of this program are treated as ‘rogue code’ by the Pacification Program, and this can affect the Rehabilitation Program the Neo World Program’s foundation rests on. As it is designed to do in the worst-case scenario, the program will first move to pacify the malicious code to prevent it from further harming the Neo World. From there it will attempt to alter the base coding of the target into something more useful for the system moderator.

The Pacification Program is relatively untested, and it should only be used in the case of an extreme emergency! If at all possible, contact technical support before resorting to this option. Love love &lt;;3’

Makoto only had to wait a moment before Celeste’s eyes turned back toward him, the rubies glinting with intelligence as she took her seat again, her hands folded in her lap primly.

“So?” She asked, and Makoto grimaced.

“I tried using it on Monokuma, but it couldn’t select him as a target. Maybe it’s because he’s not an original part of the program, or maybe it's because Usami did manage to infect him and he can’t be targeted again or something. I tried using the 3D map to search the island, but it’s literally changing as I navigate it, and some parts are completely closed off and inaccessible, like the ruins. As far as I can tell, it isn’t really useful in this situation.”

Celeste’s smile widened a fraction. “If you believed that, you wouldn’t be so bothered by it.”

Makoto smiled shakily. “You know me too well…”

“Fufufu~ Oh, Makoto, you couldn’t be more wrong~” Celeste slightly teased him, but her eyes were still serious.

“Well, I tested the program for a little bit. It all seems focused on calming people down, making them more compliant, less aggressive, etc. I can target everything on the island with it, except for Monokuma, as I said. I think it works just as it's advertised, making sure conflicts don't happen on the island.” 

Makoto paused for a moment, staring back at Celeste’s pale face.

“If- the worst came to pass, I was thinking maybe I could use it to stop things from- happening?” Makoto winced at his own words as he tried to tip-toe around actually saying what he was worried about.

“You think you could use this Pacification Program to stop a murder, should it come to that?”

“It shouldn't have to, but- I know better than that. My hope is that if one of them does fall to that temptation, I can stop it before it's too late, save them where I- '' Makoto choked on the words before they finished leaving his mouth.

Where I couldn't save them before.

The words were left unsaid, but both knew what he had been getting at. The loss of their friends still weighed heavy on all of the survivors, and him more so than anyone else. 

His guilt cut him deeper than anyone else’s did, his heart almost bleeding out of his chest sometimes, and Celeste no doubt recognized the pain he felt so vividly still. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, always had, and now was no different. 

He took a deep breath, and slowly let it out, letting his shoulders fall with it. “Like I said, I hope I won’t have to use it, and not only because I want to believe in them, but also because, well, I’m not a genius. I think I can figure it out, but I’m sure there’s a reason it's supposed to be for emergencies only. On the other hand…”

“If this isn’t an emergency, then what is, hm?” Celeste finished the thought, a clawed finger resting on her chin, her eyes still drilling into Makoto.

For a moment, the pair sat in silence, only disturbed by the simulated ambience coming through the cameras and the sound of machinery all around them.

It was strange how things happened. 

When Makoto had first met Celeste, he had only felt deceit and danger coming from her, and had actively feared being left alone with her, lest she somehow manage to talk him out of all of his worldly possession, or worse, into a game of mahjong.

But now, sitting next to her, on the run from what now stood as the government, harboring fugitives on a deserted island and hoping they would survive, he wasn’t sure there was anyone he trusted more.

O-Of course, he trusted all of his friends from Class 78! No doubt about that! Mondo had sworn to protect him more than once, and Sakura had been ready to lay her own life down to save them all. Hiro might act like a doofus, but even now, he worked at the heart of Future Foundation to help them, and though Kyoko might act cold, he knew that she cared for all of them deep down.

Though she might’ve not trusted him as he trusted her in the past, it was the past, truthfully. Kyoko had changed, and seen the error of her ways. Even now, she was trusting them with this project, when all of their lives may very well lie in the balance.

But still, sitting here with Celeste, he felt, at peace, almost.

As if anything was possible.

Even beating Junko for a second time, and stopping a tragedy from repeating itself.

Makoto took another deep breath. “Thanks for volunteering to stay with me here, Celeste.”

The girl’s pale face split into a smile. “Well, if you do feel so grateful, maybe you’d like to pay me back~”

Makoto’s face exploded into a blush as Celeste teased him, again, and he turned away from her to instead focus on the monitor.

Another round of camera checks told Makoto that all of Class 77 was sleeping in bed. Which was normal, of course. The simulated time matched the time on the real island, and it was approaching- wow, two in the morning?

Well, Makoto had been very busy thus far, of course, but still.

He swallowed a yawn and blinked, hard. 

“Are you planning to stay here all night?” Celeste asked, only half-surprised.

“Well, night time is dangerous, right? You’re the one who introduced the night time rule, Celeste.” Makoto said, but Celeste only rolled her eyes.

“Of course you are. What, are you planning to stay awake forever?”

Makoto looked away. “Of course not, but…”

But Makoto simply didn’t know when to leave. What if the moment he abandoned his vigil something happened? Should he sleep when the students went to bed? But that would also be when they were at their most vulnerable, wasn't it? Should he sleep during the day then? But that didn't seem right either, wouldn't that be when most of them were out and about?

“You are ridiculous, Makoto. The worst possible outcome is you falling asleep unexpectedly.”

“No, the worst possible outcome is me failing these people and letting the Killing Game start again.” Makoto snapped, only to immediately regret his harsher tone.

For a moment, a more uncomfortable silence reigned in the operating room, and Makoto felt as if he had something stuck in his throat, at least until Celeste stood up, and laid her hand on his shoulder.

“Go to sleep, Makoto. No one will make a move so soon. We can arrange a schedule tomorrow, and make sure one of us is always watching in the future.” Celeste said softly, and Makoto felt his unknowingly tense shoulders sagging.

He wanted to try and justify staying up, but he was cut off by another yawn, making Celeste giggle.

“As usual, your body is incredibly honest~” Celeste said, and Makoto felt a blush rise to his cheeks as her fingers rolled on his shoulder for a moment, before pulling at him lightly. “Come on. Walk me to my room, hm? You’d be a failure of a knight to not escort your lady.”

Makoto couldn’t stop his tired chuckle. “Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

As Makoto stood up, he couldn’t help but agree with his earlier thought. 

He really was glad Celeste was here with him.

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They'd won, but it sometimes didn’t feel that way. He bore the pain of ten lives lost, the grief that came from losing them. Though unlike his fellow survivors, he even mourned the final loss of their game. For as much wrong as she did, he had wished, still did in many ways, that he could have saved Junko from her own pit of despair.

Her laugh, even if it sounded hollow, the proclamation that despair made Junko everything she was, all before she sealed her own fate. She'd never given him the chance to argue against it, and sometimes he chose to believe it was that she knew he would have succeeded. Makoto never had that chance, and she put herself through a gauntlet of despair, every execution she ever inflicted on their classmates, all in one bundle for her to face.

Yes, even her death hung heavy upon him, though not the heaviest of their losses, not nearly the heaviest. 

When Mukuro took Byakuya's life, it pained him the same way. He'd never managed to break through Byakuya's shell, not as much as he wanted. He'd never really known who Mukuro truly was, but he always saw glimpses of the true girl buried beneath the disguise she wore. 

She'd told him once she held out hope that he would stop Junko, though she never said her name, she never had the chance before she was dragged away to her own punishment. He still couldn't understand why she chose Byakuya as her victim, what of his demeanor screamed a traitor even Mukuro didn't know of. 

He always blamed himself though, like Mukuro was protecting him from Byakuya's consistently cruel comments. Every time they visited him at night they didn't hesitate to remind him of that.

Makoto would never claim they were alone, they all blamed him, just as much as he did. Kiyotaka, Hifumi, Leon, they visited on occasion, not as much as the others, not that he felt the bitter sting of their loss any less.

He should have noticed the way Hifumi was breaking down, the longer they stayed, the lessening grip on reality. Yet he didn't, he spent less time with Hifumi than any other member of his class, and that was something he could have, no should have changed.

As Hifumi broke down, his reality became incomprehensible, a merge of his stories, his adoration of all things 2D, and utter despair of not having his crutch. He supposed Alter Ego had been the boy's tipping point, nobody there to ground him, he fell into the trap of viewing Alter Ego as a living, breathing person, and refused to let go.

Asahina suggesting they use the AI, sophisticated as it was to break down Monokuma, was the final nail in both of their coffins. She had become a threat to the only thing keeping Hifumi's fragile hold on his own sanity, and it took more than just the pair down with him. Kiyotaka was just an unfortunate accident to make everything worse.

Long after Asahina had lost her life, after Hifumi had bloodied his hands, Kiyotaka found him. If Makoto had known, if he had been there to stop him, he'd still be here. He could have stopped their fight, talked them down, Hifumi would never have fallen, and Kiyotaka wouldn't have faced execution.

The moral compass that man possessed would never have allowed him to let it lie. A simple confrontation to stop Hifumi from doing what he didn't know had already been done. It was far too late, and Hifumi was far too gone. 

Makoto may not know exactly how it happened, but he certainly knew the outcome, a single fall down a staircase, the wrong landing on a bannister, and an execution of a man who hadn't intended any harm. Three lives lost because he wasn't there when he needed to be.

Toko was always the one who found humor in that, despite Makoto finding none. She always found the death of a friend funny, well not Toko precisely. Her crippling case of a split personality found twisted enjoyment in it, or Makoto imagined she did. Her hands weren't clean of blood, and she didn't think twice about reminding him that he had stained his own with hers.

If he had just been more understanding, pushed harder for Chihiro to trust him. If he had just truly befriended the scared boy, she never would have had such an easy target. If he had been able to show that their secrets were always safe, Toko would never have sunk into herself further than ever, her other self never would have been let free.

Toko finding out that her perfect prey was right in front of her, no longer in control? It was a spark in the powder keg, and she was never coming back from the explosion that ensued. No, he had failed them, and they paid the ultimate price for it.

Yet still, they never hurt the worst, no they never could. While he had believed he could have done more, he knew that in truth, it was always a pipe dream. Blaming himself for what was mostly out of his control.

They weren't. That was his failure, the trump card of his nightmares. Whenever he saw that fiery red hair, or heard that sickeningly sweet laugh, that was when it hurt the most. Why shouldn't it? It was the first of his many failures, but more than that it was the only one that he knew he could have done more. 

Yes, Sayaka Maizono was his biggest regret, his biggest failure, his most painful memory. The videos were such a simple motive, yet they were the most effective. He remembered it clear as day, holding her in his arms as she shed every tear she could, and he didn't even say anything that made it better, not truly. 

Yet he didn't pay for that failure, Leon took on that debt. 

If Makoto had stayed with Sayaka that night, neither of them would have been hurt, they'd be safe. He knew she was scared and he left her, yet that wasn't what truly sealed their fates.

No, it was still Sayaka's plan. He believed he'd helped her, but he should have known better. He should have known from the way she spoke that she was lying to him. Of course he didn't, he was too blind to the truth, he cared too much, trusted with too much, and left as she had asked.

Their fate was that which haunted him the most. The ring of a doorbell, a plan set in motion, a shower to dread cleansing himself in. 

He could never truly know what happened that night. He could deduce, extrapolate, hope, imagine, fear- but never really know.

Still, he’d seen the scene in his nightmares so frequently he could almost believe it was undeniable truth.

Sayaka’s fear, her guilt, her resolve as she played him for a fool, planning to make him take the fall for him.

Was it relief she felt when Makoto agreed to switch rooms? Or maybe resignation?

And when she wrote those words, invited Leon to his room- did she know she was starting the Killing Game? Did she care?

She could’ve stopped there, couldn’t she? Could’ve tore the letter to shreds and flushed it down the toilet in the morning, and no one would’ve known.

Or maybe the moment she began writing, she had already chosen her path. 

Maybe it was the moment she met Makoto deep into the night.

Maybe it was the moment the Killing Game rules were announced.

Makoto couldn’t know. He would never be able to know. That was the cruel finality of death.

Still, the thoughts haunted him, and nightmares regarding Sayaka, not to mention all of his other friends plagued him.

But this wasn’t a nightmare.

This was reality.

A cruel trick, a tragedy repeating itself right in front of his eyes.

Makoto stared unseeingly at the monitor as Nagito walked away from the Ultimate Impostor’s cabin, having just slipped a note under his door, an hour before the morning announcement.

His fingers felt numb as he gripped the desk in front of him like a buoy, the only thing stopping him from falling off his chair and drowning in a sea of despair.

“Makoto. Breathe.” Celeste said next to him, her hand digging into the flesh of his arm, and Makoto’s lungs felt like they would explode as he breathed in shakily.

“Wh-What-” Makoto’s voice broke for a moment, and he cleared his throat. “What does the letter say?”

Celeste paused for a moment, hesitating, before navigating the cameras, though her hand never left him, for which he was thankful. He needed the anchor, desperately.

Celeste found the Impostor’s room camera, and paused again.

“Celeste?”

She grit her teeth.

“‘Be careful. The first kill will happen tonight. Someone will definitely kill someone.’”

Makoto could almost smell the faint smell of lavender in the air, and for a moment, he was back on those trial grounds, listening to Kyoko explain Sayaka’s plan.

Celeste’s nails bit into his flesh through his suit.

No. No, he couldn’t allow this to happen.

Numbly, he navigated the drives, and found the Pacification Program folder once more, only to pause when Celeste pulled at him.

His eyes met hers, only to come face-to-face with her full trust, and Makoto couldn’t help but relax, just a little bit.

She didn’t say anything. Only nodded, once, seriously, which Makoto returned, first tiredly, but then resolved.

No, he would stop this Killing Game from starting. He had to.

His free hand left the desk, and instead settled on Celeste’s own hand, feeling her cold fingers under his.

“I can't let this happen.” She hadn't questioned him, but he provided an answer anyway.

“I would never suggest you did, I know better than that. Always the noble knight.” Her soft tone was a warming comfort he needed, even if only a few words.

With a tightened determination settling in his chest, he drew his eyes back to the computer screen. The debate they could have had about this decision was solved before it ever truly began.

He wouldn’t allow Nagito to kickstart the Killing Game. He wouldn’t allow anyone to do so.

And when he opened the Pacification Program, it was with resolve and hope bolstering his heart.

[imposterogers]

see the greatest thing about marvel fucking up steve rogers’ ending and being a writer is i can fix it like how anon was saying he should have been given a new identity. i will never not be upset over how all of the character development was ruined for the main 6. and i will never forgive the fact that natasha was killed off and clint got to go back to his family scott free when natasha had to live the majority of her life facing the consequences and backlash of her actions. she deserved to be free imo

natasha spent her adulthood trying to make up for / repent for crimes she committed bc she was abducted as a child, groomed, turned into a weapon, and brainwashed. she deserved to be free from her guilt. to finally wash her hands of it once and for all. to have her found family. instead …

[scorbleeo]

TV Series Discussion: Supergirl

Season 6 (2021)

Source: Google Images

The adventures of Superman's cousin and her own superhero career.

Source: IMDb (2015)

A Bittersweet End

I am going to start this out by saying I had no expectations for Supergirl Season 6. I might have watched all the previous seasons, but I was disappointed with the last or last 2 season(s). Although I adore Supergirl and the Super Friends, the plots were often average. Now thinking back, I can't even name a Supergirl villain that stuck to me.

That being said, this final season of Supergirl was much better than the previous seasons. It got me hooked onto the show and there were times when I was actually emotional. Although the villains were way below mid, the storylines were solid. And the action, I absolutely enjoyed it. Even the character developments were good. As a Supergirl season, season 6 was one of the better ones. As a final season, I believe it could have been better plotted.

Lets start with the villains. I'm not saying Nyxly was a marvellous villain but because of her existence and actions, it created several great storylines, especially the role it played into Kara's self-realisation, then development.

Lex on the other hand, his arc was so weirdly written. The Lex Luthor I was used to disappeared in season 6, for real. Him being in love really ruined his arc, when he could have gone down as one of the show's better villains. But, I like what the writers did with this character. I mean, people have tried to kill Lex, he lived. People have tried to incarcerate Lex, he walked away scott free. Other than the Phantom Zone, I doubt there would be another way to get rid of Lex once and for all.

As for Lillian. I hated her throughout all 6 seasons. I really did not like the idea of her redemption in the end but her redemption meant enlightenment for Lena. For that, I eventually accepted that there was a redemption arc for this infuriating woman. Perhaps, if her redemption was shown gradually through this last season, I might not have disliked the idea as much.

Through the entire season, I enjoyed more than I was bored. I liked more than I disliked. Unfortunately, there was something I seriously wished the writers never wrote down. What happened to William did not need to happen, or at least, not to him. It's not as if William's death meant the whole Super Friends was going on a revenge path, so why bring him back from being shot only to have him go permanently by being shot? He was the one character I constantly wished nothing happened to him since his first appearance...

Moving on to brighter topics, lets talk about Kelly. First thing first, that episode that was Kelly-centric? Wow. It was the first time Azie Tesfai impressed me. The way Tesfai portrayed Kelly in the episode, it was almost like I could feel everything Kelly was experiencing. Then came their wedding scene and I am never one for vows, not a romantic and could care less about wedding vows. However, Kelly's vows to Alex touched my heart. I really don't know if it's the words, Tesfai's acting, or the combination of both. Whatever it is, I finished Supergirl extremely aware of what a magnificent actress Tesfai is.

Next, Nia. Not only did Nia (and Dreamer) grow, Nicole Maines improved so much too. I never disliked Maines nor her character but the acting always felt a little awkward. Usually, I just let it go because if Nia is one awkward girl, Dreamer will be awkward too and thus the awkward acting. This last season proved me wrong because I still see awkward Nia but the acting very obviously improved. Completely off the tangent here but when Nia confronted Maeve? Atta girl! I loved it when Nia told her sister, she will not forgive her but she can give a second chance. That's the way, actually. How do people forgive without seeing how others handle their second chances?

Lastly, Kara's character arc. I have always loved it when Kara showed vulnerability. In this season, she's practically always vulnerable even when she's not actively attacked. It hurts to watch Supergirl lose hope so often but then the way the smallest things brought back some hope to her? Love it. The courage plot was something else too, something I did not see play out the way it did. As much as I loved it, I still don't know how I feel about the season ending with the world finding out Supergirl's identity.

After watching several Arrowverse shows consecutively, Supergirl was a nice end before a break from the Arrowverse TV shows. Although Kara and Mon-El are not endgame, I am still very happy that the finale brought back the old faces.

Rating: ★★★★☆

More Arrowverse here: Legends of Tomorrow Season 6 | The Flash Season 7

[fandomofisolation]

My own internalized misogyny pisses me the fuck off sometimes, because I NEVER give female characters the same understanding and compassion I give male characters.

I love Sam and Dean Winchester of The CW's "Supernatural" (2005-2020). I love Ed Teach and Stede Bonnet of HBO Max' "Our Flag Means Death" (2022-2023). I love Marvel's Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and Loki. These characters have done some really fucked up shit. These characters have killed people. Most of them have killed without remorse - often for reasons that I personally cannot see as justifiable.

But I forgive all those characters. Don't get me wrong, I don't just love them because they're well-written, three dimensional, compelling characters. I love them like I care about them. Like they're my fictional friends. Like if I knew them in real life, I'd want them to be proud of me. I think that in their universes, they are good people.

I know that it sucks that we don't have as many female characters like that. But what sucks even more is that when we do I hate them! What is wrong with me??

Katniss Everdeen from Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games. I read those books in high school and I hated her because I thought she was selfish. Selfish! Like, what? Who do I think I am?

Clarke Griffin of The CW's "The 100" (2014-2020). I had beef with her because I couldn't agree with some of the decisions she made, so I disliked her whole character.

Fiona Gallagher of Showtime's "Shameless" (2011-2021). *Season 4 spoilers* After Liam got into the cocaine in Season Four and was hospitalized for an overdose, I was so mad at her. I was like, "You stupid bitch! How could you just leave cocaine just lying around when you have a three-year-old in the house? That is so dumb and irresponsible!"

What stands out to me is that Katniss, Clarke and Fiona are facing circumstances every bit as difficult as any of those male characters I mentioned previously. They've lived through immense trauma. They're up against insurmountable odds. But I don't give them the same grace that I do Sam or Ed or Bucky.

I hold women, myself included, to a much high standard than men. It's ridiculous because that double standard is itself part of the very same systematic oppression that creates so many obstacles for women already (before you even ask, yes I'm including trans women. "Women" always includes trans women. Women are women are women. Genitals and chromosomes do not determine gender. Terfs go fuck yourselves).

It's not fair. It's not fair to the people writing female characters. It's not fair to female actors. It's not fair to the women and girls all over the world who need to see themselves represented in well-written, three-dimensional, complex, imperfect characters. It's not fair to me. I am part of the problem!

So anyway. Not cool, self. I gotta work on undoing those unhealthy thought patterns. Wish me luck!

[thewitchandtheassassin]

What Would An Angel Say, The Devil Wants to Know Part Six (Lena Luthor x Reader)

Summary: Who will you be when you’re tested?

Words: 2325

Warnings: Language, violence, death, blood, main character death, possibly triggering content.

Taglist: @natasharomanoffswife @natasha-danvers @aaron-despair @username23345 @xjiasx @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova @summergeezburr @marvels-writings @onlyafewfindtheway @captain-josslett @hayleyokami @aznblossom   @everything201197   @hayleyokami @b-5by5 @lostandsearching @evilcr0ne @softgamerking @unexpected-character​​

-X-

Dropping Lockwood, he crumpled uselessly to the ground, gasping as he tried to catch his breath. He might not have needed air but your actions had left an impression he surely wouldn’t forget for a long time to come. That helpless, hopeless feeling would linger – even with your hand nowhere him.

Not sparing him a glance, you searched out the human with ease. She hadn’t gotten far from the building and now was a perfect time to shadow her away. An eerie darkness eclipsed your irises and Lockwood watched with abject horror – and a healthy amount of fear – as old Latin fell from your lips like a lover’s name.

“(Y/N) –”

“They want this done and I want to finish it, so I’ll do it my way,” you growled. “They want her dead? They can forgive one or two dips into the Cursed language.”

Symbols once lost began to appear around you, ghastly and daunting as they twisted and pulsed with every new word. Lockwood had never seen such a terrifying sight and for a moment, he had nothing but respect for the power inside you. He’d always discounted your talents – a hunter with sensational luck – but to see a language considered dead come to life, he realized how much you restrained yourself.

He wondered if the masters knew what you could do.

“Darkseid taught me these things,” you answered, shooting him a knowing look. “It is not magic a demon should take lightly. And I never have. If I did, I would’ve ripped your throat out centuries ago.”

Swallowed dryly, Lockwood came to your side and watched the human freeze, a glazed expression befalling her features. He peered around, noticing the panic on Lena’s face as she materialized across the street at the first sign of true distress, Querl at her hip. Her lips moved and a glaringly obvious white light pooled around her but whatever she was saying – whatever power she hoped to use to undo your magic – did nothing.

-X-

It took a lot to frighten Querl.

He’d seen more than most angels combined – excluding Lena – but the curses you spoke sent a soul clenching shiver rushing down his spine. Every angel had heard of the Cursed language. Knew only the most skilled demons had any chance of harnessing its power. And even fewer dared to speak it, fearing what it could do to them lest they become monsters even Hell wouldn’t tolerate.

To see you wielding it with such ease?

“She’s not going to let this go,” Querl whispered in despair.

Lena’s protective magic did little to release the hold you had on Kara, watching her slowly wander from the throngs of people. She contemplated turning her powers on you, but uncertainty gripped at her chest. She didn’t want to kill you and she couldn’t let you kill Kara. You held fate in your hands; she could only pray that you’d make the right choices if given the answers you unknowingly sought.

Calling Kara away from prying eyes was easy. You simply kept your curse steady, beckoning her with your words as she thoughtlessly followed you to the top of her apartment complex. No one would truly bat an eye if she walked off the roof. You’d seen plenty of humans do it. She’d just be another statistic.

Nothing more.

Once she was atop the towering building, you waved your hand at roof access door and smirked as it clicked close. It wouldn’t stop the pestering angels but it would keep away any unexpected guests.

“(Y/N)! Stop!” Lena screamed, landing behind Kara as she desperately tried to reason the best action. She wanted to grab Kara, stop the trudging human, but she was far too corrupted by the curses for her to dare reach out. “Please.”

“Too little, too late, angel,” Lockwood mocked, lingering at your side as he watched Kara stagger to the edge. “Your precious human is meant for the concrete.”

Catching sight of Lena’s anguish, you faltered – and Kara froze.

“If you kill her, this world and the next will be doomed. Humans becoming nothing but chattel to abominations and monsters alike. No redemption. No hope. Only dead bodies and broken souls. How can you be okay with that?” she asked, ignoring Lockwood and focusing solely on you.

If she could save Kara, she might be able to save you.

“Psh, you think (Y/N) cares about these cretins? They’re the reason she’s damaged goods now, little angel. They’re the reason she has one last chance to prove her worth. Them – and you.” Lockwood scoffed, oblivious to the way your fist clenched at your side.

Noticing Kara’s subconscious rocking as you considered your options, Lena took a step forward. “(Y/N), I l-”

The curse ended abruptly as you launched yourself at Lena, refusing to hear another word as Kara’s body crumpled pitifully, two celestial beings meeting in the middle of the far-too-nice-for-an-assistant apartment build’s roof. You couldn’t bear to listen for even the slightest second, too angry with the circumstances. With the humans. With her.

Blind with fury, your fists landed wherever they could meet. Your hands burned with every touch but you didn’t care. You wanted her to hurt. You wanted her to feel the pain you’d felt. You wanted your words to be washed away by her blood if that was what it took.

“Holy fuck,” Lockwood gasped, staring at the flurry of movement. He hadn’t expected you to snap so easily but it was something to see.

Catching your fist mid-swing, Lena stared at you imploringly but was met with contempt. Shoving her back, her wings hit the access door as you pressed your forearm into her throat. Eyes still blackened with power, you were a terrifying sight to behold and she swallowed reflexively as the seriousness of the moment rained upon everyone.

Here, on this rooftop, you held all the cards in your hands.

And they were beginning to smolder.

“Everything you’ve done – everything you’ve said, everything you’ve made me fucking feel – is the truest evil here, Lena. You pushed and pushed and filled my head with your little fucking fairytales. Then you go back to your little enclave of pretentious, “holy” fucks and probably mock all the shit I’ve said and done for you. You can pretend to be this wondrous angel but you’re really just a bitch for making me love you!”

A pin could’ve been heard in the silence your words had left behind but you didn’t care as your arm pressed harder into her throat.

“I hate you,” you hissed with false conviction, though your eyes betrayed the truth.

Knowing she would only have one shot – this single moment – of convincing you that you were wrong, Lena’s fingers met your temple and forced all of the thoughts once hidden into the open.

-X-

It was strange, floating between feelings and memories. Memories you’d seen through your own eyes but never hers. Every conversation, every piece of longing and hope and love that made your veins feel like they were ablaze with pure sunlight.

She’d been experiencing the same disarray of emotions. She’d wondered what you could become, if you’d been human. What she would’ve been like. The life you could’ve made together. If you could’ve wanted her the way she wanted you. Loved her the way she loved you.

It was chaotic and painful, the feelings and the anguish so powerful that you wanted to crumble to your knees, but so genuine that it made your chest ache and your heart flutter like someone had left hundreds of winged creatures locked beneath your ribcage.

It felt like too much and not enough all at the same time.

-X-

Jerking back into reality, you gazed at the woman still pinned to the door. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, a part of you full of righteous fury but the rest of you lingered somewhere between confused and hurting. There were so many things you wanted to say but nothing seemed capable of shouldering the massive weight you’d been carrying for so long.

“You’re in love with a fucking angel?” Lockwood screeched from behind you, a reminder of the situation you were facing. “Of fucking course. It makes so much sense. No wonder you’ve never killed this bitch.”

Sneering, you relaxed your grip on Lena slightly. You didn’t know what to do. If you helped her, you’d be killed. If you didn’t, you’d be risking what little hope you clung to. You’d be betraying the one person you would throw it all away for, if you could.

“Well then, step aside and I’ll be doing you a favor,” Lockwood continued and you could hear the familiar creak of his mystical crossbow drawing back. Only a mystic could kill another mystic…

Eyes flickering between Lena’s, you inhaled sharply before righting yourself. Sadness immediately swallowed the glimmer in her eyes, the hope fading into acceptance. She hadn’t managed to reach you – and she would die for trying.

You stepped away from her.

The bowstring made an eerie sound as Lockwood released the bolt, aimed directly for the angel’s heart. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she awaited impact, staring at you with a broken smile on her lips. You hadn’t expected her to give up so easily – no one had.

What you didn’t know was that Lena hadn’t given up on you. She had faith you’d make the right choice, even if you weren’t sure you would.

Growling as the world sped up again, wind engulfed the bolt as your hand rose, freezing the murderous arrow inches from her chest. It dangled in midair, the tip so close that if she were to breathe right, Lena would feel it drag along the cloth of her garments.

“You are so much more than this,” Lena murmured with a soft smile. “You were never going to let that kill me.”

Gaze narrowing, you glared at Lena. “You tricked me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but the stagnant thrum of multiple bolts leaving the crossbow forced you to lunge at Lena, the sharpened teeth clipping your wings as you fell to the ground as they buried themselves into the wall behind you.

“They should’ve never let you live,” Lockwood declared, his eyes blackened with rage as he strolled towards you leisurely, like you were a bug he was going to squash.

Glancing around for Querl, you noticed both him and the human were gone.

At least she’ll survive this Shakespearean tragedy, you mused.

“I’ll make sure I correct that mistake.” Pushing up from the ground – shielding Lena from his immediate sight – you met him with intent, conjuring a blade as you clashed with a thunderous sound that shook the building you stood upon.

Fighting him was nothing like fighting Lena. She had no intentions of hurting you while he had every intention to end your existence. His fists were fast but what truly hurt were the talons that replaced his fingernails. Dangerously sharp, they ripped at you like a panther attempting to dismember a threat. Your blade was powerful, but it only landed shallow swipes as you tried avoiding his hands.

Stumbling around the roof, you couldn’t break from his path enough to forge anything of use. No magic, no weapons aside from your dagger…

Truthfully, you were fucked.

You could see Lena moving about, trying to find an opening in hopes of helping you overtake the demon you’d always known would attempt to kill you, but he kept you between them. Every step was met with a countering one and the dance would continue on.

“You’re too distracted, (Y/N),” he snarled, talons digging into your upper chest as he dragged you to the edge of the building. “You were only good when you were angry but now she’s made you soft. Weak. Love is nothing but a weakness and it will be your downfall. Then that pretty little angel of yours will be next.”

Grunting as they sunk into your flesh, you understood what you had to do. You had come into this mission with the knowledge you would die. It was written on the walls, whether you’d wanted to admit it or not. There would be no peace for you. No redemption.

So you would find your own.

Securing your blade in your grasp, you ignored the panicking flare of your nerves as you forced yourself closer to Lockwood, nearly whining as they sunk in too deep. His eyes were narrow but you could see the confusion and fear lingering.

“You’re right,” you rasped as blood trickled from the wounds and dripped onto the roof. “I’m weak. But not for loving her. That was always my greatest strength. My only regret is knowing I won’t get the chance to rip off your fucking head.”

Lifting your hand up suddenly, you buried the blade into his chest, screaming as his hand clenched around your flesh in surprise. You’d banked on his ego keeping him still; you were just glad you’d been right.

Falling backwards as he stumbled away, his hand gripping the hilt of your dagger in bewilderment, you pressed a hand to your mangled chest and peered up at the frozen angel.

“Lena, sword!”

As if summoned by the gods themselves, a sword of pure, white light appeared in Lena’s hand and she rushed over to the demon, a scream of fury and pain erupting from her soul as her single swing separated his head from his body. Your vision was blurry, but there was something satisfying in watching his body slowly turn to ash.

You couldn’t breathe, the world hazy, as you found yourself staring up at the sky. Listening to Lena talk but hearing nothing as you accepted your fate. At least you were dying in her arms. In her love.

“I…love…you…”

Her scream was the last thing you heard as the world went dark – and your ashes met the wind.

[isagrimorie]

[initial reactions] Tales of the Empire 1x04 - 1x6

1x04 - Devoted

Now that is what I’m talking about, there feels more nuance and subtleties in this part of the story.

We don’t really know what’s going inside of Bariss’s head but we could infer that she’s not certain about anything, she was tossed into the Imperial era without any warning.

Also, it’s ironic that the kind of training Bariss is getting to become a Sith — aggressive attack, and never giving quarter to an enemy until they have the upper hand or killed their enemy… is uh, things that Anakin have taught Ahsoka.

The difference is with Ahsoka, Anakin’s training is still tempered a little. But also another reason why Ahsoka’s so wary of training anyone else in the way she was trained.

But also the beautiful irony of Vader Anakin walking in and becoming, unbeknownst to Bariss, her new Master.

1x05 - Realization

So there’s really propaganda against the Jedi and the Inquisitors are the ones responsible spreading it too.

Do the original Inquisitors think they’re in the right?

I’m glad Bariss realized early on that she’s just following a worse path with the inquisitors. But also, Bariss turning against the Inquisitors in the first mission feels like it’s letting her off too fast just like how Captain Marvel had her first mission with the Kree before she finds out the truth.

On the other hand, this might be how thins get worse for other inquisitors after Bariss.

1x06 - The Way Out

Okay, so Lyn took over the story of someone who got in too deep and doesn’t know the way out. Bariss grew into herself as a healer and wise woman, as she’s always meant to be and she helped Lyn find a way out.

Also, ‘old friend’ I want to watch that reunion of Ahsoka and Bariss, dammit. I want to know how that went down because I don’t think it would have gone down as smoothly. I don’t think Ahsoka would be as forgiving either.

(Again, this is somethign that should be in Ahsoka’s show).

[stuckonjbbarnes]

sleepover with the oc's (& the boys crash it 👀) pls 🖤

The Proverbial Punching Bag {OCs x Marvel Mens}

Summary: Immediately following the ending to At Least Not Alone, the gang has a sleepover.

The OC Fics (in order of appearance)

A/N: Thanks for never giving up on me writing about my OCs and helping me remember who did what @buckysmischief

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“We’re still having a sleepover right? Steve didn’t ruin it, right?” Sasha whines.

“Yes, you’re all still welcome to stay, even Steve.” Sawyer adds before acknowledging her ex, “I forgive you for the way it ended. I don’t regret anything that happened after, so stop beating yourself up and let me be happy in my fucked up choices. Be happy with your own choices, that’s all we need.”

“I- knocking cuts Steve off.

“I’ll get it!” Jazzy jumps up, “I called in a reinforcement and he’s bringing more pizza!”

“YOU INVITED J?!”

The door swings open and like a flash Sawyer leaps over the couch and throws herself into a man. Pietro watches over his bottle of beer, as she’s twirled. The rest of the group watches in mostly confusion, save for Sam and Bucky who share a similar look of recognition.

“J? You guys know Joaquin?” Sam asks, attempting to piece something together.

“Know? I grew up with him!” Jazzy smiles, “He’s my favorite cousin.”

“I’m your only cousin.” Joaquin pouts, playfully jabbing her in the ribs.

“And therefore my undisputed favorite.”

“You know those two?” Sawyer throws a thumb over her shoulder towards Bucky and Sam, “I’m so sorry…”

“I’ve done a mission  or two with Sam…Bucky, I see your sleeve is still intact today.” The man grunts in reply, not at all the Bucky that Sawyer was used to but rather reminiscent of his soldier days.

“Would it kill you to be nice to new people for 2 seconds?” Sasha unsurprisingly berates him, causing a blush to creep across Bucky’s cheeks.

“It actually might,” Sam smirks.

“Fuck off Sam.” Bucky gripes, causing the whole of the apartment to erupt in laughter.

“Wait…so you guys are like friends? I thought you hated each other.” Joaquin’s eyebrows knit together and he receives both looks of sympathy and some eyerolls.

“Frenemies.” Tali shrugs.

“No no. They love each other.” Monroe intercedes.

“They’re both boring. Can we move on to someone significantly cooler?” Jazzy asks.

“Thor?”

“Can we not bring my brother into this?” Loki groans.

“J, who are you texting? Sitting over there with a goofy ass grin on your face…” Sawyer turns her attention to Torres.

“Just the love of his lifeeee.” Sam teases.

“Her name is Wren. If you must know.” Joaquin says, eyes not moving from the screen, “She’s just a girl from Tinder.”

“...that he saved from a shitty date. Twice.” Sam adds, throwing pieces of popcorn at the man.

“Well I want to meet her.” Daisy pipes up, earning a round of ‘of course you dos’ from the group. 

“No..no. Daisy’s right.” Sawyer agrees, “I’d like to meet her too.”

“This wouldn’t be the first time they shared feelings over something.” Scott chuckles.

“SHE THREW A POTATO AT HIM!” Loki and Tali both yell, much to Steve’s embarrassment.

“I think I’m missing something here.” Joaquin squints.

“It’s a lot to unpack.” Pietro shakes his head.

“I think you could write several movies with the amount of drama and hysterics in this friend group.” Sasha offers, “I would recommend running while you can.”

“It’s too late. He’s been introduced. He knows too much.” Tali smiles, looking less than friendly.

“Hey, miss witchy-woo, tone it down for like 5 seconds.” Scott interjects, “We’re making friends here.”

“This is the most fascinating night of my life…” Joaquin murmurs, “...and I’ve been curb stomped by a supersoldier.”

“BUCKY!” Sawyer’s jaw drops as she takes in her closest male friend.

“Woah. Woah. Woah…I did NOT.” 

“Sorry…flag-smashers.” J attempts to hide his grin. “I don’t think I’d be here right now if Barnes did it…”

“I can’t believe you think I’d curb stomp someone, Sawyer.”

“Bucky…you killed the majority of my newsroom.” She defends herself, “All I’m saying is it could’ve happened.” “He’s only known me for a few months.” Joaquin interjects.

“Have you seen, Mr. Grumpy-face over there?” Monroe challenges, “If stares could kill.”

“I told him about the staring thing…” Sasha sighs.

“We’ve all told him Sash.” Sam adds. 

“Can we stop ganging up on me?”

“See how not fun it is to be the proverbial punching bag?” Daisy asks.

“CALLING YOU EVERY FLOWER OTHER THAN DAISY WAS FUNNY…YOU TOLD ME YOU LAUGHED.” Sawyer cries, “I thought we moved on.”

“As the proverbial punching bag, I’d have to agree that it’s Bucky’s turn.” Steve nods.

“I hate you.”

“That’s your best pal.” Joaquin states, “...read about it at the Smithsonian.”

“And sometimes I hate him…”

“Sometimes we all hate each other.” Jazzy chimes in, “makes sleepovers more interesting.”

“So what do you say, Torres, you in the group or what?” Bucky asks and Joaquin breaks into a slow smile.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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