#Learning to love and appreciate one another

[inkoutsidethelines]

Hoo boy. Okay. This reply got my attention, and I'm going to do my best to answer each point you raise. Because I think this is an incredibly bad faith reading of the Jedi and the Star Wars movies in general.

The Jedi are Detached from reality as it is perceived by humans.

There is absolutely nothing in the movies that supports this claim. Nor is there anything in the movies that support your claim that the Jedi don't perceive time in a linear fashion. Yes, some Jedi get glimpses of the future, or the past, but that is in no way the same thing as fully experiencing time in a non linear fashion.

Genuinely, I don't know where you got this idea from. I can't think of a single moment from any of the movies that supports it. You have simply made up a headcanon about the Jedi and decided that it was true.

Anakin, a person who clearly suffers from borderline personality disorder which comes with symptoms such as fear of abandonment, an unstable view of the self, devaluing or overvaluing relationships to the point placing of one’s self-worth entirely in another person’s hands, and more, literally needs unconditional love and support.

Anakin does not clearly suffer from borderline personality disorder. The movies don't support that, and no interview I've ever seen from George Lucas supports that. This is, again, a headcanon that you made up and have decided it's true.

He was simultaneously considered the “chosen one” and considered a burden or a problem.

Exactly one Jedi made a big deal about Anakin being the Chosen One: Qui-Gon. That's it. The Jedi don't treat Anakin any different than any other member of their order. Heck, potentially being the Chosen One wasn't even enough to convince the Council to let him join the Order in the first place!

As for treating him like a problem/burden...well, no, not really. Not in the movies. They get frustrated when he disobeys orders, but that's a fair reaction. Obi-Wan corrects him when he's getting too emotional, but that's literally Obi-Wan's job as Anakin's Master. They're upset when Palpatine forces them to give Anakin a seat on the Council, but that has less to do with Anakin and more to do with not appreciating Palpatine trying to manage Jedi business.

And that’s not even touching on how in Phantom Menace he created strong bonds with both Qui-Gon and Padmé only to have both of the ripped away right after he’d left behind everything he knew and loved.

...I'm not sure what you expect the Jedi to do about that? Qui-Gon died, and Padme was a Queen who had to go back to her own planet.

And Anakin choose to leave Tatooine and his mother behind to try and become a Jedi. Shmi encouraged him to go! And certainly an argument can be made that a nine year old can't fully understand that decision, but Qui-Gon did his best to explain what that choice meant, and that a Jedi's way of life is hard.

Anakin made choices. So did Qui-Gon, and so did Padme. The Jedi can't help any of that.

He was NINE and being told that everything he ever learned was wrong and backwards and leads to being evil and that he needs to be perfect for anyone else to think he belonged because even the smallest mistake would just confirm their preconceived beliefs about him.

I'm going to need some references for this claim, because I don't remember ever being shown this in any of the movies.

The Jedi are shown to respect other cultures, but Jedi have their own culture and standards that one must live up to in order to be a Jedi. There's nothing wrong with that! The Jedi are allowed to have their own culture, and they're allowed to have standards about who can join them.

Anakin never would have become anything like Vader without Sidious leading him.

It's quite possible that this is true. Though he did murder a whole tribe of Tusken Raiders, women and children included, years before he became Vadar. That being said, no amount of lies and manipulation from Sidious excuses the choice Anakin made to betray the Jedi and murder younglings.

That was a choice that Anakin made. Sidious didn't force his hand. Anakin made the decision that the chance of saving Padme - from a fate he didn't know for sure she'd experience! - was worth betraying the Jedi, worth murdering younglings, worth overthrowing the Republic and turning it into an Empire.

Anakin doesn’t view Padmé as a possession, I don’t know why anyone would think that.

Well - to stick to a movie example, since you indicated you don't consider the Clone Wars show to be canon - it could be because he never bothered to consult her in his "I will murder a bunch of younglings and help Sidious start an Empire to save Padme's life" plan, to see if she was actually okay with it. And once she finds out after the fact, and she IS NOT okay with it, Anakin responds by Force choking her.

That's why I call Anakin selfish and possessive. Because ultimately, he didn't care about Padme's feelings or opinions. Even if Anakin had been right that she was definitely going to die and Sidious would save her, Padme still would not have agreed to wiping out the Jedi and destroying the Republic to save her own life. Anakin doesn't just betray the Jedi and the Republic. He betrays Padme, her beliefs and values, because he can't stand the thought of being without her.

As for the unconditional love you say he needed? Padme did love him unconditionally. She loved him after he murdered a whole tribe of Tuskan Raiders. She loved him when she knew he was lying and keeping secrets from the Jedi Order that trusted him. She loved him after he betrayed the Jedi Order and the Republic, offering to run away with him and live hiding out from the Empire with their baby. Padme loved Anakin unconditionally and it wasn't enough for him.

Because Anakin was selfish. And he wanted everything. And he couldn't have it.

"no attachments" in SW literally just means "don't be selfish and possessive". that's it. that's all there is. doesn't mean jedi can't have friends and loved ones. they can. just. don't be possessive and selfish about it. don't murder thousands of people in an effort to save one.

[pureastrologywisdom]

𝐻𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒜 𝒬𝓊𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓊𝓃𝓍

Having two planets that are quincunx/inconjunct can be confusing. Having planets in conjunct means they don't share a modality or an element, so they are fundamentally different. This helps us understand why these energies can be so hard to come to terms with in our chart. Often aspects in a chart are about planetary energies blending in some way. SO what do you do when you have an aspect that refuses to blend?

This is the Complexity of a quincunx.

One thing I have learned, from having a quincunx in my chart, and seeing it in others is that often this idea of 'blending' this aspect can do more harm than good. These two planets are like strong individuals who have their own way of working, whilst you want them to get along, you don't necessarily want to make them change themselves completely just to be seen as more likeable?

Often one planets needs are already being met, however the other is more neglected. This can leave you feeling as if there is something missing that you can quite put you finger on. As if you should be happy but something just isn't quite there. Another thing I have seen is the person feeling shame around one of the planets needs in this inconjunction, leading them to ignore it. Another thing I have seen is someone trying to prioritise one planet in this aspect, thinking if the focus more on these needs with themselves that they will feel more whole.

My suggestion to anyone who has a quincunx in their chart is to try and understand these planets energies individually first. What does each of thees placements mean for you? What can you learn from them. How does it influence you?

Appreciating them individually can help you then understand how these two point can work together. It can be confusing when one part of you craves one things, whilst another values something more different. But that is also the nuance of being human.

I have mentioned this before but I think that having an in conjunction can actually make someone more interesting. There us something a little unexplainable about them.

Look at what each planet means, and what they need being in these certain signs and elements. Then see how they can work together, not Necessarily blend into each other. You have to learn to appreciate these two aspects of yourself for this aspect to come into full force. If you are only acknowledging one side, as mentioned, things won't feel quite right for you. Learn to value both sides of yourself, and acknowledge and understand both needs.

Hey everyone,

Thank you for reading, and feel free to leave suggestion as to what you would like me to write about in the future.

Message me if you would like to discuss booking a reading

I currently have two big three readings available for this week ~ £6

And one self connection reading ~ £20

Love from,

PureAstroWisdom x

[mynameismckenziemae]

🕸mm’s kinktober 2024🕷

Cockwarming // Collaring

Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader x Jake Seresin

(This is the throuple from I Love You Two but can be read as a stand-alone).

Warnings: Smut. 18+ only! MDNI!

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

“Keep going,” Bradley murmurs as you slowly sink down on his cock, gasping again at the fullness with the plug in your ass, “I know you can take it.”

Bradley’s patience is endless. It’s something you normally appreciate, but not when he’s punishing you. It’s been close to an hour that he’s been making you warm his cock; keeping you on edge the whole time by making you lift up before guiding you back down to repeat the torture.

Body trembling, you pause to look back at Bradley, waiting for his reaction when Jake whines from his place in the corner.

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

Bradley had texted earlier that he would be a little late coming home and that you and Jake needed to wait for him. It only took one look when he saw Jake’s head between your thighs when he walked in the door to know you were both in trouble.

“I told you to wait,” Bradley punctuates his words with quick, harsh slaps to Jake’s ass.

Arousal coats your thighs from your place in the corner. It doesn’t matter that you’re not able to watch, just the sound of Jake getting spanked is turning you on. Knowing you’re next isn’t helping either…

“I had plans,” Bradley sighs as he pauses the assault, and when Jake moans, you know he’s rubbing the sting out, “I got you both a little something but I don’t know if either of you deserves it.”

Though Bradley was deliciously mean when he wanted to be, he couldn’t resist slipping the braided leather collar around Jake’s neck while he sucked him off before it was your turn over his lap.

“There’s 3 strands,” Bradley sighed as Jake pushed him quickly to the edge with his mouth, “tied together; like we are.”

Later, he clasped the choker around your neck after pulling you up, your trembling back to his chest while the tears still fell from your eyes.

“There’s one for me too,” he said loud enough for Jake to hear, “maybe I’ll wear it sometime if the two of you can ever behave.”

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he nips your bottom lip as his hands guide your hips down further before he says to Jake, “and I told you to be quiet. Were you lying when I asked if you learned your lesson?”

“No sir,” you answer quickly, wincing and sucking in a shaky breath when the tender skin of your ass meets Bradley’s hips again.

“What about you?” Bradley asks Jake while his hands find your waist, keeping you still, “Do you need another trip across my lap, princess?”

“No sir,” Jake moans, ass clenching around the blue-jeweled plug Bradley pushed inside before turning it as red as yours feels.

“That’s what I thought,” Bradley chuckles, “Alright, c’mere. No,” he shakes his head when Jake begins to rise, “crawl.”

Jake’s flush spans over his chest, neck, and face as he swallows thickly before crawling across the room. His humiliation is obvious but his cock hangs hard and heavy between his thighs, dripping precum on the floor.

“Isn’t he pretty?” Bradley breathes against your neck, reaching out to slide his fingers under the collar when he gets close enough.

“He is,” you agree, wanting to reach for him too but not knowing if it’s allowed and not wanting to find out the hard way if it isn’t.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Bradley says, tugging a little, “she’s gonna suck your cock while she rides me. Neither of you can cum before me.”

Jake’s eyes flick to yours and he gulps when he sees the mischievous look reflecting back at him.

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

A/N: I just adore mean!dom!bradley 😮‍💨

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[mo0ngoth1c]

it's funny because i thought 24 will be someone i will love forever. he deserves it. but once i got older, i realized that it was not true. he will always be special in my heart, but never love.

i never exactly thought that it would be you. the one i'll love forever, near or far. i don't even know if that love is for being a friend or more but does that matter? what's important is i love you. i love you as a person. i love you as you. it doesn't matter if you will be my friend still after not reconnecting (no matter how i want to) for so long. i just know, i love you. and maybe you'll never know how much i do. i learned to live with that for 6 years so i think i can do it again. and again. and again. i'll live with it.

it has been hard without you. i miss my friend. i miss hugging you. i miss listening to your stories. i miss our bond. i miss everything. we live near each other but we can't even see each other. you have become the person i can't imagine losing, let alone our entire friend group. and it hurt that i have to hide that pain with my partner.

i thought 24 is my the one that got away. turns out it was you. my forever what if. my forever almost. but forever seeing as a friend. i miss you so.

we're not getting younger. we cannot deal with all the what ifs forever. if you loved me more, you would have done more. but you didn't. i am secured now with my partner and i have to learn to be happy with what i chose.

i will forever appreciate that little effort you did to talk to me through our friend and tell me how much you miss me. i'm sorry i can't do more.

well, maybe in another life? maybe.

୨୧ ˚ ・₊✧

[extraordinarilyextreme]

on 妖 yao (and 慕声 Mu Sheng) in 永夜星河 Love Game in Eastern Fantasy (2024)

crossposted from a twitter thread!

there are SO many things i love about YYXH, but something i really appreciate is their portrayal of 妖 yao.

in ep. 10, Mu Sheng says, “人心有七窍，妖心只有一窍。所以大多数妖物的品行都简单执拗。” / "Human hearts have seven apertures [are complex and calculating]; but yao hearts have only one [are simple]. That's why the conduct of most yao creatures is uncomplicated and obstinate."

窍 / apertures (openings; orifices) are where the human body is connected to the outside world. as such, 七窍 seven orifices usually refers to the eyes (2), nose (2 nostrils), ears (2), and mouth (1). BUT...

in the context of the heart, it more often alludes to the virtuous character of 比干 Prince Bigan from the Ming dynasty novel 《封神演义》 Investiture of the Gods.

there, it was said that 圣人之心有七窍 / the hearts of saints [good men] have seven apertures...

...so, of course, the righteous and smart Bigan was rumored to possess a 七窍玲珑心 / lit. delicate seven aperture heart.

Bigan's story didn't end well (his heart was cut out by order of the infamous King Zhou of Shang), but 七窍玲珑 still means "clever and quick-witted."

now... 窍 can mean "opening"—but another way to say so could be 眼 / eye (or, "hole"). that is, we can draw a near-equivalency between 七窍玲珑心 / lit. seven-chambered heart and 多心眼 / lit. many heart's eyes; an overabundance of concern...

in particular, 多心眼 (or to say that someone 心眼多) not only implies wit and sharpness (i.e., "having a lot of thoughts"), but also some level of cunning and shrewdness. that is, to be "mindful of many things" means one is "considering of many things" and "calculating."

hence, returning to Mu Sheng's explanation: humans are crafty, always thinking of a hundred other variables and planning another hundred steps ahead. (that's why humans betray and deceive and hurt one another...)

but yao are simple.

yao don't have so many of these excess considerations. if they are hungry, they will seek to feed. if they are hurt, they will fight back. if they are scared, they will hide. if they are cared for, they will respond with equal gentleness.

in other words: yao are not human.

and this distinction is what made so many classic xianxias and yao-centric stories so compelling (think 白素贞 Bai Suzhen from the romance folktale 白蛇传 White Snake Legend).

to discuss our beloved 慕声 Mu Sheng as an example: it can be easy to say he has a jiejie-complex or is almost yandere-like about 慕瑶 Mu Yao, but we have to remember that as half-yao, he doesn't operate on the same frame of reference as humans. Mu Yao is the one person who has been consistently kind to him since he was young, and so he will reciprocate that kindness to (human standards of) extremity. likewise, when our cutie-pie 凌妙妙 Ling Miaomiao regards him with kindness, Mu Sheng will feel inclined to answer that with affections a hundred or a thousand times stronger.

though he grew up among humans, Mu Sheng's yao half should not be forgotten. humans may be fickle in their feelings; but yao (in general) will not be. once they have found someone worth their affections, they will love fiercely and to a terrifying degree. you can also understand it as yao not necessarily posessing the same understanding of 分寸 / "propriety" that humans do.

so, again, yao are not human—and that is why their stories have always been so compelling to us. we place limits on our conduct and behavior for a variety of socially-imposed and learned reasons, but yao as an imperfect reflection of our human selves allow us to live out our "fantasies" of extremity.

i think the new era of xianxias have largely traded that yao-human distinction for other things, like eye-catching CGI, flowy costumes, and the three lives, three worlds formula—which are, of course, not inherently bad.

YYXH itself is part of this new chapter of storytelling/the genre of xianxias after all (esp. given its existence as a 古偶), but that is ultimately precisely why it stands out so much to me.

is it the first or only xianxia in recent years to show that yao are nuanced? that yao are neither all good nor all bad? — of course not!

but i think it is undoubtedly among the very, very few in recent years that has successfully portrayed just what it is that makes yao so uniquely compelling. and that is due in large part to both strong writers (who also did 《苍兰诀》 Love Between Fairy and Devil) and strong actors.

in short, YYXH feels like a labor of love. love for the original 《黑莲花攻略手册》 novel; love for the xianxia genre; love for storytelling, in an era driven by capitalistic cash-grabs and the ruthlessness of c-ent.

the reality of that is up for debate, but as one individual viewer, i want to say that this drama has made me very happy. it is both respectful of and pays homage to the yao of classic xianxias.

and to be able to share and enjoy that cultural artefact—something that is so uniquely and immutably Chinese—with others, is something that brings me a lot of joy. ✨

[tetzoro]

⟡ — zoro roronoa x reader. fluff. zoro calls reader woman once. kind of a continuation of this. divider by cafekitsune. — WC : 954

Since a young age, you’ve always been fond of the flowers that grew in your village. Greedy little hands would pluck every single one that caught your eye, tucking it away with you to store in the vase that resided by your bedside or safely nestled them behind your ears.

As you grew older though, your hands stopped itching to reach for them as much, guilt locking your fingertips from picking a flower and ripping it from its home.

That is, until you found ways to preserve the beauty. Such as creating beautiful bouquets for your friends, watching their faces light up with a smile that will forever shine in your memories.

Or quietly reserving the petals of the colors you were sweet on, pressing them between the crinkled pages of your journals to cherish forever.

The beauty was to be shared, to be appreciated. Each flower had a meaning and a story behind it.

“What are you doing?” Zoro gruffs out. Despite the roughness of the question, his eye remains shut, at peace with whatever you were up to.

“Sit still.” You hiss down at him even though he hasn’t made any attempt to flee from you. Many moons ago, he would’ve flinched away from the tenderness of your fingers dancing across his skin, but now he tolerates it. More than that, he’s learned to welcome it, to allow himself to melt under your loving touch.

“‘m not moving, woman.” But the question still lingers in his mind. Your constant picking and prodding at his hair, preening in a way that he’s never known piques his curiosity.

“I’m just playing with your hair.” You’re kneeled beside where he had settled in for his afternoon nap. Next to you lay a pile of various flora that you had gathered from your latest excursion.

Normally, Zoro was the one to gift you a flower from the island and the one that he had given you remains sweetly tucked behind your ear. But you had plucked some of your own this time with a very important mission in mind.

Each one has been delicately plaited into Zoro’s hair, the green serving as a beautiful canvas for a garden of flowers to blossom in. If he truly knew what you were up to, he’d probably swat your hands away and sport a blush that rivals the pink camellia that twirls between your fingertips.

The secrets you plant in the tuft of his hair makes you smile, a language that has yet to be deciphered by the man below you. Each flower held a feeling or a thought that carried the longing that laid within your heart.

Devotion, passion, loyalty, understanding.

One by one you plant the meanings along his head, letting the breeze kiss along the petals and swirl the floral aroma into the whispers of the wind in hopes that he’ll finally hear the gentle call of your love.

“There.” You smile, proud of your work. Dots of color decorate his hair, brightening up the green that lay underneath. Zoro cracks his eye open, peering up at you.

“I know that look.” He squinted, shifting around. His calloused hand flies up to his head before you have time to properly react, pinching onto a white daisy and letting it fall to the palm of his hand. He's quiet for a moment as he studies the plant. “Huh?”

“You like it?” you tease, grinning from ear to ear. He continues to take a few more out, inspecting each of them. “Hey! You’re ruining my hard work.”

He pauses at that, ever the sucker for you. With a heavy sigh, he takes the flowers that lay defensively in his hand and tucks the daisy behind your other ear. And then the rose petals upon your head. And then another, the carnation that compliments the one that he wears like a crown.

“There.” He crossed his arms with a familiar pout on his lips, but the air of acceptance wraps around you like a warm blanket. “Happy now?”

“Very.” The grin that spreads across your face and coats your features in a syrupy sweet joy causes his heart to thump a little quicker in the confines of his chest.

Zoro glimpses at you again from the corner of his sharp eye, his stoic mask cracking under the sunbeam that makes up your smile. The telltale signs of the subtle twitch of his lip, the fondness pooling in his steely iris, his large palm wrapping around your waist all emerge right before he tugs you into his hold.

“When are you going to tell me about the meanings of these things anyway?” He asks as you maneuver into a comfortable position, settling yourself in his lap.

The salty air licks at your face, the warmth of the rays that peek through the clouds seep into your skin and you figure maybe now is a good time to open the floodgates of your heart and let it all pour out into his awaiting hands.

Leaning forward, you swipe your thumb along his bottom lip, soaking up his sharp intake of air before closing the distance between you two.

The gentle kiss blossoms into a graceful dance that showcases all of your shared feelings, tongues tangling to spell out the unshed words that weigh on both of your hearts — I love you.

You’re not sure who pulls away first, foreheads kissing together as your lungs fight to steady themselves against the erratic beat of your hearts.

“Must I tell you things you already know?” You smile, eyes crinkling with affection.

“Yes.” Zoro breathes out, gaze falling back to your lips. “Because the words always sound so sweet coming out of your mouth.”

[hotdsworld]

"Property" Aemond Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen x F!Stark!Reader

a/n: hello again! Y'all, ofc I'm getting back with more horny. Starting off with hotd but I have a fair share of filthy also for Avatar lovers. Dividers from lovely @cafekitsune

Summary: An arranged marriage or not, that man still belongs to you and you only.

Word count: 3,2k

Warnings: 18+, subby Aemond, hair pulling, 69, piv, handjob, no protection, breeding, bondage, impreg, dom Reader

You were the Lady of the North, younger sister of the formidable Cregan Stark. Your heart was as cold and unyielding as Winterfell itself, yet it seemed to beat a little bit differently whenever he was with others. It was beneath you to be jealous, especially of your arranged husband, whom you claimed to not care for. Prideful as you were, your pride seemed insignificant now as you watched the wench clinging to his arm. It wasn't the jealousy that gnawed at you, it was the disrespect he showed towards your marriage. Arranged or not, it was still a marriage.

The other ladies mingled with such ease, their charm and beautiful smiles flowing effortlessly. Why was it so difficult for you? You were his wife, yet you couldn't seem to catch his attention as they did. Sometimes, you wish you learned the art of charm instead of hunting… it would make everything so much easier.

Once his eye met yours you shook your head, feigning disinterest. Aemond smirked, clearly relishing the sight of you bothered by him receiving the attention of another lady. Was it the jealousy that fueled your glare, or did you truly despise him to look at him with such disdain? It didn't matter to Aemond. He knew that a wolf can be tamed, it just requires patience… and he had plenty of it. He had no interest in other ladies especially when they spoke of nonsense he did not wish to hear about, but seeing you like this? Looking as if you wanted to murder the lady and even him for looking at her? He could not resist teasing you a bit, enjoying the fire in your eyes. Aemond leaned a little closer to the lady, who seemed so joyful about the little gesture. You rolled your eyes, getting back to the castle. You wished to stay composed and something about Aemond chatting so nicely with others made your blood boil.

It was evening. The time when Aemond could finally relax if only a little. His perfectly straight hair had now taken on its natural curls, a look you secretly preferred, though you would never admit it. You watched him intently, as if there was something new to discover. He was sitting by the fire, absentmindedly playing with his fingers. You wondered what he was thinking about… his family? Your marriage? You didn't turn your gaze from him even for a second. You couldn't deny his attractiveness, biting your lip as you imagined all the things those slender fingers could do to you-

“Perhaps you are somewhat a predator. Always watching, no?” His voice broke the silence, pulling you out of your thoughts. Though he didn't turn to look at you, you felt the full weight of his attention on you. He was a mystery yet to be solved. You took a deliberate step closer, your eyes running all over his figure, almost appreciatively. He was truly like prey to you, and it was up to you what you were going to do with him. You took a step towards him, wondering if you should sit on the armchair beside him or remain standing. Standing was putting you in the dominant position, sitting offered some kind of intimacy… You crossed your arms on your chest.

“If you know I'm watching it means you are observing too,” you remarked, not failing to notice the slight crack in his smile. Aemond didn't expect his wife to be so perceptive. The realization seemed to amuse him. You licked your lips, carefully considering your next move. The room was filled with unspoken tension, a silent battle of wills.

“One would want to know what his wife is up to, don't you think?” A hint of challenge in his tone. You would gladly take one. You moved closer, stopping right in front of him. He was much taller than you, but now that he was sitting he was the one who needed to look up. His eye took in your face even though he knew it like the back of his hand. You were always hidden in Winterfell, he needed to admit: his mother made a great choice to betroth him to you. Such a hidden gem… who would have thought? Aemond never seemed so fascinated by a lady until now.

You leaned in slightly, your presence commanding his full attention, and he was gladly giving it to you. Your fingers traced a light path down his hair. So soft and silky… you always wondered how it would feel beneath your fingers. You tugged on it, unable to stop yourself. Aemond tensed, not respecting such boldness from you. His reaction only fueled your confidence. You moved even closer, your breath warm against his neck. You didn't know why you were getting close… you felt the need to claim and the prey was right there, ready to be devoured. You sat on his lap comfortably, your fingers trailing to his collar… your touch was light but deliberate. His eye followed your every movement, a mix of curiosity and desire in his gaze. You leaned closer, your lips brushing against his sensitive neck. Aemond began to breathe heavily; he felt like if you didn't stop, he was going to rip your clothes apart and take you right there on the floor like a teasing slut that you are.

“What do you want?” His voice husky. Aemond felt that if you asked him nicely, he would do anything for you. You were dangerous, perhaps he underestimated you and your power. You pretended to think about it, even though you knew damn well what you needed from him.

“I want you to take your clothes off,” you stood up. His jaw clenched as your touch left him abruptly. Aemond hated being submissive, but somehow deep inside of him made him remove his tunic. You watched with fascination almost. “The eyepatch too. I want you to be truly naked.” You had him concerned, your prey… maybe the hunting skills are useful here after all. He stood naked as you admired him in his full glory. It seemed like all the training paid off. You couldn't help but think of what you wanted to do to him… you wanted to own the Targaryen Prince. You wanted him to be completely and utterly yours. You grabbed a few of your ropes which were hidden beneath the bed. Aemond raised his eyebrow, as if questioning you..

“Do you want me to tie you up, Zokli?” Aemond could already imagine you squirming underneath him as he pounds into you without any breaks, he would have you screaming.

“That little wolf is going to tie YOU up, dragon.” Aemond didn't even have a chance to protest. You pushed him back on the bed, your hands working swiftly on the knots. After you restricted his movement, you tied him up to the bed; he was completely at your mercy… It was new to Aemond, but he found himself finding it exciting. His cock rock hard, begging for attention.

“Aren't you going to undress too?” He wanted to see his little wolf naked. He wanted to admire your boobs and that gorgeous ass. You smirked, sitting on the bed beside him. Painfully close, yet not touching him. Aemond was frustrated, any woman would have been pleasuring him by now or begging for him to take her… but not you.

“Bold of you to assume you deserve to see it, my lord husband,” your fingers moved up his thigh. Before, you wouldn't expect that you would get the Targaryen prince in such a position. You found yourself enjoying it more than you should. You paused right before your hand could touch his cock, Aemond groaned, clearly displeased with your teasing.

“Do you see how hard I am for you, Zokli?” Aemond wanted to boost your ego, he just needed you to touch him. It felt like his balls were going to explode. How could he allow you to trap him like this? Maybe you were a witch, that would explain everything…

“Tell me,” your fingers trail around the length of his cock. You wanted it inside of you so bad, but you couldn't just let him have it all right away. Aemond looked into your eyes, curious of what you wanted to hear from him. He would do anything to feel more of you, no matter how much he despised himself for it. You spit on your hand to smear it all over his cock a while later. You began to stroke slowly, not breaking eye contact. Aemond grunts as your touch sends waves of pleasure through his body. “Tell me how much better I am than them. Tell me they don't get you as hard as I do,” maybe you were outing yourself by asking for it, but you needed to hear it. You needed to know your lord husband treasures you the most. You wanted him obsessed, unable to look away from you. Aemond did want to tease you for your jealousy but he answered before his brain could register it.

“They will never be as interesting as you. In a room full of women I see only you. It matters not if my gaze is on them, in my head there's only you. The best fucking thing is you don't seem to notice how tempting you are. If I look at you for too long I'm already leaking precum, princess” he will hate himself after for it, but right now his judgment was clouded by pleasure. His pride didn't matter, none of it mattered. Only the feeling of your hand moving up and down his cock. “Don't stop,” it was a demand, it was supposed to be a demand but it came out more like a plea. Aemond could feel himself getting closer. He didn't settle for ladies of a brothel or the court, so his balls were full. You paused, savoring the moment, the power you held over him. Aemond clenched his jaw as you ruined his orgasm. You giggled innocently, getting rid of your gown. Aemond admired your body, he wished he could suck on those breasts. You were perfect.

“Now now, I deserve some pleasure too, don't you think? You can't move, I know” you straddled his face, your dripping wet pussy hovering over his face. You leaned down forward, to get the access to his cock, settling nicely in sixty-nine position.

“Sit on my face, stop fucking playing,” he growled, eager to get a taste of you. If he wasn't tied up he would pull you down and eat you out until tomorrow, but you have to be fucking clever. You offered him a few playful kisses on the tip before sucking on the head of his cock, your hands grasping his balls, massaging them. You were gradually taking him deeper, sucking eagerly as your hands played with his balls. Aemond's eye surrounded as a moan left his lips. You lowered yourself on his face, knowing that he's close but he didn't complain, licking all over your wet folds before pushing his tongue inside of you. He was sloppy with eating you out, humming and moaning both from the way you sucked his cock and how you tasted. You kept going, moaning around his cock, moving your hips to get more of his tongue. You were getting close and so was he… when you felt him tense you straightened your back, getting away from his cock. Aemond groaned against your cunt, but didn't stop his ministrations. You were cruel, but maybe he did deserve it for teasing you for days. You pulled on his curls as the pleasure began to build up, unable to control yourself. You needed to hold onto something and his hair was perfect for it. You closed your eyes, desperately pulling on his hair and moving your hips. With every pull his cock twitched, Aemond felt like he was going to cum untouched. You pulled once more as the orgasm washed over you, your thighs shaking. Aemond eagerly devoured your sweet juices, licking you clean. You closed your eyes, taking a moment to catch your breath. You sat beside him, fingers running down his abs.

“You are going to pay for this,” he threatened, even though it sounded rather pathetic now. You straddled him lazily, grinding against his cock. He was painfully hard and you found yourself enjoying driving him crazy in such a way.

“Now now, be nice or you won't get to fuck my pussy, my lord husband” you grinned, grinding against him. You wanted it as much as he did, but you had to punish him for getting too friendly with those wenches, no? He deserved to be treated like this, he deserved to be forced into submission.

“Stop teasing,” he groaned, clearly frustrated. Aemond needed to cum, he needed to feel your pussy, he needed to fuck you. No matter how hard he struggled against the ropes they wouldn't give in. You smiled innocently, looking at him as if you had no idea of what he was talking about. It turned into an evil smirk real quick. Your fingers playing with his hair.

“Beg me. Beg me to ride you, Aemond. I want you to beg and convince me that you are only mine,” you tugged on his hair, as if urging him to do as you wished. Aemond closed his eye, frustrated with you. He was torn between obeying and telling you off. How dare you? Asking a Prince to beg for a fuck? There were many eager for him, yet he chose to chase after you. His cock was aching and he wasn't thinking clearly, he needed to be inside of you. To beg was to show weakness, and it wasn't something he could afford. Yet, you held more power over him than he would like to admit.

“I don't beg,” he said sharply, trying to detach himself from the situation. He couldn't allow you to dominate him, not like this. Aemond never begged in his life and he didn't wish to change it. Aemond acted as he wasn't the pathetic one, all tied up, just waiting for your mercy.

“Prideful as ever, Aemond. But pride won't get you what you desire,” you grind against him, as to remind him what he can get if he begs. Aemond wanted to strangle you right there, how could you play with him like this? If he allows this… what else will he allow? You were dangerous.

“Laughing now… you won't be laughing once the ropes are off,” a predatory gleam in his eye. Aemond was too deep in this. He needed you, right here right now. Aemond took a deep breath, cursing himself. “You want me to beg?” His voice dropping to a whisper. You watched him intently, noticing how hard it is for him. “Please, Zokli. I need you more than anything else. I would set the Realm on the fire if you asked me to. Your every wish shall be my command. The gods knew what they were doing, intertwining the fate of a dragon and a wolf. Ride this cock until you’re sick of it, it's completely yours. I will rip my heart out of my chest if you only asked me to. Please,” he was desperate. He wasn't sure if he wanted you to believe him only for sex or if there was something deeper in it. You bit your lip, wondering if you should make him suffer more, but decided against it. You sank down onto his cock, savoring the way in which it was stretching you out. A small gasp left Aemond's lips as your velvety walls surrounded his cock. You began to move slowly, letting yourself adjust to his size. Aemond forced himself to keep his eye open, watching how your body moved on top of him. He was never on the bottom, but it was fucking hot to see you like this.

“Such a charmer you are,” you began to bounce on his thick cock faster, driving both of you crazy. You tugged on his hair, relishing in the way his cock twitched every single time. His cock was filling you up perfectly, leaving no room for anything else.

“Ride that cock, you slut. You were jealous? Show me that it's yours,” he urged, grunting with every bounce of yours. He was already close, but he held himself back for now. Aemond didn't want to cum before you. With your other hand, you began to tease your clit. “Fuck, you’re clenching when you do that,” Aemond hissed, trying to hold back the lewd sounds from coming out of his mouth. But every time you pulled on his curly hair he would moan like a slut. The pleasure began to build in your stomach, so you increased the pace. You were sure you would break the bed that way, but you didn't care. All that mattered was that cock inside of you.

“I was jealous,” you admit, caring not if he was going to tease you about it later. Aemond is your husband and you will be damned before anyone else gets him. “But I found a perfect solution. What a better way of showing how good our marriage is than a babe? They all will know you fuck me… and the ladies will back off because you’re pain. My property, my prey, my lord husband. Mine,” you were feral, but it was all because of him. Aemond was driving you crazy this whole time. He smirked upon hearing your words.

“Well, get yourself pregnant, Zolki. A whole litter of pups,” he sucked on your breasts. You tilted your head back, moaning loudly as he sucked on it hungrily, marking all over your chest. Every once in a while you would pull on his hair, so he doesn't forget who's truly in control… but Aemond loved it. No one could touch his hair, no one but you. “Take my seed, all of it. Carry it in your womb proudly, like a trophy. Show them who is the wife of Aemond Targaryen,” he interrupted himself just to encourage you, groaning as your pussy clenched around his dick. Aemond moved a bit, beginning to thrust up into you from underneath. Your eyes rolled back as you rubbed circles against your clit.

“Please, cum in me. Cum in me, Aemond. Show me that you are mine and fill up my womb with your seed. Do it,” you begged-demanded, riding him, desperately chasing your orgasm. Aemond bit your nipple gently, thrusting up into you rough. You screamed as your walls tightened around him and you came undone, pulling his hair hard. Aemond filled you up to the brim with his nice potent warm seed. You laid your head against his chest, exhausted. You were satisfied, it was the best orgasm you have ever had… He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, not attempting to pull out of you. Aemond closed his eye, trying to catch up his breath. No one has made him feel like this before. He didn't care about pride, all he wished to do was pleasing you: as a sub or as a dom, it mattered not because no matter what he is your property.

[dabis-azure-songstress]

could you do headcanons for dabi who’s with a s/o that is a really kind and giving individual. he didn’t like it at first and he thought his s/o being so kind to people who were less fortunate like the homeless was a bad thing but he starts to pick up on their behavior and his s/o catches him doing something nice for something and they both realize he’s started to pick up after his s/o

Ooo, yes, absolutely! I feel like I can relate to this very well. I can already imagine all the things he'll say. I'm sorry this took so long. I've been trying to focus and take a bit better care of myself than I have been, especially with the carpal tunnel. I hope all of you will enjoy these anyway. I feel so bad about not posting here or on my A03. Thank you so much for your request! Please enjoy this, Dabi Goddesses!

Pairing: Dabi w/ S/O that is really kind and giving

Headcanons or one-shot? Headcanons with a small written scenario

Rating: SFW! Warning though! Dabi is sweet at the end and may steal your heart.

"You know they're just going to take advantage of you, don't you? You really need to set boundaries, doll."

At first, it really bothers him how kind and selfless you are and also maybe even makes him a little jealous.

And, he can sound very harsh and occasionally really hurt your feelings sometimes with things he says when he nags you about it, but he really means well.

He really doesn't want to see anyone hurt you or take advantage of you. EVER.

"You really are too kind for your own good. It's going to cause you a lot of trouble one of these days."

"You're such a pushover. You couldn't even tell someone, "No" even if you wanted to."

When he sees he hurts your feelings or upsets you, he does feel bad after, however. Believe me.

After a while though, he really grows to admire you and appreciate you.

After all, it takes a lot of courage to keep being yourself and being selfless, even if sometimes you do get hurt in the process.

You do eventually learn to set some healthier boundaries that Dabi takes note of, and he's proud of you, but he also grows to love how sweet you are.

Eventually, you both don't realize you've rubbed off and made him "softer" a little bit.

One day, you are out of the apartment when you hear a child crying. At first, you think Dabi may have said something rude without meaning to, and upset them, but a glance at the scrapes and blood on their knees proves otherwise. Dabi has kneeled down before them carefully.

"Did you go and hurt yourself there, little bit?"

The little one looks up at him with red and puffy eyes, still rubbing at them, and nods meekly.

"First, I need you to get up...C'mon. You can do it."

Dabi reaches out a hand gingerly and helps the young one to their feet carefully as you watch.

"Wanna see something cool to distract you from the pain a little bit? I'm gonna have Y/N go get you some band-aids and ointment."

Another nod in agreement. Dabi takes in a deep breath and carefully kneels back down to the child's height before he holds out a hand and gently alights a small cerulean flame ablaze in his palm. He glances at you carefully.

When you come back with the band-aids and medicine, you notice the child's laughter filling the air. The child is now fully seated on his lap with him carefully juggling the fire around them.

-----

Now bandaged up and much more dry-eyed and content, the mother soon arrives. It turns out the little one had gotten separated in the rush hour of people. She's surprised to see Dabi entertaining her child so well, despite his looks, but offers him a gentle smile and thanks you both softly as she gathers the little one into her arms.

As they're walking away, Dabi just casts his eyes over you.

"Don't even think about it."

"Think about what?" you smile.

"THAT. Stop it."

You giggle softly at him.

"...Maybe it's not so bad."

"Hm?"

"Maybe it's not so bad being just like you...every once in a while."

You can only smile in return as he grabs your hand and interlaces your fingers.

[brights-place]

TWST Yuu Ramble

A/N: Listen I just wanted to ramble about TWST because its so fun but so messed up fucking hell I could make a lore video. My english is not the greatest still getting accustomed to it but holy shit

Warning: Angst, ANGSTTT

You realize how fucked up twst acutally is

Your known as Yuu the main character and just imagine being so smart so accustomed you have a life you have a job people you care for and that being taken away from you as your dropped off into a different reality filled with magic and all that jazz.

Imagine that you had a partner your mother your family and friends ASWELL being the top of your classes fuck your school even! you had a life the main character YUU HAD A LIFE AND IT WAS TAKEN AWAY!! Thats so fucked up your put into a new area forced to learn from a kindergarten level of the seven Villans in NRC learning all this stuff and how people could be little you because your intellect is not like theres and how you need to change and adapt while putting your mental health at risk.

For fucks sakes your mental health is already shit and being put into a different reality stopping all these over-blots dude Yuu needs to have a fucking break!

The weight would go so far as to giving a panic attack or worse Im a person with tics but just imagine having a tic attack after all the weight of stress because of being some sort of chosen one getting scars for each and every fight not only physical but mental and the only thing pushing you through is going back home. Just fighting to not only see your friends but family.

Yall know that part in the underworld song in epic the musical just the part with the mother ‘waitinggg odysseus when you come home i’ll be waiting’ THE GRIEF OF A MOTHER IS ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU CRY just imagine fighting malleus at the end and your so close to beating him and all you want is just to see your mother and family again.

Now listen im cooking up a giant story for this because how fucked up it is I wanna put realistic ass responses cause the mental breakdowns the scarring all the weight can lead yuu/you to cracking fighting for your life to a world you dont get at all.

I mean I love the characters I love the interactions but Yuu going through all this still would have trauma all im thinking is how they’d feel in the middle of the night trying so hard not to break down beside grim hoping they wont die the next day and live these people they befriends yes they loved them yes Yuu cares for them however they are still the same people who nearly took their life the same people Yuu had to save and its so fucked.

Thanks for coming to my ramble session Im 100% making this into a book on my wattpad and upload the chapters up in here because holy fuck its so messed up.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2024 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[amethystarachnid]

Hey! If your taking requests, I love your work so much and I had an idea I would really love to see how you execute it.

So it would be with Tony Stark, and if its okay Male!Reader, but not romantic, the reader is a teen who is a product of some old fling Tony had and after being poorly taken care of by his mom (whatever that inclines you to write, abuse, bad boyfriend, alcoholism etc.) She dumps him off at stark tower with a note and what little belongings the reader has and his birth certificate to Tony for him to take care of. And the rest of what happens from there is up to you! Basically heavy on the found family troupe, and a little angst with some good fluff. The reader can be from 16-18 still in high school. He has Tony's sarcastic humor and smarts, but he nodes his intelligence because his mom never really helped him appreciate it, basically one of those kids that gets straight A's without seemingly trying and looking kind of stupid, the reader is quiet and a bit cold but that's because of how he was raised, and isn't one to share how he's feeling. If you can do this I'd be so thankful, if not its completely understandable, I hope I gave you enough creative liberty to make it fun, I know it'll be great if you do write it! Again I love your fics so much and I can't wait to read more of what you have!!💜☺

LEGACY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x male!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic!, a lot of angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: literally what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of abusive household and rader feeling like people keep abandoning him

ᯓ★ Thank you so much for your request and for liking my work! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Your whole life, you’ve never known stability. The cramped apartments, the ever-shifting walls painted in hues of desperation, are as familiar to you as your own skin. You’re seventeen now, but you still feel like you’re stuck in this never-ending carousel of uncertainty and survival. Your mom—who’s always been more into herself than anyone else—has a way of shoving her problems under the rug, sweeping you along with the mess until you’re barely holding it together.

Her boyfriend—if you could even call him that—is the latest problem. Travis is the kind of guy who doesn’t need to say much to make his point clear. It’s in the way he takes up space, fills every room with his presence, making himself the center of your lives as if it’s his right. He started coming around when you were fourteen, and it’s only gotten worse. You know he hates you, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. To him, you’re a nuisance, some extra baggage he never asked for, and he’s got no problem reminding you of that. Your sarcasm and quick wit, the things that make you, you, are just more reasons for him to snap, roll his eyes, or call you ungrateful.

Your mom’s always been…complicated. You’ve known that since you were little, watching her go from one relationship to another, always searching for some kind of validation she never seems to find. She calls herself a free spirit, but it’s like she’s just drifting, lost in a fog of her own making. She can be fun, sure, when things are good. There were even moments when you thought she really loved you. But as time went on, you learned to read the signs: the distant glances, the subtle irritations, the way she avoids looking at you for too long, as if you’re some kind of mirror she doesn’t want to face.

It’s your intelligence that bugs her the most, you think. You see through her, every lie, every excuse, every careless decision. And she knows it. It’s like looking into a warped mirror—she can see pieces of herself in you, but you’re everything she’s never been: sharp, observant, with a mind that doesn’t let things slide. And it grates on her.

The fights get worse as you grow older, each one escalating faster than the last. Your sarcasm is your armor, your way of dealing with the endless cycle of disappointment. But every quip, every clever retort, only makes her angrier. You can tell she hates that she can’t control you, can’t manipulate you the way she does with everyone else in her life. She calls you difficult, a burden, a mistake she should’ve never had. You don’t let it show, but each word leaves a scar, another reminder that you’re on your own.

Then one day, it’s too much. Travis and your mom are fighting—again. It’s loud, voices echoing in the small apartment, and you’re in your room, trying to block it out like usual. But this time, you hear your name. You’ve been in this situation enough to know that’s never a good sign. So, you stay quiet, waiting, listening.

“You know he’s not even mine, right?” Travis snaps, his voice dripping with frustration. “Why do I have to put up with this kid? He’s not my responsibility!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Your mom’s voice is strained, like she’s barely holding on herself. “I’ve tried—God, I’ve tried—but he’s just…he’s too much. I can’t handle it anymore.”

There’s a pause, and for a second, you think maybe she’ll say something else, something that makes it sound like she cares. But the words never come.

“Then get rid of him,” Travis says, so bluntly that it leaves a chill in the air. “You’ve got the kid’s birth certificate. Drop him off at his real dad’s. He’s rich, isn’t he? Let him deal with the brat.”

You don’t move. You barely breathe. But deep down, you already know this is it. There’s no fighting it this time, no clever comment to deflect what’s happening. She’s made her choice, and it’s not you.

The next morning, she’s silent as she hands you an envelope. There’s no apology, no excuse, just a look that tells you she’s already gone, checked out of whatever shred of motherhood she once claimed to have. You don’t even ask where you’re going; you know the answer as soon as you see the address on the piece of paper.

Stark Tower.

It feels like a final act of cruelty, really. The man she’s always refused to talk about, the one figure in your life who’s only ever been a name, and now he’s your last option. Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, Avenger. And, apparently, your father.

You stand outside Stark Tower with a single bag of your things and that stupid piece of paper—the birth certificate that’s somehow supposed to mean you’re his problem now. You feel like you’re stuck in some cosmic joke, a punchline to a story you didn’t even know you were a part of. There’s no going back, though. That’s clear enough.

So, you take a deep breath, adjust your bag on your shoulder, and walk through the doors.

Tony doesn’t even get a chance to process it at first. One moment he’s sipping coffee in his lab, deep in the flow of something unnecessarily complex that’s keeping his mind busy, and the next, Pepper is calling him down to the lobby. She sounds irritated, stressed—like maybe it’s his fault, which Tony wouldn’t be surprised by, honestly. He heads down, muttering about "another hero here to tell me how to do my job."

Then he sees you.

You’re leaning against the glass wall, wearing an expression that’s somehow familiar yet entirely alien to him. It’s not hard to recognize the mix of defiance and exhaustion in your eyes; he’s spent years perfecting that look himself. But the shock doesn’t really hit until you hand him the birth certificate. Your name and his, right there in black and white, unavoidably real.

For once in his life, Tony Stark is speechless.

“Seventeen years,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “And now you’re here because…?”

You shrug, clearly unimpressed. “Mom didn’t want me anymore, and apparently, you’re my dad. So… here I am. Congratulations.”

You’re blunt, almost cruel in the way you say it, like you don’t expect anything from him and don’t care if you get it. But he can’t look away from you. For the first time in a long time, he’s out of his depth. He’s had seventeen years to know this was possible, maybe even inevitable, but standing in front of you, he realizes he’s never prepared himself for this. He’s never thought about what it would mean to actually be a father.

Yet here you are, standing in front of him with your mother’s words still hanging over you, and he can see the weight you carry in the way your shoulders are always tense, the way your eyes don’t quite meet his.

“Well, kid,” he says after a beat, plastering on his most confident smile, “looks like you’ve officially joined the Stark family. There’s no going back now.”

Over the next few days, Tony throws himself into fatherhood with all the enthusiasm of someone tackling a new, challenging invention. He’s reading parenting books, taking advice from anyone who’ll give it, and trying desperately to crack the code of how to be a “cool dad.” He lets you explore Stark Tower freely, offers you access to his entire workshop, and even builds you a custom tablet, “Stark-style,” he brags, with enough advanced tech to impress even the most skeptical teenager.

He talks to you about science, testing your knowledge and realizing with a mix of pride and horror that you’re nearly as sharp as he was at seventeen. He tries to make jokes, throwing out sarcastic one-liners he assumes will win you over. Sometimes, he even manages to get a smirk out of you. But that’s as far as it ever goes.

Every attempt he makes is met with your icy wall, a defense mechanism built after years of disappointment and neglect. You listen, nod occasionally, but never laugh or even show interest. The most he ever gets out of you is a dry, deadpan “cool,” which is enough to keep him going but never enough to satisfy him.

Tony tries not to take it personally, but it’s hard. You’re right there, his kid, yet you’re worlds away, keeping him at arm’s length as if he’s just another adult you can’t trust. He catches glimpses of the sarcasm, the intelligence, but it’s wrapped up in layers of resentment and guarded detachment. You’re always cool, always distant, and he knows why, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

One evening, he sits you down with a grin, tossing a shiny, compact device into your hands. It’s sleek, metallic—one of his newer designs.

“Mini reactor prototype. You’d be the first to use it.” He says it with pride, like he’s giving you something no one else in the world could get.

You look at it for a moment, then at him. “Cool,” you say again, but your voice is flat, unimpressed. You set it on the table between you without another glance.

Tony’s grin falters, and he lets out a frustrated laugh. “You’re a tough crowd, you know that?”

You just shrug, giving him that practiced blank stare he’s come to know well. He’s finally reaching his breaking point. “Y’know, I’m trying here,” he says, exasperated. “I’m trying to… I don’t know, connect. Be… whatever it is you need me to be. But you’re acting like I’m just another stranger.”

You pause, considering him for a moment, and something shifts in your expression—like maybe, for just a second, you see his effort. But then your face goes neutral again, back to that familiar shield.

“Maybe that’s because you are,” you reply, voice quiet, almost too soft for him to hear.

Tony feels the blow, but he hides it with a forced chuckle. “Fair enough,” he says, though there’s a sting in his voice. “I can’t change the past, but… I’m here now. I’m not gonna just… walk away.”

The words linger between you, both of you knowing the weight they carry. You’ve heard promises like this before. You’ve heard them from your mother, from people who were supposed to care, and each one of those promises had turned hollow, leaving you more alone than before. So, when Tony looks at you with genuine sincerity, with a hope that you’ll give him a chance, all you can do is nod, burying any flicker of vulnerability.

As the weeks go on, Tony keeps trying. He brings you into the lab with him, walks you through his latest projects, even lets you experiment with some of the tech yourself. He drags you to burger joints at midnight, tries to coax out stories about school, hobbies, anything. Sometimes you let your guard slip, offering a sarcastic remark, a comment that makes him laugh—but the moment always passes too quickly, and you’re back behind that wall before he can push any further.

He’s persistent, though, and there’s a part of you that almost wants to give in, that wants to believe him. But your trust is a muscle you haven’t used in so long, it feels impossible to start now. So, you keep him at bay, deflecting his kindness, giving him just enough to satisfy his efforts without letting him in.

Tony doesn’t quit, though. He keeps showing up, every day, every night, and for the first time in your life, you don’t feel like someone’s just waiting for the moment they can leave.

Every morning, Tony insists on driving you to school, and it’s nothing short of a spectacle. He shows up outside Stark Tower in one of his many luxury cars, honking loudly, practically begging for attention. It’s become a routine, one you can’t escape no matter how many times you roll your eyes or tell him he doesn’t have to do it. He’s always got some snarky excuse, saying things like, “It’s my job as a dad,” or “I just want to see the kid off,” as if anyone believes he actually cares about high school protocol.

And everyone notices. Whispers trail behind you as you walk the halls, classmates you’ve known for years suddenly gawking at you like you’re a different person. They don’t know you as you anymore; they know you as Tony Stark’s kid. It’s suffocating. You’ve spent your entire life trying to stay unnoticed, to blend into the background. Now, no matter where you go, everyone’s waiting for you to crack a joke like him, to show off some kind of Stark-level genius.

Only one person seems to still see you, really see you—your best friend, Sam. You’ve known him since middle school, back when everything was simpler, when no one knew or cared who your dad was. He’s the only one who doesn’t treat you any differently now, the only person you actually trust enough to talk to about any of this.

One afternoon, you’re sitting outside on the bleachers with Sam, trying to ignore the fact that Tony’s car is already parked by the curb, waiting for you. The other students eye it like some exotic animal they don’t quite understand, but you keep your head down, just hoping the day will end without any more awkward questions or judgmental stares.

Sam nudges you. “So, uh… you still giving the old man the cold shoulder, huh?”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not giving him the cold shoulder. I’m just… keeping my distance.”

He rolls his eyes. “Dude, I see you with him every morning. The man looks like he’s about to recite the Gettysburg Address just to get a smile out of you. And you’re over here acting like he doesn’t exist.”

You shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms. “He’s only doing it because he feels obligated, Sam. It’s Tony Stark. He doesn’t actually care about me.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You really believe that? You think he’s the kind of guy who’d waste his time on someone he doesn’t care about?”

You don’t answer, but you can feel Sam’s eyes on you, cutting through all your defenses. He’s always been able to read you better than anyone, and right now, that’s the last thing you want.

“He’s trying, Y/N,” Sam continues, his voice softer. “Like, really trying. And I get it. I get that you’ve been burned, but… maybe give him a chance? Just talk to him. It’s not like he’s gonna run off if you tell him what’s going on.”

You look away, jaw clenched as you try to shake off the knot of emotion tightening in your chest. You don’t want to admit that Sam might be right. Letting someone in, giving someone a chance—that’s always been a dangerous game, one you’re not sure you can afford to play again.

That night, you’re lying awake in your room, staring at the ceiling, Sam’s words playing on a loop in your mind. The silence around you feels heavy, pressing down on you, and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you owe Tony more than you’ve been giving him. You’ve seen his effort, the way he tries to connect with you, even when you push him away. He’s there, every day, waiting for you, and no one has ever done that before.

Something shifts in you, a kind of tired resignation, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you get up and head downstairs to his workshop.

Tony’s hunched over a table, tinkering with some gadget, and he barely notices you at first. It’s only when you clear your throat that he looks up, surprise flickering across his face before he masks it with a smile.

“Hey, kid,” he says, setting down his tools. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “Yeah, I just… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He raises an eyebrow, a mixture of curiosity and concern on his face. He gestures to a nearby chair. “Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

You sit, staring at your hands as you try to find the right words. For a long time, there’s only silence between you, the air thick with tension. Finally, you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to speak.

“I know I’ve been… difficult,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I know you’re trying. It’s just… it’s not easy for me.”

Tony watches you intently, not interrupting, his expression softer than you’ve ever seen it. You look down, focusing on your hands, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

“When I was a kid, my mom was all I had. I thought… I thought she cared about me, even if she didn’t always show it. But she changed, especially after she started seeing this guy. Travis. He wasn’t… he wasn’t a good person, Tony. He… he made sure I knew I wasn’t wanted.” Your voice breaks slightly, but you push through it, feeling the old wounds tear open. “He told me I was a burden, that I was just in the way. And my mom, she… she just let it happen. She barely even looked at me by the end.”

Tony’s face darkens, his jaw clenched as he listens, but he stays silent, letting you continue.

“I learned not to trust people,” you say, voice wavering. “Every time I thought someone would stick around, they didn’t. So I stopped… I stopped letting people in. I told myself it was easier that way.”

You look up at him, and for the first time, there’s no mask, no shield—just raw vulnerability, something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in years.

“And then I showed up here,” you say, your voice barely a whisper now. “And you… you keep trying. You keep showing up, every day, like you actually care. And it’s… it’s confusing, okay? Because part of me wants to believe it, but the other part…” You trail off, wiping away a tear that slips down your cheek.

Tony doesn’t hesitate. He reaches over, placing a hand on your shoulder, grounding you, letting you know he’s there. “Y/N,” he says softly, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t change what you went through. I can’t go back and fix it, as much as I wish I could. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You meet his gaze, and there’s something in his eyes that you’ve never seen before—a fierce, unwavering resolve that feels almost foreign. You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words sink in, feeling the tiniest flicker of hope spark to life.

“It’s not easy for me,” you murmur. “It’s… it’s hard for me to trust people. And I know I’m not the easiest person to be around. But… I want to try. I want to believe you. I just… I need you to be patient with me. I need you to not give up on me.”

Tony nods, his hand still resting on your shoulder, steady and reassuring. “Hey,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “I’m not giving up on you, kid. Not now, not ever. You’re my son, and I’m here for the long haul. However long it takes, okay?”

The words settle around you, a warmth you haven’t felt in years. You don’t have to say anything; he seems to understand, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he lets go. And in that moment, something in you softens, just a little, like maybe you can let him in.

For the first time, you allow yourself to believe him, to believe that maybe he really won’t walk away. And even though the walls around your heart don’t come down all at once, you feel them start to crack, piece by piece, letting a little light seep in.

After that night, things start to change. It’s slow, gradual, like thawing ice, but there’s a noticeable shift between you and Tony. You’re still guarded, still wary of letting him all the way in, but he doesn’t push. He just keeps showing up, every day, every night, just like he promised. And slowly, piece by piece, you let him in.

The first time you ask to work on something together, Tony practically beams. You’re sitting at the kitchen counter with your physics homework in front of you—normally a breeze, something you’d get done in a few minutes. But today, you’ve left a few problems untouched, hoping he’ll notice.

Sure enough, Tony glances over your shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “Need a hand with that?” he asks, and there’s a careful lightness to his voice, like he’s trying to keep things casual, so he doesn’t scare you off.

You shrug, trying to act indifferent. “Sure, if you’ve got time,” you say, even though both of you know you could solve this on your own without breaking a sweat. But Tony doesn’t call you out on it. He just grabs a chair, pulls it over, and sits down next to you, leaning in to look at your work.

For the next hour, the two of you go over formulas and theories, his explanations coming with a few sarcastic quips and exaggerated hand gestures. Every so often, he goes off on a tangent, telling you stories about his own time in high school or sharing a strange fact he thinks will help you remember a concept. You listen, half-smiling at his antics, and eventually even throw in a few of your own sarcastic comments. You can tell he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it, but there’s a spark in his eyes that tells you he’s thrilled to be here, helping you, no matter how small the reason.

As the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in Tony’s workshop. It becomes your safe space, the place where you don’t feel like you have to hide or put up walls. Tony lets you explore, handing you tools and explaining how they work, guiding you through his more complicated inventions. It’s like learning a new language, one he’s eager to teach you, and he’s a surprisingly patient teacher.

One afternoon, he’s working on a new suit upgrade, and you’re watching, silently impressed by how smoothly he moves, how every action is precise and practiced. You’re deep in thought when he glances over at you, smirking.

“Thinking of joining the family business?” he jokes, tossing you a wrench. “If you’re interested, I could always use an extra pair of hands.”

You catch the wrench, feeling a rare, genuine smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “Maybe I will,” you say, feeling a rush of warmth that’s unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

He shows you how to tighten a piece of armor plating, explaining each step with a casual ease that you find yourself getting lost in. There’s something oddly comforting about the way he talks, like he’s sharing a secret only the two of you understand. And as you work, side by side, you realize that you actually look forward to these moments, the quiet companionship that comes from working together on something you both enjoy.

One evening, you catch yourself staring at your chemistry textbook, pages open to a particularly dull section on thermodynamics. Normally, you’d power through it on your own, but tonight, you feel the familiar tug of loneliness creeping in, and before you know it, you’re on your feet, heading down to Tony’s lab.

When you reach the doorway, he looks up, surprised, then quickly wipes the expression off his face and pretends to be engrossed in his latest project. “What’s up?” he asks, as casually as he can manage.

You hold up the textbook, pretending to be annoyed. “This stuff is terrible. Thought maybe you could explain it better than my teacher does.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, I’m honored to know you think so highly of my teaching skills.” He gestures for you to sit down, and as you do, he starts flipping through the pages of your book. “Thermodynamics, huh? You sure you’re not just here for the riveting conversation?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But you both know the truth, and there’s an unspoken understanding between you as he dives into the material. He doesn’t just lecture; he makes it a story, breaking down each concept with analogies, acting out scenarios, and throwing in enough jokes to keep you both entertained. You throw in questions just to keep him talking, just so you don’t have to go back to your empty room just yet.

And somewhere along the way, you realize you’re not just learning about science. You’re learning about him—about his quirks, his sense of humor, the way he lights up when he’s talking about things he’s passionate about. He’s not just Tony Stark, billionaire genius, Iron Man. He’s… Tony, your dad, someone who, against all odds, actually seems to care about you.

Over time, you both fall into a rhythm. Tony starts waiting for you in the mornings, holding out a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, claiming he needs company on his drive to work. You never say it, but you look forward to those mornings, the way he fills the car with stories about his latest projects or about old college pranks he pulled that make you laugh in spite of yourself.

One day, you’re both hunched over a set of schematics in his lab, tossing ideas back and forth as you brainstorm a new design for a stabilizer that could potentially improve flight control in his suits. You’re getting so into it that you forget to be guarded, throwing out suggestions, bouncing thoughts off each other in rapid-fire succession.

At one point, Tony stops, leaning back in his chair to look at you with a smirk. “You know,” he says, a touch of pride in his voice, “you’re pretty damn good at this. Got that Stark brain for sure.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, and for the first time, you don’t brush it off. “Maybe,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “But I guess it helps when you have a good teacher.”

Tony chuckles, but there’s a glimmer of emotion in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. “Yeah, well… you’re not a bad student either.”

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you look at each other, an understanding passing between you that doesn’t need words. You know he’s trying, and somehow, that knowledge makes the walls around your heart crumble just a little bit more.

A few days later, you’re working on homework in the living room when Tony walks in, holding a set of blueprints he’s obviously excited about. But when he sees you bent over your books, he pauses, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Hey, need some help?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You look up, raising an eyebrow back at him. “With calculus? Pretty sure I’ve got this covered.”

He shrugs, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I was quite the calculus prodigy back in the day.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smirk, half-teasing. “Care to prove it?”

Tony grins, and before you know it, he’s pulled up a chair, leaning over your work with the same intensity he brings to his inventions. You pretend to need help with a few problems, and he’s more than happy to guide you through them, throwing in jokes and sarcastic comments the whole way. Every so often, he nudges your shoulder, grinning like he’s just scored a victory when he catches you smiling.

Eventually, he lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I think we’ve both learned a lot today,” he says, stretching dramatically.

“Yeah,” you reply, smirking. “Like the fact that you’re worse at calculus than I am.”

Tony gapes, clutching his chest in mock hurt. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own son. This is a new low.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, and for the first time, it feels easy. Comfortable. Like maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to keep fighting him off.

“Hey,” Tony says, his tone shifting to something softer. “Thanks for letting me in. I know it wasn’t easy.”

You meet his gaze, feeling that familiar vulnerability creeping in, but this time, you don’t shy away. “Thanks for not giving up,” you reply quietly. “I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with.”

Tony chuckles, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “Nah, you’re a piece of cake. Besides, I’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

You smile, a real one this time, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. For the first time, you allow yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay.

It’s supposed to be a routine mission. Just another intel-gathering run, in and out, with minimal risk. Tony had waved it off as no big deal before he left, throwing you a smirk and saying, “Just another day in the office.” But that was hours ago. And now, as you sit in the dim glow of the living room, watching the news report blaring on the screen, dread twists deep in your gut.

You watch the shaky footage of Iron Man fighting, and this time, it’s different. He’s outnumbered, missiles tearing through the air, beams of energy slicing through the smoke and chaos. The news anchor’s voice breaks as they report the intensity of the fight, how Iron Man was last seen plunging out of the sky after a heavy hit. For a terrifying moment, you catch a glimpse of him falling, his suit battered, smoking, before the feed cuts out entirely.

Your heart stops, and a painful tightness fills your chest. The hours that follow are a blur of pacing, every second dragging longer than the last. You’re used to him going out on missions, used to the danger that comes with being Tony Stark’s son. But this… this is different. This isn’t the usual playful bravado, the usual cocky promises that he’ll be home for dinner. This is life or death, and for the first time, you’re faced with the horrifying thought that he might not make it back.

After what feels like an eternity, the front door finally opens. You spin around, heart pounding, and there he is, looking worse for wear but alive. He’s moving a bit stiffly, his armor scratched and dented, his face smudged with dirt and a few new cuts. But he’s here.

Before he can say a word, you rush toward him, the flood of relief hitting you so hard that you barely register the fact that you’re moving, throwing yourself into his arms. Your grip is tight, like if you let go, he’ll disappear. You don’t even realize you’re trembling until you feel his arms close around you, holding you just as tightly.

“Hey, hey,” Tony says, his voice soft, touched with surprise but warm. “I’m okay, kid. I’m here.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears, and he’s looking at you with an expression so full of gentle understanding that it makes you feel like a kid again, vulnerable and desperate. Without thinking, the word slips out, raw and unguarded.

“Dad…” you whisper, voice breaking slightly, “don’t ever… don’t ever do that again. I thought… I thought I was going to lose you.”

Tony’s face softens, his own eyes welling up. He’s silent for a moment, as if he’s savoring the word, the weight of it finally hitting home. His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, his grip firm but gentle, grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. But I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod, the tears slipping down your cheeks now, and Tony pulls you in again, holding you tightly, his hand running gently over your back. It’s the first time you’ve let yourself fully embrace him, the first time you’ve allowed yourself to lean into his strength, to accept the warmth he’s been trying so hard to offer. And as you stand there, held in his arms, a sense of peace settles over you, soft and comforting, melting the last of your walls away.

After a long moment, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, a tear slipping down his own cheek as he smiles, eyes bright. “You called me ‘Dad,’” he says softly, his voice full of wonder, as if he’s just received the greatest gift in the world.

You give a small, watery smile, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, well… don’t get used to it,” you mumble, but there’s no heat behind the words, only affection, only gratitude.

He chuckles, pulling you back into a hug, and you feel his hand rest on the back of your head, his grip firm and reassuring. “I’m already used to it,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not letting you go, kid. Not ever.”

In that moment, you realize that this is what home feels like—right here, safe in his arms, with nothing left to fear.

I'll never get tired of familyman!Tony I swear.

[in-flvx]

Commotion, Chaos and Cacophony

(Sirius runs away. Regulus POV)

There is shouting.

There is always shouting. Regulus black is sitting at his gorgeous mahagony desk, precision scissors in his hand, as he cuts out the last article of today's Prophet which he was able to connect to the Dark Lord, and tries to ignore the ruckus going on downstairs.

It had started at breakfast, when Sirius once again brought one of his liberal flights of fancy. It is ridiculous. Sirius had always been an airhead, soft for lowlifes and vermin. And where Regulus had been sympathetic towards this, thought Sirius would grow out of it, become wiser with age, he had gotten entirely disillusioned to the notion of it. It's impractical and disruptive. Not just to society at large, but also, time and again, to Regulus' peace and quiet.

Two doors get slammed in quick succession, causing Regulus to let out a quiet sigh of relief as he gets up to pull out his sketchbook. 92 leaves out of 130, filled with cut-outs, and articles of his own, journaling the steady crawl to victory of the Dark Lord. Victory of society.

Loud foot stomps come up the stairs, and then the next door falls shut. Across the hall this time. This doesn't mean today's fight is over, of course. Often, Mother and Sirius take a few minutes, hours sometimes, to wind up their energy to the next round. Regulus wrinkles his nose in distaste, thinking about the early game of catch he has scheduled with Wilkes, Malfoy and the Lestranges tomorrow, which Regulus has been looking forward to for days. Should there be another round to this fight, Regulus will lose some sleep and possibly the game. Yet another way Sirius' childish ideations keep interrupting Regulus' life.

Instead of sitting down to continue his journaling, Regulus remains standing. Unsure about how to continue. He swallows, and then seizes the opportunity.

Regulus opens his door smoothly, and tabs over the heavy carpet to his brother's door. There is commotion in there, which is par for the course. There is always commotion in Sirius' room. Commotion, chaos and cacophony.

He throws open the door. The sight insults him. Red and gold, unmoving pictures of scantily cladt muggle females on those dirty machines Sirius is so infatuated with, pictures of Sirius with his gaggle of blood traitor and mud blooded friends. And between all of this childish show of rebellion, there is Sirius himself. There's an ugly look on his face, as he creates even more chaos in this dump of a room. Regulus has never understood why people in their school fancied him. Lips too big, and too red, quite like a girls in fact, a tan that betrays his noble heritage, and Sirius never bothered to get rid of the freckles, and moles, that marr his visage. Hair falling into his eyes, and a slump as if he had never learned how to carry himself.

"What do you want, Regulus?" Sirius spits out without even turning to look at him, as he throws his belongings around the room.

"Stop the fight for tonight, will you?" Regulus starts. Sirius throws his head back and laughs at that. It sounds hysteric. Cold. Regulus rolls his eyes. The hysterics of a woman. As much as he appreciates Mother and Bellatrix, they are still females, behaving as such. It does not stand for the eldest son to behave like them.

"Mother and Father are so good to you, can't you see that?" Regulus tries to ban the bitterness from his voice. Even with all the chaos and airheadedness, the parents still love Sirius. Regulus still can't shake the feeling that they love Sirius more than him. No matter how often show Regulus off, use him as the example of a good son to strive towards. They love Sirius so much. Adore him and his head full of rebellion.

"What do you want, Regulus?" Sirius asks again. This time he turns around and pierces Regulus with his too dark eyes. Even their regal silver is muddied by black, blue and grey. Sometimes brown in bad light. The mole on Sirius' lower lid always looks like dirt. Only now does he see that Sirius is holding his old quidditch bag. It's ratty. Kreacher and Mother have thrown it out several times, but Sirius has fished it out of the garbage every time. It's big. Roomy enough for the bat, and gear.

"Are you going somewhere?" Regulus asks back. Sirius let's out another hysteric laugh.

"Yes," he answers.

This might not be a bad idea. Life is easier when Sirius takes off. The parents get along, social dinners go smoothly, Regulus gets the sleep he needs.

Sirius has gone back to throwing things around. There is an order to it, he hadn't recognised earlier.

"Try and go quietly," Regulus advises. He prefers not to listen to Mother rant and cry over the loss of her eldest son when Sirius makes one of his dramatic exits. He will be able to make arrangements for the next days to avoid all of that, but tonight it would be uncouth.

Sirius snorts: "Whatever."

Regulus contemplates on what to say next.

"I won't come back this time," Sirius says. His voice is filled with many emotions which Regulus has no interest in.

"Good," he says instead. This takes care of all of Regulus' problems.

[descaladumidera]

Okay, so I'm finally putting all the stuff about the other characters on this post as well that @illicien and I came up with. It's not that much, just bits and bobs for different characters. Yeah, I wanted to do this ages ago, but I forgot. Do not judge me or I'll cry.

Let's start with Tony.

He is an engineer for SHIELD, building the Jaegers. He is quite miffed that he is allowed to build but not to pilot. Makes for a grumpy Tony. Alas, when the base gets attacked, he turns the weapons inside out and manages to use them against the attacking Kaiju, saving a lot of people and destroying a big part of the base in the process. Fury is pissed. Tony is proud. Nobody can fire him, 'cause they need him. Fury even allows him to use his bots to clean up the mess, 'cause he needs Tony to keep working on the Jaegers and more defenses.

(He also absolutely is working on a mini-Jaeger called Iron Man. But it's his little hobby side project, because nobody is letting him have any fun. At all. Ever.)

Next is Peter.

He is the kid that's on his own and builds his own Jaeger, after his aunt and uncle got killed in a Kaiju attack. His Jaeger can be controlled by one pilot (yes, this is a Scrapper reference) and is named Spider. He ends up at SHIELD by accident and gets adopted by literally everyone. Even Fury has a soft spot for the kid.

And Stephen.

Stephen was a Jaeger pilot, but he also lost his partner, which scarred him deeply and fucked with his mind so hard he never sets foot in a Jaeger again. It takes a lot of convincing, but thanks to him having deep knowledge about neurology (which was the main reason he was recruited in the first place), he stays at SHIELD, helping Tony refine the sync machines in the Jaegers.

About Thor and Loki.

Obviously they pilot a Jaeger together. They're insufferable. They work well. But, damn, everyone wants to smack them into the next dimension.

The package deal of Steve, Bucky, and Sam.

Steve (who comes from a long, proud line of Jaeger pilots) and Bucky used to pilot a Jaeger together rather early on. But shit went south and Bucky lost his arm and they thought Steve was dead. That led to Fury putting Bucky and Sam together as pilots, because they are compatible. Well. Drift compatible. They're always on each other's throats otherwise.

Through some fucked up kind of luck, though, Steve survived and turns up at SHIELD months later, healed up and ready to get out there again. Only that his old partner has a new partner. That leads to Tony engineering a new Jaeger—one for three pilots. Turns out that Steve is the buffer Bucky and Sam need and they work together like a charm.

Not-really-married Natasha and Clint.

Of course Nat and Clint make a team. They know each other inside and out. So much, in fact, that people think they're actually married and don't dare approach any of them to ask for a date.

Rhodey and Curtis and their white idiots. Also Pepper, Christine, and Karen and their male idiots. And Trish, Claire, and Colleen and their idiots in general. There's overlap.

Just stuffing all these characters into one room, giving them an abundance of alcohol, and letting things play out. There's a lot of complaining. There's bonding. I need a whole series of them just being Done With Shit™. They're so tired.

We did not forget about Bruce.

He is just. Quietly suffering. Bruce is hopping between helping the analysts and helping Tony and nobody gives him the appreciation he deserves. Poor guy. Let me pet him. He is the one listening to people complaining about everyone else.

Another three-person-Jaeger for Jess, Luke, and Danny.

They join SHIELD later on, bringing their people with them. It's clear they also need a three-person-Jaeger, so Tony gets to work. They're good, but really inexperienced, so there's a steep learning curve.

For some reason Zemo gets a part as well. (The reason is my wife, who I love dearly and he is their blorbo, so gotta incorporate him somehow.)

Not too sure about his part, yet, but some kind of intelligence operative, feeding info to Fury about the Kaiju black market and other things normal people wouldn't be able to know. He might have to work together with David at one point, gather as much information that SHIELD can use as possible.

Also. Bucky starts to flirt with him. Steve and Sam are not impressed. Nat is delighted. Clint is actively helping (he is making it worse).

Fuck it, I'm gonna put out my ideas for a Fratt Pacific Rim!AU. Do with this what you want.

Okay, lemme paint the background picture.

SHIELD are the ones behind the Jaeger program, with Nick Fury at the head. Once Curtis lost his leg during That One Mission, Fury seeks him out and recruits him (like Fury does), which leads to Curt dragging in Frank and Billy, because he knows they would be damn good at operating a Jaeger together.

Now on to Frank.

Frank and Billy were marines and friends first, so they have the discipline and they are drift compatible. They go on a lot of missions (don't have a name for their Jaeger yet—maybe The Punisher? *coughs*)—successful missions. They're the heroes of the Jaeger program. Until everything goes to shit. A Kaiju attacks New York and kills Frank's family. Frank and Billy try to stop it, but they fail, their Jaeger breaks, and Billy dies on this mission. Frank is … not in a good place. He wants to find a new partner, wants to take revenge, but Fury and Curt deem him too unstable and pull him out of the program. Frank goes back to New York (meeting the Liebermans during that time).

((Lieberman tie-in.

David do as David does and hacks into databases he shouldn't hack into. So when he finds stuff he shouldn't find, he panics. But he knows that a rather legendary Jaeger pilot (Frank) is back in New York, so he finds him.

"You have the connections! You can tell SHIELD about the illegal Kaiju trade!"

Frank does not want to do this. He does not. He tells David as much, shoves his middle finger into his face, and leaves. But David is a persistent asshole, so he tracks him down. Again. And again. And again. Until Frank groans and comes by to at least look at what David has found. That's when he meets David's family ('cause he has his set-up down in the basement of his house). Of course Leo, Zach, and Sarah make Frank stay for dinner. And then they make him come over again. And again. And again. Until he can't help but feel integrated into their family. Goddamnit.))

And now on to Matt.

Matt has been part of the Jaeger program family since he was a kid. Jack got recruited just after Matt got blinded, desperately needing to provide for his son, and the people at SHIELD were his best bet to give Matt the care he needed. Jack actually was Fury's partner and they operated a Jaeger together (also no name for this one—maybe Daredevil? *coughs*). Of course shit goes south and Jack dies during a mission, Fury taking it upon himself to keep Matt at the base and raise him.

Matt goes on to become one of their analysts, one of the best (at one point Foggy and Karen get recruited, too, and work alongside him). Despite not being able to see any of the Kaiju and the samples that end up at the base, Matt can draw conclusions from the data he has like nobody else. He, Foggy, and Karen find out about the pattern in which Kaiju will appear.

Now onto Frank and Matt meeting.

This discovery prompts Fury to seek out Frank, because, well, they need the best of the best and it has been years by now, so he wants to give Frank another chance. Frank comes back when he hears what's at stake (and brings the Liebermans with him—he doesn't want to lose another family and David can join Matt, Foggy, and Karen). The problem is—nobody is drift compatible with him. They try the best of the best: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, etc. None of them work.

On one night, Frank thinks it would be best to find out anything he can, so he goes to the lab and asks the analysts himself for all the details. Because he knows Fury and he knows that Fury's secrets have secrets. And that's when he meets Matt, that's when he realizes how goddamn fucking smart he is. And he wants to try to drift with Matt.

Fury is like, hell no, of course. But Frank is nothing if not persistent, and Matt has a secret desire to try this. Because of his dad. Because the Murdock boys have the Devil in them. Because he is just so tired of not doing enough. Fury is still like, hell no. So Matt and Frank just. Do it. Without Fury's permission. 'Cause they're assholes.

Of course Matt, never having drifted before, goes down the rabbit hole. That's when Frank learns that Battlin' Jack Murdock—the man he had looked up to since he was a kid—was Matt's dad.

I have a shitton of other ideas, all expanding the universe and including other characters. But this is the more specific stuff I came up with.

[turtleboyo22]

Working on a thing 🤭🤭

[moeblob]

Impulsively shoving a guy's hand in your mouth after having the thought "oh just like when my little sister used to prick herself on a rose thorn" and then immediately being treated like a pet who ate something they shouldn't have? Wonderful. Thank you, Thane.

(also not pictured is Thane apparently trying to scrape your tongue with his hand BEFORE pouring the holy water down your throat because NO. BAD.)

[yuikomorii]

// Ok, let’s go!!

In another life, Shu is a first-year student at a Music College, having previously served as the president of his high school's music club. He works part-time at the Opera House, where he performs on the violin each month, attracting the attention of many admirers. He has a German Shepherd that his parents gifted him when he was younger, and he shares a close bond with his younger brother, Reiji. They always find a way to attend each other's special events. Shu's best friend is Yuma, and they used to skip classes to unwind elsewhere and discuss whatever topics came to their minds.

In another life, Reiji is a third-year straight-A student, well-known among both teachers and peers. He serves on the high school's council and has an impressive shelf of achievements displayed in the hallway, showcasing his success in various contests, from chess to languages. He enjoys helping others with their studies and has even started a private tutoring program specifically for those in need. His parents never compare him to Shu, or vice versa, as they recognize that each of them excels in different areas.

In another life, Laito is a second-year high school student and a member of his school's French club, where his impeccable accent captivates all the girls. In his free time, he showcases his keen fashion sense, with his OOTD reels and TikTok videos consistently drawing a lot of views, leaving many to wonder why he hasn’t yet modeled for any magazines. Despite the attention he receives, he is genuinely cheerful and friendly, loving his brothers and enjoying the company of new people.

In another life, Kanato is a second-year high school student with a remarkable talent for tailoring who has finally opened his own boutique. Supported by his classmates, parents, and brothers, he works diligently to prepare for his dream entrance exam to Fashion College. He has a soft spot for plushies and always appreciates receiving new ones as gifts. After finishing classes each day, he treats himself to his favorite cake from the nearby pastry shop as a reward to motivate him to work harder.

In another life, Subaru is a first-year high school student who may not be the most outgoing person you’ll ever meet, but spending time with his dear ones is very meaningful to him. For some time now, he has been contemplating whether to start learning how to play the guitar. Recently, he found a bunny outside during a storm and decided to take it in, giving it a new home. After school, you might occasionally spot him with a flower in hand, a gesture he enjoys making for his mother to express his gratitude for the way she has raised him.

This is basically how I imagine the Sakamaki brothers, if they were humans and didn’t come from abusive households. 🥹

// In another life, Ayato is a second-year highschool student from Tokyo who comes at school with Takoyaki everyday, is the basketball team captain, has a lot of friends and a supportive family, spends a lot of time on Instagram and Twitter, has a cat, is popular with both boys and girls, pics of him always go viral on Pinterest, likes hanging out and travels everywhere as much as he wants.

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

y'all are great. tonight I will be displaying my huge competence and level of productivity by Going To Bed without completing my to do list