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luminnara · 3 years

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Omega Depression || Alpha!Kiribaku x Omega!fem!reader

Hi! Can I request an alpha!Kiribaku x omega!fem!reader where she is strong on the outside, but sensitive on the inside. Then, some asshole alpha comes and insults her saying that she isn't worthy of having alphas and other super mean stuff that makes her go to omega depression. After that, she confines and isolates herself in her room, not allowing her alphas to enter. Days pass, she misses school for like a week, and her alphas are tired of waiting, so they bust the door and find their omega deep in omega depression and starving herself, and they're super worried and try to help her get out of it, cause she could die if not. The rest can be little angst with a fluffy happy ending!

Yo I live for alpha kiribaku, not gonna lie

Warnings: angst, mental health stuff, depression, eating disorder/starvation stuff, abo

Requests are open!

You were always happy with your alphas. Bakugou and Kirishima were the loves of your life, you were sure of it. The three of you got along well, and there was nothing you enjoyed more than spending time with your boys. You kept up with them easily, never having trouble when it came to handling Katsuki’s temper or Eijiro’s enthusiasm. They loved protecting you, too, not that you ever really seemed to need it; you were tough as nails, as far as everyone was concerned.

You weren’t, though, not really.

“What a useless little omega.”

The words kept repeating in your head, over and over.

“Two alphas? Yeah, right. You don’t even deserve one, not with an uppity attitude like that.”

They kept echoing, no matter what you tried to do.

“What a stupid bitch. They should just leave your sorry ass. You aren’t worthy of anyone, much less alphas.”

You curled in on yourself. You felt sick to your stomach. How could someone say that about you? How could a shitty alpha go and ruin your mood, and your day, by saying something so awful?

“I am worthy!” You had argued. “And we’re happy together, so just fuck off.”

“Oh yeah? Then why haven’t they claimed you yet?” His lips had pulled over his teeth in a sick grin. “You know they’re just biding their time, waiting for something better to come along. You’re nothing to them.”

The little spat had been earlier that morning. It was rare that you ever went out alone; usually Eijirou or Katsuki or both of them were stuck to you like glue, but this had been one of those instances when you had absolutely insisted you would be fine. After all, you were just running a couple errands. You weren’t even going very far from campus. What’s the worst that could possibly happen?

Well...this, apparently.

You had rejected the advances of an alpha who had been eyeing you for quite some time. He was annoying and his scent always made you recoil, but you would never, not in a million years, have thought that he could hurt you so deeply.

Why were his words even bothering you so much? You knew your boys liked you. They made sure to constantly cover you in their scents, they happily gave up their shirts for you to tuck into your little bed nest, they held your hands and gave you sweet little kisses...

And yet, he was right. They hadn’t claimed you yet. There were no big bite marks on your neck to show the world that you were taken. Why hadn’t it happened yet? You always thought that maybe they were just nervous, and they wanted to wait for the right time. Maybe they wanted to wait until school was over and they were better established as heroes.

Or maybe they were just playing with you, maybe you were nothing more than their favorite toy for the time being. What if they got tired of you? What if they really were planning on kicking you to the curb? Without a bond mark, nobody would even blink if they cast you aside. It would just be a normal break up, nothing for anybody else to even care about or get involved in.

But your heart was already aching at the thought of it.

You huddled up in your nest, ugly sobs wracking your body as you clutched one of Katsuki’s hoodies to your chest. An undershirt of Eijirou’s was nearby, a few plushies that they had given you tucked in amongst the blankets and pillows. The scents of burnt sugar and cinnamon wafted around you, and as comforting as they usually were, they weren’t helping you now. Nothing was.

You heard your phone vibrate, but you didn’t reach for it. You didn’t care. You were too wrapped up in your own thoughts, absolutely trapped in your head now. You were plagued by those same words as they kept repeating, telling you over and over that you were worthless, useless, nothing.

When you finally managed to glance at your phone, you had missed texts from both your alphas. You replied to them with a couple of half hearted “yeah, I’m fine” -s, then finally slithered out of bed to make sure your door was locked. You didn’t want to face them when they came to bother you.

If they came.

You spent the entire day like that. When you were out of tears to cry, you just grew numb. It was the worst you had ever felt, and while some part of you knew, deep down, that you needed your alphas to come help you, you couldn’t stand the idea of them seeing you like this. How had you managed to grow so afraid? You usually told them everything, but now...now you abhorred the thought.

“Oi!” Katsuki’s rough voice came from the other side of your door, his scent wafting in. “Open up!”

You didn’t answer, curling in on yourself even further instead.

“Omega!” he called angrily. “Stop ignoring me, dammit!”

“Go away!” you managed to squeeze out, your voice sounding weak and strangled.

He was silent for a moment, his scent changing. It grew more burnt-smelling as his anger mounted, and as it reached your nose, you felt panic and annoyance spiking in your chest.

“Omega,” he growled, voice low. You heard the doorknob jiggling as he tried to get in, but you had locked the deadbolt, and unless he unleashed his quirk right there in the dorms, there was no way he was entering your room.

“I said go away!” you yelled.

On the other side of the door, Katsuki was fuming. The beginning sparks of little explosions were popping around his hands, and if Eijirou wasn’t there to hold his arms down at his sides, there was a good chance he would have done some real damage to the hallway.

“Katsuki, c’mon.” the larger alpha said. “Let’s just leave her alone for a little.”

“Something’s wrong,” Katsuki pulled back as his partner started trying to drag him away. “She stinks.”

“Yeah, she definitely doesn’t smell happy,” Kirishima paused, frowning. “But...we need to give her the space, if she wants it.”

“Fuck that,” his partner spat.

“Katsuki....” Eijirou sighed.

Bakugou’s nostrils flared angrily for a moment, red eyes wild as Kirishima grabbed his arm once again. Someone was trying to drag him away from his omega, from his perfect little mate, and if it had been anyone other than Eijirou, he would have done far worse than simply dig his heels into the floor and growl in protest. Kirishima was right, though; if their omega wanted alone time, they couldn’t just barge in without permission. As much as it hurt both boys, as desperate as they were to get to you and make you feel better, they weren’t total animals. They respected you, and prided themselves on being two big, capable alphas who listened to their omega.

They returned to their own rooms, expecting to at least hear from you within an hour or two.

Hours turned to days.

You texted them a few times, listless, half-assed messages that did little to reassure them. You would send a pathetic I’m fine or a It’s okay here and there, only after they had both blown your phone up for a few hours. It was the only reason they hadn’t tried to tear your door off its hinges; they knew you were alive, at least. But by the third day, Katsuki was beside himself, and even Eijirou was getting upset enough to consider using his quirk to get to you.

You wished that he would. You didn’t want to face them, but at the same time, the fact that they weren’t tearing the building apart to reach you was making you even sadder. Your sad scent was starting to leech out into the rest of the dorms, and by the end of the fifth day, nobody could stop your alphas.

“Oy!” Bakugou snarled, his fist thudding against your door. “Open up, omega!”

You didn’t answer, too weak and listless to bother.

“Babe?” Kirishima asked, his voice strained with the effort of not yelling in panic.

“We know you’re in there,” Katsuki growled. “Quit avoiding us!”

Still, you didn’t answer.

Then, you could hear some shuffling, and the door was being torn off its hinges by Kirishima. Bakugou stormed in as soon as the path was clear, his red eyes blazing with anger, his hands balled into fists.

“You’d better show your face right fuckin’ now, or I swear I—“

He fell silent at the sight of you. His eyes widened, his nostrils flaring. Your scent was so strong and so incredibly miserable that a wave of nausea passed through him. He hadn’t expected that it would be so pungent in your room, and as he covered his mouth and nose with his hand, he rushed towards you.

“Baby,” he cooed, vaguely aware of Kirishima behind him, “what the fuck is going on?”

You tried to bury yourself in your nest, trying to burrow away from the world, but a big hand caught you around the middle and pulled you back out. Eijirou manhandled you easily, his eyes wide with concern as he sat on the floor and placed you in his lap.

“You haven’t been eating,” he observed, looking at your tired eyes. “Or sleeping.”

Katsuki was beside himself with worry. He was immediately sitting in front of his boyfriend, caging you in between them as he began looking you over. “What the hell is goin’ on?”

You didn’t want to tell them. Your throat was sore from crying, and you felt stupid for being so upset. So, you did the only logical thing you could think of and buried your face in Kirishima’s broad chest, clinging to his shirt weakly.

“Omega, please,” the big redhead pleaded, leaning his head down to scent you. “Tell us.”

You shook your head.

“We know Somethin’ is wrong, so spit it out!” Katsuki barked.

His voice was harsh, but you felt a warm, gentle hand on your back that could only be his. The familiar touch made you sigh, and after a shuddery breath, the dam finally broke.

“Th-there was an alpha,” you whimpered, voice muffled by Kirishima.

“What the fuck did they do?” Katsuki growled, his voice deep and savage. It sent a chill down your spine and you whined, clinging to Eijirou for dear life.

“Cut it out,” Kirishima snapped, snorting at his boyfriend angrily. “You’re making it worse.”

“I just wanna know what happened!” He grumbled, his hand pressing into your back.

You hiccuped as a little sob wracked your body. “A-an alpha I rejected, h-he told me…he told me that I wasn’t good enough for you.”

The low rumble in Kirishima’s chest was like nothing you had ever felt before. It was threatening and powerful, putting Bakugou’s growl a moment ago to shame. His arms tightened around you, the scent gland on his neck slipping over your hair as he tried to cover up your unhappy omega stink.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Kirishima snarled, uncharacteristically angry.

“Hey.” Bakugou slipped a hand around your waist, prying you away from the other alpha slightly. “Look at me.”

You faced him with teary eyes, and when you tried to shy away, he took your chin in his fingers.

“We fuckin’ love you. Okay? I don’t say it much. Maybe I should say it more. But it’s true, ‘n no stupid, two-bit, shitty-ass alpha knows anything about the three of us.”

He leaned forward, pushing you back up against Kirishima with his head resting on your shoulder. You finally sighed, surrounded by the scents of your alphas, allowing yourself to relax as the dam broke and your crying started all over again. This time, though, it was freeing, and as your alphas rocked back and forth with you, you felt the dread and the anxiety slowly leaving your stomach.

“Better?” Eijirou asked after a while.

“A little.” you said, voice muffled by his tear-stained shirt.

“Good.” Katsuki said gruffly, pulling you up to stand. “Let’s go get some food in you. Point that shitbag out if you see him...I wanna have a few words.”

#kiribaku #kiribaku x reader #Alpha!Kirishima #alpha!kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #alpha!bakugou #alpha!bakugou x omega!reader #kirishima x reader #bnha #bnha imagines #abo #omegaverse

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partlystiles · 3 years

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So, I noticed you write for Peter Pettigrew,,, I was wondering if you could write something for him and a female s/o? Where he has to introduce his incredibly shy, Hufflepuff s/o to the other Marauders. Bonus points if she’s short, like 4’11-5’0. You can ignore this if you’d prefer not to write it. Have a wonderful day.

i will always write for my baby. your wish is my command. also sorry if this isn’t what you were imagining!

Young!Peter Pettigrew x fem!reader

summary: For days Peter had been non-stop talking to his friends about his girlfriend and for the life of them, they could never catch him with her. Peter hated getting bothered by them as much as he did so to put them at ease, he arranges an introduction.

word count: 2,307

warning: swearing.

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The hallways of Hogwarts were ones of great architecture and historic stories that the many portraits of old witches and wizards absolutely loved to talk and brag about. Students and ghosts alike walked along the corridors every day without really admiring it apart from when statues liked to jump out at them or portraits grabbed their attention with things varying from manic laughter to noisy singing. It truly was a work of art.

It looked like somewhere royals or people in high society back in the olden days would come to stay for their Honeymoon or just for a small change of scenery and no matter how strict the rules, how tidy the uniforms or how high the expectations, students definitely did not act as tidy or as civilised as a royal or a lady or lord would do.

A prime example would be groups of rowdy teenage boys thinking insulting innocent bystanders or making creepy comments about a girls body would be a proper thing to do in a hallway as grand as the ones in Hogwarts. Another example would be the much rowdier, much more irresponsible pranksters of Hogwarts that rivalled against the other boys in witty comments or just funny circumstances.

You often rolled your eyes at their work or mutter quietly about them under your breath when they passed, practically yelling for the whole corridor to hear unless they were about to pull a prank and whispering which is where you would normally make your leave from that particular corridor. But they seemed to be everywhere you went and you didn’t see why until a particular member of the group approached you in the Kitchens one night when you were getting your midnight snack from the house elves.

He said he liked you which made you look around for maybe a sign of the other boys in wonder if this was some sort of prank. But it wasn’t and he...actually liked you. It definitely didn’t escape your notice that the boy was one of the quiet ones and seemed to be holding his breath when he confessed. Sadly, the confession was right before the summer so all you could do was send letters over the holidays which were slightly awkward.

More so when you returned to school and found yourself glancing at each other from across the hallways before you turned and scurried off in another direction after smiling. Then he began to join you on your midnight snack journeys which developed into a beautiful relationship full of blushes, grins and soft, gentle kisses stolen before you had to separate.

Pranks your way were avoided and you were practically living in bliss until he proposed that he wanted you to meet his friends. As in the rowdy ones, as in the ones that get all the good scores no matter how hard you try and the ones that always disrupt your reading time in the library.

It was safe to say that you were nervous because you were nothing like them, loud noises weren’t your thing and you’d much prefer to curl up next to the Black Lake with a book in your hand then join the group of boys in the Great Hall where they probably threw food at each other and if someone else's food ever touched you, you felt like you might be sick. Not to mention the fact that all of them are giants compared to you.

“They are going to love you.” Peter promised, his grip on your hand tight as he tried to drag you down the hallway whilst you planted your feet firmly to the ground. For someone so small, he was amazed at how much you can resist his pull.

“They’re going to hate me.” You argued back attempting to pull him the other way but definitely not succeeding. “I’m awkward and lonely and weird and obsessed with bees which is definitely not normal.”

“It’s cute.” He chuckled, giving up on his pulling but being pulled towards you by your grip when he had given up. You stumbled but he grabbed you arms and stabilised you before you could fall forward and hit the floor. “You’re cute.”

“I am not like them.” You took yourself out of his arms with a mutter, frowning slightly whilst Peter frowned too. “They’re loud and you’ve been friends with them forever and I’m just new. If they don’t like me then we’re gonna...”

“I’m not gonna break up with you if they don’t like you.” Peter shook his head and stepped close, his hand reaching down to tilt your chin up so he was looking down into your eyes. “They’ll love you...I promise.”

“I’m just nervous, I’ve never even thought of being friends with them. They’re just so loud and I...I’m quiet and shy and I stick my face in a book every time they come near me. I just know that they’ll find me weird, Peter.” You covered your face with you hands, shaking your head.

“Oh, baby...” He wrapped his arms around you in a hug and you welcomed it gratefully, hopefully he would listen to you...but no, Peter lifted you up and put you easily over his shoulder as you yelped and kicked your legs. “Come on.”

“Peter, no, please.” You begged as he walked down the corridor with you over his shoulders and consequently receiving a lot of stares which you shyly leant your head on his back to try and get rid of the stares. You were just happy that it was the weekend and you were wearing jeans instead of a skirt. “Pete, please put me down.”

“Not until we’re at the hall and you see how excited they are to meet you.” He laughed as you groaned at him and nuzzled your head into his back as you turned a corner. Your palms were beginning to get sweaty and you felt your breathing pick up slightly at you nervousness.

“Peter, seriously.” Your voice had retreated to a small murmur, no longer were you joking around. You really didn’t think that his friends would like you, they were confident and charming and you were reserved, flustered easily and talked about bees all the time. Hell, in the summer you were in an environmental protest against pollution whilst they were probably having fun swimming somewhere.

“You’ll be fine, angel. We’re here.” He said and slowly lowered you from his shoulder, you nervously glanced around when you noticed you were outside the Great Hall and you looked into it to see the familiar three boys sat at the Gryffindor Table. “Hey.” You looked at Peter again. “I’ll be right there with you. They may be tall and slightly intimidating but they’re nice.”

“Sirius once spilt tea on my book and didn’t apologise.”

“He’s an energetic guy, he probably didn’t notice.” Peter tilted his head and you nodded in acceptance, pursing your lips. When he did it, you didn’t confront him and just moved away mumbling under your breath and shaking out your book. “Ready?”

You hesitated as he took your hand and started walking into the Great Hall, dragging you behind him with a small grin on his face.

“No.” You finally answered, gulping and stepping closer to Peter as you got closer to the three boys flinging pieces of bread at each other.

“Too slow.” Peter grinned back at you, tugging you along and you whined, deciding to catch up to him but walk behind him in an attempt to hide from the others. You were there in no time and tucked yourself behind Peter, hoping that your size would prevent you from being seen. “Hey boys, since you’ve been asking...here she is.”

You only heard silence as you stayed behind Peter, gulping nervously.

“I fucking knew she was imaginary, I called it.” The voice of Sirius Black came from in front of Peter before he exclaimed in pain after sounding like he was being hit with something.

Out of curiosity, you tried to peak out from behind your boyfriends shoulder as little as possible but a pair of soft brown eyes met yours instead and you found yourself frozen in place as you stared straight at Remus Lupin and he raised his eyebrows at you. You slowly went back behind Peter, knowing it was stupid because he’d seen you but you did it anyway, raised eyebrows could mean a million different things.

“She’s not imaginary, Padfoot, she’s just behind him.” Remus said and you shut your eyes in regret as your forehead fell forward and hit Peter’s back whilst he moved out of the way and you were faced with three pairs of eyes staring up at you. “Hi, I’m Remus.”

“James.”

“Sirius, but you can call me anytime.”

Peter took a daily prophet off of the table and hit him on the head with it as Sirius laughed and raised his hands in defence, you smiled awkwardly at it and avoided all eye contact. Your hand squeezed Peter’s slightly and he looked between you and his friends, frowning again.

“This is Y/N L/N, my girlfriend.” He introduced and gestured you forward slightly, you glanced up and gave a small wave at them. James was smiling at you, Remus was smiling only a little bit but mainly just examining you and Sirius narrowed his eyes at you before standing.

He towered over you and you gulped as you tilted your head up and his grey eyes examined you with a small smirk tugging at his lips. You backed up slightly, Peter’s hand on the small of your back as he stroked soft circles with his thumb. You continued to avoid eye contact.

“You are tiny.” He stated and you nodded with a small clear of your throat, your eyes trained to the floor. “Well, to me you are. I’m sure Pete has an easier time since he’s tiny too.”

“5′9 is not tiny.” Peter defended and Sirius snorted, sitting back down at his chair as you breathed out in slight relief and stood awkwardly for a second.

“Take a seat if you like, we don’t bite.” James smiled and you about to tell him that it was okay and you didn’t actually want to be there anywhere but Peter nodded encouragingly at you and you sat opposite Lupin, Peter sitting next to you and putting an arm around your waist to let you know that he was there and close.

“So how did you two meet?” Remus asked, biting a bit of his sandwich as James nodded from next to him, both of their gazes were on you and you could feel Sirius staring at you too.

You thought Peter was going to answer so you looked up at him but he was looking at you too, nodding his head and he gave your waist a quick squeeze. You gulped and turned your head back around, eyes trained to the table.

“Well, uh, I was getting...a snack at night and then he, uh, came in and yeah...yeah.” You mumbled, clearing your throat slightly and looking up at the boys before back at the table and then back up at the boys. Your hands were fidgeting together under the table and your knee was bouncing.

“You snuck all the way to the kitchens at night without getting caught?” James widened his eyes as he looked around at his friends and you glanced up, back down again and then up one more time.

“Well, I’m a- I’m a Hufflepuff so my common room is uh...right next to the kitchens.” You nodded slowly.

“Useful.” Sirius said and you glanced at him quickly, furrowing your eyebrows at his narrowed eyes as he looked at you.

“I-I don’t understand...useful for what?” You looked around at them all nervously, Sirius was the one to answer so you looked at him again and found him smirking down at you.

“Pranks.” He shrugged his shoulders, grinning and you gulped again, nodding and smiling awkwardly as you turned your head to Peter who smiled again and rubbed his hand on your waist. “So, Y/N my tiny friends tiny girlfriend, what do you like to do?”

“I’m uh, I’m a passionate advocate for environmental change.” You said, nodding as your eyes found comfort on the table once more. Glancing up once, you caught Remus’ smile as he looked at you and you awkwardly smiled back. “I like to read, anything really no genres. I love exploring different cultures and uh...I like bees.”

“Bees?” James furrowed his eyebrows with a grin as he leaned forward and you nodded awkwardly. “That’s adorable.”

“Why do you like bees?” Sirius laughed. “Is it because they’re yellow and black like your tie?”

“Well, almost 90% of wild plants and 75% of leading global crops depend on animal pollination so they do a lot for us and they look nice on the flowers in my garden.” You said and glanced up to them all smiling at you.

“I’ll have to see your garden sometime.” James mentioned and your eyes snapped over to him as your fidgeting hands slowed down but your knee kept bouncing. “I love flowers. Especially Lilies.”

The boys all laughed and even you managed to crack a small smile at James’ infamous crush on Gryffindor Lily Evans. You felt Peter’s hand squeeze your hip slightly and you looked over at him, your eyes managing to lock in comparison to how you avoided the rest of their gazes. You were sure that your cheeks were flushed at the attention you got but Peter only smiled and kissed your cheek as you scrunched your face up with an adorable smile in his opinion.

“I told you they’d love you.” He whispered into your ear, kissing your cheek again before you both directed your attention back to Sirius’ talking.

#peter pettigrew #peter pettigrew imagine #peter pettigrew x reader #the marauders #the marauders imagine #the marauders x reader #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #James Potter

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yasminbenoit · 4 years

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What Is Asexuality? Yasmin Benoit for Teen Vogue

For Asexuality Awareness Week, model Yasmin Benoit answers the question ‘what is asexuality’, and busts some common myths about what it means to be asexual.

I realized I was asexual around the same time my peers seemed to realize that they were not. Once the hormones kicked in, so did a nearly universal interest in sex for those around me. I thought sex was intriguing, but never so much that I wanted to express my sexuality with someone else. I had no sexual desire towards other people, I did not experience sexual attraction, and that hasn't changed.

I didn't learn that there was a word for my sexuality until I was 15, after being interrogated for the millionth time at school about my orientation, or lack of it. After doing some Googling as soon as I got home, I realized for the first time in my life that I might not be broken, that I wasn't alone in my experience, and that it wasn't a defect I had somehow brought on myself. I had spent the entirety of my adolescent life trying to answer people's invasive questions without having the language to explain that I was just an asexual girl.

But even after I found the language, I had only solved half of the problem. We are taught in grade school that we'll become sexually interested in others, but never that not being sexually attracted to anyone is an option. Because we're not taught about it, no one else knew what I was talking about when I tried to come out to them as asexual.

Many don't believe asexuality is real, and that makes the experience of navigating our heteronormative, hyper-sexualized society as an asexual person even harder. I've spent my life battling misconceptions about it and so have many other asexual people. Now, I try to use my work as a model and activist to raise awareness and change the way our society perceives asexuality and asexual people. This Asexual Awareness Week, I'm busting some of those myths about my orientation.

Now, let's separate fact from fiction:

Myth: Asexual people have no sexuality ✘

Truth: Asexuality is considered a sexuality, just like bisexuality, heterosexuality, and homosexuality. I often phrase it as being a sexual orientation where your sexuality isn’t oriented anywhere—because it isn't actually the same as having no sexuality or sexual feelings. Asexual people have hormones like everyone else. It isn’t uncommon for asexual people to masturbate and there are asexual people who still have sex for various reasons and gain enjoyment from it. Some asexual people are romantically attracted to others, but not sexually attracted. Since asexuality is a spectrum, the ways in which asexuality is experienced can vary in different ways.

Myth: Asexuality is a lifestyle choice ✘

Truth: This misconception stems from the idea that asexuality is a choice and not a legitimate sexual orientation. Asexuality is often confused with celibacy or abstinence, probably because they can manifest in similar ways. In contemporary society, celibacy is often defined as being sexually abstinent, often for religious reasons. Sure, for many asexual people, their asexuality means that they aren’t interested in having sex with other people, but that’s a result of their orientation—not their beliefs about sexual behavior. Celibacy is a lifestyle choice, asexuality is not. Asexuality also shouldn't be confused with being an incel. People don't decide to become asexual because they can't find sexual partners or because of any other circumstances. It isn't a state of being when you're going through a "dry spell," nor is it a choice any more than being gay or straight is a choice. It's just the way we are.\

Myth: Asexuality is an illness ✘

Truth: The assertion that asexuality is a mental or physical disorder is incredibly harmful to asexual people and has led to false diagnoses, unnecessary medication, and attempts at converting asexual people. For example, Female Sexual Interest/Arousal Disorder and Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder — which are characterized by low or absent sex drive — are in the DSM-5 and have been thought of as a medical diagnosis for asexuality. But the difference is that people who have HSDD are bothered by their lack of sexual drive, while asexual people are not. But even the inclusion of HSDD as a diagnosis is controversial — some argue that people who are asexual might feel distress at their lack of sexual desire because of lack of acceptance in society. Asexuality is not the result of a hormone deficiency, or a syndrome, or a physical or psychological ailment. Research has said as much. We don't need to be treated or fixed.

Myth: Asexual people have anti-sex attitudes ✘

Truth: There are asexual people who are repulsed by the thought of sex, or by the thought of having sex themselves. I fall into the latter category. However, that feeling does not necessarily extend to what other people are doing. The misconception that asexual people are against other people expressing their sexuality, and that all asexual people can’t stomach conversations about sex, is quite an alienating one. It leads to asexual people being left out of important discussions about sexuality. It is entirely possible and incredibly common to have sex-positive attitudes and be asexual.

Myth: There are barely any asexual people ✘

Truth: Don't let our lack of visibility and representation fool you. There are a lot of asexual people out there, but many of us aren't entirely out, and some haven't realized that there's a word for what they're experiencing due to that lack of visibility. While research into the asexual population is lacking, its estimated that around 1% of the population is asexual—but that's based on a studies where the participants have likely known what asexuality was and been out enough to identify that way. It's likely there are more asexual people than we know of, but even if we did only comprise 1% of the population, that's still tens of millions of asexual people.

Myth: Asexual people just haven’t found the right person yet ✘

Truth: The idea that asexual people just need to meet the ‘right person’ who will unlock their sexual desire and ‘fix’ their asexuality is one I’ve always found quite perplexing. It’s an argument that seems to be applied to asexuality more than other orientations. You wouldn’t tell a straight guy that they just “hadn’t met the right man yet" as an explanation of why he's attracted to women. I’d like to think that most wouldn’t tell a gay man that they “hadn’t met the right woman yet” either. It suggests that our sexuality is reflective of our company, that no one we have ever seen or encountered has met our standards, and thus we haven’t experienced sexual attraction to the extent that the term ‘asexual’ could be applied.

This assumption ignores and invalidates all of the asexual people who have found the ‘right’ person—the asexual people in happy, fulfilling, loving relationships or who have had them in the past. Because, yes, asexual people can still have romantic relationships, or any other kind of relationship. The validity of a relationship is not and should not be based on how sexually attracted you are to that person. This statement also plays into the notion that asexual people are “missing out” on something and haven’t truly discovered our entire selves, that we are incomplete because of our innate characteristics or our life experiences. This isn’t true either.\

Myth: There’s an asexual demographic ✘

Truth: Even though most people don’t know much about asexuality, they still have quite a specific idea about what asexual people are like. I’ve often heard that, as a black woman and a model, I don’t look or seem asexual. We’re stereotyped as being awkward white kids who spend too much time on social media and probably aren’t attractive enough to find a sexual partner if we wanted to. And if we are attractive enough, then we should tone that down as not to ‘give mixed signals.’ But there is no asexual way to look or dress. Asexual people have varying ages, backgrounds, interests, appearances, and experiences, just like those belonging to any other sexual orientation. So please don't use the term "asexual" as an adjective to describe someone you think is sexually unappealing or as an insult, because that's only perpetuating this harmful stereotype.

Makeup: Margherita Lascala

Photography: Becky Gannon

Hair: Kayla Idowu

Styling: Diesel, Cheimsee, Sixth June, Northskull, Lamoda

#yasmin benoit #asexuality #ace week #ace week 2020 #asexual awareness week #asexual #aromantic #lgbt #pride #asexual pride #this is what asexual looks like #lgbtqia #lgbtqa #acephobia #aphobia #alternative black girl #alternative model #black model

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uelden · 3 years

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Vanity Fair interview translated

Just a side note before the actual translation; I don't know why, but instead of reporting the full questions and answers in full as she should, the journalist decided to report only summarized fragments of what Måneskin said and patch these fragments up into messy clusters. She also worded a couple phrases in a very confusing way (and yes, she's fully Italian). In short, she did quite a poor job, so the final shape of the interview is not that good. I didn't expect top-tier journalism from Vanity Fair but ffs. You'll see what I mean.

I translated it as it is, adding just a couple footnotes to give you insight on Italian pop culture references.

Translation under the cut

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

by Lavinia Farnese, 09 June 2021

"True justice is being judged for what you do and not for what you are." The ones who are convinced of this are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas who, by being the emblem of a generation that is finally free, refuse labels and conformism. In life, in love and on the stage. Where, maybe precisely because of this, they're winning everything

With the still unexpected (first place at Sanremo Festival) and the incredible (triumph at Eurovision) in their eyes, Måneskin are on the sofa of the house-studio they rented - to resume writing songs and rehearsing them - like you are after a won battle: lying in a calm and unreal silence, alert and a bit irreverent, happy.

In the garden there's the tennis table and the pool, the light of summer when it's starting and calming the country all around, and it filters inside from the large windows, and it goes onto the shining black of Ethan's hair, which blends with Thomas' eye shadow and the butterfly he has tattooed oh his naked forearm, which completes the picture of Victoria's golden crucifix hanging between neck and tank top and ends on the black nail polish of Damiano's stretched hands.

It's a human fresco, a Theatre of wrath [translator's note: "Teatro d'ira"] - to call it with the title of their latest album, a platinum record already - where their flaunted 20 years of age, their irregular femininity and virility are grown into proud and challenging custom, a pop glam rock generational manifesto of hard-earned liberties in a finally-unconditional expression of the self.

To watch them from any angle and from another age is to think that a great love will be born in those who'll understand: this new way of being in the world, the true and sovereign realm they hold where "diversity=exceptionality", the power of the artistic and cultural revolution of which they are healthy carriers in establishing in all lyrics and gestures the right to live according to one's own nature past the "people (who) talk, the people (who) unfortunately talk, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about." [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

We go where we're afloat, where the air isn't gone. [tn: journalist's own variation on "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

Miley Cyrus says hi – The numbers of a phenomenon

"The streams of Zitti e buoni are growing by the second, and they bring us above Muse, at the top of English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. Followers almost tripled, in the post-Rotterdam period (from 1,4 to 3,3 millions, ed.) Contagious and universal folly: t-shirts and merchandising sold out in 10 minutes. Like the records, the tickets for a tour that keeps adding dates and expanding over geographic maps. They're contacting us even from some festivals were The Rolling Stones went." Thomas

"After the pretextual controversy over cocaine that France built against us, later disproven by my drug test, some graffiti popped up in Spain depicting me as a “No drugs” poster guy. Some tweets made us laugh: "Congratulations, Italy! I've never been more certain that four people have had sex with each other." Miley Cyrus started following us -You're great. -You guys are greater." Damiano

From the garage to the stars – Story of a flight

"It was only 2016, and we played in restaurants, in the streets, in via del Corso. Damiano without even a microphone, Thomas' guitar with wonky strings, Ethan was drumming on a cajón. During Rome highschools' sit-ins (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first confirmations and half-hours of celebrity, playing among those who criticized us and those who went "wow they're really cool." One of the rare times when they would have paid us – 50 euros each – we gave the money to the next band in the lineup so that they would make us play in their spot, later in the day, when there would have been more people. We had already realized how things worked. Visibility mattered more than money. And we still think that." Victoria

The intimacy of rock – Choice of a genre

"Music allows us the miracle of extending to others some very personal and private topics, sometimes even difficult and thorny ones. They are and they remain deeply your own, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage that is alike a delivery, they find a place in you as well, a processing of them. You overcome them, you accept them. One second it's something aggressive, the next it's a ballad. Cathartic». Damiano

Against panic – The stage as therapy

"I've suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it's an issue I've worked on thanks to a psychotherapy course, my friends and my family. Playing helped me in not letting myself be paralyzed by my fears, not making myself limited in my private and professional life. I've learned to accept, to live with this side of myself. I don't hide it. I don't feel ashamed of it." Victoria

Analysis as necessity – Relying on someone saves you

"This belief that only madmen go to the psychologist is a widespread ignorance. No-one's born learned. [tn: common Italian saying] And it's often hard to understand the very reason why we're here, let alone the origin and direction of our desires. It's a long and legitimate journey towards lucidity, a kind of backing to become transparent." Damiano

Being out of our minds – But different from them [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

"When you feel a strong passion towards something that is not a canonical job but an artistic language, that already puts you on a level of anomaly, which is not superior or inferior to other people, but it puts you in the position of the one who breaks the mold and also works at a loss, the one who sustains great risks while trying to do something that who knows if it will take you anywhere. "Why do it if it doesn't pay?". You want to give this dream of yours an aesthetic, but it becomes "You're dressing so weird! You must be gay!" - now that I'm 22 I laugh about it, but when I was 17 it had an effect on me, too." Damiano

The beauty of uniqueness – Of believing in it and defending it

"And I mean, at the end of the day if we're all different it's not because we want be alternative but because, really, no-one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty." Ethan

Fluid sexuality – Pride is freedom

"Heels for men that like themselves in them, kisses among ourselves, we have an open, extended mind, and we're proud of it. The horizons become vast, past the oppression of conservative families. With the information on the web knowledge becomes greater and with it the possibility that minorities will be less and less minorities, because the majority will be less of a majority. This way we'll make insults and bullying grow quieter. If social media get to a village of 50 souls and reveal to a girl who's afraid of the dark that someone has felt her same fear, then there's no reason to give a name to that fear, to mark it with labels which also limit and restrict. Definitions always had this effect on me. You shouldn't even consider the gender when judging someone, let alone their orientation." Victoria

Sexism – A culture to be dismantled

"Emma [tn: Emma Marrone, Italian singer] drops the bomb: “At Eurovision when I was there they massacred me for a pair of shorts, while they said nothing to Damiano – bare-chested and in heels.” The easy judgment against women is more fierce, constant, debasing (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool while Vic is a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader while Vic is despotic and a pain in the ass who reached success because she's hot.) As a male I'm privileged, the abuse I get is not comparable to those a woman has to live through, the comments over my aesthetic are centered only on my aesthetic and don't insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thought in a systematic way. It happened though to find myself standing with a woman who while pulling me to herself to take a selfie, started licking my face out of the blue... I mean, what the hell do you want? Who asked you? Consent exists, and it's due." Damiano

Grow yourself – The only commandment

"To me conformism is the opposite of education [tn: could also mean "politeness"] and is the asphyxia of expression. I fortunately never endured heavy bullying, heavy enough for the the judgement of others to change me. But the mold of the small crumbs of bullying I got and of the kind of aggression that scars is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and likes dolls you have to let me do what I like. I was a kid who wanted to keep his hair long and played with Barbie. As a teen, my friends looked at my hair: " You have to find a girl with short hair to be at your side." My grandparents took away my dolls: "Stop it, they're not for you." Ethan

"When I was six I was already sick of them, the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things that were typically defined as girly, and all around me they mocked me because I went skateboarding, I played soccer, I didn't wear skirts, I was giving myself the chance to be as I wished. I endured it a little, I suffered a little, but I had courage, and now thanks to that courage I know that I could have gotten even much more hurt, otherwise I would have left to others the most important choice: the one about myself." Victoria

Love in progress – Music, girlfriends

"I've been married to music for the last 20 years. I can't wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary." Ethan

"Everyone makes their own experiences, sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes wrong, but it's always not anybody's business." Thomas

"When I first felt feelings and attraction towards a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage of going beyond the limitations I had put for myself. For society being heterosexual is the norm and so you often define yourself in that way automatically, depriving yourself of the freedom to live many shades and faces of love. Once I overcame the initial insecurity of having to call into question my certainties I've lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone." Victoria

"I had paparazzi at my door every day and night. So, after four years of relationship, I revealed her name. I still have paparazzi at my door every day and nigh, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore." Damiano

The worth of the group – Phenomenology of protection

"The true engagement though, the true family is among ourselves, our band. We've believed in it since day zero, even before we called ourselves Måneskin (Moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon on the flier for the first concert we ever did. We share everything, even the pain for the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because of racism. [tn: I think the journalist asked them their opinion about Seid Visin's death, which was a current events topic in Italy, and then pasted it syntaxically in the middle of Thomas' answer, which was not a great move] A group is what we all should be: stay united and not back down an inch in the face of oppression that is generated by a distorted view of diversity." Thomas

I'm not of the right age – Like Gigliola [tn: Gigliola Cinquetti won Eurovision with her song "Non ho l'età", which means "I'm not of the right age"]

"Before you the only one who won both Sanremo and Eurovision on the same year was Cinquetti (1964). If there's anything I feel I'm not of the right age for? No, honestly no. Maybe having children. Regarding children I'll be honest: I'm not of the right age." Damiano

Having touched the sky – The fears that remain

"We're more than inside the dream, we're in the conquered dream. When you fly high there's the risk of plummeting and hurting yourself, but we'll work hard not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - a bit pretentiously - reassures us rather than scaring us." Damiano

#maneskin #måneskin #vanity fair #italian #translation

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blazingparker · 3 years

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What’s Up, Danger? (Chapter 2)

The response to this fic has been absolutely incredible, and I am so pleased to give you chapter 2 of What’s Up, Danger? Chapter 3 is on its way, and I can’t wait to share it with you all! :)

read it on ao3!

---

“What’s up, Peter?”

Peter’s name on Tony’s lips was one of the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard, and he couldn’t help but smile even wider. He shifted his weight to one hand, slumping even farther against the strong arms helping him stay upright as he waved his now-free hand dismissively.

“Not much. Followed by the Avengers. Swinging. Got stabbed.” Peter counted off the events of the night on his fingers and looked up at the man practically holding him up at this point. Tony just scoffed and shook his head.

“You wanna save the one-liners for when you’re not bleeding out on a rooftop in Queens?” Peter’s brow furrowed and he looked up at Tony.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He asked, eliciting a sharp laugh from the man. “Besides, I’m not bleeding out anymore.”

“Well, you’re not fixed either. C’mon, we gotta get you to the medbay.” A flash of panic went through Peter and he tried to push Tony’s hands away and get up, feeling his heart rate increase.

“I think the fuck not!” He yelled, ignoring Tony’s quiet pleas with him to stop moving, stop aggravating his stab wound.

“Okay, okay. No medbay. Peter. No medbay.” Peter stopped struggling at the assurance, looking back up at Tony. He was met with an open, honest expression and almost felt bad for trying to shove Tony away.

“I’m not going anywhere near the Avengers.” His voice was steely, leaving no room for questioning. He didn’t really think it was an unfair demand, given that they’d been hunting him down for weeks, trying to unmask him and eventually taking a shot at him.

“I’m an Avenger,” Tony retorted, a smirk making its way onto that beautiful face. God, Parker, shut the fuck up.

“But you’re Tony,” Peter reasoned before flushing brightly and looking away. What did I literally say about shutting the fuck up oh my god this is why we can’t have nice things-

“I’m flattered, Peter.” A shy glance to the billionaire’s face told Peter he really did mean it. “But I’m also dead serious about getting you fixed up properly. I’m not letting you swing home like this, you could tear it open and then we’re right back to square one.” There were a few moments of silence, each man trying to think of the best way to move forward. Peter bit his lip, looking down at the ground.

“I have a first-aid kit at home,” Peter mumbled softly, and Tony just stared at him incredulously. Peter could understand why - he’d spent weeks avoiding the Avengers and now in the span of five minutes he’d given Tony his name and invited him to his apartment.

“You mean to tell me every time you get hurt, you bandage yourself up?” Tony asked, sounding almost...sad? Maybe he wasn’t staring at Peter that way for the reasons he’d thought.

“Yeah? I don’t exactly have a multi-million dollar tower with a functioning medbay,” Peter said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Tony. “I have a shitty apartment with a broken radiator and a first-aid kit that runs out faster than I can afford to replenish it.” Tony swore rather creatively under his breath, and Peter found himself smiling again. Was it possible that Tony actually cared?

“Not anymore, you don’t.” Before Peter could question what Tony meant, he was being bundled into those strong arms and leaning against the chest of the Iron Man armor. “Point me in the direction of your place.” As the armor carried them into the air, Peter gave Tony directions until they landed on the fire escape of a run-down apartment building in Queens. He hurriedly threw his mask back on before opening the window and crawling in. Tony stepped out of the armor and through the window, leaving the suit on sentry mode.

“Jeez, you weren’t kidding about the radiator,” Tony remarked as he straightened up. The apartment was just as chilly as the December air outside. “That suit can’t be very good at keeping you warm, either.” Peter scoffed as he took the mask off again, rolling his eyes.

“Do you make a habit of insulting the people who call you for help, or is that special treatment reserved for me?” He quipped. He tried to take a step towards the bathroom, but his knees buckled and Tony rushed to support his weight.

“All for you, Pete,” Tony said with a wink, and Peter very pointedly ignored the blush that it brought to his cheeks. They slowly made their way to the bathroom, where the young man pointed out where the first aid kit sat under the sink.

“If you could just bend down and grab it, I’ll stitch myself up,” Peter said with a soft groan as he leaned against the wall. His eyes closed for just a second, but when they opened he found he’d earned another incredulous stare from Tony. “What?”

“You are not stitching yourself up. I got this, I’m going to help. Just-you can trust me. Okay, Peter?” The vigilante just looked at Tony for a moment before nodding.

“I know that,” he murmured, surprising even himself at the admission. Tony blinked in shock before smiling - all soft and sweet in a way Peter hadn’t seen before. Usually that expression was more snark and arrogance, and he felt privileged to see what seemed to be the real Tony Stark.

“Good.” Tony swiped the first aid kit from under the sink and guided Peter to the couch in the small living space that was barely separated from the kitchen. “Just-take off that costume so I can get a good look at this, yeah?” Peter blushed but stripped off the hoodie of his makeshift suit, revealing pale skin and smooth muscles. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve sworn he saw something flicker in Tony’s gaze. Something like hunger.

“I’m gonna lay down before I pass out,” Peter grumbled as he settled on the couch, laying back so Tony could see the wound. He hissed softly as fingers gently poked and prodded, each of his sounds of pain met with a hushed apology from the surprisingly sweet billionaire.

“I’m gonna stitch this up, you got any painkillers?” Tony asked, rummaging through the first aid kit. Peter just laughed, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I picked up the meds that work with enhanced metabolisms on my way home from class. I get them over at Superheroes-R-Us. Just go ahead and stitch it - that’s what I always do.” Tony looked a little ill at the suggestion but got to work anyway. With each stitch, Peter grimaced and Tony ran a hand through his curls - another act that surprised and confused him but he wasn’t complaining. He loved when people played with his hair, and it helped distract him from the pain in his side. After a few moments of silence, he decided to finally ask about what Tony had said back on the rooftop.

“Hey, what did you mean? When you said ‘not anymore’?” He asked, and Tony briefly glanced at him before going back to the stitches.

“I’m gonna take care of it. The broken radiator, the bare first-aid kit. The shitty pajamas you call a suit.” Before Peter could protest, he held up a hand. “I know you don’t want to be an Avenger. I get that. Just-it’ll ease my conscience if I know you aren’t struggling so much when all you’re trying to do is look out for the little guy, okay?”

A beat of silence. Tony looked up to find Peter just staring at him, with something like adoration in his eyes. A hand wrapped in fingerless gloves found its way to the one holding gauze to Peter’s side.

“Thank you, Tony,” Peter whispered, still looking at him like he’d promised to rearrange the stars outside his window. Tony coughed, glancing away.

“It’s just a suit and some medical supplies. It’s not a big deal,” he insisted, trying to pass it off as he finished stitching Peter’s wound and sat back.

“It is. It’s a big deal to me,” Peter said, sitting up and tentatively placing a hand on Tony’s knee. “No one-no one knows about me. About this.” He gestured to the mask now lying discarded on the table with his hoodie. “No one knows enough to check in on me. To make sure I’m okay. So just-” Peter swallowed when his voice threatened to break. “Don’t say you caring about how I’m doing isn’t a big deal, because to me...it’s the biggest deal.”

Tony looked over at the injured man on the couch, and Peter felt something like fear worm its way into his chest. Tony was about to reject the notion that he cared and leave, he was sure of it. This is why you need to shut the fuck up-

“I care about you way more than a first aid kit or a radiator could ever express,” Tony blurted out. “I don’t-I don’t know where it came from. But every night, I wait and wait for your phone call and all I want is to hear your voice and know you’re okay. If something happened to you..” he trailed off, just looking at Peter like he was really taking him in.

“Tony?” Peter asked softly when it had been a few moments and nothing else had come from the man sitting next to him. He rubbed his knee and shifted a little closer, trying to convey without words he wanted to hear everything Tony wanted to say.

What he didn’t expect was the descent of gentle, chapped lips. A hand working its way into his hair and another resting on his cheek. The press of another warm chest against his own. Peter made a soft sound and leaned into the kiss, one hand reaching up to clutch Tony’s shirt. He never wanted this to end, but the need for air grew imperative and he was forced to pull away. Their foreheads pressed together, noses nudging each other as the two men caught their breath with matching smiles on their faces. Tony is the first one to speak.

“Well, I can say with confidence that this was not what I expected to get out of that phone call.” At Peter’s fearful expression, he ran a soothing hand down his side. “I’m not complaining,” he murmurs. Peter relaxes into him, sighing in relief. For once, his inability to shut up had done him a favor rather than hurt him.

“Yeah, me neither.” Peter huffed out a laugh and winced when it tugged at his stitches in a painful way. He tried to hide it, but Tony was too observant for that.

“You need rest. Let me take you to bed, okay?” Tony suggested, and Peter nodded.

“Just-help me up?” He asked, embarrassed at needing the help but also unwilling to potentially tear open the stitches Tony had just done.

“Of course,” Tony said with that signature smirk, and Peter opened his mouth to ask what that look was for when he was whisked off the couch and into Tony’s arms. A rather undignified squeak left his mouth, and he rested his head against Tony’s shoulder with a blush.

“What? I helped you up,” Tony teased as he carried Peter to the bedroom. There was a mound of blankets on the bed, and he moved them aside so he could lay them both down. “What’s with the blanket fort?”

“I told you the radiator is broken, and I can’t thermoregulate. I get really cold at night. Hence, blankets,” Peter explained as he tugged the blankets over them. Seeing the look of shock on Tony’s face, he hesitated. “Did you-not want to stay?” He asked with a blush.

“Of course I do,” Tony said immediately. “I just didn’t think I’d be welcome.” Peter didn’t dignify that with a response, just wrapping them both up in the blankets so they would be warm during the night. His movements grew slow as sleep crept up on him and a yawn left his lips.

“‘M sleepy,” he mumbled, feeling Tony chuckle as he was cuddled against that strong chest again.

“Go to sleep, Danger. I got you.” With those words, Peter gave into the exhaustion and drifted off, hand still clutching Tony’s shirt.

When Peter woke in the morning, he was absolutely roasting. Throwing the blankets off, he realized Tony was gone and he quickly walked out to the living area to see if he was there. The billionaire was gone, but what was left in its place made Peter’s heart flutter and brought a smile to his face.

A fixed radiator and a stocked first-aid kit.

---

After that, Tony and Peter found whatever excuses they could to meet up at Peter’s apartment. First, it was a new suit to replace the “slashed-up onesie” that Spider-Man was infamous for. It was clearly well-made, but subtle enough that it didn’t scream Stark Tech to everyone who looked at it.

Then, it was a bottle of painkillers Tony had engineered specifically for Peter. They actually took the pain away and allowed him to rest comfortably after a bad night. For the first time, he got loopy after taking one too many. Tony had teased him about the resulting phone call for a few days until Peter threatened to never take the pills again.

A few more weeks had gone by since that first evening at Peter’s apartment, and things were good. The Avengers still caught up with him regularly, but hearing Tony’s voice or cuddling in his arms after each encounter made Peter feel so much better. His life wasn’t a constant mess anymore, now that he had someone who understood what he was going through and could provide support. Peter had repeatedly insisted Tony shouldn’t worry about him so much, that he didn’t want to be a burden, but was consistently met with the same assurances that Tony adored him, adored their relationship and wouldn’t change it for the world.

Tonight was shaping up to be the same, with a phone call to Tony and maybe a chance for them to meet up, eat some pizza, and relax. Peter had just finished up stopping an ATM robbery, and had paused to catch his breath before swinging home.

Of course, things couldn’t be that easy, though. As he stood on the rooftop, chest heaving, his spider sense flared briefly. Before he could discern why, he felt a prick in the side of his neck. Confused, he reached a hand up and plucked a dart from his skin. He just stared at it, not understanding as his vision started to swim and staying upright became increasingly difficult.

The last thing he saw before he slipped into unconsciousness was a flash of red, white, and blue.

#starker #starker fic #peter parker x tony stark #blazingparker writes

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littlemisspascal · 4 years

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Death and an Angel part 3

Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an unexpected heart-to-heart about what it means to be Death and a Cupid on route to a planet where Din’s potential soulmate lives.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,500

Warnings: Pining, smidge of angst, more plot development, Razor Crest (RIP I miss you darling!), a made-up home world for the reader (yes, yes, there’s like a million I could have picked but my brain said NOPE)

Author Note: Ahhhh, the comments are so amazing from you all! Thank you everyone out there sparing time to check out my little universe, it makes me sooo happy you have no idea! As always, I hope you enjoy this new segment as I try to plot this story out and get these two idiots to acknowledge there just might be something between them.

Also special thanks to @codenamewitcher for including the first two parts on Weekly Fanfic Recs. Be sure to go check out the list for a whole bunch of fantastic stories!

Links to Part 1, Part 2 and Part 4

Photo Inspiration: (What I imagine is beneath the armor in this scene...*dreamy sigh*)

There is a distinct silence that can only be found in hyperspace when the stars outside resemble sparkling streaks of silver tinsel and your breath is trapped within your lungs as you’re awestruck by the sheer beauty of it all. You experience this silence aboard the Razor Crest, sitting in the cockpit behind Din as he pilots his beloved gunship. It isn’t the first time you’ve been a passenger, having traveled with Din on two previous ventures where your Cupid services were required on planets far away from your home on Umbriel.

Off-world assignments for you were generally rare since your bosses were more inclined to choose Cupids of higher ranking to handle those clients, but sometimes you were the only available option left. Which, come to think of it, is exactly how you became the one roped into meeting with Death every full moon. Your bosses decided someone needed to check up on him to make sure he wasn’t reaping anyone before their fated time and thus messing with the natural order of things. You privately have reached the conclusion it was a decision made during a fit of paranoia as you had yet to find any evidence suggesting Din ever broke a single one of the universe’s rules, let alone even considered the mere possibility.

When you did travel for assignments, you never stopped feeling like a goldfish being dumped out of your familiar little bowl and into a massive ocean full of strange oddities. You would often find yourself wasting time trying to successfully navigate the unknown world when you should have been focused on tracking down your client’s soulmate.

That’s why Din had offered to start traveling with you. Actually, in his own words it was because, “You think about love so much you don’t see trouble until it’s an inch in front of you. Someone’s got to be there to look after you.”

You’d tried to argue, told him you had never experienced trouble and that if you did then you could handle it with your bow. All Cupid’s were required to master archery for self-defense purposes, though Din’s responding snort of derision made you suspect he wasn’t convinced of your skills. You wondered if he thought, just as humans incorrectly did, a Cupid only used their bow to spread love and lust. Or maybe he just thought you weren’t capable of such finesse. It was an insulting assumption, fueling you with the burning desire to prove him wrong. One day, you keep telling yourself, a repetitive chant. One day you’ll show him just how capable you are with your weapon and you imagine his look of shock, whether worn openly on his face or hidden beneath the visor of his helmet, will be utterly priceless.

But in the meantime, you’re in no hurry to encounter trouble. Finding enjoyment in taking these trips with him on his ship instead.

The Razor Crest had actually been a complete surprise to you when Din first welcomed you on it; primarily because the notion of him using such a primitive form of transportation despite the powers he possessed as Death was too outrageous to wrap your head around. However, it took less than ten minutes soaring through space for you to discover just how many details of the universe you were missing by relying on your Cupid abilities to teleport yourself between locations. Never would you have imagined Death to be the one to teach you to love the slowness of travel, to let your eyes linger on all the beautiful wonders along the way. But that’s exactly what happened.

You turn your head away from the window to look at Din. From your angle, all you glimpse is the back of his helmet, reflecting the passing starlight. Soon you’ll be introducing Din to the first immortal on your list of potential soulmates.

Death, you quickly correct yourself. He’s only Din when he’s around you.

You initially thought he elected to wear his armor because you told him he could to ease his comfort, but now you think it’s because this is him meeting his potential soulmate as himself. It is easy to forget sometimes this is the image of Death—a warrior enshrouded in beskar, cunning and ruthless—that is recognized throughout the universe. And feared.

If the handsome face he concealed was known instead, you wonder if mortals would readily choose to embrace the ending of their lifetime, rather than foolishly seek to run from its inevitability.

“What is it?” Din’s baritone voice startles you as it shatters the quietness. The modulator within his helmet gives his tone a low raspiness that never fails to send a chill down your spine when you hear it.

“Huh?” You respond ineloquently.

“You’ve been staring at the back of my head for the last five minutes, angel. I figured you had something worth saying.”

“Oh, no. I was just thinking about you.”

Immediately you wish a meteor would collide with the ship, providing you with the necessary distraction to escape and find somewhere you can hide until the end of time.

“...What about me were you thinking?” Din wonders after a solid thirty seconds of pure silence, voice somehow conveying an equally blended mixture of intrigue and wariness. He flips on the ship’s autopilot and turns in his seat to pin you with his gaze, apparently unwilling to let you try and weasel yourself out of the conversation.

You roll the question around in your mind, wanting to give an answer that satisfies him without it also embarrassing yourself further.

“I was thinking how much of an enigma you are,” you murmur at last, leaning back in the chair with your arms crossing over your stomach. “You wield such incredible powers and yet you choose to wear a human face, to call this man-made ship your home and to also spend your spare time living amongst those you will eventually reap. Why are these your choices?”

He tilts his head, and you just know there is a little crease of bewilderment appearing between his eyebrows right now even if you can’t see it. For as much as he is a puzzle you can’t put together, he is also at times an open book that you will never tire of reading.

“I would think you, more than most beings, would understand the discomfort that stems from loneliness and the lengths one will go to ease it,” he says, not unkindly. He mirrors your position, maneuvering himself until he’s comfortable in his seat and totally oblivious to the dilating of your pupils as you observe every subtle shift of his armor-clad body. “Isn’t that the true purpose of Cupids? To spare individuals the ache of living a life of solitude by introducing them to someone to love so they no longer feel it.”

“That’s a poetic way of putting it,” you answer, smiling softly and shrugging your shoulders. “My superiors would just quote our mantra back at me when I used to ask. Amor vincit omnia.”

“Love conquers all.”

You shouldn’t be surprised he’s able to translate such an ancient and obscure language, but your eyes widen regardless. “That’s right.”

His voice is unusually soft when he asks, “Do you like being a Cupid?”

You stare at him, caught off guard by how easily he’s changed the topic of the conversation from himself to you. You’re used to taking orders and being thanked for your services, but no one has ever asked you if you liked doing any of it.

“I’m good at it,” you finally say, even though it’s not really an answer.

He nods his head still, as if he understands. A part of you thinks he actually does.

You lick your lips, eyeing him hesitantly. “Do you...like being Death?”

“I’m good at it,” he echoes, but your words sound somber coming from his lips.

The cockpit fills with hushed silence again, but there’s a unique tenderness unlike ever before. Minutes seem to stretch on for entire seasons as you watch one another, content to simply coexist and revel in each other’s presences.

It would be so easy to slip off his helmet and kiss him right now.

You stiffen, stunned at your own thought, but you aren’t given the chance to analyze it further as an alarm on the ship’s control panel announces with a resounding beep you’ve reached your destination.

Din spins in his seat, reclaiming control of the steering to begin the ship’s landing process. You look out the front window at the large green-blue planet drawing nearer with every anxious tick of your heartbeat.

“We’re here,” you say needlessly, forcing excitement into your voice. Fake it till you make it, isn’t that the human expression?

“Who is it we’re meeting on this backwater skug hole?” Din asks, pressing a series of buttons above his head.

You kick the back of his seat. “Be nice,” you scold when he shoots you a look. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath as he turns back around, prompting you to roll your eyes. “She’s a goddess of springtime and motherhood. The locals call her Omera.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @eleine-t1d, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee

#the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #Din Djarin #Mandalorian #soulmate au #my fic #my writing #death and an angel #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din x you #din x reader

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fruitcoops · 4 years

Note

A Coops Sid's date. Pure fluff

Coops Wedding Part 3 is here! Post-wedding food (finally) and heading home together. Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove, as always <3

Preparations II Part 1 II Part 2

TW for flirty Coops

Sid’s was quite empty for a Thursday night in the summertime, which Sirius was eternally grateful for as they headed to their usual booth, slinging jackets over their chairs and tangling their legs together under the table with identical sighs of relief. Remus reached across the tabletop and laced their fingers together, tracing the lines of Sirius’ palm without looking away from his face.

His once-perfect bowtie hung loose around his neck, crooked even when untied; Sirius tugged one end, skewing it a bit more. “Cutie.”

“You are,” Remus said with a slight smile.

Just as Sirius was about to fire back with something equally sappy and romantic, a shadow fell over the side of the table. “Hey, guys, what can I get for you?” Nate asked as he dug his notepad out of his apron. “The usual?”

“Sounds great. How’ve you been, Nate?”

Nate shrugged. “Not bad, not bad. The summer rush is helping me save up for grad school, which is nice.” He gestured to their suit jackets with his pen. “Special occasion?”

“Yeah, we just got back from a wedding,” Remus said casually.

“Really? Whose?”

“Ours.”

Nate’s pen clattered onto the table as his jaw fell open; he glanced between them, speechless, and Sirius bit his lip to hold down his laughter. “You—your wh—you got married?”

They shushed him in unison and he held both hands over his mouth. “It was a small ceremony, just friends and family. We’re waiting to see how long it takes the media to find out.”

“That’s incredible,” Nate whispered, sniffling. “Oh my god. Fuck, congratulations.”

Sirius grinned, feeling the happiness bubble up in his chest again. “Thanks, man. It’s still sinking in, to be honest.”

“No, yeah, absolutely.” Nate shook his head for a moment before picking his notepad back up with a quiet huff. “Jesus. This is amazing. Pizzas are on the house for the newlyweds, okay?”

“Aw, Nate, you don’t have to—”

“It’s restaurant policy,” he interrupted, already moving toward the kitchen. “I can’t break the rules!”

“That’s not a rule,” Remus muttered as Nate disappeared behind the swinging doors. “That kid’s about to get the nicest tip of his goddamn life.”

“Mhmm.” Sirius guided Remus’ face back to him with a finger under his chin and kissed him slowly, sighing at the softness of his lips. He tasted like champagne, with a little bit of sweetness left from the wedding cake. “Sugar.”

“Is that a new nickname?” Remus asked as he transferred some weight to his elbows for a better angle.

“Could be. D’you like it?”

“Hmm.” A warm palm covered the side of Sirius’ neck. “It’s not bad. ‘Sweetheart’ works fine for me, though.”

“How about ‘husband’? ‘Husband’ sounds pretty good. Mon mari.” Remus blushed and tilted his face to the side, rubbing their cheeks together for a moment. “Quoi? C’est bien?”

Remus rolled his eyes, but he was hiding a smile. “You know I’m weak for the French.”

“I do.” Sirius kissed the inside of his wrist lightly. “Hey, that’s the second time I’ve said that today.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. First time was better, though.”

Remus laughed and pulled him in for another kiss, combing the pads of his fingers through the curls just above Sirius’ ear. They stopped when the kitchen doors creaked open, but kept their foreheads together until Nate arrived with their food.

“Enjoy,” he said, practically glowing with excitement as he handed them napkins and utensils. “Congrats, again. I’m really happy for you guys. Have an amazing night.”

“Will do.” Remus smiled as he hurried back to the register, then reached for a slice of pizza and practically shoved the entire thing into his mouth. “Fucking hell, this is good.”

Sirius groaned in agreement, letting his eyes fall closed as the soft crust warmed him from the inside out. “This is the best part of my day.”

“Is it?”

“Yep. We’re married, we’re done with the party, and now there’s actual food to eat.” He held his fingers up to count. “Checking all my boxes.”

“Good point.” Remus stole a piece of pepperoni off one of his slices and Sirius made a noise of protest, only to pull a face when Remus set a bit of pineapple on the edge. “What? It’s a fair trade.”

Sirius glared playfully at him over the next slice, then hurried to catch the long string of cheese that slid free from the rest of the slice with a muffled yelp of distress.

“Do you need a hand?” Remus asked, clearly amused as he passed him an extra napkin.

“Uh-uh. I got it.” It took a second, but Sirius managed to get it all into his mouth without snorting pizza sauce through his nose as they both broke down laughing. “Another successful mission.”

“You’ve got pizza grease on your lip,” Remus said, reaching over to dab at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.”

“Thanks, love.”

They ate in relative silence for a few minutes, too focused on the hot food that they could finally enjoy without interruption; Sirius glanced at the wall clock and was astounded to see they had made it over ten hours since their last proper meal. No wonder he was so hungry.

“It felt weird sleeping alone last night,” Remus remarked once their plates were clean and Sirius wasn’t in immediate danger of getting hangry.

“I know, right?” Under the table, Sirius ran the side of his foot up Remus’ calf. “Super strange. We haven’t slept separately in months.”

“Mhmm.” Remus’ pupils dilated, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just from the low light. “It was fun staying the night with the cubs, though.”

“Yeah?” Sirius pressed a little harder on the inside of his knee and Remus gripped his napkin.

Amber eyes flickered around the restaurant before settling on Sirius. “Baby. What are you doing?”

Sirius shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Really?” Remus raised an eyebrow and Sirius’ breath hitched as a hand squeezed the top of his thigh.

“I think we should head home.”

“Good plan.”

Thanks to Nate and his made-up rules, there was no bill to settle, but they left a tip anyway and made sure to say goodbyes to the familiar staff as they headed back to the car. If Sirius let Remus go through the door first for the express purpose of coping a feel without being seen by the other patrons, that wasn’t anyone’s business but their own.

“You are such a—” Remus’ teasing insult was cut short by hands curling into the front of his shirt and pulling him over the console as lips connected to his own in a far less chaste manner than before. “Well. Alright, then. Home?”

“Home,” Sirius confirmed, grinning as he started the car. It was impossible to not feel smug when he managed to bring that particular shade of pink to Remus’ neck and ears. Despite the anticipation in his stomach, he took the longer route, watching the shining lights of the city turn Remus’ face every color of the rainbow. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Remus glanced over and rested his temple on the window, tracing a small circle on the back of Sirius’ hand; a small smile tilted his mouth in that perfect, off-center way. “We’re married. That’s super fucking cool.”

“It is,” Sirius laughed. His cheeks were starting to hurt in the best way. “I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that.”

“And I’ll never get tired of saying it.”

They reached the house a few minutes later, and Sirius’ heart leapt when he saw the front steps. “Wait!” he called, scrambling out of the car and grabbing Remus around the waist before he could go to the front door.

“What?” Remus asked, looking mildly alarmed until Sirius swept him into his arms. “Wh—really?”

“Please?” He pressed a quick kiss to Remus’ nose, then another to his forehead, again and again until Remus was laughing too hard to speak. “Please, please, please—”

“Okay, okay!” He draped his arms around Sirius’ neck and held on tight as he walked up the steps. “Do you have the keys?”

“Back pocket.” Remus reached around to get them and Sirius jumped when he felt a light smack as well. “Oh?”

Remus just kissed his cheek and unlocked the door, pushing it open with one hand. Hattie was having a sleepover with the Dumais’ for the night, thankfully; Sirius shuddered to think of what would happen if she collided with his legs in this vulnerable state.

“Ready?” Remus asked quietly, snuggling closer against his chest.

Sirius took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold, careful not to knock Remus into either side of the frame. He had crossed that little line a thousand times, maybe a million, but as they entered the dark house in dance-wrinkled suits with matching rings on their fingers, he felt a new chapter in the story of their life open up. The first of that particular volume, in fact.

He had the feeling it would be a good one.

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my-writings-and-musings · 4 years

Note

Can I please have a short story of the prompt of the human reader being used as a sheild, and the human has a communicator allowing the bots to trace their signal? And can I please have ratchet, tailgate, cyclones, and drift for this?

I have headcannons for now because I'm spread really thin lately, but I hope you like it! Also I love this prompt in particular because every bot on the ship needs to be told how special and wonderful they are, and what better way to show them than by shouting their praises at an enemy with ample swearing?

Part One: Here!

Part Two: You're Here!

Ratchet

·Your relationship to the medic had allowed some of the restraint he needed for his high stress job to rub off on you, but that's also true of his testiness, so when you reach your breaking point it's quite the sight. The bot that kidnapped you for a ransom learns the loud way just how passionately you adore your grumpy bot when they crack another joke about Ratchet's age and you simply lose it. Held back by your chains, you crack that the bot who kidnapped you couldn't accomplish what Ratchet has if they had a billion years to do so, and what right do they have to insult when they look the way they do? "Call him old all you want, he looks better now than you ever have and ever will!"

·Perhaps it's the fact that the tiny human just insulted their appearance of all things, but the bot is frozen at the communicator, and somehow that makes you angrier. It's clearer to you now than ever before why Ratchet hurls wrenches at the bots that annoy him; nothing would be more satisfying than the "thunk" of a well aimed projectile at this jerk's head. As it stands you're willing to settle for using your words as the only weapons you have. Laughing bitterly, you ask your captor if they're only able to win an argument with bots that can't fight back, which would explain why they need you as a shield AND the corpses they keep as company. The last dig actually gets them moving towards you with a threat, but when they refer to Ratchet as your "rusty old paramour" you get a renewed burst of rage and go off once more.

·"Are you seriously trying to insult Ratchet of all bots?! Do you have any idea what he's capable of?! How many lives he's saved?! What have you accomplished lately, huh?! Besides EXTORTION?!" Feeling a tad bit flushed, it's impossible not to go all out in your tirade, especially because it feels so darn good after suffering in silence for so long. It doesn't hurt that you have so much material to work with either. This raging jerk is living in a corpse filled lair and kidnapping humans to ransom them off for cash, and they're going after one of the greatest medics the Autobots ever had? Cutting them down to size should be classified as doing the universe a favor! If you weren't so incredibly frustrated, and dangling from chains, you might have found this enjoyable.

·"Seriously! Ratchet does more good for the universe in a week than you could do in a lifetime! Plus, you think age is holding him back?! The bot walks right off the battlefield after carving up bad guys like you, only to waltz into the medibay to patch up everyone else, on a daily basis!" Though not impressed, it does appear that your captor is rethinking some things, and perhaps actually realizing they've made a pretty formidable enemy. Had that not been such a flagrantly obvious fact you'd have been satisfied. Instead you just keep going, your intense love for your docbot mingling with your frustration to pour forth in a never-ending stream of loving threats. Only a total power outage cuts off a tangent about how Ratchet's age has not impacted his ability or endurance in "other areas" of your relationship either...

·The darkness is broken by flashing lights and the crackle of energy weapons firing all around, and you just manage to catch some familiar colors flashing through the dark before a very welcome red and white frame swoops in to carefully slice you out of the chains with a laser scalpel. There's just enough time to catch a smile overflowing with emotion before you're taken into gentle hands, and as Ratchet takes you back to the ship you get a glimpse of your very roughed up kidnapper being cuffed by the remaining crew. Your partner takes you straight to the medical bay, fussing over you all the way and asking a thousand questions about your wellbeing, but without any of his usual gruffness as he does so. In fact, he's probably the softest you've ever seen him. The smile never once leaves his face as he insists on getting you fed and rested and to bed where he pulls the covers over you himself.

·In the aftermath he almost seems to melt in your presence, losing most of his grumpy persona every time he's with you no matter how long or difficult a day he's had. Though you obviously don't mind, a couple bots let you know that when you were kidnapped he was the closest to losing control anyone had ever seen him. He'd been shouting and cursing until you had interrupted the latest communication with your captor, at which point he'd been so shocked others had needed to rush in and take advantage of the prolonged signal. Evidently, hearing you defend him as you did had rocked his world in the best possible way. Between working a stressful and often thankless profession, and not ever hearing you shout in such a way before, he's been touched to learn he could be loved by someone who appreciates him as you do. It's enough to keep even the worst of grumpy days from affecting him.

Tailgate

·Truth be told, your greatest concern when you were kidnapped was for your tiny SO, as his propensity for panic could result in some very unpleasant anxiety attacks while he and the others try to rescue you. That worry on his behalf turned to fury when your kidnapper refused to stop mocking the little bot for everything from his size to his age and even for supposedly choosing an organic solely to be taller than someone. It's enough to make you see red, and your limit is quickly reached as a result of the cowardly bullying. Your explosive bout of rage is a scream of frustration that quickly morphs into an unstoppable tirade that pulls no punches. Has this big jerk been planning this for any length of time you ask, because if so, you know a couple of sparklings that could think of more mature insults!

·"Really?! You make fun of bots for being short?! He's also blue, you want to pick on him for something arbitrary, why limit yourself?!" You know it's not the smoothest insult, but darn it all, you can't bring yourself to think straight with all this rage. This bot needs to hear what an absolute creep and bully they are, because seriously who gloats like a real life cartoon villain? When they leave the communicator and try to get in your face you're only further incensed, channeling your tiny partner's courage as you wish beyond the telling of it you could punch the jerk into silence. "If there's gonna be insults, how about I open the floor to some genuine digs? Because your ugly mug is a GOLDMINE of material, okay?! Seriously, does Unicron ask YOU for beauty tips?!"

·There's sputtering in response, which you just take as a go ahead to tear them apart, because at this point you're not sure if you can really stop. After all, record shattering hideous face aside, what does this bot actually have to offer? Tailgate has saved millions! Faced with multiple varieties of death, he took out the guy hellbent on committing species wide genocide, and he doesn't even brag about it! You rub that in your captors face with all the pride you have for your partner spurring you on, hoping that you get a chance to tell Tailgate what a source of inspiration he was in these moments. At the very least you'll have to tell him how your captor froze at the enraged shouting. "Plus, Tailgate has actual friends! People LIKE him, unlike you, who I'm guessing doesn't entertain often based on the corpses you leave lying around!"

·A last ditch attempt to shut you up with a few lame threats just gets you laughing, in part because you can't believe this bot ever thought they were going to succeed at this. "You didn't even bother to check up on who you're making an enemy of, did you? I doubt it, because if you did, you'd know Tailgate has made paperweights out of bots much tougher than you!" Perhaps it's a little macabre, but it's endlessly satisfying to see your captor flinch as you describe what an absolute powerhouse your partner is, particularly how he uses his small size to levy his strength in the most destructive ways possible. It's delightful enough that, as you begin to brag about the benefits of his size relative to yours and his strength working together in more intimate settings, only something like an earthquake stops you.

·Chained as you are, there's no way to get a clear look at your captor as they attempt to flee, but thankfully the ground stills just in time to let you see the cavalry arrive. Lost Light bots pour in to stop the automated defenses from doing much at all, and in a brilliant blue and white blur your kidnapper is punched full to unconsciousness by what might as well have been a meteorite. It's only when said force of nature runs to free you and a tearful blue visor meets your eyes that you recognize Tailgate. The minibot gets you down in a hurry and embraces you in as tight a hug as is safe, talking a mile a minute about his worries and how sorry he is you had to go through all this. After assuring him he doesn't have to beat up your captor any further, you let him carry you back to the ship, getting nuzzled all the while.

·In between far more frequent cuddle sessions from the absolutely enamored Tailgate, you get pulled aside by a couple bots who just want to let you know what an impact your brave speech had on the minibot. While inconsolable during your kidnapping, to the point of swapping between rage and tears every few minutes, he'd been visibly awed once he heard you go off in his defense. That makes you understand everything far more clearly; this bot has been unsure of his self worth for so long, so hearing you face down a much larger foe because you love him so much that their taunting him drove you to frenzy... Knowing he's loved like that changed his entire worldview. You can see it in his visor every time he looks at you, and feel it in every buzzing hug, how grateful he is to have found someone who loves him.

Cyclonus

·Dating a bot capable of triggering enemy surrender with a glance requires a strong will, mostly to endure the endless questions from bots confused as to how you got Cyclonus to ask you out, but today you find yourself facing a whole new level of irritation. Though the bot that kidnapped you is obviously no match for your towering partner, they still mock the big mech through radio like they're some kind of badass, taunting him for debasing himself and growing soft by dating a fleshy. Regardless of how hard Cyclonus has worked to open up to you, hearing the personal jabs makes something within snap and go nuclear, resulting in a war cry your partner would be proud of as you rattle your chains for emphasis.

·"Can you just CAN IT with the insults?! We all know that if this fleshy wasn't here as your shield, you'd be fleeing to the other end of the galaxy!" You waste no time getting right to the heart of what's so infuriating about your captor; their spineless and cowardly nature is so obvious beneath the sneering mockery it makes you literally sick. Seeing how completely they freeze at your jab just proves your point in your mind. What, were they just expecting you to be quiet forever after dealing with THEM for the past few hours? Was the idea of resistance that surprising to them?! The calm maturity you picked up from Cyclonus is matched only by the capacity for righteous fury learned from the same source, and it's the latter that breaks out in glorious fashion.

·"Oh, what, nothing to say? No moronic insults for someone who can actually talk back? Do you need your debate opponents to be silent so you can think of a rebuttal?!" Your almost sarcastic jab actually earns you a demand to be silent, but it's so lacking in authority you can only laugh, despite not feeling any less furious with the situation. It's bad enough to be kidnapped and chained up, but by someone this incompetent? Being a tiny fraction of their size doesn't make you feel any less embarrassed for having been caught by them. It's enough frustration to make you snap again when they start coming in close, especially as another insult is levied at Cyclonus for having chosen a human so unpleasant due to his age and miserable attitude. The words are little more than kerosene on your already burning anger.

·"Do you really think you get to accuse Cyclonus of having a miserable attitude, you inept excuse for a kidnapper?! I'd rather have a conversation with these corpses than you! Not to mention, Cyclonus isn't limited to insulting people whenever he talks, unlike you!" The tirade is perhaps nonsensical with how passionately you begin to praise your partner's command of verse, but you're far too lost in your genuine adoration to care, especially as you begin to relay how wonderfully enticing his singing is to you. Every time your captor tries to command silence you just jump to yet another feature that makes your heart flutter, riding on the high of how incredibly good it feels to rub it all in their flustered face as you go. An attempt at describing his passionate grasp of verse around specific topics is stopped only by a door flying off its hinges in a burst of shattered metal.

·Security forces do nothing as a hulking purple figure enters through the smoke of considerable destruction, and your captor is left paralyzed with fear as they're hefted up by a clawed hand, one you're so relieved to see you can't help calling out their name. Cyclonus is content to toss the criminal to the rest of the crew as they arrive, and actually smiles once he beholds you safe. Freeing you of your bonds, he doesn't drop the chains until they're wrapped about your captor for some poetic justice. After that, you're carried to the nearest private spot on the ship and embraced without hesitation, the giant arms that have held you before almost shaking as he whispers how grateful he is to have you back. For an instant he sheds genuine tears when you hug him in return.

·Though the intensity of his emotions isn't as extreme as when he rescued you going forward, the big bot is far more open about his feelings than ever before, even showing them in full view of others. Surprised but not at all displeased, you are however quite thrown for a loop when someone recounts how incredibly worried he was during your kidnapping, in that he had to be convinced not to go after you alone and gouged some unfortunate furniture as he listened to the communications. Yet the moment you started your tirade, he was shocked to a whole new kind of silence. It's obvious that he hadn't even been able to process it at first, but now is fully overwhelmed and grateful for your love as he never was before. Hearing himself defended by someone he adores more than anything changed his perspective of himself, as well as his outlook on life, for how could he not see the beauty of a universe that had given him you?

Drift

·Sort of an interstellar hippy in his own way, Drift has taught you a lot about remaining calm through meditation, saying that a clear mind and control over anger is key to surviving high stress situations. The same philosophy is what he instructed you to use when others mocked his past, as he claims to be used to it and doesn't want anyone angering you on his behalf. This doesn't stop you from simmering in your current situation, dangling from chains as you might be, and admittedly being kidnapped tends to shorten one's fuse. Perhaps that's why you explode so dramatically when your abductor opens up the communication line just to mock your partner by claiming he hardly should be upset by an organic dying, considering his past, and that this current "relationship" is probably just a redemption stunt. That final mistake sets you off on a legendary tirade.

·"Are you KIDDING me?! You want to talk about STUNTS you wannabe kidnapping loser?! Do you have a projection disorder or something?! Because unlike you, Drift doesn't actually have to PROVE anything!" Never in your life have you wished to be the same height as the bots to this degree, granted though it's only because you want to strangle this jerk purely for the satisfaction of throttling them. Drift has worked to be better, and jabs about his past hurt him deeply, despite what he says. What right does this loser have to use that against him? You're so worked up fear isn't in your catalog of emotions when your captor tries to threaten you with physical harm. All you see is an overhyped grifter who got lucky, and you make that abundantly clear.

·"What, are you going to try threatening me, really? Am I supposed to be afraid of bluster now?!" The sight of a tiny organic growing red in the face with rage actually seems to give the bad bot pause, in part because you're so flushed they have to wonder if humans have a secret explosive ability that you're presently charging up. Admittedly you do feel like you might pop, but that's only because it's impossible to unleash all of your anger in a way that's truly satisfying, and you're left with spouting all the very justified insults that spring to mind. One particular thing that galvanizes your anger; how is this jerk pretending they would stand a chance against Drift?! The bot may be a literal ray of sunshine to you, but you're well aware of what he can do to enemies, and you doubt your kidnapper is in the dark about your paramour's combat prowess.

·"Would you be playing the big tough bot if he were anywhere near here?! Or if you didn't have me as a shield?! Because I doubt you'd last a moment in a one on one!" You shout, your tone of vitriol somewhat humorous considering that the point is a very valid one. While not afraid of Drift in the slightest, you know being on his bad side can be fatal in impressively short order. Perhaps that's why his soft approach to your relationship is even better. It's so special to you that in your current state you can't help but brag aggressively, going on about what a wonderful bot he is and that this loser could never hope to best him in combat or personality. Seeing them rethink it all just adds fuel to your fire, but before you can really get going on how Drift's gentle mannerisms extend to the bedroom you're interrupted by a cacophony of unfathomable origin.

·One of the entrances to the room you're in is sliced open by what you swear has to be ten swords at once, but as soon as it's down and the wielder charges in, you see only two held by a very angry looking Drift. Though accompanied by ample backup, he's an army of one as he reduces the security to pieces and almost dices up your captor. Only some obviously difficult self control lets him immobilize the bot instead. Not wasting time, your partner leaves the bad guy for the others to hurry to your side, his expression beaming with unmatched happiness and relief as he cuts you free and catches you in cupped hands. Shameless kisses and a million questions about whether or not you're hurt are your prelude to an open embrace. Never minding public affection in the past, he's still at a new level all the way back to the ship and in the days that follow.

·It's impossible not to go an hour without a loving nuzzle against your forehead, and whenever you aren't looking Drift is in the corner of your eye with an absolutely lovestruck expression on his sweet face, to the point you halfway imagine there could be hearts in his optics. Rodimus himself tells you in confidence that the unshakable ninjabot was barely able to keep himself steady after your kidnapping, obviously holding back a hurricane of pain and grief within his spark, but that changed in a flash as soon as he heard you. Accustomed to being derided, he'd been unprepared for such a passionate defense from anyone. Hearing you shout his praises had nearly driven him to tears. The pain of his past and the exclusion he faces for it has worn him down, to the point he often believes himself to be irredeemable, but you've made him have hope for himself for the first time in eons. Your love makes him see what he's done right, and from now on, he fully intends to give you and himself more to be proud of every day.

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bookofmirth · 3 years

Note

I'm not up to date with all the drama in this fandom bc i tend to scroll past it. But being a reader of the books before I landed in these fandoms, I'm utterly shocked about how people treat eachother.

I'm very neutral on this stupid ship war going on. I tend to fall more for Elriel. But I understand everyone's opinion. I used to read all the book analysis, but now it just seems so exhausting. I get that people love books and ship different people. That's normal, everyone has different taste etc i'm just here trying to understand why we need to bring other human beings down in order to push our own narrative.

Since when is it okay to do that???? Can't we have a normal conversation without sending death treats?

I normally don't really respond to anything that involves drama. But these last couples of months have gotten me to dislike the books more and more solely because of these, may I call them blandly, horrible people.

And i'm very sad to have to admit that i'm also getting sick of the art of the multiple ships. Which that's horrible because I love what all these amazing artists create. But the hate they receive and the comments just make me hate it all more,this whole fandom with all these toxic people ruining it for me personally.

Can't we all just agree that we like these books, and respect eachother as human beings, no matter what everyone else thinks? And maybe wait and see what the author writes? In the end it are still her books and she will have the final say in everything.

I wish SJM would release the next book sooner so all this hate would stop, then again i don't know if it will stop. They will likely continue and probably bother SJM too...

Thank you for listening to me ranting, you always seem very nice to people with different opinions, so I thought i might as well rant a bit too.

Have a lovely day!!

Hello! Thank you for this message! I think it's really helpful for people to see because they can see the impact of the things they are doing and saying in the fandom. There are a lot of people who feel comfortable being vocal in the fandom, but I gotta say, if I were just joining now, I'm not sure that would be me. I wonder how many people walk in, take a look around, and walk the fuck back out. I probably would.

I got on my soap box a little bit because I was thinking about some of the things you've said!

I was just talking with some friends, some of whom I've been in the fandom with since 2017, some who are newer. And we all 1000% agree with you. It's so, so frustrating that the fandom has gotten so nasty to the point where we've become so separated from each other that we can't have a single civil conversation. Where people of color don't feel safe, and where a lot of the fandom doesn't even seem to care about that.

When I first joined the fandom, there were definitely people who shipped one way and people who shipped another, but we were still able to have conversations with each other. There would be these really, really long posts that were chains of people commenting on posts and reblogging, then someone adding on their thoughts, then op would respond, etc. Yeah, the posts were super long to scroll through, but there was so much engagement, ya know? And it was genuine, too. We could disagree or say "hey OP I like this point, but have you thought of X?" And it was great! (I even have a tag for it, #long post tag, because I once got an anon who was annoyed at how long my conversations with people would be 💀so I made that tag for people who wanted to block those posts.)

I'm not going to pretend it was perfect - there were definitely people I didn't get along with. But that wasn't a fandom thing, that was just a personality thing. And I never in a million years expected those people to fly off the handle and start attacking me anon, or to ss my posts to make fun of elsewhere. Now, that's a constant fear hanging over everyone's heads.

It has created an extreme echo chamber. I would genuinely like having those old fandom discussions where people would comment - in the open, on reblogs - and then we could all engage in that discussion in public. Now, all of that discussion happens in private, in groupchats and Discord. And don't get me wrong, Discord is super fun. But it also means that 1) people who aren't in those groups have no idea wtf is going on when we vague, although I try not to do that anyway, and 2) when people are in those groups they egg each other on to be worse and worse. Worse than they would have been if they were on their own and didn't feel like they had a group of people there to support their asshole behavior. tbh, I have to check myself sometimes and think, "would I do this if I hadn't just gotten into a rant conversation with friends on Discord?"

And what you said about fan art, it's so frustrating!!! Since when did fan art become a battle ground??? Since when did the appearance of fan art = a win for one ship or the other?? Why can't the comments of those arts ever just be nice and appreciative of the work someone has put into it? Honestly, it makes me paranoid to write fanfic, too! I mean, is that next???

I totally agree with you that we should be able to respect each other as people. We used to be able to do that. I hate to admit it, but I have so many people blocked now because I just don't trust them. I don't trust them to be civil, I don't trust them to be able to see my posts, I don't trust them to even read what I've written without misconstruing everything I've said.

I'm not sure if people realize that there is a big difference between this:

I don't like X ship

And this:

People who like X ship are delusional

The first one is okay! It's normal! Like you said, we all have feelings and interpretations and stuff we would prefer to see or not see!

The second one, not okay! Stop insulting people, people!!!!

The idea of engaging in a normal, healthy debate with a huge portion of the fandom is such a foreign concept to me at this point, and it never used to be. There could be a lot of reasons for this. And I always try to avoid pointing fingers because I know that not everyone is like that, though I'm sure I have slipped into that from time to time.

I think it would help if we stop seeing each other as a gwynriel or an elucien or an elriel, and start seeing each other as individuals. When acosf first came out, I started noticing a trend where people would send me asks and write them as if they were writing to every single person who ships elucien, or as if they were writing to every single person who holds a certain opinion about Azriel. It was really confusing at first, and I'm gonna request that the fandom stop doing that altogether, to everyone. If you want to engage with someone, engage with that person, not your idea of who they are and what they think.

I'm down for conversations where we talk about the series and what might come next as possibilities, because that's all this is, so far. Anyone who says that "X thing will never happen" is making some bold claims, and it's really off-putting to people who know that that's not why we are here. It's not a contest where we "win" canon. It's fandom, where we talk about what we like and what we don't like and what we want and cross our fingers and hope.

EDIT I wanted to add on one thing - a lot of this behavior is incredibly shocking and disgusting and I think that we, as a fandom, need to be better at 1) calling it out, and 2) not assuming that whoever did X horrible thing represents all people from that corner of the fandom.

I hope that you have a lovely day as well! And that the fandom doesn't get you too down. @heleencollier

#acotar fandom #acotar #acosf #fandom wank #leslie being a fandom grandma again

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xoluvx · 4 years

Text

the last great american dynasty; peter parker

» pairing: peter parker x stark!reader » song: the last great american dynasty » word count: 2.7K

“Look who’s here,” Cap muttered looking down from the large glass windows in the compound. For a place that was suppose to be top secret, it was pretty damn open and obvious. He sipped from his coffee mug watching the woman slide out of the shiny black car. Even from far away, he could see the mischievous smirk on her face that spoke louder than the white feminine suit clinging to her body.

Peter approached Steve from the side, curious as to who he was referring to. It was certainly you. Suddenly he’d forgotten how to breath and his brain had completely given up on him as his mind went foggy and his limbs limp.

“She’s here,” Tony rushed down the hallway and into the common room where both Steve and Peter were standing. They snapped their heads towards him, an ecstatic Tony was rubbing his hands together as he heard the elevator ding.

“Daddy!” you exclaimed pushing your big sunglasses towards the top of your head, your arms outstretching towards Tony who sprinted to you. His arms engulfing you in a big bear hug, just like he’d do when you were younger.

“How was the flight?” he asked releasing you watching you stand there not a hair out of place, you were always so composed. There was no way you had just been on an almost day long flight.

“First class, can’t complain.” You smiled playfully, but others could have said it was more snobbish. By others, I mean Cap who was now approaching you with his coffee mug. His lips pursed slightly until you saw him.

“Uncle Steve,” you smiled stretching your arms again. He chuckled slightly. He may not have been a fan of your lush life and your extravagant arrivals, but there was always a glint in your eyes that reminded him of when you were younger and he relished in those moments.

“How’s the fiance?” he asked pulling away. Totally oblivious to why you were visiting. Why you’d practically lugged your entire life back to America.

“Oh, you didn’t tell him?” you chuckled awkwardly turning to your dad. You wished you could push down your sunglasses and simply vanish.

“I didn’t think it was my place, sweetie.” You dad gave you a slight shrug in the douche-baggy way people were used to seeing from him. Clearing your throat, turning towards Steve again you gave him a tight line smile.

“It didn’t work out.” You weren’t heartbroken. You’d broken it off. He wasn’t who you thought he was and he definitely wasn’t who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. He just wasn’t on your level.

“I’ve gotta head out, Mr. Stark.” A distinct boyish voice, which you’d recognize anywhere, approached the three of you. Diverting your attention from Cap, you looked at Peter. He hadn’t changed one bit. If anything he’d only grown more handsome, his jaw was more defined and his hair. Had he gotten a haircut maybe? It suited him.

“Pete,” you muttered his nickname. You suddenly felt small. Everything you owned and everything you’d projected was just so insignificant in the presence of Peter.

“Hey,” he chuckled slightly as if he hadn’t recognized you. As if you were a stranger walking down the street and he just happened to bump into you and was being courteous because he had manners.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, first thing in the morning.” Tony placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder talking to him directly. Waving his finger at him. Peter nodded as Tony and Steve disappeared leaving him alone with you. Still standing by the elevator.

“You look great,” Peter complimented awkwardly looking at your crisp outfit and your perfectly flawless face. Your lips curled into a smile and you felt yourself growing warmer. He always knew how to make you feel flushed.

“You’re not looking so bad yourself,” you retaliated watching him stand there in jeans and a plain faded grey t-shirt. His hair was somewhat shorter at the sides, but his curls were still there, slightly framing his face in a sideways sweep. He’d matured. But he was still Peter.

“I really gotta go, I’ll see you around.” With that he quickly sprinted towards the stairs. His light footsteps haunting you as he walked out.

•

“Morning, Peter.” Tony’s voice echoed through the compound’s kitchen as Peter entered. He was wearing a baggy hoodie and jeans. It was like his uniform. Comfort over anything.

You were up bright and early. You were also wearing jeans, but they were form fitting and dressed up. The blouse you were wearing elevated the look. The loose chiffon hung on your body, but the built in straps at the neck were done in a neat bow around your neck.

“I’ll be down in the lab in a bit. You want breakfast?” Tony asked lifting up the pan with eggs. He was hovering over the kitchen island serving himself. In your hands, there was a coffee mug and next to it a small bowl of fruit.

“Sure,” Peter said clearing his throat. He was usually a lot more laid back with Tony. His level of respect was still there for the man, but their relationship had relaxed over the years. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so tense now. Maybe it was the fact that you were staring at him.

Or the fact that he hadn’t seen you in years and you were just sitting there now. Pretending like you’d never been gone.

Clearing his throat, Peter muttered a ‘thanks’ as Tony placed a plate of food in front of him. Your eyes never leaving him.

•

“Is it weird seeing her?” Ned asked, his face registering more excitement that concern for his best friend. Ned had stopped by the compound, something he’d do regularly as he’d been able to land a job with the Avengers. You know, guy in the chair and all.

Peter cleared his throat trying to avoid the topic. Ned had seen you, the two of you had a quick conversation before Peter was able to drag Ned away. And now here was a curious Ned.

“It’s a little weird, but-” Peter shrugged not being able to finish his sentence. Simply because he didn’t know what to feel. He felt so much, yet he couldn’t decipher exactly what that was. So he was ignoring those feelings. Pushing them aside, but now Ned was prying. He knew he couldn’t lie to him.

“Okay, but you have to admit...she looks incredible and the way she was looking at you, man.” Ned shook his head chuckling slightly ignoring the fact that he currently had a million things to do.

Peter froze. So he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

•

It’d been weeks of scrutinizing encounters. Awkward bump-ins on the elevator or halls. Did Peter live here? You started to wonder. It was the only logical explanation for why he was constantly roaming the compound.

Neither of you ever held a conversation, except if Ned was involved. Other than that, all interactions were composed of stolen glances and sly unintentional brushes of hands or shoulders.

“Black tie event,” Tony warned pointing at Peter who was nodding his head walking backwards towards the stairs. You glanced at him quickly clutching the fork in your hand. Inside of you, a weird bubbling feeling was brewing. The prospect of seeing Peter in a suit and tie, unlike his multitude of t-shirts and jeans, which you totally didn’t mind, was enticing.

“Black tie, got it!” Peter exclaimed rushing down the stairs.

“Are you excited?” Tony asked looking at you snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, what could go wrong with hundreds of people, who I haven’t seen in a long time, coming to celebrate my arrival to the states? After I’ve called off my engagement?” You added that last part just for kicks. A smug look on your face as you finished eating your pasta.

•

The sea of bodies consumed the room as you looked for a drink. Everyone was chatting away and it seemed almost everyone had forgotten about you. Good, you didn’t have time to entertain anyone’s crazy theories about why you’d left and why you were now back.

“Thank you,” you hummed taking the glass of wine from the bar. The bittersweet taste coated your taste buds and a sigh of satisfaction exhaled from your body. But your peace was quickly interrupted when two men approached you as you walked away from the bar. He whispered something in your ear that made your body recoil, and you stared at him with a blank face. A subtle shake of your head was indication that you didn’t want anything to do with him, but his friend was instant.

“I’m not going to dance with you,” you exclaimed shaking your head again as you clutched your wine glass tighter.

“No wonder your husband left you,” he spit the words with a vile laugh. The comment didn’t phase you, but the fact that this dimwit thought he could insult you was amusing. “Probably only wanted you for daddy’s money,” he added as his friend laughed quietly next to him.

“It’s funny that you assume everything I have is because my dad is Tony Stark,” you said not raising your voice. Your face expressionless as you took a sip of your wine. People were starting to gather around you. The men drawing attention as they continued to laugh and make childlish remarks.

“I’ll have you know I not only own half of Stark Industries, but I’m heavily involved in everything that happens around here. It’s a shame women can’t have fun and do business at the same time without pathetic men like you and you-” you pointed at his friend while sighing, “-shaming them.”

It seemed like everyone had silenced as you finished your speech, chugging your wine. You handed the man your wine glass before ushering everyone to scram. There was nothing to see here.

•

“He had that coming,” Peter’s voice approached you at the bar. He leaned against the counter slightly watching you take your eyes off your glass, which he was sure was now filled with something a lot stronger. Startled you jumped slightly, now watching him with a playful smile on your face. The playful banter felt familiar. Felt like the old Peter.

“Men,” you scoffed shaking your head with disgust.

“You got that right,” he chuckled nodding in agreeance motioning towards the bartender.

“How’s MJ?” you asked diverting the conversation from you. His eyes bulged slightly as he brought the beer to his lips. His brows quickly furrowing as he grunted, the cold beer settling down his throat. You’d noticed he hadn’t brought a date. Lies. It wasn’t just noticing, you were practically watching his every move. Just like he had with you.

“MJ?” He asked clearing his throat.

“Last I heard you two were getting pretty serious, right?” you said trying not too sound too desperate, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. You stirred your drink moving the glass with your fingers awaiting his answer.

“Uh...no.” He said a bit stunned. “We agreed we were better off as friends. She’s abroad, actually. Has a huge galley.” He chuckled.

Suddenly you get a weight pushing on your chest. It seemed like MJ had rejected him too. Had he lost total hope chasing after women? You couldn’t help, but wonder as you sipped on your drink watching his jaw clench.

“What happened with the fiance?” He teased. That’s what everyone called him. ‘The Fiance’. Like he was so mysterious, almost mythical. Peter had started to doubt if he had been real.

“Men,” you scoffed. “Remember?” you joked letting out a soft laugh chugging your drink.

Peter chuckled nodding his head, not wanting to pry. His beer was growing warm in his hands.

Placing your glass down with a clank on the counter, you grabbed Peter’s free hand leading him out of the room. “Come!” you demanded leading him towards the lab. You felt like a couple of kids sneaking out of a grown-up party. Even though you were the grown-ups.

Peter marveled at the suit in front of him.

“I didn’t want to show dad until it was presentable. What do you think?” you asked looking at the shiny suit. A multitude of laser beams sprouted at the sides with specific information about each feature and setting. Peter’s eyes scanned over the details. A look of approval registering on his face.

He turned to look at you. He was fascinated by the juxtaposition of your soft silky dress and the rough metal suit. The two sides of you. Both of which he’d known so well.

“Have you tried it out?” he asked trying to distract himself from how more attractive you’d grown. He didn’t know you were still in the labs being hands on, but somehow it elevated you further on the podium he’d slowly built for you over the years.

"Not yet. Wanted to get a second opinion,” you said walking with him around the suit. He looked at the suit from every angle. You were touching something on a glass screen, your lips slightly parting as you concentrated.

Placing his beer down, Peter approached you. Maybe it was the alcohol or the smell of your intoxicating perfume. Maybe it was the fact that you were physically here and all his dreams were coming true.

He was standing close behind you. You could feel his breath on your exposed skin; you could smell the traces of beer. Not moving, you felt him come closer. His hand fell on your arm gently as his lips landed softly on your shoulder. His lips were like fire on your skin and you were rapidly melting. Shocks of electricity coursed through your body. Electricity only he was capable of producing.

His lips were soft and gentle on your skin as you pressed your back on his chest. His arm now wrapped around you, fingers spread across your torso. His lips traced a line all the way towards your neck, right below your ear. Your weak spot. He remembered.

A soft moan escaped your lips and with that, you turned your body capturing his lips in a heated embrace. His hands were firmly planted on your back. Yours wrapped around his neck, your fingers softly caressing his hair as the moment grew more fierce and heated.

The only sounds vibrating on the walls were the sounds of your lips colliding and your soft panting as he pushed you towards the table. His lips were intoxicating, shooting bliss right through your veins.

It’d been too long since you kissed him. Since you were this close to him.

You mumbled something against his lips to which he nodded in agreeance, reluctantly pulling away so you could whisk him away to your room. Just like you had when you were teenagers. Sneaking around. Stealing kisses and secret touches.

The door to your room slammed shut, but no one heard it as the party roared all through the night.

•

“Wow,” Peter huffed laying in bed. Your sheets were draped across his lower body, your own body curled into his in peaceful bliss. Your head was resting on his chest, your fingers tracing circles on his torso.

You could clearly see his abs and you knew he’d definitely changed up his workout routine. He no longer had his boyish thin body, his muscles were perfectly defined. He was a man.

Peter’s hand rubbed your arm gently before running across your neck clutching the back of your head pulling you towards his lips. Your lips collided again. This time, they moved slowly. Your lips intimately reacquainting themselves. His grip was gentle, but maintained your head in place as his other hand wrapped around your back pulling you closer.

“I missed you,” he whispered against your lips and you smiled sharing one last kiss before you rested your head on the pillow close to his face.

“I couldn’t tell,” you joked; your lids were heavy as you smirked.

He grabbed the hand that was tracing circles on his torso and intertwined your fingers. Your hand slipped into his perfectly like you’d been molded from the same slab of clay; made just for each other.

The two of you looked at your hands intertwined in the air. His fingers opened and closed around your hand checking if this was real. If you were real. You rested your elbow on his chest gently watching him play with your fingers now. His thumb running across your ring finger. Any traces of previous commitments had vanished.

This felt like a clean slate. A new beginning. One you wouldn’t regret.

folklore masterlist

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker fic #the last great american dynasty #folklore #folklore fics

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sinner-as-saint · 4 years

Text

Taste Of Your Lips - 2.

Prince!Ransom x Reader AU

Part 2 of the Taste Of Your Lips series

Run-through: Your parents force you to attend a masquerade ball which is being held at the palace. Reluctantly, you do as they say. There, a masked stranger approaches you and asks if he could have a dance. You agree; unknown to the fact that that one dance would soon change your life.

Themes throughout the series: fluff, smut, angst

You walked through the grand doors of the castle yet again. Accompanied by your parents this time.

You were all dolled up, not as extravagantly like last night but your mother insisted that you wear another, more simpler but still peach, dress.

‘He’ll like it’ she had said, while she helped you put on the dress.

‘He’s a terrible person! I can’t marry him.’ you argued, while you let her do your hair in soft curls.

‘That was during his reckless youth days, sweetie. I’m sure he’s a fine man now. He’ll keep you well and happy.’ your mother, as expected, defended the Prince.

And now here you were; standing in between your parents, facing the King and the Prince, Ransom – who had a smirk on ever since you walked into the room. He was well-dressed, in dark blue this time. His face was just as handsome as last night but somehow, you couldn’t believe he was the same man.

Last night, when you didn’t know who he truly was, he seemed so kind, and gentle and caring.

But right now he seemed authoritative, and just as arrogant as they said he was. Chest puffed out; wearing an exquisite, velvet, dark blue cloak which accentuated his eyes, with his crown on his head – the one he was so proud of, and holding his trustee sword by his side – which bore the kingdom’s emblem and jewels; you had heard he was skilled with a sword but you had never witnessed it.

He looked powerful. Even when he bowed down a little to greet your mother; lightly kissing the back of her hand. You could see it on your mother’s face – she was falling for his façade just like you did last night.

Your father and the King talked in hushed tones, while the Prince was surely buttering up your mother with his sweet talks. Like he did to you last night.

You stood there, keeping your eyes to the ground. You were fine; calm and collected. But then your body went all crazy when he walked over to you and held your hand and brought it up to his lips – all while staring deep into your soul.

Your lips parted in surprise and your heart fluttered despite how much you tried not to give into his touch.

“I like you better without the masks.” He murmured against the back of your hand, his soft lips brushing faintly against your skin and making your whole body tingle. “You look so beautiful.” He whispered again as he gently lowered your hand and let his eyes roam your appearance; taking in your beauty.

Only when he stared into your eyes did you realize how much you had badmouthed the Prince, to himself, last night.

You felt ashamed under his stare and lowered your eyes again. You thought he would walk away but instead he spoke up, loud and clear and announced that he would like to take you for a walk around the castle grounds and show you the famous gardens.

Blinded by his charm, the King and your parents agreed immediately. And Ransom held your hand in his and led the way again, like he did last night. And while the two of you walked away from your parents, your heart raced.

What if he was angry at all that you said last night? Sure, you didn’t like the man but that doesn’t mean that you didn’t fear the power he had. Hell, he could have you executed for all that bad things you said about him last night. He was the Prince for goodness sake!

But all your worries went away soon, because once you two were out of the castle and alone in the gardens, Ransom pulled your close to him and pressed his lips to yours again. You were frozen; in shock as he kissed you deeply, one of his hand holding the back of your head while the other was at your waist, pressing your body to his.

He tugged on your lower lip as he pulled away reluctantly. “I’ve missed you, beautiful.” He whispered against your lips as he pressed his forehead to yours, holding your body gently. Your heart fluttered, and you were all warm and tingly again.

But then you remembered last night, and all of his lies. And you got out of his grip and pushed him off you, creating some distance between the two of you. You got over whatever trance it is he seems to put you in whenever he touches you, and you faced him with a stern face.

You could tell that this wasn’t the reaction he expected.

“You lied to me.” You finally decided to confront him.

He smirked. “Did I?” he said, smugly.

You scoffed, almost unable to believe at how cocky he actually was. “Yes. Yes you did. You said your name was Hugh!”

He chuckled. “Where’s the lie in that? My first name is Hugh, I just prefer to go by Ransom.” He answered, as if daring you to keep on arguing.

“You said you were a relative to the King!” you pointed out again.

He kept on smirking. “I am.” He answered calmly. “I am his son.” He had the kind of smirk which put you in a dilemma – you didn’t know whether you wanted to smack his pretty face, or kiss it.

You decided to leave it. So you just sighed in frustration and walked away, further into the garden. Naturally, Ransom followed his lady.

“Come on, don’t be angry at me.” He grabbed you by the hand right when you were about to step onto the little bridge which connected this side of the pond to the other.

Ransom pulled you back into him and placed a hand at your waist, firmly, preventing you from getting away. “You do look beautiful when you’re mad.” He complimented you again.

You looked down again, refusing to let him see that he was making you all hot and bothered. “Let go of me.” You chided, but not wanting to pull away from his warm embrace. “You lied to me.” You said again, visibly upset.

He sighed and leaned in to give you a sweet kiss on the cheek; which only caused you to melt some more in his arms. “I lied, and you insulted me right in my face. I think we’re even, my love.” He whispered, lips brushing against your skin.

You pulled your face away and looked up at him. “Don’t call me that.”

He chuckled at the pout on your face. “Hey, I’m j-,”

“Let go!” you pushed him away again. And this time, he was getting a little bothered by your antics. Here he was, ready to give you all the love, care and affection and here you were, pushing him away.

“Alright enough of this!” he spoke in a much more serious tone and grabbed you by the waist again. He circled his arm around your body and pressed you against him while he grabbed your chin with his other hand. He stared into your eyes again, making you shiver.

“Tell me you didn’t feel anything between us last night.” He whispered softly, leaning in to kiss the side of your mouth. “Tell me you don’t like how I touch you.” he spoke against your skin, his soft lips brushing against the side of your mouth made a tingle dance down your spine. He chuckled when you gasped at how close he was to you. “Tell me you don’t want more.”

He trailed his lips along your jaw and kissed right beneath your ear, making you shiver again. And just like that, you were at a loss of words.

He chuckled and let go of your face. He held your hand and guided you over to the center of the little bridge. The pond looked magical from there; oval in shape, stagnant and deep, but still clear.

You also got an incredible view of the castle towers from here. You looked up and smiled faintly.

Ransom watched you the whole time. He was standing right beside you, his hand carefully placed on the small of your back. He admired you while you admired the view.

You sighed and looked down at the reflection of the two of you in the water; a million thoughts going through your mind at the same time. “Shouldn’t you be marrying a rich, pretty princess from a well-known land?” you asked, and your words made him chuckle.

You knew you were in no place to reject his proposal. So you were looking for excuses. But Ransom saw exactly what you were trying to do; you were trying to talk him out of this.

He leaned in to kiss your cheek again. “You’re no less, my love.” He purposely used the nickname you asked him not to. And he smirked at how you turned your head to glare at him.

You turned to face again. “Are you sure you want to marry m-,”

He cut you off by pulling you closer again and kissing you. He didn’t like how you were belittling yourself. How dare you think you were any less than a princess?

Ransom deepened the kiss, refusing to let go of you just yet. And you melted under his touch again.

He pulled away after a while to look at you. Your lips were a little swollen, and you seemed like you were a little embarrassed given you refused to meet his eyes.

“Hey, look at me.” He placed his index finger against your chin and lifted your face up. “Not to sound like the arrogant prick they say I am but, I don’t lack anything else.” He spoke softly. “I just need you. You’re the woman of my dreams.”

Out of everything people said about him, why did they forget to mention that he could be sweet?

Is he really, or is this just another façade?

The King announced that day that the castle will be hosting a lavish banquet soon; to announce your engagement to the Prince and to officially introduce you as Ransom’s bride-to-be.

Ransom held your hand in his while his father announced this decision in his court. He leaned in to whisper in your ear. “My father seems to like you a lot. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t tell him that you called me arrogant, pompous and spoilt last night.” he teased, smirking.

You glared at him. He chuckled quietly, tightening his grip around your waist. “Don’t worry, my love. Your secret is safe with me.”

The banquet was to take place in three weeks’ time. And Ransom knew he wouldn’t be able to see you until then, so he kept sending you gifts and tokens of love to show his affection. Anything from fine garments to flowers to jewelry.

You still weren’t sure how you felt about him. Sure, you had been nurturing feelings for him since that night he first kissed your lips. But then, the revelations followed, and his reputation wasn’t necessarily a stainless one. So your feelings for him were still unclear.

Each day you would wake up to something new from the Prince at your doorstep, along with a handwritten note daily. He had messy handwriting, and you always smiled at his terrible attempts to make jokes. Or confess his love through poems. Either way, you were beginning to think that perhaps people had been harsh on him and judged him too quickly.

Maybe no one really knew him, they all were just judging him based on what they heard from other people, who heard from others. Perhaps you did too. Maybe when he was young and reckless he did indeed earn himself a reputation but, couldn’t it be that he’s changed now? That he’s a better man?

As days went on, with each gift, and each bouquet and each token and each love note; you managed to see him in a different light. Perhaps he was more intelligent and kind that you thought. Maybe he had, indeed, changed. And people were just wrong, or didn’t know him enough and judged him anyway based on his past.

Some days passed, and Ransom’s gifts and tokens were incessant. And you were really beginning to have a change of perspective regarding the Prince. Although, there were still rumors and gossip going around that he was still incorrigible and insolent, but you chose to ignore it all.

He made you feel loved, and appreciated. He made you feel special. He made you feel like you weren’t any less than a princess with all his kind and loving words. And all the warm and tingly feelings towards him was coming back again.

But then again, your feelings towards the Prince were tested.

Weeks later, you were returning home one evening; after tutoring some kids at your father’s school, when you overheard something. Two older women walked past you, and you caught bits and pieces of their conversation.

“…he sure is delinquent that boy! He is still at that tavern, possibly getting drunk again!” one of them said.

The other agreed. “I just hope he treats the professor’s daughter right, she’s a sweet child and…”

The sky was getting darker with each passing second, and it was quite a chilly evening so you had the hood of your cloak on. So you were sure the ladies didn’t see who you were. But you heard enough to piece the whole thing together.

So Ransom was getting drunk at the tavern again? Being his old self again? Seems like you had fallen for another one of his façades again. And this time, you had really been nurturing feelings for him, so hearing that he went back to his old ways hurt. It was almost scary.

You debated walking all the way to the tavern and see for yourself. But your parents had made themselves very clear that they wanted you home at a reasonable time, given the banquet was tomorrow.

You sighed in frustration on your way home. It was the eve of your official engagement, and you had just heard that your soon-to-be fiancé was getting drunk at the tavern. Suddenly, all those notes he wrote you, and all the gifts he sent and all the promises he made didn’t matter anymore.

You were wrong, he hadn’t changed a bit it seems. Your emotions were all over the place as you went to bed that night. How could he be so… hard to decipher? How could he be sweet and kind to you, and make you feel like he was more than what they say he is, but then also get back to his old bad habits?

Guess Prince Ransom was just as inconsiderate, immature, arrogant and reckless as they said he was.

---

The next morning was hectic. The whole day was. Your mother spent the whole day making sure you looked your best tonight at the banquet. And even today, Ransom sent something for you. It was a lovely tiara, with a note attached to it:

-You’re one step closer to being mine, my love. I cannot wait. I love you, my beautiful girl.

You read it, then read it again. And you were torn; between wanting to believe that he was the good and kind man you met that night at the ball, yet at the same time, there were talks about him going around saying he hadn’t changed from his old ways.

What to believe?

The banquet, as expected, was just as majestic as the ball. It was being held at a different location, but it was just as vast and rich as the masquerade ball had been. The décor was incredible, shades of peach and accents of gold, along with elements of nature tied to it – it looked straight out of a fairytale and for a moment you could only imagine how over the top the actual wedding would be. And it took you a while to realize that the venue’s décor matched your dress perfectly.

You were asked to sit at the main table, beside Ransom and the King of course, along with your parents. There were a lot of speeches, and a lot of cheers and congratulations. Ransom held your hand under the table, and tried to get you to look at him several times but you were still conflicted about your feelings so you didn’t give him any attention all through the night.

As the guests drank more and more, the rather formal banquet morphed into something else. The musicians started playing louder, the chatter and laughter got louder. People started dancing, and everyone seemed happy and carefree in that moment.

You however, needed to step out and get some air. So you did, thinking no one would notice because everyone else was busy with the festivity of the event. But Ransom noticed you. He followed you, out into the balcony. He had noticed your mood was off this whole evening. And he wanted to know why.

You stepped out into the balcony and walked over to the balustrade, sighing. It was quite dark, and no one was around. The noise from the party could still be heard, but most of it was muffled. And you were thankful for that.

However the blessed silence was soon interrupted by the man of the hour; Ransom.

“Anything troubling you, my love?” you heard the sound of his voice as he stood behind you. You didn’t turn around to look at him, or reply to his question so he wrapped his arms around you from behind. He placed his chin on your shoulder and pressed your back to his torso. “Tell me what bothers you, I’ll make it better.”

As always, his smooth, velvety voice held a promise. Though authoritative, he sounded caring. Like he was ready to fight whatever monster he had to if it meant you’d feel safe and content. Like he was ready to risk it all and do anything to make you happy. He was so confusing.

“Were you out drinking again last night?” you asked. And Ransom got really quiet; which only meant that what you had heard was true.

Surprisingly, you didn’t get angry. You were just tired; tired because you knew no matter what your newfound feelings for him weren’t going anywhere. “Ransom…” you sighed and stepped out of his embrace. “You always make me think that you’re a better man. That you’re not just the arrogant, reckless young man everyone says you are.” You spoke, calmly and almost monotonously. “But then you go right back to your old habits.” You pointed out.

And he lowered his head.

“I feel like I don’t even know the man I’m marrying, Ransom.” You sounded hurt. You were.

He looked up and stared into your eyes. “Why would you keep listening to gossips? Why can’t you just trust me?” he asked. Part of him was ashamed, but he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I try to. But then I keep hearing about how you’re at the tavern again. Or how you probably still go to brothels? Is this how it’s going to be, would I have to put up with your infidelity after w-,”

He was quick you cut you off by gently but firmly grabbing your jaw and pressing his body against yours; trapping you between him and the balustrade.

“Enough!” his tone was stern and strong. “I haven’t touched another woman since I laid eyes on you. I was at the tavern last night, but I wasn’t getting drunk. I was out on a patrol with the knights, and we stopped for one drink then came back to the castle.” He explained, looking you deep in the eyes.

You had to admit, his deep blue eyes did hold sincerity.

His grip on your jaw loosened a little more. “Stop listening to the rumors. People will talk, but that doesn’t mean they’ll always tell the truth. They don’t always know the truth.” He paused. Then added, “I need you to believe me.”

He leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours, lowering his hand and wrapping both of his arms around your waist. “I don’t blame you. Some weeks ago you didn’t even know who I was. I know you can’t help but believe the rumors because you haven’t gotten the chance to truly know me.” He made sure you understand that he doesn’t blame you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but then you had nothing to say. So you kept quiet. What would you say to him? Apologize? Or maybe you should just walk away?

You tried to do that but he stopped you from walking away. He tightened his grip on your waist, and when you looked up into his eyes; you noticed something was different. His gaze was intense, darker. You sensed an unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, shift in the air.

He did too as he leaned in to kiss you again. His soft lips crashed against yours; desperately. “I missed you.” he mumbled against your mouth before kissing you deeply.

Guess, unknowingly, you had missed him too because you didn’t hesitate before sliding your hands into his hair, tugging on it and pulling him closer. His hunger could be felt through the kiss; tongue slipping into your mouth without any warning. He kissed you feverishly, refusing to let go of you just yet. He wanted more, and so did you.

He deepened the kiss, nibbling on your lower lip before gently pulling away to kiss along your jaw. You gasped when you felt his soft lips kiss down your neck. He peppered your skin with kisses; down your throat, along your collar bones and your somewhat exposed cleavage.

Just like always, you melted under his touch. And out of nowhere, he sank down to his knees in front of you; looking up at you with mischief in his eyes while he bunched up the front of your dress and holding it up till around your waist.

“It’s okay, my love. It’s just me.” He whispered and kissed along your now exposed thigh, undoing your garter belt like he was unwrapping a present. The feeling of his soft lips against your skin made you shiver. And although his actions were salacious, you didn’t stop him.

You wanted more.

Ransom slowly removed any piece of clothing off you which was in his way, and unashamedly spread your legs further apart and attached his lips to your core without a second thought; the lower half of his face completely submerged into your dripping core.

You moaned involuntarily as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core. His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally circling around your clit mercilessly. Your hands immediately gripped his hair and tugged gently at his roots. Wet sounds erupted from where his mouth latched on to your core, and the sight was just as sinful.

A man of his caliber, on his knees in front of you, his head in between your legs and his mouth touching your body in the most intimate way possible. Pleasure and an unusual power washed over you as you whimpered under his touch.

Ransom’s face glistened in the dimmed lights of the burning torches on either side of the balcony; your arousal drenching the lower half of his face as he ate you out relentlessly until you were nothing but a moaning, hot mess, squirming above him. His lips worked wonders on your dripping heat as his hands wrapped themselves around your thighs, locking you in his tight grip, leaving you no other choice but to endure his sweet assault.

He looked up at you, and to him you looked like a goddess; head thrown back, soft mewls leaving your lips as he flicked his tongue over your entrance rapidly. Even in the dimmed lights, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

With a few more strokes of his skilled tongue, you felt a pressure forming in between your hips, and you couldn’t hold back. He took you higher and higher… and you let go and gushed out all over his face. You came undone with a loud moan. He didn’t stop even then, he kept at it while your orgasm washed over you; lapping up whatever you gave him. He couldn’t get enough of you.

You chanted his name, moaning and whimpering at how good he made you feel. That boosted his pride immensely. He licked you clean and kissed your thighs a few more times before finally standing up and letting your dress fall in place. He admired how much of a mess you were; panting, and trembling just with his tongue.

He smirked. While your face felt hot as he stared right into your eyes. “Hmm,” he hummed shamelessly at the taste of you still lingering in his mouth. “You are sweet, my love. In more ways than one.” He added, without any shame, winking at you.

Your eyes widened at his very wanton compliment and he chuckled at your reaction.

“Come now,” he grabbed your hand in his and pulled you away from the balustrade and eventually off the balcony. “We should get back to the banquet.”

You cracked a shy little smile and held on to his hand as you two walked back to where the party was being held. You decided to push away all the rumors and give him another chance.

This man was driving you crazy! If there’s one thing people were right about, regarding your fiancé was that he was indeed, very much shameless.

But you seemed to be enjoying that about him so far.

a/n: more smut in future chapters ily

---

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fandomoverdrive · 4 years

Text

Okay I just need to go on a rant about Whirl because I love him he might just be the most tragic character in the entirety of MTMTE and considering the candidates that’s a pretty hard position to cinch. Some of this is gonna have mentions re: self harm, suicidal tendencies/ideation, overall bad coping mechanisms etc so if that’s not your cuppa please scroll on.

This gets long so here’s the obligatory read more.

Let’s write “tragic” in flickering neon letters with the fact that Whirl’s first appearance in MTMTE, dropping the titular “how to say goodbye and mean it,” is a personal soliloquy delivered as he’s in the midst of constructing his own funeral pyre. Whirl is lost, directionless, trapped and unwilling to be such in a postwar environment. But how did we get here?

Whirl is without a doubt a driven character. In the prewar functionist society, he had no qualms switching careers, risks be damned. Whether he’s always had a knack for disobeying authority or was simply driven by passion or both isn’t elaborated on, but he’s got a hell of a hardheaded streak that’s impossible to ignore. When destroying his business wasn’t enough to deter him from further rebellion, the Senate was happy to turn him into an empuratee and destroy not only the opportunity but the capability of continuing to rebel by pursuing his passion. This is what I’d personally consider the big ‘whump’ moment, less so the use and abuse as a pawn that followed but the point of trauma at which we begin to see Whirl’s psyche begin to twist.

From this point forward we see Whirl in and out of prison, let loose when he can be useful to someone else’s ploy and otherwise incarcerated for a buffet of offenses. No longer able to be constructive and having little if any control of his life, Whirl becomes aggressively destructive. In response to having everything he aspired toward ripped away from him, permanently, he builds a mental defense of bitterness and anger and paves over his black hole of self worth with a veneer of outright assholery. It’s here that he bares his metaphorical fangs and pushes - with gusto - anyone who might even suggest they’re trying to appeal to reason or get close to him as an individual.

It’s hard to imagine, given even subtly different circumstances, that Whirl would not side with the decepticons for the war. While he’s single-handedly responsible for radicalizing Megatron towards violence, the ‘con intent at the start of revolution - that movement in society should be possible and a caste system based on alt mode is unethical - aligns quite nicely with what he’d already aspired to do with his life. His conscription to the side of the autobots is just another instance in which his autonomy is cast aside.

Whirl is a tool. Whirl had a passion for watchmaking, but now he can’t, so his new passion is violence. Whirl is a gun and someone else has always told him where to point and all he’s ever been given for his cooperation is the blame of pulling the trigger. Whirl is an asshole, Whirl is unpredictable, Whirl isn’t a mech anybody would ever think twice about saving - the answer would always be no. Whirl wants to die. Whirl only wants to die on his own terms and he’ll be damned if he’s going to keel over under the orders of someone he doesn’t respect, for a cause he doesn’t believe in.

A few years of this sort of treatment would be enough to drive anyone insane, let alone the millennia of warfare he suffered through. Worse yet is the one time he found a group, a team that was known for the unorthodox and taking on the big messy challenges, the Wreckers kicked him out. Whirl was too much for the mechs that were too much and there’s no way in hell that doesn’t still sting.

That’s how we get here:

Whirl defends himself through isolation from others. He can’t be hurt by others if he never lets them close enough to be hurt by. In a hypersocial society, he has no close long-term friends, he is one of the few with no roommate aboard the Lost Light. He made himself as unpalatable as possible. He’s crass, he’s volatile, he makes it clear with every word and action that Whirl is first, you don’t mean anything, I’d leave you for dead in an instant..... But that’s not true, is it?

Whirl is shown being completely, dramatically, self-destructively caring throughout the series. Between risking his life for the scraplet colony disguised as a protoform, participating in an untested spark jumpstart to save a life, coming up with a plan to rejuvenate Tailgate’s spark, and performing a spark transplant surgery on Megatron - without whom the world would never have been even a fraction as cruel to Whirl as it had been - Whirl is far from the most selfish character in the series. It’s in his nature, however, to deny such, to the point where he more than likely believes his own narrative that he’s irredeemable, self-absorbed, invincible, degenerate, and neither capable nor deserving of close interpersonal relationships.

It’s also how we get here:

Whirl is one of the characters that we more frequently see in a state of disrepair. He fights passionately and recklessly, with no regard whatsoever to whether or not he makes it out of a scrum with all his limbs intact. Injuries like these, and those that he experiences elsewhere in the series, would put other mechs out of commission through pain alone, but as long as Whirl is conscious he doesn’t stop until the fight is over.

As depressing as it is to think that Whirl is simply at this point accustomed to extraordinary pain, it’s even moreso to think about the more likely concept that he wants to be hurt. Whirl doesn’t have control of a lot that happens to him, but do you know what he does have control of? Who he chooses to shit-talk. More often than not we see Whirl being blatantly disrespectful of his superiors, and some of the more dangerous mechs aboard the LL. While obviously his intent when insulting Ultra Magnus isn’t to start a fight, harping on Drift (and subsequently getting cold clocked) or Cyclonus is a little more self-destructive in nature.

While Whirl has been in therapy, we see during the encounter with Fort Max that he’d shared very little of what he actually considered traumatic with Rung. With no material to work with, Rung wouldn’t have been able to give Whirl instructions or advice as far as a healthy coping mechanism, and so I’m firmly of the belief that Whirl goes out of his way to get himself hurt as a way to have a vague sense of control.

On his actions and guilt:

Whirl is immensely guilty. When he’s overcharged, he admits that everything feels like his fault - and unfortunately a lot is. Whirl believes he’s the bad guy, and he’s willing to take the fall for actions that others might find immoral. There’s a lot Whirl has done that he’ll likely never forgive himself for, even if he garnered the ability to start forgiving himself for the small things, but the character he’s created for himself has been part of him for so long that it’s near impossible to tell where to draw the line between caricature and his genuine self.

At this point in time, Whirl is not capable of improving himself without external assistance.

He has accepted (however wrongfully) that he is not cared about, trusted, wanted, or respected.

His assumptions become self-fulfilling prophecy as he - consciously or not - works to perpetuate his image. Whirl is a dick, he’s unfazed by anything anyone says about him, if someone is insulting him they’re probably right, why bother arguing unless it’s with the intent to get in a fight? He doesn’t pay attention to others, he doesn’t pay attention to himself, nothing that anybody could say could possibly make a difference.

Right? Right?

Wrong. Part of what makes Whirl so heart-wrenchingly tragic is that it is so incredibly clear that nobody has ever told him he mattered. Rodimus throws out what could be interpreted as a snide remark, “even the crazy bastard makes a difference,” and that aside sticks with him. Millions of years of warfare, of being a tool to use, an expendable soldier, a rabid dog to throw at their enemies, and not once did someone turn around and say he was anything good. He’s been thanked for saving lives, for contributions, for individual acts, but his reaction to Rodimus really cements in my mind that nobody has ever said that he, that Whirl, was important.

Whirl is a broken character. He’s subsumed by his own self-hatred that he perpetuates and justifies with a mask of cruel indifference and aggressively abrasive snark. He’s alone, by what he thinks is his own choice but is really a horribly misguided attempt to keep himself safe. He’s got no potential for growth unless someone wants to force their way through his defenses in order to help him find the line between who he is and who he pretends to be in order to keep from being hurt. Whirl is terrified of abandonment, and guarantees that nobody will ever be able to leave him by never letting them come close to begin with. He’s not a good person, he’s violent and callous and has little regard for the consequences of his actions, but he is that way because of the life he was forced to lead. He falls into consistent patterns because he craves control, even if those patterns are self destructive. It’s proof of the little growth he was allowed during the course of MTMTE/LL that after their quest was over, he didn’t attempt suicide again but instead got into the revolving door of incarceration for petty offenses.

All in all, Whirl is one of the saddest characters in any media I’ve consumed and please someone get this despicable bastard helicopter a new therapist and a stiff drink

#maccadam #whirl #mtmte whirl #character analysis #transformers

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